Found out that Sean will be away for months, and my birthday falls smack in the middle of said months. For the love of GOD, someone please do something for my birthday, for once.

My mom has been calling quite a lot. Finally, I just got fed up with this little game of Dodge the Crazy Bitch and told her to "get a clue and stop calling me". One part of me wants to, I don't know, write a letter and tell her all the reasons she can fuck her hat and the other part of me wants to leave her to think whatever she wants. The factors driving me toward the former are two-fold. One, my own closure. I'm holding all this in and let me tell you, I cry. I cry a lot. At least once daily, I burst into tears for no discernible reason and poor Sean is suffering the brunt of my mood swings. The second reason is that I know she's sitting at home, blaming it all on me. I can only imagine the things she says to other people in her life, considering what she's told Shannon (that my fight with Sean when I called to talk was "what I get", for example).

As far as my father, I haven't heard from him, though that isn't surprising in the least. Sean has "forbidden" me from going over there anyway, because he's been around for a lot of that bullshit. I think he's taking some responsibility for how I feel when I get home, because he's been my mode of transportation to most of these awkward clusterfuck dinners. Still, a part of me would like to tell him where to go as well, because I'm fairly certain he remains oblivious to his status on my shit list.

To top it all off, my period has been notably absent (crossing my fingers hard for a stress-related explanation) and my boobs feel like they're so inflated that they're going to explode on my chest. Also sick every day and the aforementioned crying jags. Please, please, please God, I can't have a behbeh right now (ever?). WebMD assures me, however, that it's probably just aseptic meningitis, so that's cool.

So, what happened.

Last night, Sean and I got into an enormous fight, the details of which I won't go into, but I thought it was going to be "it". It cultivated into him leaving and me going out of my mind, so I called my mom to talk. She asked how I was, and I told her that it was shitty and I needed to talk. She informed me she was just about to eat dinner and said goodbye. Fight went out, we made up.

Today, Sean, Jason, Shannon and I went to my dad's for dinner. It was, as usual, forced, fake and awkward, as those people (Dad and his new family of retards) wouldn't have anything to do with my sister and I (and actually didn't) if Shannon hadn't had Calli. An hour in, it was announced that Dad would paying the living expenses for his stepson of like, five years, who is maybe going to a college he hasn't even being accepted into, and buying him a condo. Thus, I needed a smoke so went outside with Shannon. This was after my sister received a card and gifts from a grandmother who I haven't heard from in years.

In the truck outside, Shannon told me she's pissed at our mother because after I had that brief "conversation" with her, she called Shannon. Mom asked if Shannon knew why I had called, so Shannon gave her the Cliff's notes of what occurred. My mother then told Shannon that it was "my own fault" for moving so quickly and firmly informed Shannon to not allow me to stay at her house. Being that my mother is absentee (and kind of a total cunt), Shannon was pissed and told Jason "you know if Ashley needs a place to stay, she's coming to our house", to which Jason replied "of course."

It was all too much. I asked Shannon to go inside, tell Sean to grab my purse because I was leaving. I was on the verge of bawling and couldn't take anymore "let's pretend we're a family". Sean came out and I drove us a while before I started to bawl and relinquished the wheel to Sean. My poor helpless husband grew increasingly frustrated about the way my family was behaving, and said he wanted to "have a talk" with my dad.

What do I want? Not to see my parents anymore. Sean said that I would regret it, that people usually do, you can't choose your family, etc. Maybe I can't choose them, but I can choose to not have anything to do with them. I just can't keep feeling like a burden, a disappointment, a "we couldn't choose our daughter". The only good thing those two have done is give me a sister who is my family and acts like it. Sean's family has made me feel more welcome and cared for than mine has in the past ten years, and they've never even met me.

So it looks like I can choose my family, and it does not include Leslie Stevens, Jeff Stevens, or their sparkly new families.

My life has been relatively quiet these days - no cross-country moves or anything - so in order to correct these matters, the past two days have been bat. Shit. Crazy.

At around 6 PM on May 30th, I get a call from my sister's fiance Jason letting me know that Shannon has gone into labor. There was no need for me to come, as he would be keeping me updated. After a long, long night of pacing and jumping at every single sound waiting for the phone call that would beckon me to the hospital and my niece, 6:30 AM rolls around and it's time. The hospital told me that I wasn't allowed to come until visiting hours at eleven, but pfffffffttttt, like that was going to happen! So Sean and I get showered and dressed and drive over. Getting off the elevators at 7:40, my mom tells me that it just ended and they're stitching her up. Calli is tiny (less than 6 lbs), but healthy and in possession of all the required digits. Being that I have no desire to see my sister's vajay in that state, Sean and I wait outside until the gore ends. I walk into the room, and there's Shannon and Jason and my dear, perfect little lady, Calli Kathleen Bonany. She has a ton of black curly hair (thanks to Daddy) and Shannon's cute tiny nose. Of course I start bawling like a fool and hugging Shannon around her IVs. The past two days, I have smooched, cuddled, gotten over the initial terror of holding something so small, and fell head-over-heels for her. The twitch in my womb makes me wonder if my adamant "no way" toward having kids may be waffled on.

Oh yeah, and also, I got married. June 1st, Sean and I called the two JPs in town. The first wasn't available until Saturday (nuts to that guy) but the second took us at one'o'clock, that day. Sean called his master corporal to witness and put on his shiniest jeans. 1 rolls around and we're on the dock at the marina, saying our vows and swatting away ten bajillion fish flies. We bought the world's cheapest wedding bands (a grand total of $200!) and practiced saying "holy fuck, we're married."

Did I mention we didn't tell anyone but my sister and her fiance, who were supposed to witness? But then Shannon had to go ruin it with labor. Pft.

Eventually, the secret began to bore down on me, as struggling to remove my wedding ring whenever my dad's wife was in the vicinity became trying, so I (get this) sent my father a text message. I called my mom and told her, at which point she informed me that I was "schwacked" and a "crazy broad". My dad eventually called and I awkwardly informed Daddy that I'm no longer a Stevens, but a Finnegan instead. They're both "happy for me if I'm happy" and Sunday is super-fucking-awkward-dinner-day now. My mom was a little miffed she wasn't there, but felt better after I informed her of the completely informal nature of the whole thing. We'll one day have a proper wedding with rings that didn't come out of Cracker Jack's boxes, but what was important to us is done - we are married and in love. Also, I get 90% of my eyeglasses covered, which is handy because Odin ate my old ones.

I'm sure this entry makes no sense, because these two days have been exhausting, so here's something that makes all the sense in the world"

So, lately I've been feeling wildly unattractive. I've put on some pounds since Sean's been home thanks to eating out a lot, and it's had an impact on my self-esteem because, Hell, I'm shallow like that.

Last night, I asked Sean what it was that he found sexy about me. And you know what his answer was? That I'm smart, funny and unique.

Holy shit.

That was the absolute worst answer, next to "you have such a pretty face!".

So, in my usual, gently prodding way, I ask, "what about physically? Is there anything about me, or anything that I do that's sexy?" and after a long, long pause, I get "everything."

Objectify me, for chrissake! He seems to have no problem objectifying younger, sluttier girls. He has no problem objectifying women in porn. Why not me? I'm a girlfriend, not a nun. I'm not sure at what point I became so entrenched in the physical, and so obsessed with comparing myself to other women - real life, or celebrities. I'm not sure when so much of my worth became dependent on what someone else thought of me, but it really, really sucks.

I'm afraid of being rejected sexually by him (which has happened before- ouchers!) and it's made me totally stop trying to seduce him. This is counter-productive, I realize, but my ego can't take another shoot down. Sean isn't responsible for my self esteem, but I could really use the help. These feelings are what drove me to cheat in the past and that's not a road I want to go down again. Hell, I feel bad enough fighting the urge.

I just feel bad.