Sometimes I could kick myself for my choices. It never lasts long enough to really believe that I've ever made a long one, but in the moment it gets so close that I could almost hate myself for the all the life choices that have created me as I am today.
Firstly, I hate that I ever started this blog and that I made it a person one. I hate that I have loyal followers who know my story and want to know what happened today. I hate that I don't have the desire to tell anything less than my truth and I hate the fact that I know there are people out there who read this and think 'what the fuck is this chick telling us all this crap for?"
I hate that I have the thousands of followers I do on Twitter and then I hate that I lose so many from one blog entry. I hate that I was so wrong ?and thought that I only lost followers when I spoke about sex. I hate that I lost 29 followers by blogging about one so South Africa's greatest entertainers.
I hate that tonight is the Jewish date of the death of my father and I hate that it's nearly two years since I heard him laugh or saw him smile. I hate that I'm sobbing and that I don't even follow the Jewish Calendar enough to be sobbing today, but my dad did and there is no hate there at all.
I hate that I decided to write and that I've opened myself up to the?criticism?of the world and I hate that I chose the topic of sex. I hate that a man can overlook the beauty of who I am and only want to have a sexual experience with me because her thinks I've got to be damn good if I talk about it.
I hate that I'm the good girl! I hate that I'm the one who men look and decide they can't take advantage of ... but most of all ... I do hate that it has happened again, in the throws of passion where I'm looked at I hear the words "I'm sorry, I can't". I hate that I'm repeating a one of the worst experience that actually gave me permission to teach people about sex and their esteem. I hate that even though I teach this, I can't help having a shattered esteem right now. I hate that he told me not to!
I hate that tomorrow is Monday and that my back is stuffed and I have to start the day at the chiro. I hate that I have another empowering week and that I have these big dreams that will drive me out of bed when I just want to lie there in a ball and make it all go away until I figure out a way to not be so ambitious or true to myself.
I hate that I love my body ... I should hate it and look at every curve, stretch mark and extra kilo with such disgust that I take horrible and forceful action to become what men want. I hate that I know that's not true and it's got everything to do with chemistry ... and I hate that I have no leg to stand on because I've had incredible men to prove it.
I hate that I miss The Jock so much. I hate that we all have a?nemesis and that we can't make it work with them.
I hate that I don't have the ability to sabotage my body with food anymore ?and I hate that every part of my sad and broken esteem wants to stuff my face with anything that will make me feel fat and ugly. I hate that nothing on earth will ever make me feel fat and ugly ... except me! I hate self love!
But I love my bed and the special place I go when I sleep and I love that I know that when I wake up tomorrow, the day is whatever I make of it!