I am the luckiest fucking girl in the world. Kenny is the sweetest, nicest man I’ve ever met, and he’s head over heals in love with me, and I love him more than I thought it was possible to love anyone. Thank god I have him in my life.
We had fluffy blueberry pancakes and sweet maple sausage for breakfast. We had iced mochas with an extra shot at Insight, hung out a bit on the couch, and then he made me delicious tacos for dinner. I wasn’t feeling well, so I stayed home from the dance, but he made sure that I was all set before he left.
Work is a little scary right now. Ron punched a hole in the wall the other day, and hurt his hand. I told him it reminded me of a shitty couple years when my dad and brother used to fight and punch the walls and I’d hide under my bed. He apologized, and said he would patch it up on Tuesday. Told me it won’t happen again.
It has something to do with the company owing a lot of money to the IRS. Some unknown tax crept up 0.3% over the last three years, and Ron had no idea. So we owe money. A lot of money. I can’t tell how much if his frustration is just because he hates all taxes as a libertarian, and how much is because he’s scared that the business might actually be shut down. I feel like I should send out a few resumes just in case.
Money-wise, things are actually not bad. I should be saving more money each month for a car, but I’m debt-free, rent is paid, groceries are bought, and I have $1,800 in the bank right now.
I’m afraid to weigh myself. It isn’t totally out of control, but I need to make a plan for being healthy. Somehow I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been at 165, and women are flirting with me right and left. I realize that I should be healthy so that I can live better and feel better, but shit. There are hella women who are gay for me right now. I’m not fucking any of them, but both Reeva and Elizabeth made out with me on Tuesday. It’s more of a scheduling thing than anything else. I don’t know whose life this is, but it’s pretty fucking great.
I’m not kidding about the car, though. It’s a piece of shit. Fucker needs air conditioning real bad.
I could also be better at chores. I did all my laundry, but the inside of my closet is a nightmare, and vacuuming is a thing that I should make time for.
I’ve been working on my dancing. Partner dancing, mostly. I get shy about asking Kenny to practice with me. We have so little time together, I feel like I’ll be wasting it if we try to jam practice in there. That’s probably the hardest thing right now, not having enough time with him. I still see him on Sundays, and for an hour or two on Wednesdays before he falls asleep.
We have more staff at work, now. In theory, once Faith is trained, I could go into work super early, get off early, and go see him. Right now it seems like any time I go in early, something happens and I stay late anyway. By “something happens,” I mean that there have been 3 times I’ve tried to leave early, and all three times my front desk flakes on me. No other times, just the times I happen to want to leave.
They promoted me to Manager, which I definitely fucking deserved. Holy shit. I worked hard for that. I’m still making kind of crap money. Now that I see all of payroll, I understand the patriarchy better. Employers will pay the lowest possible wage for the best possible worker. Men will fight and negotiate for higher wages. Women are not trained to negotiate, and instead are trained to take whatever is offered. Thus, they are paid less. It is absolutely unfair. It’s a systemic problem in the culture. Things are slowly, painfully slowly getting better, but we have a long fucking way to go.
When I was hired, they asked me what I was making at my old job. They offered to match it. I didn’t even try for higher, because it would feel like “talking back” to my new employer, and I desperately wanted the job so I could move here. So, I got $12.50/hour. Here’s the problem, though: I should have been making $15 at my old job. I was managing that place. The figurehead manager delegated everything to me, and literally looked at pictures of shoes all day. The only reason why she was manager was she had worked there for one month longer than I had, and after I left, the place fell apart.
I didn’t understand that when men are interviewed, they lie. They see how much they can get, and don’t just take whatever the first offer was. They have confidence from a lifetime of being called “Tiger.” I have a complex from being called “Princess” and wishing I was Cinderella.
I’m becoming more and more aware of social injustice. I’m trying to still have joy in my life.
If Donald Trump becomes President, I seriously worry about the future of the country and the planet. He is way, way too close to it for comfort. Hillary feels like status quo, with a feminist twist. Personally, I liked Bernie. I have no idea if he could really make the country better, but it was a nice dream for a while. I guess it’s up to us.
I love Jeffree Star. I love how he’s crass but cuddly. He inspires people to be their expressive, authentic selves, and I admire that about him. Whenever I do my eye shadow, I vary how I cut my crease based on “how hard I want to cut a bitch.” When I highlight, I smile about how a unicorn just came on my face. That man can turn a phrase.
I haven’t made t shirts yet. I haven’t put energy into really marketing my belly dancing class. I think I’m scared of success. I worry that it will bring me more responsibility than I really want, and failure seems safe and manageable.
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