What's in it for me?

Curb Stomp- place the hated person's face onto the curb with the mouth open, ensuring that the top jaw is over the top lip of the curb and the bottom is also placed just so. Hold onto the person's arm in a strange angle behind his or her body, then place a preferably booted foot onto the back of the head and stomp.

I've always enjoyed this image. It was in a movie I saw where a neo-nazi was curb stomped. If anyone deserves to be curb stomped, it's a neo-nazi. Ignorance by choice is hell, surely not bliss. So, this image floats into my mind when I think of my first-ever boyfriend, Will. Why you may ask? For some reason my mind believes I enjoyed this particulary duet of words during the time we dated. If this is actually true, I do not recall.

Why conjur up Will? I came across an email of his the other day. It was so touching. And when I think of how I treated this young man who was enjoying his first forays into the dating world, I know I definitely curb stomped his heart and left him bleeding and broken on the street corner.
I was inexperienced in the dating world also. These new adventures were confusing to me, these new feelings were scary, and I ran away. I ran away to flirt with other boys, to feel sexy, to discover who I was in male eyes that didn't already love me. Unfortunately, I'd have to say it worked. My escape route put me in the path of a man who gave me a great gift, the acceptance of my own body, my physical being that I have always hated.

Andrew gave this gift to me and for that I am thankful because before I hated the vessel in which my mind is carried, not to mention hating the mind at times. So, I dislike parts of my body, but understand what and why I feel this way. My tummy makes clothes look bulging in places that clothes shouldn't buldge, and this paunch makes buying pants difficult since I don't follow women's body rules: My waist either equal to or large than my hips, this equation is just dependent upon how heavy I am at the moment.

Will gave me a view into a new world. Andrew gave me a view into myself. And I gave myself a chance to be myself.

I am me and I shall not be detered in being me, which no one is trying to stop me. Even The Boy who hates some of my clothes, my jewelry, my decorating ideas (who doesn't love puke green?!), my choices of movies, just let's them slip by (except for the puke green-that was tabled real fast) and let's them wash over him. The Boy enjoys this shower of "me" and smiles while it washes, smiles while he seems me being happy to be me. Perhaps, the only shower he did not enjoy was the crying jag I was on the other night because I had stopped taking my medication. However, he held me close, made me promise to take the happy pills the next morning, and just let himself get wet.