brightrosefox: (Default)
Holy random acts of kindness, Batman.
After getting my flu vaccine, I went to look at the cane rack, because they have this beautiful blue and silver one that looks like dragon scales, and I have been waiting for discounts and coupons so I could get it. The price is under twenty dollars, but still.
A middle-aged man who looked so much like Idris Elba that I did a second take, also reached for the blue silver cane. Our eyes met, I smiled briefly. He said, "You know, I bet this would make an awesome magic staff for cosplay."
I grinned and said, "Good plan! I should at least join a game just so I can brag. Or just be my paganish elf self and cosplay every day." Which was blurted out because my filter is so thin.
The Idris Elba lookalike chuckled. "I adore that idea. I just pray to all mighty Atheismo that we aren't going too deep. Like that Tom Hanks movie."
My jaw dropped. "Duuude," I said. "Futurama reference plus obscure D&D rip-off movie nee book reference? Cripple high five!"
We high fived and missed on purpose, stumbling. "Mild cerebral palsy, spastic hemiplegia" I said. "Mild cerebral palsy, diplegia mixed," he said. "And knee arthritis."
"And sciatica," we said in union, surprising ourselves.
"Fibromyalgia and epilepsy and autism too," I added.
He said, "My twin nieces are autistics! Their world is so awesome. I think they prefer me to my brother when they're in meltdowns, they talk about what's going on in detail."
"Awesome!" I said.
At this point, we had been staring at the canes and I had been avoiding too much eye contact. I was about to ask the Idris Elba lookalike about advocacy. Then I saw a gleam in his eye and sensed a topic shift. "Hey, listen," he said. "I'm a proponent of the pay it forward thing. I know we're strangers, but I do know enough about you that you really want the dragon scale cane."
I tilted my head. "Yeeeaah?"
"So, okay." He pulled some pieces of paper from his pocket. "I've got a buy one get one half off for this brand of canes. I will buy you your cane. What do you think?"
I blinked a few times. I looked at him. He wasn't hitting on me. He wasn't being creepy. He was just a fellow cripple offering help.
"Okay," I said, "thank you! That's really kind."
"Hey, the community needs all the assistance we can get from each other. Cripples helping cripples, you know?"
I smiled. "Totally."
As we walked to a register, he said, "I want you to know that I had no intention of hitting on you. I see your rings, and for all I know they could mean something else. But while I think you're a gorgeous-looking person, I have no plans on being a That Guy. I punch Those Guys on a regular basis."
"Huh?"
"Physical trainer. Not so much punch as pinch in sensitive areas. Men can be scum."
I giggled. "Hashtag Not All Men!"
He laughed. "Anyway, let me pay for everything." He nodded at my basket, which had a few comfort items. I immediately said he shouldn't, since he was getting me the cane.
He then put my basket on the conveyor belt, looked at me until I noticed that his eyes had gold rings, and said, "Then pay it forward. Help another cripple." The corner of his mouth turned up. "Even if it's just donating to help someone get better access."
I nodded. I was going to cry any minute. He paid for everything, put his things in two totes and put my things in two more totes. He saved me almost forty dollars.
He said, "I would offer you a ride, but my friend's picking me up so we can go back to Philly. It's been a great road trip so far."
I nodded. "It's cool. I'm going to take the bus home anyway." I was feeling giddy. "Well, obviously we had this encounter for a reason. So. It was lovely meeting you, clone of Idris Elba."
He threw back his head and laughed. "I get that a lot. Same to you, clone of Mia Sara. Anyway, I'm Laurence."
"Joanna."
We fist-bumped and he helped adjust my cane for my height. We walked outside together, and he stood at the curb to wait for his friend while I walked across the parking lot. I turned and waved. He waved back and kept looking at me. I realized it was to make sure I was safe.
I got to the sidewalk crosswalk and peered back. I saw him get into a green SUV. I realized I would probably never see him again.
I am definitely going to Pay It Forward.

***

Also! Links! For future reference!
http://www.neurodiversity.com/main.html
http://cerebralpalsy.org/about-cerebral-palsy/associative-conditions/
http://www.disabilityscoop.com/2013/10/03/autism-common-cerebral-palsy/18775/

***

Also!
PMS is vicious. Although with oral contraceptives, it's technically withdrawal bleeding rather than menstruation. Besides, I haven't truly bled in over a year. Being on the highest dose of birth control for over fourteen years will do that to some women.
PMS is vicious. A veliciraptor chewing through my pelvis. There's a photo out there of a plastic female human skeleton, with a toy raptor stuck head-first through the pelvic bone.
And the bloating and bizarre fluctuations on the bathroom scale.
Having slid back to psychiatric anorexia after failing to control neurochemical anorexia, I know damn well I should not stand on that scale especially during this time. I know damn well that numbers don't mean as much as how my clothing fits. But paranoia bred from life-long anxiety over disordered eating patterns is paranoia. And then there was the entire food=growth=death connection when I was little. And then there was being under a hundred pounds until my mid-twenties. And then there was the anorexia voices insisting that I needed to get back to that, being under five feet tall. I was never overweight. I used to weigh something around the high "set point" - but I have no idea where I've constructed this memory of being convinced to lose twenty pounds. Unfortunately, my illness has burrowed deep enough into my subconscious that my thoughts have turned to the classic hallmarks of anorexia: "I absolutely must be below X number or I will never feel right". The unwillingness to stop. The belief that everything is wrong. I know where I am. I know what's happening. I've been able to compartmentalize and separate enough so that I smack myself when those thoughts occur, so that I at least eat an apple or two, or cheese, yogurt, celery, even cheesecake or dark chocolate. My friends are with me.
Sag Harbor will happen next week, with Thanksgiving. Part of me is in a total blind mute panic. That part doesn't want to eat anything. That part wants to Be Good, Be Perfect. It doesn't matter that I'm over thirty, says the panic. It only matters that I am extremely small and I must keep being extremely small.
To bring everything around again: PMS is not helping. PMS is several numbers upward on the scale because of fluid retention, bloating... losing that fight to not overeat. PMS is barely fitting into the purple dyed jeans yesterday and having them slightly loose today. It isn't helping anything.

But I look at that blue and silver dragon scale cane, bought for me by a total stranger with the same disability as me, and I think the best way I can Pay It Forward is to make sure someone I care for stays as mentally healthy as possible...
brightrosefox: (Default)
My modified Disablility Compensated Qi Gong exercises always help, mentally and spiritually and psychologically and physiologically. Like yoga, except Fake Yoga Cripple Style that is not actually yoga. (FYCS. FIX. Ha ha ha...) (Or hey, Fake Yoga Cripple Style Modified Exercise. FYCSME = FIX ME. Ha ha. Wow. Dude.)

But it isn't helping today. I'm too Hollow, which is my term for deep major depression. I'm too Postictal, after that unexpectedly awful seizure yesterday and its aftershock which were tiny seizures for hours. Emotional responses are foreign and results of emotion are mere symptoms, like crying and laughing. I will meditate again, do more qigong work, and breathe and much as possible.
FYI. I am having an episode of pure major Depression plus major Anxiety. This is accompanied by mild memory loss of the past two days. Everything is foggy. I know I should be upset about something, but I cannot feel upset. What is upset, anyway? I think I hurt myself emotionally yesterday. I wish I remembered what it was. I believe it started out with false happiness. Remember that weird assumption of some sort of hypomania? I think I was outside of my rational mind.

Back to special exercises.
People keep suggesting and recommending breathing exercises. I know all of that. I know people just want to share their personal remedies. I love it. Please don't think I am rejecting you. I love hearing your stories. Even the stories about yoga. I wish I could explain why just seeing or hearing the word yoga evokes a sad, upset reaction. It isn't that I am unable to do yoga. It is just that yoga extremists do not listen nor care about my need for compensation. My body was born crooked. I cannot form a proper straight line even if I held on to something. No amount of cajoling, insisting, or pushing different forms will change that. Please don't do that. Please just accept that I have to perform qi gong differently, and that qi gong included poses that are similar to yoga, and that yoga is not the greatest panacea of healing holistic practices. This is part of why I don't want to visit California, which makes absolutely no sense and makes me look prejudiced.

So. Please, please do talk about how much yoga is healing you, because that is beautiful and I am genuinely, honestly joyfully happy. But if you wish to suggest a yoga pose that can be modified for someone with a shaky, spastic, crippled body, please suggest an alternate form. That is all I ask. There is no such thing as a real panacea, even in the botanical world, even in the plant and herb world, and certainly not in the exercise world. It is entirely possible that I will find a set of yoga exercises that will really, truly help me, and I will join the ranks of yoga enthusiasts. Anything is possible. Nothing is off limits. Except evangelism. If I wanted something pushed down my throat, I will drink water mixed with special fruit and plant powders, like sea buckthorn and moringa.
This is coming from my years as a holistic enthusiast and pusher. I was bad. I was essentially an asshole. And then I learned that it was just wrong. I never want to do that again. Just because something works perfectly for me does not mean it will work at all for someone else.

Any form of good physical-spiritual combination exercise, be it yoga, qigong, taichi, strength training, cardio, dead lift weight, isometrics, plyometrics, dance, hardcore dance, etc, is wonderful and beautiful and strengthening, and will help everyone in some personal powerful way. That is the point of exercise.
I love you all. If you really want to help me, don't push me. Just guide me.

Okay...

Nov. 12th, 2012 08:02 pm
brightrosefox: (Default)
Adam just came home from work. We're having stir-fry, with string beans, mushrooms, and bacon. I certainly feel good about that. Next step: Learn to stir fry on my own.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't be afraid. Not if it's only been a few days. My appetite has been odd lately. It doesn't mean anything threatening. I will fall back naturally. I will push myself up. I will be all right.

I'm so sorry. I am thinking of something cheerful and fantastic to post now; it breaks my heart when I vent things like this. But this is my journal; I must document.

No...

Nov. 12th, 2012 07:22 pm
brightrosefox: (Default)
Oh, I don't want this to be bad. Please, Higher Brain, don't let this be bad.
All day yesterday I had trouble eating, and by the time I went to sleep my stomach was sending "starving" signals to my brain. I was in pain, dehydrated, desperate. I got up and had a few sips of liquid kefir to calm my stomach. When I woke up this morning, I was horrified to realize that for the first time in seven years, I felt anorexic. I managed to eat just enough to keep myself well, and now I need dinner and can't even think. Eggs, most likely. Gods, this is not good. I don't want to feel this way. I need to make it stop. I don't want this.

Apologies if I have triggered anyone, but... I don't know how to finish that; my brain just blanked out. I do need food. Right now. I don't want to worry myself. Not yet. But I need to have an eating schedule. I need to eat...
brightrosefox: (Default)
Cut for currently uncharacteristic whining and grumping about menstrual weight gain, bloating, body measurements, and numbers. Because damn it, I need to let this out somehow.
Read more... )
Body health and muscle health doesn't happen overnight. I'm over 30; my body is changing. And I am not helping myself by mentally snarling at people who whine about their perceived imperfect weight issues when they have absolutely none. I am also not helping myself by imagining my mother telling me that I was becoming overweight because I weighed more than 110. She essentially wants me to be as thin as I can because for her, thin means healthy. I love her so so much, but I really do think she has a mild eating disorder of some kind.
I am fine. My health is fine. My doctors say I'm fine. I eat small portions of healthy food daily with occasional small portions of junk food. Nobody can force me to eat or exercise a certain way.
And that's what I tell myself during my mental bitchslaps to myself.
I'm fine. I'll be fine. I'm also stressing too much about next week's hearing.
Dear Joanna: BREATHE. FUCKING RELAX ALREADY, GODS ABOVE AND AROUND, JUST BREATHE.

Silly body.

Jan. 7th, 2012 02:14 pm
brightrosefox: (Default)
Oh. It's PMS. This would explain the random eight-pound weight fluctuations, the bloating, the feelings of rage against everything, the dead feelings, the hopelessness, the seizure auras, the cramping, the loss of appetite, the increased tactile allodynia. Time for more drugs, yay!

Jupiter is on the couch next to me, his front paws on my thigh, his purring loud as thunder but soothing. He nibbles my arm every now and then so I will be reminded to pet and scratch him.

Adam is at work, so my plan is to exercise lightly to at least one episode of "Farscape" (thank you, Netflix). I should eat more than a large banana and a small bowl of cereal, but I'm just not motivated to eat.

I can feel the Anorexia Worm sliding into the spaces between my deep thoughts, whispering, changing my mind in the back, telling me in my own voice that I'm too fat right now and I should severely restrict my eating until the sensation of hunger begins to feel more sweetly powerful and seductive than the need to eat my proper daily intake. Stupid worm. I feel you, this time. I know you. You are made of evil. But fighting is what I do, so it's on.

I think I'll have more cereal. That almond dark chocolate granola is calling.

Silly body.

Jan. 7th, 2012 02:14 pm
brightrosefox: (Default)
Oh. It's PMS. This would explain the random eight-pound weight fluctuations, the bloating, the feelings of rage against everything, the dead feelings, the hopelessness, the seizure auras, the cramping, the loss of appetite, the increased tactile allodynia. Time for more drugs, yay!

Jupiter is on the couch next to me, his front paws on my thigh, his purring loud as thunder but soothing. He nibbles my arm every now and then so I will be reminded to pet and scratch him.

Adam is at work, so my plan is to exercise lightly to at least one episode of "Farscape" (thank you, Netflix). I should eat more than a large banana and a small bowl of cereal, but I'm just not motivated to eat.

I can feel the Anorexia Worm sliding into the spaces between my deep thoughts, whispering, changing my mind in the back, telling me in my own voice that I'm too fat right now and I should severely restrict my eating until the sensation of hunger begins to feel more sweetly powerful and seductive than the need to eat my proper daily intake. Stupid worm. I feel you, this time. I know you. You are made of evil. But fighting is what I do, so it's on.

I think I'll have more cereal. That almond dark chocolate granola is calling.

Silly body.

Jan. 7th, 2012 02:14 pm
brightrosefox: (Default)
Oh. It's PMS. This would explain the random eight-pound weight fluctuations, the bloating, the feelings of rage against everything, the dead feelings, the hopelessness, the seizure auras, the cramping, the loss of appetite, the increased tactile allodynia. Time for more drugs, yay!

Jupiter is on the couch next to me, his front paws on my thigh, his purring loud as thunder but soothing. He nibbles my arm every now and then so I will be reminded to pet and scratch him.

Adam is at work, so my plan is to exercise lightly to at least one episode of "Farscape" (thank you, Netflix). I should eat more than a large banana and a small bowl of cereal, but I'm just not motivated to eat.

I can feel the Anorexia Worm sliding into the spaces between my deep thoughts, whispering, changing my mind in the back, telling me in my own voice that I'm too fat right now and I should severely restrict my eating until the sensation of hunger begins to feel more sweetly powerful and seductive than the need to eat my proper daily intake. Stupid worm. I feel you, this time. I know you. You are made of evil. But fighting is what I do, so it's on.

I think I'll have more cereal. That almond dark chocolate granola is calling.

Silly body.

Jan. 7th, 2012 02:14 pm
brightrosefox: (Default)
Oh. It's PMS. This would explain the random eight-pound weight fluctuations, the bloating, the feelings of rage against everything, the dead feelings, the hopelessness, the seizure auras, the cramping, the loss of appetite, the increased tactile allodynia. Time for more drugs, yay!

Jupiter is on the couch next to me, his front paws on my thigh, his purring loud as thunder but soothing. He nibbles my arm every now and then so I will be reminded to pet and scratch him.

Adam is at work, so my plan is to exercise lightly to at least one episode of "Farscape" (thank you, Netflix). I should eat more than a large banana and a small bowl of cereal, but I'm just not motivated to eat.

I can feel the Anorexia Worm sliding into the spaces between my deep thoughts, whispering, changing my mind in the back, telling me in my own voice that I'm too fat right now and I should severely restrict my eating until the sensation of hunger begins to feel more sweetly powerful and seductive than the need to eat my proper daily intake. Stupid worm. I feel you, this time. I know you. You are made of evil. But fighting is what I do, so it's on.

I think I'll have more cereal. That almond dark chocolate granola is calling.
brightrosefox: (Default)
Microwave fettucine alfredo with broccoli? Best and easiest high-calorie meal for when I'm having anorexia moments.
This was a good idea. *pats stomach*

There's still so much debate over anorexia being a disease. My mother and husband have the same view: That the mental disorder does take hold and take control, but the victim also has a conscious choice, and in a way the progression of the illness is a subconscious self-sabotage. I don't completely agree with the theory, because I remember what it was like to struggle and battle and scream and still be unable to force myself to eat. Adam argues that it's because the illness has progressed to a point where the body is too sick to eat. But all that time, I could have made a choice to recover.
I don't see a point in getting irritated or frustrated at statements like those, because he only wants to help. He said last night with a smile, "Now you just have to concentrate on staying healthy. I'll help. I love you." And that's okay. Because he knows I was sick. It doesn't matter what his personal theory his: I was very sick, I was close to dying, and he helped me live.
But it's when people say, "You're not anorexic, you're stupid!" that I get actually angry (I still have not confronted the person who said that, and don't plan to).
I'm still not sure what I believe.
However, the medical definition of "anorexia" is "loss of appetite." This essentially means that anorexia can also be a symptom, even a temporary symptom, of other disorders and diseases. Yes, it can be a full-fledged disorder in itself, becoming "anorexia nervosa," but it can also be symptomatic and a side effect.
My doctor has warned me that some women with fibromyalgia can struggle with bouts of anorexia, due to the chronic pain and fatigue, and that if they suffered from anorexia in the past, it can often be triggering. My therapist has assured me that symptomatic anorexia can be easily fought, and she likes when I find foods that help that battle.
I have to be careful.
I have fettucine alfredo.
brightrosefox: (Default)
Microwave fettucine alfredo with broccoli? Best and easiest high-calorie meal for when I'm having anorexia moments.
This was a good idea. *pats stomach*

There's still so much debate over anorexia being a disease. My mother and husband have the same view: That the mental disorder does take hold and take control, but the victim also has a conscious choice, and in a way the progression of the illness is a subconscious self-sabotage. I don't completely agree with the theory, because I remember what it was like to struggle and battle and scream and still be unable to force myself to eat. Adam argues that it's because the illness has progressed to a point where the body is too sick to eat. But all that time, I could have made a choice to recover.
I don't see a point in getting irritated or frustrated at statements like those, because he only wants to help. He said last night with a smile, "Now you just have to concentrate on staying healthy. I'll help. I love you." And that's okay. Because he knows I was sick. It doesn't matter what his personal theory his: I was very sick, I was close to dying, and he helped me live.
But it's when people say, "You're not anorexic, you're stupid!" that I get actually angry (I still have not confronted the person who said that, and don't plan to).
I'm still not sure what I believe.
However, the medical definition of "anorexia" is "loss of appetite." This essentially means that anorexia can also be a symptom, even a temporary symptom, of other disorders and diseases. Yes, it can be a full-fledged disorder in itself, becoming "anorexia nervosa," but it can also be symptomatic and a side effect.
My doctor has warned me that some women with fibromyalgia can struggle with bouts of anorexia, due to the chronic pain and fatigue, and that if they suffered from anorexia in the past, it can often be triggering. My therapist has assured me that symptomatic anorexia can be easily fought, and she likes when I find foods that help that battle.
I have to be careful.
I have fettucine alfredo.
brightrosefox: (Default)
Microwave fettucine alfredo with broccoli? Best and easiest high-calorie meal for when I'm having anorexia moments.
This was a good idea. *pats stomach*

There's still so much debate over anorexia being a disease. My mother and husband have the same view: That the mental disorder does take hold and take control, but the victim also has a conscious choice, and in a way the progression of the illness is a subconscious self-sabotage. I don't completely agree with the theory, because I remember what it was like to struggle and battle and scream and still be unable to force myself to eat. Adam argues that it's because the illness has progressed to a point where the body is too sick to eat. But all that time, I could have made a choice to recover.
I don't see a point in getting irritated or frustrated at statements like those, because he only wants to help. He said last night with a smile, "Now you just have to concentrate on staying healthy. I'll help. I love you." And that's okay. Because he knows I was sick. It doesn't matter what his personal theory his: I was very sick, I was close to dying, and he helped me live.
But it's when people say, "You're not anorexic, you're stupid!" that I get actually angry (I still have not confronted the person who said that, and don't plan to).
I'm still not sure what I believe.
However, the medical definition of "anorexia" is "loss of appetite." This essentially means that anorexia can also be a symptom, even a temporary symptom, of other disorders and diseases. Yes, it can be a full-fledged disorder in itself, becoming "anorexia nervosa," but it can also be symptomatic and a side effect.
My doctor has warned me that some women with fibromyalgia can struggle with bouts of anorexia, due to the chronic pain and fatigue, and that if they suffered from anorexia in the past, it can often be triggering. My therapist has assured me that symptomatic anorexia can be easily fought, and she likes when I find foods that help that battle.
I have to be careful.
I have fettucine alfredo.
brightrosefox: (Default)
...and she cries like I cried )
brightrosefox: (Default)
...and she cries like I cried )
brightrosefox: (Default)
...and she cries like I cried )

gained

Jun. 11th, 2007 01:33 pm
brightrosefox: (Default)
Gaining: The Truth About Life After Eating Disorders

One of the reviews:
Read more... )

Thinking:
She expands on the thinking that "genetics loads the gun and enrivonment pulls the trigger" in terms of biological predisposition and experiential triggers for those who suffer from eating disorders by writing about the position that genetics creates the gun, environment loads it and extreme emotional experiences fire the ED bullet.

Mmm. Yah.
I want to show this to my mother. It struck a huge blow to hear her say to my face that, in a roundabout way, it was partially my fault for not stopping the anorexia.

gained

Jun. 11th, 2007 01:33 pm
brightrosefox: (Default)
Gaining: The Truth About Life After Eating Disorders

One of the reviews:
Read more... )

Thinking:
She expands on the thinking that "genetics loads the gun and enrivonment pulls the trigger" in terms of biological predisposition and experiential triggers for those who suffer from eating disorders by writing about the position that genetics creates the gun, environment loads it and extreme emotional experiences fire the ED bullet.

Mmm. Yah.
I want to show this to my mother. It struck a huge blow to hear her say to my face that, in a roundabout way, it was partially my fault for not stopping the anorexia.

gained

Jun. 11th, 2007 01:33 pm
brightrosefox: (Default)
Gaining: The Truth About Life After Eating Disorders

One of the reviews:
Read more... )

Thinking:
She expands on the thinking that "genetics loads the gun and enrivonment pulls the trigger" in terms of biological predisposition and experiential triggers for those who suffer from eating disorders by writing about the position that genetics creates the gun, environment loads it and extreme emotional experiences fire the ED bullet.

Mmm. Yah.
I want to show this to my mother. It struck a huge blow to hear her say to my face that, in a roundabout way, it was partially my fault for not stopping the anorexia.

Oh...

Jun. 11th, 2007 12:00 pm
brightrosefox: (Default)
On my friends list, a post by [livejournal.com profile] shadesong moved me to tears, because she said something that could have come from my mouth, my mind myself:

"Just one of the bits of damage the past few years have inflicted on me = I don't know what my body is supposed to look like anymore. I've never been able to judge my body as compared to the bodies of others - the curves I find attractive in other women would, on me, send that voice clear 'round the bend. And I can tell myself "This is idiotic - you find her beautiful, and you are skinnier than her, therefore you are not the baby beluga you think you are." But this is not a rational thing.

I don't recognize myself in the mirror. After years of hollow thin face and razor-slash cheekbones, my cheeks seem full, my face seems amorphous. There are layers of meat on my arms, my legs, my belly. I never really registered myself as being as skinny as I was at my lowest - pictures of me then shock me. That's not what I looked like in my head. But neither is this. So I can't really objectively tell if I'm okay."

Yeah.
Yeah.

Everything.
Everything.

Oh...

Jun. 11th, 2007 12:00 pm
brightrosefox: (Default)
On my friends list, a post by [livejournal.com profile] shadesong moved me to tears, because she said something that could have come from my mouth, my mind myself:

"Just one of the bits of damage the past few years have inflicted on me = I don't know what my body is supposed to look like anymore. I've never been able to judge my body as compared to the bodies of others - the curves I find attractive in other women would, on me, send that voice clear 'round the bend. And I can tell myself "This is idiotic - you find her beautiful, and you are skinnier than her, therefore you are not the baby beluga you think you are." But this is not a rational thing.

I don't recognize myself in the mirror. After years of hollow thin face and razor-slash cheekbones, my cheeks seem full, my face seems amorphous. There are layers of meat on my arms, my legs, my belly. I never really registered myself as being as skinny as I was at my lowest - pictures of me then shock me. That's not what I looked like in my head. But neither is this. So I can't really objectively tell if I'm okay."

Yeah.
Yeah.

Everything.
Everything.

Profile

brightrosefox: (Default)
brightlotusmoon

December 2014

S M T W T F S
 1234 56
7 891011 1213
14 15161718 1920
21222324252627
28293031   

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 28th, 2017 02:41 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios