10 Years Later, No Ragrets

I might have mentioned my dickwad ex once or twice, and there’s not much more I can say about him, but since today is our ten year wedding anniversary, and I’ve been suffering from writer’s constipation* for a few days, I’m gonna try.

I’m often asked if there was ever a moment before walking down the aisle when I wanted to turn around and run, and the answer is yes, but not because I didn’t want to go through with it.

I forgot everyone stands up when the bride enters, and I thought there was a fire. Oh, how I wish I was kidding.

Did I ever have second thoughts before the wedding? Not so much. I always knew we weren’t meant to be forever, but I still felt it was meant to be, if that makes any sense. As much as I bitch about his fuckery, I regret nothing. Those four years helped shape me into the bad ass I am now, writing a blog post at 10:30 on a Saturday, in my draws, with a cat in my lap,and eating Cap’n Crunch straight out the box  🙂

Correction; eating grub-kitty brand “Sgt Crisp”. #BitchesBeBroke

20160604_120215-1.jpg

Glad *he’s* comfortable.

That awkward moment when you look happier with a cat's ass in your face than sitting next to your newlywed husband.

That awkward moment when you look happier with a cat’s ass in your face than sitting next to your newlywed husband.

I had severe techphobia at the time, so had I taken the advice of literally everyone, and not gone through with it, I never would’ve moved, therefor I never would’ve taken a job at Kohl’s, where I met my BFF, who taught me how to Facebook, and I wouldn’t have taken the job at Hell Spa, which means I never would’ve been fired and scorned and determined to make sure the whole world knew what a bunch of cunts I worked with**, and thus Hummuscidal Maniac wouldn’t exist.

In other words, what sounds like a tragedy; losing my husband and my job in the same year, turned out to be two of the best things to happen to me.

The folks who tried to stop me, AKA, my bridal party, as I was walking down the aisle. Notice my aunt, third from left, struggling to maintain her composure. She was seconds away from murder.

The folks who tried to stop me, AKA, my bridal party, as I was walking down the aisle. Notice my aunt, third from left, struggling to maintain her composure. She was seconds away from murder.

 If only future Nikki could go back and tell Past Nikki that within five years, she’d bust down the closet door, and come out kicking ass and eating pu cupcakes. (I keep forgetting my grandma reads this.) And though she may not have millions of readers, the one letter you get thanking you for talking honestly about your T1D and mental illness, the chubby teenager who thanks you for teaching her she has a right to feel confident, and the exes who hunt you down to apologize for being cunts, lest their fuckery be immortalized on your blog make it all worthwhile.

Actually, if that were possible, Future Nikki wouldn’t be able to get a word in because Past Nikki would want to know what the fuck happened to her long hair?!

Oh, Past Nikki, bless your heart. You haven't even seen the shaved side yet.

Oh, Past Nikki, bless your heart. You haven’t even seen the shaved side yet.

*Writer’s constipation = writer’s block lasting 2 or more days

** Yes, I know I’m vindictive and carry a grudge, but so fucking what? I have ONE flaw, and I more than make up for it in boobs alone, so kindly STFU.

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One thought on “10 Years Later, No Ragrets

  1. Pingback: Wooden Family Christmas Newsletter 2016 and Photo Dump | hummuscidalmaniac

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