Feeling Large ‘N In Charge!


One of the changes I decided to make this year of my life is to take control of exercising more. I’ve been walking more and now it’s time to hit the exercise class at the aquatic centre.

I LOVE aquatic aerobics and they are the best exercise for someone who has my kind of joint/muscle pain.  However, I don’t own a swimsuit right now and the local aquatic centre is a bit pricey for someone with my income.

The thing is? My dad always told me ‘you only don’t have because you don’t ask’.  So I asked. Do you offer any kind of assistance to someone with disability income level who would benefit from using your facility? The very kind woman gave me a card to contact someone else and ask.

Sure enough I meet the requirements for help and it’s been set up. The discount? It’s almost 100% off.

It was with a heart full of excitement that I began to shop for my swimsuit. Everything I could find in town was over $100 (yikes) so I went on good ‘ole Amazon and found the one in the picture. Measured myself up and went to pick my size.

WTF? I am not a 4 XL. The biggest I ever wore was 3XL when I was 400 pounds. But I guess online sizing is meant to make you feel like you’re bigger than you are. Other women’s comments said they ordered according to the size chart even though they also feel like they are not a 4 XL. They were glad they did because it fit them perfect.

I ordered the suit in the size it said I should (the 4 XL). But apparently it’s good I am taking charge of getting more exercise because I’m larger than life. I hope that after the soul crushing size choice it at least fits when it gets here.


Shaunda Reads Cards

I’ve read cards for close to 20 years. I started reading tarot cards in my early twenties. However, I came and went from card reading because of my own struggle with religion.

From the time I was a very young child I sent out my energy to the universe and things happened. Everyone around me attributed it to God answering my prayers. When I questioned the prayer perspective I was taught any other ideology was evil. If I read horoscopes or thought about those things? I was inviting demons into my soul.

It took a long time to overcome that. It was in adulthood I embraced my intuition.  I emancipated myself from religion. I acknowledged my own source of power.

I started reading cards for myself for fun. A dirty secret until discovered by my pal. He insisted I read for him. Then his boyfriend. Then others.

Soon I was reading for myself regularly and for friends almost daily.

“Hey, Shaunda? If I bring over some wine can you do a reading for me?” “Hey roomie, I know it’s your turn to do dishes but I’ll do them if you pull a card for me.” “Shaunda, we think it would be great to have cards read at the holiday party so people can focus on what is coming in the New Year. You can do that, right? We’ll pay you!”

I loved, still love, reading cards. But I gave up my decks when I left Winnipeg and didn’t read for almost 3 years.

Last year I was in a local store looking for a quartz candle holder when I was compelled toward the cards. One deck in particular. Earth Magic.

earth magic

Oracle cards, not tarot. I was so drawn to them.

I started by pulling single cards for myself. Daily meditation combined with learning my new cards. Then I pulled cards for people around me, randomly. I used my book to learn about the cards I pulled for them. They loved the experience. But very random.


Over the summer I read cards voluntarily at a 95th birthday party, a 50th anniversary and a family reunion. I casually met people who had things they thought it would be fun to have a card reader at and I obliged. I received tips and possibility to do readings at other parties.

Honestly? This is a fun thing I love to do. Doing it naturally has drawn the right people to me who have helped me because I added that to their life.

Now I am taking it to my community. I live on a limited income and if I can supplement it in any way (cash or trade) I should try. It’s the most fun and best possible way for me to try.

Shaunda Reads Cards Facebook Page

However, I can’t deny I am scared because I am putting myself out there. What if no one responds? What if this amounts to nothing helpful? What if my natural abilities continue to go untapped?

I don’t venture out this way. I don’t risk my personal emotions. I’m very frightened of failure even when failing wouldn’t matter. If card reading doesn’t continue for me as more than a hobby? I will still be okay.

So I am stepping outside the comfort zone. Wish me luck!


November 3 and 43

November 3rd is my birthday. In 2017 I am 43 years old.

I don’t make a fanfare over my birthday. This year’s was nice though.

My BF cracked three jokes about me being old or my gray hair before I reminded him it was my birthday. We laughed. He bought me carrot cake and wine.

I spent some time meditating about the coming year. I don’t really do New Year’s resolutions but on my birthday I often take time to reflect on the past and coming year. I have some goals set (long and short term both).

My birthday fell on the full moon. The Blood Moon. It was a two day full moon and I was able to send off a lot of the negative things I have been struggling with. I came away from it with such a sense of confidence this year will be very changing for me.

And as a side note?

I’ve been focused mentally on my looks lately. Feeling insecure. So my boyfriend had me dress up and then took pictures of me to remind me 43 looks awesome on me!


Letters From Home

I received a personal letter recently. I write more letters than I receive. I was surprised. And it was from my dad (the adopted one, not the dead one) who never writes letters. I was super anxious when I opened it.

I thought it would be some kind of reprimand. What did he read in my blog? I mean, I don’t think he reads blogs. Pretty sure he barely gets email. But I was curious what he had to say that was so important a pen went to paper and a stamp went to envelope.

It was deeply personal. I won’t share his personal stuff but he explained a lot of things about himself that he felt led him to make mistakes in his life. In particular? He apologized for how those issues led to ‘damaging my generous and beautiful spirit’. And he said he would be grateful if I could forgive him.

It was super emotional. And my reply to him doesn’t expose anything he told me, really, so I will share it with you before I mail it.

Dear Daddy,

I got your letter a few days ago and have been taking some time to reflect before I respond.

Thank you so much for the gift. I was timely for sure. My rent doubles in July/August so September is recovery mode. I had all my bills paid but things were stretched so your gift really helped.

Thank you for sharing about your life and the things that shaped the person you were and who you’ve become.

Thank you for your apology. Know that you have my forgiveness for however you feel you wronged me.

I knew we didn’t have a lot of money when I was a child. But I never saw THAT as holding back anything. I never felt like my needs weren’t met. I saw my dad as hard-working, who did whatever he needed to for his family to get by.

If hindsight is 20/20 and you see now things could have been different? All I have in my heart is happiness for you that your years of hard work are being rewarded.

Being poor taught me to work hard at as many jobs necessary to make ends meet. It taught me to make meals instead of buying pre-fab food. It taught me used clothing is great. Now I find vintage amazing clothes at second hand stores.

If I didn’t grow up how I did monetarily? I would not be able to survive how I live now. And I make ends meet with a few treats. So I don’t just survive, dad, I’m content.


There is more to the letter.

Six pages later? I told my daddy so many things.

I told him where I think things went wrong for me.

I needed psychiatric medical help. The psychiatrist I went to? Turned out my parents ‘could tell’ he was a homosexual so they wouldn’t let me go back. I was told to talk to my pastor when I needed serious medical attention mentally.

My pastor was an excellent mathematician. He was an actuary before he quit that to pastor a church. Very intelligent. But a horrible psychiatrist. Instead of being able to talk to him about my sexual issues? I was hauled into his office, as the principal of my school, and told I was lazy.

The daydreaming? Constantly holding up class with my questions? Being stubborn about doing homework I thought was irrelevant? They were all my way of avoiding real schoolwork. I was lazy. Official diagnosis.

How different would I be now if I had gotten help then?

I wrote about my socialization. How I was damaged by being forced to attend such a small school (I did ask my parents if I could go to a different one, public). And then I was thrust into complicated social situations, with no clue how to deal with them. It was awkward and terrifying to me. I already struggled with mental health issues yet to be addressed.

I told him that at least college taught me to ask questions again. In asking them? I learned about the faith I was brought up in. In my required Bible classes? I learned so much history that I started going to the library to compare Biblical history VS the history books I never got to read in my private Christian school.

Christianity stopped making sense for me.

I started taking only the Bible classes required. All my electives became psychology, sociology and journalism so I could learn to communicate better. My field study was drama so I could explore being creative.

I told my dad I am myself pagan now.

The long and the sort of it is I don’t feel like you did me any wrong except for what happened at the hands of “Christianity”. YOU loved me and acted with your best intentions for the well-being of your family.

I love you, dad. I forgive you for whatever you think you did to damage me…..

You mentioned sadness. That comes with age. If you find the time? I really want to know what makes you sad. What are your regrets? All of them. I don’t need details. But I am someone who suffers with depression. Knowing others sadness helps. I could learn from it, maybe?

So I’m gonna close now. I feel like I could write pages more and maybe sometime soon I will. Thank you for your letter, Papa. I love you so much.

Your Chosen Daughter,





Humpty Dumpty

‘Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a big fall.
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty together again.’

Someone I respect recently told me:

Just because his broken pieces seem to fit your broken pieces doesn’t mean you will put humpty dumpty back together again.

Obviously, a broken egg cannot be put back together. Sometimes a relationship reaches a point where it cannot be put back together. I think that is my friends point. A broken egg can’t be fixed.

But I like to think outside the box.

A broken egg? Can still be useful. Fry one up and put it in a sandwich and you know it is true 🙂

Two broken eggs? They can still come together to make something awesome. An omelette, perhaps.

I put sincere thought into my friends opinion (I asked for it). I understand his comparison to Humpty Dumpty. It’s why I have been trying to take everything in my relationship with stride.

But if I were to take that comparison to another level?

When you put two broken people together who are each working individually to be better people? Sometimes there is a lot of other emotional stuff added. It gets confusing.

But, aren’t emotions what give life ‘flavour’?

We’re taking our Humpty Dumpty brokenness and turning into an omelette with every flavour of every emotion. Yes, we are both scared. But we are moving forward both separate and together (a first for us).

You can’t put broken back together. You can take only take what is broken and make it into something spectacular and new.



My Shitty RV

I love that I have a home. It was gifted to me and I own it.

But sometimes RV living isn’t the easiest. Sometimes waste and paper back up in your ‘black tank’ and you end up with an endeavour you haven’t encountered before.

SO what are the options? Well, my BF has been super on top of the issue. We’re putting as much water in the tank and draining it as much as possible. We purchased a liquid thing to break-up the solid stuff but it wasn’t as effective as we hoped. We had some movement though.

Next? We tried a toilet auger. If you don’t know how those work (I didn’t)? It’s like a wiry poky thing that you put in the toilet. It has this snake like part that comes out as you hand crank it. The snaky part goes into the tank and stirs up the shit stuff. Then you try to pump it out again.

It didn’t work. At least the first attempt. It worked a bit. Enough we can take poops. But it’s still not pumping out properly.

We went to a different RV place and the owner there swore by the product we’re going to try. He knows all the details, including that my RV is parked so there is no option to jostle the shit to loosen it by simply driving around.

I never told him I could try to jostle it with amazing sex… but I might try that! LOL

At this moment though? RV life is a bit shitty. Backed up septic. AND it gets cold at night, things are moist (I hate that word). I long for a wood stove to be truthful.

Thinking it’s time to put serious effort into new accommodations.


End Result?

We got our groove on. I did call him the N word. He wanted it. Even though he doesn’t look ‘black’ (sorry if that sounds racist). I am just trying to describe a look. He has longer, thick, wavy hair and dark, piercing eyes.  He looks Indian, Bollywood style but also Native American. Such an exotic look.

And even though I gave into calling him what he wanted and saying terrible things to him? He also called me equally dirty words and spanked me a bit. I feel like we were equal LOL

That was a first. He was fun. Funny. I read him my original blog about him and he found it humorous, I think. After we were done and were reading comments? He found it even more funny.

He says he wants to see me again.

Things we connect on? Pics and videos. He took good pics and great video.  He has no issue with another man in the room so bukkake is fine. He is STD free and carries condoms (always a plus). And?

He was cute. Like really cute. Taller than me. Tanned skin with shaggy dark hair. Piercing eyes. Tattoos. Fit. He made it super easy to want to get that. Twice.

And that is the result of my first ever cross culture experience!


Call Me Your Nigger?

Yep. Just dropped the N bomb.

Why? Because I have never taken a black dick before and I have a mixed race guy who wants to come over and have me as his personal dessert.

I let him know I have never gone black. No disrespect about that. But when I tried to date a guy in high school I was just taught, in my family, that mixed race anything was not something I should invite in my life. I looked at the black hand holding mine and let go.

And tonight? I am going to take my first ever semi-black cock. I told him I don’t do that and this is really a first for me.

His response? He told me he wants me to call him my nigger.

Yep. Call him the N word and tell him how he needs to please his mistress’ white/pink pussy. He doesn’t want to enter me. Just finger and tongue. Plus provide me with weed n wine. And he wants to be my ‘good’ nigger.

I’m gonna roll with this and see where it goes. But just trying to get used to the word nigger rolling off my tongue in a sensitive way? AWKWARD!



I decided to take down my dating profile.

It was fun while it’s been there. I have met some really nice people to talk to who don’t seem to have any real ambition to meet. Some people I’ve met and it’s been, well, fun blog fodder. Some are just total creepers asking bizarre questions of someone for a first message. Like, “If we go for a walk on the beach when we meet can I smell your feet after?” (Personally? “Hello” works better with me)

However in all of the hullabaloo that has been my current dating life I have met some pretty cool people. One wasn’t from my dating profile, just a local who is currently out of town but wants to meet when he gets back from his training thing.

The guys I’ve met online that I think are the best? Are the guys that pester me to meet them even if I’ve put them off (anxiety means I cancel). We meet, don’t have sex or even really fool around but they let me know they read my blog, get who I am or where I’m at. They just want to keep knowing me. They hope it means they will get into my panties.

It’s the select few I’ve laughed with that I want to keep around. A few guys stopped a few minutes to say hi as they were passing through my hood. Last minute they asked if they could pop in to put a face to the online conversations. Some others spent hours here. Visiting not only me but other people in my life and there was no pressure to ‘get me alone’.

Altogether, I’ve met a few. Might even call it a roster! But they are aware of the situation and still made the effort to make a friendship first. They all want to be with me and I am sexually attracted to all of them. Connection happened when they put friendship before box.

I think I have found a sufficient number of friends with benefits! I’m looking forward to having these really cool guys around in my life to spend time and have amazing fuck sessions with. I’m sure they will all let me tell stories and most have offered to be cameramen for me. But it will be more than that, too! Exactly what I needed.

Time to ditch the crazy of the online first dates for the comfort of being with familiar. That was a quick process. I’m glad!


Bollywood. YES! I do that. The colour. The dance. The exotic way they entice each other. The country of Tantric love. The music. I love the music. The subtitles?
“You are my  love, For eternity. We are united. You are my partner. I am a girl with my beloved. My lamp is lit by your flame. You are my united.”
It sounds so much more pretty in their language. And this is just the opening track. Still? Full of colour and dance while they sing it.
I have had a huge fascination with Indian culture and cuisine since some missionaries from India came to my church when I was a child. I wanted to be there and see it so much? It sorta shaped my life. Back when I was involved in that religious experience as a child? I thought it meant I was mean to go there as a missionary. I’ve let go of that.
Today? I watched a TV show that made me want to Netflix search for Bollywood movies and belly dance around my living room with colourful skirts on LOL
The have an episode where grown up Stephanie Tanner belly dances with a bindy on her head and all I can think is? YUM!
Fucking Bollywood women? Those curvy belly dancing gals? I fucking need to meet more of those!
One other thing though? Even when a doctor is called in the movie? He always tries a natural medicine first. When I am watching movies made in other countries? Particularly India? So much reference to homeopathic medicine. Just a rabbit trail thought for another time.
India seems to have a theme of LOVE and marriage in their films, as well. So there was a wedding welcome song I just watched. It is a song to bring a new bride into your family. It started with the words,
“Listen to what we have to say dear bride. Meet your new family.  (A woman stands up to dance and says) We’ll introduce you to everyone, tell you their secrets, too.” That gets repeated so much until she knows she is welcome. Then the dance to introduce her to the head of the family begins. And it all goes from there. In epic colour and beautiful dance.
But I am really more about the dancing and colour…. so..
Is the movie I am watching. Lots of dialogue I need to read. But a lot of colour, music and girl power to it, so far.
May switch over to something more musical so I can dance more but right now I am dancing at their wedding LOL