The Bitch is -almost- Back

And this is how I went up a size while living in London

1 comment

And another thing about feminist values!!!! - Kidding!

Unclench! I kid, I kid.

<Collective sigh of relief>

So. Tomorrow, at this time, I will be sitting at Heathrow airport, gel-less and liquid-less, waiting for the plane that will reluctantly fly me back to California.

What is it like to go back home, after you have been creating a different life across the world for the past 6 months?

I hear a lot of:

"But don't you miss your family?"

"You must want to go home. You poor thing. You must be so home sick."

So. Here's truth.

I miss our fine family tradition of sitting around the TiVo with our 3 dogs, while my Mom, Step dad and I create our own dialog for The OC while my sister screams,

"SHUT UP! Shut up! God! I can't EVER watch this without you guys talking!! This is serious! That's NOT what they're saaaying!!!! SHUT UP! Rewiiiiiind iiiiitttt!"

I miss my chihuahua (Bug, or more commonly referred to as The Bug or Bugawuga) driving me crazy because she just won't lay down with me, and instead wants to drag my dirty underwear out of the hamper and run around the house with it.

I miss my Step dad using a power drill at 7:34 on a Saturday morning while the rest of us are still asleep.

("What? It's not THAT early? Come on, Princess, wake up!")

And I miss seeing my mom in her glasses before she goes to bed, and her Ponds lotion on my skin after she kisses me goodnight.

Corn dogs, Taco Bell, The Roseville Galleria, and Starbucks' baristas that recognize me from that 1 time we worked together and not only give me a discount but understand what prissy drink I want.

(What's so hard about a tall, 2 pump sugar-free vanilla, soy, no water, no foam, with whip, chai??)

I miss the familiarity of driving up 80. I miss seeing people I know at Target and avoiding them.

("I hate that bitch. Do you think she saw me?", "She's right behind you.")

But my heart. My life. My fresh and promising new start that is composed of everything I love and am passionate about is 5,000 miles away from the life, and family, that I was raised to be a part of.

Before landing in London last April

1 comment

How can I ask them to understand that I was miserable in that life? Not because of them...But because it just wasn't enough for me. I needed more than amber waves of grain. The Golden Gate would never be the Tower Bridge...

They have let me go with as much ease as they could and without direct protest. They have understood the big crush that I've had on England since I was a little girl. 

I just don't think it ever occurred to them that my crush would turn into a love affair that would move me 5,000 miles away from 'home".

And that this love affair with black, wraught iron fences, scones, tea and red telephone booths would lead me to the man that I was born to be loved by.

And to all of you men and women who have moved your life to another city, state, or continent, I'm sure can understand and appreciate that it is not easy.

At my worst moments, I have guilt. Guilt for leaving. Guilt for my absence at dinners, birthdays, and those lazy sunday mornings where we sit around eating country potatoes watching Nascar.

My heart finds it's home in two places.

One of the fun side effects of this, is that I have become somewhat of a Culturally Mutated Freak.

I will always be an American. I will always be a California girl. And my cowboy boots and Sugarland CD are ever present.

But I now say things like,

"For fuck sake! That got me right up! I got so fucked off that nearly gave him a bollocking!"

or

"That's absolute rubbish. Complete shit, that."

I now love Curry and Thai food. I tried "Duck in Oyster Sauce" the other night for the first time, and I loved it.

I can now drink multiple pints of lager like a pro, and I even enjoy a good Guinness every once and a while.

I can go into a restaurant with a table for one, and enjoy a meal alone without feeling embarrassed.

In fact, I can buy myself a glass of wine, and sit in a pub alone, too.

(Who says you should never drink alone?!)

I've really had to learn to be blunt, and honest and to really say what I mean. I've learned how to put those who give me unsolicited advice in their place.

These things may sound silly...But they're things I've never done before, and I don't know how long it would have taken

me to learn these things had I stayed in my comfort zone.

I have learned how to be still. I have finaly learned how to be comfortable and safe in my own skin.

I may not have it all figured out, but at least I'm not too scared to try.

So. Am I nervous to return home? .... I've had the runs for the past 24 hours.

Am I scared about applying for my visa? ....Scared shitless. I haven't slept much.

Being apart from Iain for a week isn't really going to be much fun either. :(

And thank you  mother nature for increasing my emotional instability by giving me the gift of menstruation this week.

How I look forward to getting up every 3-4 hours throughout the flight, stumbling through the aisles, and trying to use a tampon in the bathroom the size of a coin purse during an inevitable storm of turbulence.

I wonder if they make tampons for long journeys...

Like, instead of Super Plus they'd make one, huge tampon with a incredible absorbency level...

Ya know, like, "Jumbo Jet Tampons, for those Transatlantic Flights".

Toxic Shock Syndrome? Pfffft. I'd be fine.

But, I'm still not packed....

Next time you hear from me,  I'll be blogging via California, with my laptop on one leg, and my chihuahua on the other.

(And Iain on the phone, my Step dad sawing through a wall, and my sister screaming, "Get off the fucking phone! I can't hear Tyra Banks!!!!")

...Wish me luck.

I'll send you a ePostcard or something :)