A Touchy Subject: How to Work on Being Touched

Old and young hands together

I am a very physically affectionate person. If it were socially acceptable I would introduce myself to new people by biting at their stomachs and nuzzling their neck.

Almost every week I swap full-body massages with my girlfriends. I kiss people goodbye and hello and my poor husband has bald patches all over his otherwise hairy body from being love-nuzzled.

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I think one of the saddest lessons life teaches us is to not let ourselves be touched. Men learn not to “be gay” and women learn, often through experiences with sexual assault, to be afraid.

With introversion finally getting its time in the limelight (calm down introverts, you can have the limelight on you and still hide under the stairs in the dark) and every talk show host/therapist/blogger talking about setting your boundaries, it is easier than ever to not let yourself be touched.

To touch is to trust

Yes, I think you should challenge yourself to let someone touch you. To touch is to trust. I think it is something worth working on. And I know no one else will tell you this because you are scary with your thick outer shell of scales and that look on your face like you’ve seen some shit. But I’m gonna because mama loves you and knows what’s best.

In all seriousness, I get it. Once you’ve been violated, not touching and letting yourself be touched is not only the instinctual thing to do, but it is easy to tell yourself that those feelings should not be questioned, ever.

So let’s prod at that sensitive area. Today I want to talk about how to touch and be touched when that’s the last thing you want to do.

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How to Make Money When You Are Too Crazy to Work

Woman in a blue wig and owl mask

It is my sincerest hope that this post doesn’t resonate with most of my readers. I hope you can wake up in the morning, brush your teeth, pour yourself some joe, and work a long and productive day at your nine to five job, five days a week until you die… at your desk.

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But I wanted to put a resource out there for my readers who have bouts of “I am just too fucking crazy right now to work a real job.” Because despite what we may think, it happens to the best of us.

I have very good mental health. I wake up happy, I don’t experience any kind of explosive emotions (unless, of course, I see dogs locked in hot cars or someone chewing really loudly then, naturally, all bets are off). For the most part, I’m a pretty stable Sally.

That being said, all of my immediate family members are severely mentally ill. Like, screaming-at-mailboxes-and-threatening-to-kill me mentally ill. I also have PCOS and when I have that perfect combo of “daddy is stalking me again” and “I’m five weeks late for my period,” sometimes I get too fucking crazy to work.

I have had times in my life where my family situation, my health, or my work situations have been too much to endure. I have left jobs because of sexual harassment so bad I would have felt safer on the set of “Good Will Humping.” During those times, the idea of putting on a cute outfit, getting a Starbucks, and talking with all the scary people has left me noping right the fuck out of my job. But that’s the thing about life: crazy or not, you always gotta have that sweet cash to pay those not-so-sweet bills.

So what do you do when you just snap? Your fibro or anxiety or piece-of-shit boss force you into the world of unemployment? How do you pay the bills when you’ve had it with the nine to five, and it’s had it with you? Luckily, DG has you covered.

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Here are seven things I have done for money at my nuttiest:

Continue reading “How to Make Money When You Are Too Crazy to Work”

A Very Stabby Birthday

Shiny birthday balloons in the number 30

I don’t remember much about my dad. I know that all the stories my mom tells me about their time together end with “…and then your dad stabbed him so we had to get the hell out of there.”

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My most vivid memory of my dad was his knife coming through the roof of the van we lived in. I can still hear my mom screaming, “Run for your life!” while I tried to super-speed activate my stubby toddler legs. It turned out my great escape wasn’t necessary; they reconciled and went on to have more children. It’s the rom-com you never knew would scare you.

They did eventually part ways. My dad got out of the van to take a leak one hot summer night and my mom just sped away. She traded the van for a trailer, the alcoholic schizophrenic for a heroin addict, and we never heard from my dad again.

Until this month. A few days before my 30th birthday.

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Oh, Fuckery

Oh, fuckery. You know when you are so busy that you wake up and you’re like, “AHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHH…… AHHHH”? I really hate that feeling.

It’s like this for me every April, with the onslaught of fresh brides preparing for their first dance. So last night, (3:00 a.m. is technically “last night,” right?) as I was sweating bullets trying to get the post out for today, I had my own Damn, Girl, Get Your Shit Together moment.

I always talk about “self care” and I need to take my own advice.

I am taking April off from the blog, but I will be back in May! I’ll still be reading your blogs, but forgive me if I don’t comment!

I’m not going to do a whole sobby sign off, because that is ridiculous. I’ll be back in three weeks… I’m not crying! You’re crying! Shut up!

Seriously, it’s hard. I am so entrenched in your lives and this community that just going away for a few weeks feels like I’m going off to war lol.

Ok, lovelies, I will see you soon!

Love, Tiara.

How to Keep a Toxic Relationship

Two antelope butting heads

You know those exorcism movies where the possessed person is tied to a bed and they bring a priest in and the demon expert is like, “Whatever you do, do not cross the salt boundary,” and then the possessed person is like, “Ahhh, you like Honey Bunches of Oats, don’t you, father?!” and then the priest leaps across the salt barrier and is like “YOU KNOW I LIKE RAISIN BRAN! YOU SICK FUCK!” and the demon bites his ear off?

Exorcist GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

And then they drag the priest out of the room and they leave the mother of the possessed person in the room alone and then the demon is like, “Oh hello, motha! You know your lilacs are not going to bloom this year, don’t you?” and then the mother leaps across the salt boundary and is like, “I BOUGHT THE EXPENSIVE FERTILIZER!” and then there goes one of her ears, you are like, “For gods sake, stop letting this demon manipulate you! Don’t cross the fucking salt boundary, what did he just say?!”

Yeah, I love those movies. I am always so judgmental, shaking my head at these morons taking the bait. I would never cross the salt boundary. Then my mother will call me and say, “You know everyone feels sorry for your husband,” and I will be like “AHHHH!!! FUCK THIS SALT BARRIER, I WILL KILL YOU!”

Today I want to talk about toxic relationships.

Continue reading “How to Keep a Toxic Relationship”

How to Be All Classy and Shit

Woman at the beach with a sun hat

I have been thinking a lot about class lately. My thirtieth birthday is right around the corner and I have really been trying to hone my style. I’ve always been horrified by my mother’s butterfly bedazzled bell bottoms and the ever presence of “big gulps, tractors, and pink camo” in my sordid memory bank. But what makes someone classy? The internet has nearly convinced me that the whole of classiness is kept in the human cuticles and if they aren’t on point, I should just hang myself with a length of the Confederate flag while standing on a crate of Pabst.

Not one to believe everything the internet tells me, I thought about real life. Who was the classiest person I know?

For me, that person is my dear friend Betty. Betty is a landscaper and ironically has the most mangled cuticles I have ever seen. When she comes by my place, covered in dirt, cursing up a storm, she brings with her an armload of dahlia bulbs or a length of hose for my yard. She clasps my face with both of her hands and tells me how beautiful I look that day. She tells me that my orchid is too dark green and will be happier in a sunny spot. She exudes a level of class that I strive for. Intelligence, warmth, openness. She is just so damn classy.

So put away your wallets and, cuticles be damned, today we are talking about the dos and don’ts of how to be all classy and shit.
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Putting Your Pet to Sleep

Sleeping gray cat

What can I say about Leo, mi amore? He is the best bad cat ever. That’s not to be confused with the best cat ever. There is a very important distinction.

The best cat ever might not tip over their litter box, kick all the litter into the space between the washer and dryer, then crap in the empty box.

The best cat ever might not tear the shower caddy off the wall and eat ¾ of a bar of oatmeal soap and throw up bubbles for two days.

The best cat ever might not knock over a $30 canister of leg wax , step in it, become adhered to the carpet, and then howl like a crazy person at 4 o’clock in the morning, not because he is stuck, but because he was planning on getting stuck in the cords to the blinds like some horrifying cat-marionette and wasn’t planning on getting stuck to the carpet till next week.

But the best bad cat ever totally would.

Leo the cat
Leo, the best bad cat ever

Leo, the bunny king, the pleasure pig, the bad little cat man… he cracks me up every single day.

I say that Leo is the best bad cat ever because he is still alive in my heart. I should say that Leo was the best bad cat ever. He died this week.

My heart aches. My home feels strange and empty. I keep going to feed him and have to stifle calling for him. Creatures of habit and all…

I have to believe there is a lesson of great value to learn with all heartaches, with all pains. And as blurry-eyed, as I am, I want to do the most loving thing I can for you and yours. And for me, because I am really writing this one for myself.

I felt so guilty putting my beloved bad kitty down. There was the pressure from the vet and an entire lack of support to be found anywhere, not in real life, not online. So today, I wanted to give you something I didn’t get:

Today, I am giving you permission to put your pet to sleep.

Here are five obstacles you may be trying to overcome:

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Putting the “Ho” in “Home Decor”

Rose in a vase with faux fur rug

I think we all have those things we really want in our lives and appreciate while simultaneously having no interest in learning how to make them happen. Maybe it’s how to do a classic updo, how to rock an Instagram eyeshadow look, change a tire, or cook a souffle. For me, that thing is interior design.

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I really appreciate a well-appointed room. I find them comforting and luxurious and soothing and amazing. I think having a polished and beautiful home is totally worth having. But when I start to read articles about “layers” and “textures” and “complementary colors,” it makes me want to tear my own arm off and then use it as a conversational piece on my coffee table. “Oh yes, I made it myself,” I will tell my impressed house guests.

But here is the thing about “adulting:” you should learn how to bring the things you want into your life, regardless of whether you have a natural talent for it.

Home cooked meals are worth eating, being able to pull yourself together for a classy event or meeting is important, being able to change your tire is important and having your home serve and suit you is important.

So here are the DG tips for those of you who have no attention span for interior design:

Continue reading “Putting the “Ho” in “Home Decor””

Interview with DGGYST

Yaa Yaa over at Scribbles and Tostitos has got the scoop on Damn, Girl! So thrilled to do this interview about everything from my blogging advice, personal life, and the DG army. Give it a read if you want to know more and be sure to follow and support the wonderful girls behind thepagesofpaige.com and scribblesandtostitos.com!


Kick off your shoes and relax your feet. Read on below to hear from Tiara, the girl behind Damn Girl. Get Your Shit Together.

via Damn Girl. Get Your Shit Together —