Barack !

I have got this picture in a revue I have never seen before this kind of relationship between a girl and her father. I have put this picture in my living room, I really love the American President.

I'm still here !

Well mates, I hope everything is ok to you, life is difficult for everyone, but we have to live.
I have to tell you my news:
Last year was a fucking year of fucking bullshit news. I have met again my fucking homosexual daddy, wow, his wife looks like an old witch, red hair, wanna seem pleasant but she's a fucking psychopath bitch... He looks like an old homosexual man, I would say a metrosexual man who has never understood that there is a way to be, you can be bisexual, straight, or homosexual, but don't say you're straight if you don't think you are.
Well lets go, after a meeting with him, his cell phone (and his bitchwife on phone with a male voice) I have been on the Felicitas Villa ! ;-) Felicitas my ass !
They drink all day long, he smokes all day long. He does live with an homosexual and alcoholic man too...a funny life. He thinks he's a prof painter, ask him to draw your face, he won't do it. He doesn't know how to paint, because he uses things to copy pictures he can see on a wall. They are uninteresting. They are harmful.
I have met too an Australian guy, from FB, we have spents 5 days in Paris, it was deep.
Well I know there are some connections between the fact Fraser doesn't want to belong to me and the fact that I have stopped to see my Daddy, sweet daddy.
Fraser was not the right one. So no problem.

So I haven't been loved when I was born, by mother and father, first mother didn't love me and let me down. Then she abused me with food, and I used to spend the time on a chair, because she didn't want I could move, walk or anything else. She was scared I could fall on the floor, she was scared about my health because she has lost her brother at birth.
When I told my father about the nightmare I had, he didn't want to listen. He didn't mind, and didn't want to talk.
Such a bastard.


Well I don't want to hear about them anymore.


I'm sorry for this bad post, Hello Daddy ;-)

My new order

Today I have bought a coat for september. I hope it will come soon enough.

Crime Scene

When we lived in the Var (big touristic french region) we used to walk in forests with Tate and another dog, It was raining but just a bit, we decided to pursue our walk, then we saw an empty beer pack, and panties and bras on same place.There were panties with some shit inside a riped up top and a white bras for a teenage girl.
I felt scared, my intuition was working, and Tate didn't feel ok there, I took these pictures, and we called the cops. A man said "ok, we'll go there". I really thought it was a rape scene, and the victim was a teenage girl. Size of underwears showed me that. There was some handkerchief but no condoms, it was really scaring.

About this story, cops never went there, I hope I'm paranoid but watching these pictures, I can't be sure.

Lot of things have changed these last weeks. I mean I've changed but I still being angry.
I have read a weird Psychology book, it was very hurting but I've learnt a lot of things, I ignored.

I still missing my sweet tate, she was a wise and sweet dog, I can't forget her.

I miss my blog's pals too much, I haven't written for weeks, and I miss Karen, Michelle, Will, Geoffrey, Terence, Malcom, et cetera.

I have twisted my foot as ever, a fucking pain, coming back in a bus from mall.
My left foot looks like a football balloon now. In french we say often about someone who is annoying us "he's breaking my ass", but we talk about feet, so it would be "he's breaking my feet", I feel that my past is breaking my ass, and my foot shows as much it's hurting.
I can't wear dresses anymore, I can't go out, I just have to deal with Clint's whims and Laurent's naps. My life is funny....

In memory of Bruno

Bruno was the taller boy up, with his smiling face, and I was the queen of sadness the first one from right to left set down. He was 14 y old, I was 13.

Bruno was in my class at 5 level. He was a rascal, I mean he liked wasting people's face. He was older than me, a strange boy, with blue eyes.
Once he told me that his parents knew mine, I asked my mother if she reminded something, she answered without hesitation "no". Bruno had a victim face. Now thinking of him, I'm sure he has been abused.
I was his victim, he liked teasing me, screaming I was in love with him (that was true) ; he humiliated a boy from my class removing the pants of this boy in front of all kids waiting for their teacher. he raised my dress (the one time I dressed one at school).
But I felt he wasn't as strong as he used to show. One day I was at a drawing class and I was showing to a pal of mine some pictures from a teenager's magazine "OK", I showed Police' band and Kim Wilde. Bruno came to me after the class and asked me if I wanted to share pictures with him.
He wanted Police band's pictures, and he'd give me Kim Wilde's pictures. I said ok.
I felt to much glad he talked to me.
We shared pictures then, I was proud to have a buddy like him.
At the end of the school year, a teacher wanted to plan a rafting trip in The Verdon's place. I didn't know how to swim and I didn't want to spend time with most of my ass buddies, so I have never asked permission to my parents.
We had a good sport's teacher, but I had to lie to him: I told him I couldn't go there because my parents didn't give me permission, and Bruno couldn't go there for the same reason. So the plan was done. Bruno stayed with me asking me why I couldn't go there. And he told me how much his parents sucked, and didn't want to please him. He was very disappointed. I was ashamed.
On June I moved with my funky parents, and I've never met him again.
On 1985, I was in a mall, with my mother, and I met one of my ass buddies, she told me that Bruno had kill himself .
I was shocked, I couldn't believe he did that, and he wasn't alive anymore.I thought my pal lied to me, later I received a letter from one of my old buddies , and she wrote he did.
Bruno is an angel, sometimes I think of him, he was so ironic, so provocative. He was just 15 years old...RIP Bruno, I won't forget you.

University

I remind perfectly until my 19 y old I have looked older than I was. On 2004, I returned to University for studying Law. I was 33 y old, and on the first days, students believed I was only 25 y old. It was funny.
I couldn't stay at university because unemployement office blocked my file cuz they didn't want to pay my studies, but they had to pay, I deserved it.
Now I don't regret, fate decided to not allow me studying Law, because I wanted to take revenge from past.
But when I went to this university, I felt comfortable. More than the university of my first studies.
Men didn't talk to me, I was only with women, they helped me, giving me books, helping me et cetera.
Bu the first year on 1993 at university was a fucking year, I met there a lot of people.
I met again a friend from college, Elisabeth, I stayed with her, but she sucked, she was jealous of me.
I was popular with men, boys came to me wanted to flirt with me, it was the first time men that men hit on me. I had long hair, I felt slim, I used to work as baby-sitter for paying my studies, but I choosed history, wanting to never success my studies.
I repeated the first year, and Elisabeth successed her first year. I felt angry because I have successed a very important subject. And in this subject I studied Sociology.Elisabeth tried this exam again on her 3rd years of studies, because she chose the bad subject.
It was my favorite subject. I mean it was easy for me to understand, history sucked really.
Sometimes I went to the theatre with newspaper, I opened it watching with provocative eyes my annoying teacher. I liked it.
Other times I talked about movies with a friend of mine.
But I really felt disgusted while my 3rd year, at geography's exam on september, I was just beside student who opened their books copying exactly what they needed. It was about deserts...We had same exam's subject on June, and I don't like desert, I don't like snakes, I have never learnt deserts.
So I left after one hour of exam.
The University teachers were strong, because they didn't want to keep a lot of students.
I didn't like them.
But it was my bad, if I had choice now I would choose Arts.
About my 37 years I don't look like a 37 years woman, that's weird.

Did you feel comfortable with your relatives ?

Reading an excellent article on a french magazine, I have tried to remind if I felt comfortable in my family, the answer is : NO.
Most of the time with my parents at home or in the car I felt no secure. With my grand parents (from dad) I felt unsecure. At school too, I have memory of a big kid who saw me in the toilets at younger kids school, he opened the door, and I was inside, BUT NOTHING COMES BACK on mind !
With my grand parents (from mom) I felt secure, why ? Because I was loved, I wanted to spend my childood with them. My grand father drove me anywhere, I discovered flowers, vegetables, gardening, life. When he was a cop, he was an alcoholic, my mother told me he spanked her very often and she had to buy beer and wine bottles for him.
But he had a cancer so he stopped drinking alcohol and he used to drink water with some lemon juice.
My grand father (from dad) was an alcoholic too, he drove me too Zoo but my one memory is one day he was drunk, my grand mother coming back home took me and she drove me back home, my grand father followed her with his car, and she said "He's has rocksin his head". I cried in the car because I loved my grand father, but I couldn't love my grand mother.

The one moment, I felt really secure was at Xmas, when my grand parents were at home on December 24th, I wanted to keep them with me forever. I was afraid of anything, but I told myself, we can't feel unsecure because we're all in one house. I didn't want to lose my grand father.
He passed away on 1988.

My old friend C

She is on the left, I'm on the right.1998


When I was a kid I used to spend holidays with my friends around, but on 83's they weren't around.
Once I met a girl I was only 12 y old, and she was 15.I didn't try to talk to her, but she did ask me a shop place for buying some bread. I said that I'll drive her to this shop, talking walking, I heard she was from north of France, she has a sister, and a older brother, she spent holidays in my flat, with her father (her parents were divorced). She became a friend, we spent all July days together, she teached me how to dance, and sometimes her father drived us to the beach.
I felt happy and glad because my own father didn't like going to the beach with his children.
One day we were on a beach, her sister was pleasant, we ate good hot dogs, it was a nice day, we laught, everything was good for us.
But coming back to the car, her father tried to remove her swim swit, and he successed. She was naked in front of her old brother and her young sister but in front of me too. Her father came to me and tried too, I put my shirt on me and I said "no ! ", I sit on the car, beside C and her sister, C were crying, I couldn't know what I could do for her, and her father said "Fran... is vicious she weared her shirt because she didn't want to be naked", he laught, and the older brother too.
C never told me if he raped her.
One month later I left with my parents for going on holidays.
I kept in touch with C. Writing and writing her.
Some years after we forgot each other, but when Internet appeared, I found her on white pages and I wrote her again, she wrote back telling her life "she was pregnant on 15, just after the holidays, the boy left her, and she has a daughter, she sent me a picture.
We met again because with her husband she spent new holidays on 98's, I felt happy to meet her children 3 boys and her daughter a brown one with brown eyes, C has blue eyes and her husband too.
We went to a beach, and she didn't care of the baby the younger one, he was red under the sun.
I felt unconfortable.
One moment she said me to follow her, and I did.
She told me that her daughter didn't know her father, the true one. I said "why don't you tell her ? C I'm scared because one day she'll know and she will hate you, do you mind ?" She answered "yes I know", but nothing more.
Thinking about her I realized (I didn't know my background yet) that her daughter could have as father her grand father. She looked like him, poor little girl.
One year after C tried to keep in touch with me, but I didn't want, I had my brain stroke on december 98 and I didn't want to look back anymore.
She's a poor victim, she doesn't love her children. She was lost. But I couldn't help her.
I tell you this story because I don't focus only on myself, on my background, I have seen a lot of victims, This blog is just a therapy as the last one about the sexual abuses.
I don't complain and I'm not a mythomaniac.
When we are victims, we meet most of the time other victims, that's my opinion.

Never heard compliments from parents

I have never heard a body's compliment from my parents . The first time I need a bra, she drove me to a mall and bought a bra (first price).
I didn't know what was a compliment, I knew at school I wasn't wise because I used to talk to my buddy beside me. Early I heard it wasn't good being talkative, and I was looking for images (gift to wise kids). But I stayed talkative.
One day we joined my uncle (D), who owned a house, and a buddy of my uncle said to my father "she's looking lovely Fran, she'll be a nice girl", Daddy stayed quiet as ever.
Later I was inside the house. My uncle obtained (I don't know how he got it !!!hmmm) a pack of clothes, and I tried to look for a shirt. Removing my tee shirt, my mother said "look her breast, she'll have same nipples as her grand-mother, it sucks", and my aunt said "yes she will, but those kind of breasts are the most beautiful". I watched her smiling, and my mother pursued "oh no, they are not too beautiful, and she still look like her fucking grandmother". I did trust my mother, so I said to myself "mom is right, I'll be ugly, and I'll have same breast as my fucking grand mother).
I used to see my father and mother naked, and I felt jealous of my mother's breast. She has italian origins, and I wanted to have same hair, as her, but nothing more.
My father's uncle told one day "Fran... is tall, she should go to Paris and be a dancer for Cabarets(Moulin Rouge, for exemple)". No one replied to this compliment.
But I did hear these compliments. It stayed quiet on mind, until 2004 when I realized I had a body.One day before their divorce, I heard from my mother "we are proud of you and your brother, because you're both smart", I didn't care, I wanted to hear "you look good", no she did not.
From 2003 most of my money is for my bras or dresses, I prefer wearing a nice dress than eating too much.

My identity

I have never heard about the fact my mother had sex with another man than my father. When my parents divorced, I didn't keep in touch with my mother who prefered going to Paris meeting my brother than staying with me (my first dog passed away while her divorce, he got an enormous tumor destroying his sinus and face.) . She said she loved the dog, but going to Paris was too much funny. We used to drive her all over the Provence region, and she didn't like staying with me. Once we went in a famous south of France's place, and when I saw her face, closed, no smile, I said "ok, we return back home, now, don't you prefer ?". In the car, she shaked my hand very strongly, it was a message "I can't love you, I try but I can't".
I had a puzzle on hands and I had to know the problem, not only the abuses. I was born with a lot of hump, my father doesn't have so many humps on him, my uncle does.
And the behavior of my father made me think there was a problem with my identity.
I mean they didn't pay my studies, they didn't care when I had a stroke. So why don't they love me ?
I have never killed someone, and I have never lied to them, until their divorce, I didn't understand.
One day, I remind perfectly, I was talking about headaches, and my mother said "your father too suffered of headache, when he was younger", some days after I talked about headaches to my father and he said "No I haven't suffered of headache".
Later he said "yes I have suffered of headache in past".
I was as much naive than I couldn't ask to myself some question, the fact that my father could be another man couldn't be on my mind. Why ? Because two of us look like each other.
My parents get married on 69 and I was born on 71. I have read letters of my mother to my father where she wrote "she hates D my uncle", it was on 68 69...So what did happen really ?
I guess she felt love in with him, because he was not as much rude as my father, he was more rich too, and more smart. They had sex on august, and she denied she was pregnant, she told me how much I have tried to kill her when I came on this planet ... I spent my childhood with the bad grand mother, I didn't stay in school for too long as early as I learnt to write and read french language. So I felt guilt. I learnt to hate my uncle, his wife and my cousins (step sister). My mother was cruel, telling me "you look like D, you're ugly""D looks like his mother, he's ugly, dirty, and a son of a bitch".
On 93 I met my grand mother to take a book. I met my cousin (step sister) I was with a friend of mine, and I was very confused to meet this little girl, who looked like myself when I was 7.
Now where I'm living I have a cousin a man of 36 years old, he's living near my flat 500m. I have met his mother who said only "Hello" to me and ran away like I was a ghost. I have tried to contact my cousin, but no way!
And we spent a lot of time together, he was my first crush.
I know I won't hear the truth, I can only deal with my intuition and facts (my uncle and mother talked to much both staying away from others...weird no ? She said she hates him, but she liked talking to him").DNA tests ? no way, I won't contact my uncle, they all we say that I'm mad.
So I'm proud of my humps.

For french people, there is a very good article in "Marie Claire", of July 2008, a personal story.

Marion my one true friend

I met her repeating my last class , honestly I met her to Paris when for the first time of my life, my parents allowed me to go there with school, we met each other on June 86, it was a trip with all classes, but hopefully, students who sucked weren't there except Sebastien.
We were in a bus, I stayed beside the one who told to everyone about my pants (cf my post about Wet), but I had plans, I didn't want to stay with her all trip long. When we arrived to Paris, there were people from Brazil, and french, (because of football) it's my best memory of humanity, because brazilians are more human than other people on this planet. Everyone laught, said "Hello", and I realized , that Sebastien was beside me in the bus and he left when I saw him.
When we joined the hotel, I had to share the bedroom with 2 girls I didn't like, so I spent a lot of time in the bathroom, because the bath was comfortable, and I took my time. When I joined the girls, a boy was runing in the hotel screaming because a girl wanted to kiss him and she had a knife in her hands. I laughed, because I couldn't believe it, people are often paranoid, and my "lovely" pal told me, "you'll be with this girl next year..." she was for once right.
I didn't like too much Marion because she was like glue with me, I believed she was lesbian.
We spent time both, visiting The Louvre museum. Paris is a wonderful town in France, for tourists :).
Then we returned back home 4 days later, my head full of life, smiles, fun, et cetera.
On september, I was with Marion in the same student class. And for the 86's picture she was beside me her hand on my shoulder.
Sophie was with us too, she was a silly girl, we shared a lot of things, we were a band in the class, I helped Marion and Sophie. They were my true friends!
For once in my life, I had real friends, Marion stayed often at home, her mother was rude, and she thought mine was better ... It wasn't important, because I liked her.
But on 87 my father was kick out of his job. And he stayed at home all days long, angry, drinking, and because he had friends he found a job in another place, so we moved to Digne.
Too sad, my friends stayed there, my parents sold their house, and we left.
I missed Marion so we shared letters, and I called her any weekend, because the cab phone closed to my grand parent's home was free. I swear, the cab phone helped me to keep contact with Marion, I called her for 2 or 3 hours with 1Franc (old french money=€ 1/7 ) .
It was always funny. but on 88 my grand-father passed away from cancer, and we moved again, joining Sisteron.
When we lived to Digne, I have met a lot of pals, I wasn't too much at home, because my mother was despressed and she was rude, one day she robed my books, I used to read too much and she took my books for their book case's.
I was again living a platonic love story with a boy who studying for being graduated, he was as much shy as me...so nothing happened ,
One time, on a party, I was watching him, we were dancing (not together) and another student, a gorgeous one, kissed my neck taking my hand for leaving with him, a buddy told me "go on", I said "no", because I was watching L, who was watching me. But I regreat it.
I kept Marion in touch, writing her, but when I moved to Sisteron, I changed, I was missing my grand-father, and I felt Marion lied to me, I knew she was as much mythomaniac as my brother, she lied more and more. We went to a discotheque both on the end of 89, and it was the last time we really met.
On 90's I wrote her, telling our friendship was over, I wrote a long letter, and I received her answer quickly, she was angry.
I returned living to Aix, for my studies, and some years later on 97 I met her in a mall she was a cashier, we didn't talk, but she recognized me. I found her on the white pages, I called her, and she told me her life, I didn't trust her anymore. We decided to meet again, but I called again her two days later, just to say "no I won't meet you again, I have changed, we can't be friend anymore". I know my behavior was stupid, but I was unemployed, alone most of the time, I have screwed up my studies because I had to work for paying these studies. And almost all, i didn't want to return in past.

But I must admit Marion was a good friend, my one best friend for years.

Sophie left the region and get married with a Parisian, I have never heard about her anymore.

Una giornata particulare

I don't know if most of you remind this old movie with Marcello Mastroianni, and Sofia Loren...Well This is not important, I have lived a particular day, on morning, I felt very nervous and despressed. As usual I took pills and Laurent told me things I had to hear . Indeed !

That was rude, but I realized I was screwing up my life with my guilt, and I have decided to stop pills FOREVER.
Well, I have to stop these pills with caution,

And I feel angry tonight, I wanna change,
If a victim reads this, Scream your pain, do not feel guilt, because you're not a sheep, we have to live...

Wet.

We were on June 1985, I was 14 y old, at a drawing class, I felt my panties were wet, I had a pal beside me who started to laugh thinking I have peed in my pants. She was wrong. I went out with her and I went to the toilets, it was break time, and I thought I could do something, because I weared white pants. But I couldn't, I heard few girls entered in the girl toilet's and they were speaking to me laughing, "you have peed in your pants, F! you're really stupid...blah blah blah" and there was in this band a girl who hated me (I didn't know why...) she was knowking at my closed door, which I didn't open of course, I went up on the WC because I didn't want that they discovered me in this WC, but they saw my bag, and they weren't sure I was inside...They were laughing and screaming my name.I stayed quiet in the WC just hoping that the break school was done, I felt very angry, because of them.I wet and it was not because of someone, I didn't understand. They stayed 5 minutes again after the end of the break wishing I was scared to be late at class, but I didn't care, I stayed there and they left...I stayed 5 minutes again, because there were windows every where in these class rooms. Then I decided to go back home, even if I had lessons, I really didn't care, I was humiliated, I went out, and I crossed the School Director, I was crying hiking, but she didn't mind, victims weren't important there, a boy attempted suicide there, hopefully he didn't success, but it wasn't important for people there.
I took the direction way because the doors were opened, and I hiked for 6 km for returning back home.
I said nothing to my mother, I felt very alone.
It was the fist time I was wet, and I hated myself.
After the weekend I went back school but when they tried to tease me with this event, I said "I wasn't in the toilets, you are really stupid all, I had a stomach problem and I returned back home".
Finally they felt they were wrong, but I kept on mind the fact they spent a break making a fool on me.
The girl who hated me had Italian or corsican origins, she had black eyes, very dark, and I took long years for understanding why she hated me.
The reason of that :
When I started this new school (my parents moved too much) there was a boy, very funny, Italian origins, older than me, and i wanted to flirt with him, I told this to a pal, and of course he heard it, and everyone in this school heard it, a lot of girls used to hate me all school year long because a lot of girls had a crush on him.
I never flirted with him, but I know he was attracted to me, because the first time I met him he was going out of a class screaming "screw you'" to his teacher, and I laughed because it was a special situation. He smiled seeing me.
Sébastien repeated his school year and I was in his class room for italian language. Most of boys annoyed me and he was enough smart to tell to everybody I was in love with him. But one year after my humiliation, I felt stronger, and nothing could break me down.
In same time I spent my break time with another boy who looked very lovely, Christophe, and we used to talk together while the break. As he was not loved by people I was the one talking to him, and we used to laugh together.
I did understand, thinking of these facts, 3 years ago, that one girl repeated everything to the school students, she was my neighborg but she was jealous of me, I wasn't as fat as her, and my pal from drawing class wasn't a friend, but a jealous bitch too.
I repeated too for these reasons my last school year, and I met 2 girls which I spent all my year, going out, laughing, living as ever, boys were very pleasant with me, except a big one.
And I used my time helping students in Mathematic's or Sciences, I was the first one, at school and and I had success the diploma while the first year, I felt really cool on this year.
But the big one annoyed me all year long, I'll tell you later, this post is too longer ...

Mother's birthday

On mother's birthday, my father asked me to buy the presents for my mother...you gonna laugh ; one year, he told me to buy some Roses and I bought a rose bush. I thought it was more interesting and beautiful to have a plant than some flowers that would die quickly.My friends from childhood were numerous, I prefered talking to boys, it's difficult when you're taller than a whole school class to have some female friends..I used to spend time with boys, I played Tennis and Football, now I can't watch anymore a football game, because I find this sport very stupid.
So my friend William, helped me and brought the rose bush, my mother was shocked and later I heard how much I was stupid, a rose bush couldn't grow up on a balcony...
Another year, my father asked me to buy 2 decorate plates for her birthday ...I went in Aix, alone, of course, and he had to drive me back at home, I just had to call him at work. And I had to wait his car around the Rotonde Fountain, I was 12 years old, I bought the plates, I felt glad for my mother, I took my money in my wallet offered by my grand father.
I went to a phone cab, and I called him, he told me he'll come later, because he had a lot of work.
I realized after few minutes that I have forgotten my wallet in the cab, I returned there but there were 2 girls laughing watching me because of my big teeth, I asked them if they had find my wallet, they said "No!" .
I didn't care of the money, but about my wallet because the one man who really loved me offered me a lot of presents anytime I met him and these gifts were really precious ...to me...
Then I joined my father later, hopefully a man in a shop gave me a water bottle, because I was thirsty, and my mother received her present, anyway she didn't mind about things I did choose (remind the rose bush !).