*yawn*

Well, I was going to post a really long survey, but it was just too damn long, and I lost about half of it that I'd filled out. So I might do it tomorrow, I might not. Probably not. That survey was just too damn long.

So instead, Cassie is going to end the day by rolling the dice. *rolls* 8. Woohoo!

( Cass's 8 Random Good Things For Today... And to round it off at 10, 2 Cryptic Bad Things! )

And the "Clutz of the Year" Award Goes To...

So I'm heading for the door, about to pop across the street for a bite to eat on my break. Heading at a good clip, too. Now, this is one of those nicely reinforced doors that you have to swipe a card to open when you go in, but that you just have to turn a handle when you leave. What I usually do - and I normally have it timed nicely - is turn slightly to the side and push the door open with my shoulder right after I've turned the handle past the "cause door to open" angle.

I grab the handle and everything is going according to plan. I twist - and falter, my hand slipping off of the handle and causing it to snap back into it's original position. And with my momentum, and my weight behind it... Well, you can guess what happened.

*CRACK!* I slam into the door, somehow managing to convert most of the impact onto my cheekbone. Ow. So now the left side of my face feels funny, and I am REALLY hoping this doesn't bruise... Though I don't know who people would think is beating me. *furrows eyebrows confusedly*

(Actually, it might be funny if it DOES bruise, then I can tell people my 'online boyfriend' is beating me up, and see what their reaction is. *laughs*)

This. Is. IT.

Right. I've had enough. I'm mad as heck, and I'm not gonna take it anymore!

For five years I've been lurking around on the Internet. Five years of making friends, chatting it up, yadda yadda yadda. I've met some awesome people. I've done some crazy stuff.

But all of it has been as "Cass", a veiled version of me. Me without being attached to a physical body and physical limits. In some way, the best parts of me. But that isn't going to make the rest of me go away.

Oh no.

There is FAR too much of me for that.

Because Cassie is fat.

That's right, folks. I'm fat. Large. Hefty. Plump. Chunky.
FESTVIELY PLUMP.
Not just minorly, either. Oh no. At over 5'9" and actually having big bones, Cassie has pleanty of room for extra weight.

And God Dammit, I'm never going to fix it if I keep pretending it's not there.

(It's kind of ironic that the character I take my namesake from is obsessive about being in shape. Time to do her at least some justice.)

And so help me, I am not a lazy, worthless, waste of space. I'm not a couch potato. I don't sit around and eat bags and bags of chips and candy. I don't avoid walking any distance farther than from my room to the fridge.

And for God's Sake, I'm Not Ugly!

And I refuse to change for reasons that aren't mine. I refuse to change for anyone else but myself. Because it's my body, dammit, and I'm the only one who has to live in it.

I'm tired of never sending out pictures. I'm tired of making up excuses. I'm mad as heck, at my OWN damn charade, and I'm not going to take it anymore!

Let the world know, and you can't weasel out of it. I'm in for the long haul. Where's my camera... I'm going to take some damn pictures of myself. Dolled up. Damn well looking good.

I better figure out who I am before this part of me isn't even here anymore, right?

All vague seriousness aside: A Survey

'Cause I can, and I ain't sorry. :-P

( Read it and weep. Or, y'know, not. )