Found a big thrift nearby that I hadn’t known about. It was full of ridiculous things, like:
the wrinkles were free
This is a Marimekko Samu-Jussi Koski shift dress from the Spring 2010 collection. It has pockets! It’s Finnish! 🇫🇮💚
did ed hardy make sweaters or did I just get patch lucky
This sweater. The tags were removed, but it’s amazing.
all day I dream about having small enough boobs to wear stuff like this
This has GOT to be a beach coverup or something. It’s obscene on my mannequin! I can’t actually wear this out of the house, but I love the colours and sleeves and just because it shows EVERY BOOB it has to be for Inside Times. Sad, busty panda.
Turns out it’s exceedingly difficult to write about personal things when you don’t know the person you’re sharing about.
TL;DR: Not only do I not recognize myself, I don’t know even know myself. Who am I? What motivates me, makes me happy? Where am I headed? Why is Gamora?
By my most recent calculation, I’ve been dealing with Significant Events since January ’24. Each one of the Events has left a lasting mark on me.
I earned last week’s breakdown, thank you very much.
It wasn’t all bad (just like 98% horrible), in that it seems to have cleared up a small bit of the rubble in there. I’ve been really focused on just .. doing things, instead of stalling and insisting on a detailed written action plan first. In the week since my structural collapse, I completed a bunch of really annoying errands that had been on my list for months. I’m in the midst of a benefits spending spree, booking appointments to get my front teeth fixed + an eye exam + medication refills + therapy + haircut (that one is probably out of pocket). I’m having a garage sale (in 4 days, you should come). I’m not doing any of these things particularly well and there’s still the overhanging spectre of looking for work I haven’t quite dealt with yet, but it’s a start.
Anyway. I’m finally holding a garage closet sale and selling the very last of my favourite plus sized clothing. I can’t replace any of this stuff, as it’s all from vendors who’ve gone out of business and/or just plain old styles that haven’t been reproduced, and can’t be tailored for a handful of reasons. The dresses that have literally travelled the world with me, and show up in my photos from Tokyo and Montreal and New York and everywhere in between. My very, very favourite dresses, the ones that made me feel sexy and powerful or coy and mysterious or brazen and bold or cute and non-threatening and sometimes all of those things all at once. The rest of my wardrobe is styled around those dresses; the ones that made me feel like the very best version of me.
Losing this aspect of myself is just another fun unexpected disassociation exercise I’ve been experiencing for the last year. Turns out losing enough weight to change your face, cutting off your hair, and wearing weird new clothes all at once is kinda fucking traumatic and I’m not coping very well. Toss in the loss of my job that I very much identified with (the work, not the company – fuck those guys), and well, here we are.
SO. Since these clothes don’t work for me any longer, I’m having a closet sale. The entire downstairs room is full of racks of clothes and shoes and bags. I’ve made a complicated inventory system, labels of varying degrees of fanciness, and I’m working on signage. If you’re in the neighbourhood, come on by. There’ll be snacks!
Knowing how Bluesky displays these links, I feel like I should have a relatively innocuous opening paragraph before I get to the juicier (sorry) content splashed (very sorry) within. Is this enough? Doesn’t matter: I’ll take this one on the chin (forgive me) and get right to it:
It seems like only last week I was lamenting the attack on Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion on social media. I know I’m neither American nor a federal employee, but several large, non-government companies have proven they’re willing to kiss the ring and are eliminating the programs that enabled the hiring of anyone other than cis white hetero men. That’s fiiiiine. I’m not worried at all. Why should I be? I’m only:
A woman
Queer
A visible (yet mysterious) minority
Somewhat mouthy
Neurodivergent
Disabled, as far as medical charts go
Past the age of fuckability
Newly out of work
I got laid off this morning. It was unexpected, as it always is. I’m still in shock, and the crushing reality of my failures (yes getting restructured out of a job is a personal failing) hasn’t yet hit me – but when it does, I expect to be a right fucking mess.
I don’t know what to do. Is it too early to be fatalistic about my chances of finding a new job? Normal Kimli knows she’s amazing at what she does, but Scared and Sad Kimli is at the helm and she’s got visions of government cheese.
I’ve just literally been stunned into silence with all .. <mad gesturing> y’know. It wasn’t my intention to go back on my word (get it), but:
We were in Mexico!
Dragged Ed out to the LNY Market at UBC the day after we got back, which was a herculean effort of fast talking and effusive promises!
Got the flu, to match Ed’s shiny new second flu. As of this writing (which is taking forever because Moon Knight), I’ve been sick for 8 days. It sucks all of the ass, I am entirely over it (how on earth is my head capable of creating this much mucus), and this is why I don’t go outside.
Watching the collapse of western society in real time! Historians dream of this shit, man! And we get to watch it play out for FREE!
So, yeah. I’ve been busy.
Mexico was amazing. The weather was terrible, by all accounts: it was overcast most of the time, and it rained everyday. For a couple of sun-scared Canadians who only wanted warmer temps and mild adventures, it was perfect. I spent as much time as possible in water: floating in one of the resort’s 7 pools, spelunking in a cenote, getting cunt punched by the Gulf of Mexico. We toured Chichén Itzá, visited some villages, and ate a reasonable amount of food. I did spend half of one day crazy sick: a combination of alcohol, sun, and excessive bobbing did me in and I was out of commission. Other than that, it was an extremely enjoyable trip: AAA+, would Mexico again. In fact, will Mexico again, as the lower 48 (and upper 1) are no-go zones until we stop living in such interesting fucking times.
Oh, I remember what I wanted to bitch about now: fucking menopause. Dr. Jen says we don’t talk about it enough, and she’s right: no one warned me about any of the bullshit I’ve dealt with for the last 5? 10? years. I’ve never (ever, ever) had a regular cycle, so as I obsessively read every resource I can get my hands on re: menopause, I’m also learning just how not-normal my insides evidently are. I mean, of course they are, because I am a fucking special snowflake princess unicorn mutant to HAS to go against textbook normal like a Mary Sue in a YA novel, but just once I’d like to be the textbook. It seems peaceful.
Anyway. Menopause. It sucks. I’m assuming it’s responsible for my latest round of medical mystery: drastically increased pain sensitivity.
I’ve spent the last year and a bit getting some really colourful tattoos. It’s been fun and satisfying, and for the last four appointments, RIDICULOUSLY PAINFUL. I had to tap out of the last two pieces after the initial line work and return another day for the shading. I used to be able to just grin and bear it for the entire piece, but for the last six months or so my entire body twitches during the tattoo and it feels like I’m trying to jump out of my skin to get away from the sensation. I have another biggish piece planned, but I don’t know if it’ll happen any time soon. My plan post-pandemic was to travel to get tattoos from specific artists. Looks like I’m going to need a Plan C.
I’ve been making good use of some work benefits over the last couple of years, and have (finally) been seeing a therapist regularly. We’ve been unpacking trauma like loot boxes dropping character-building horror with every session. It’s great. Just today we revisited a particularly bad core memory, and I am eating tiramisu in retaliation so clearly therapy is working very well and we’re all fine here, now, thank you.
How are you?
Anyway. We’re off to Mexico for the very first time ever! I’m overthinking every possibility in giddy anticipation, but I’m mostly excited to expose my newly wrinkly flesh to different elements. We’ve only ever done one beach vacation before (Cuba for Shan in 2011!), and because we’re old we picked a Fancy Resort that is adults only but not Adults Only. I’ve done my time at the potato farm, and this time I KNOW I’m allowed to have some butter, creepy naked man. Fool me once.
It would be really easy to blame the no-words on the global crisis, because it feels like we’ve been in Interesting Times for a decade. That’s the simple answer; you can stop there if you’re good with that. Otherwise, let’s immediately get back in to what I do best: OVERSHARING!
delicious juice dot com 