Read Online The Year I Went Pear-Shaped by Tamara Pitelen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tamara Pitelen
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Secret, Relationships, BBW, Television, story, Weight Loss, crush, insanity, Happiness, country, Career, soap opera, Cupcakes, Industry, Soap Star, Heavy
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door. I'd love to show it to you one day. Anyway, that's all for now. Remember, you can write back to me anytime at the Post Office box number above.
All my love forever, A.
"Darla dahlink, ze problem is zat your parents vanted you to be a boy, and you knew zat even back in ze vomb so, as a foetus already you felt guilty and anxious about zeir disappointment at discovering you vere a girl. Of course, it is only part of ze equation but it contributes to ze insecurity you av about your sexuality."
Insecurities about my sexuality? Or 'sex-you-ah-la-tee" as Tobsha put it.
Here was me thinking that having bedded enough men to fill the Sydney Cricket Ground proved that the one thing I didn't have to worry about was having sexual hang-ups. Christ, according to Tobsha, my list of issues was getting longer than the NSW phone book. Admittedly, she was right about the fact that my parents had desperately hoped for a boy while my mother was pregnant with me. To the point where everything I wore for the first year of my life was blue. Years later, they had admitted it like some guilty secret. Still, that didn't mean I had sexual insecurities and I wasn't about to accept that from the Latvian Midget without a fight.
“Tobsha, that's rubbish. I do not have any hang ups about my sexuality. Ok, so I've had quite a few one night stands in my time but so what? So have a lot of people. And anyway, if I had saved myself for marriage I’d probably end up a 65-year-old virgin.”
Only halfway through my second session but already we were onto the big stuff. So much for the gentle, introductory sessions.
Tobsha worked from her home in plush McMahon’s Point that overlooked Sydney Harbour Bridge. Her office was a renovated spare bedroom. There was a big wooden desk pushed up against one wall with a vase of yellow flowers on the windowsill behind it. On the opposite side of the room was a bed in case any of her clients felt the need to lie down and next to that was an unused fireplace with a basket of dried flowers sitting in the grate. We were sat in the middle of the room, opposite each other in big, comfy armchairs. Between us, on a small round table, was a large jug of water with lemon slices in it, and two glasses.
Tobsha had filled both glasses up with water when we sat down but hadn’t touched hers once in three quarters of an hour. My glass was permanently cupped in my hands and I was on to my fifth refill. So far she'd suggested I had penis envy and sexual hang ups; that I felt guilty about being a girl, and used food as a weapon against myself in the same way a self-harmer uses razor blades. I couldn't wait till she really got warmed up.
“No, of course you should explore your sexuality!” She said. “It iz natural and healthy but your motivation, Darla, you must look at your motivation! Ze crucial question iz vhy are you sleeping around?”
Basically, Tobsha felt that my past promiscuity revealed that at a subconscious level I was desperately seeking sexual approval from men. She felt that my self-esteem was at such a low ebb that I kept sleeping with different men to prove to myself that I was attractive. The problem with this, she said, was that I would never be happy till I looked within myself for approval and stopped trying to get it from other people.
I glanced at my watch. Surely it was time to go home.
"Dahlink, I am going to hypnotise you now and take you back to ze womb, it iz very obvious to me zat many of your issues started here. It iz because of zis zat you av alvays been such a tomboy vis no interest in girly sings like clothes and make up...(what? I work for a women’s mag for Godssake!).... subconsciously, you vere trying to be a boy. But it iz ok because I vill take you back to the womb and I vill speak to the foetal Darla and I vill make her understand zat her parents love her just as much as zey would av if she vas a boy. It vill only be ze very tip of the iceberg of your many issues but I sink you
All my love forever, A.
"Darla dahlink, ze problem is zat your parents vanted you to be a boy, and you knew zat even back in ze vomb so, as a foetus already you felt guilty and anxious about zeir disappointment at discovering you vere a girl. Of course, it is only part of ze equation but it contributes to ze insecurity you av about your sexuality."
Insecurities about my sexuality? Or 'sex-you-ah-la-tee" as Tobsha put it.
Here was me thinking that having bedded enough men to fill the Sydney Cricket Ground proved that the one thing I didn't have to worry about was having sexual hang-ups. Christ, according to Tobsha, my list of issues was getting longer than the NSW phone book. Admittedly, she was right about the fact that my parents had desperately hoped for a boy while my mother was pregnant with me. To the point where everything I wore for the first year of my life was blue. Years later, they had admitted it like some guilty secret. Still, that didn't mean I had sexual insecurities and I wasn't about to accept that from the Latvian Midget without a fight.
“Tobsha, that's rubbish. I do not have any hang ups about my sexuality. Ok, so I've had quite a few one night stands in my time but so what? So have a lot of people. And anyway, if I had saved myself for marriage I’d probably end up a 65-year-old virgin.”
Only halfway through my second session but already we were onto the big stuff. So much for the gentle, introductory sessions.
Tobsha worked from her home in plush McMahon’s Point that overlooked Sydney Harbour Bridge. Her office was a renovated spare bedroom. There was a big wooden desk pushed up against one wall with a vase of yellow flowers on the windowsill behind it. On the opposite side of the room was a bed in case any of her clients felt the need to lie down and next to that was an unused fireplace with a basket of dried flowers sitting in the grate. We were sat in the middle of the room, opposite each other in big, comfy armchairs. Between us, on a small round table, was a large jug of water with lemon slices in it, and two glasses.
Tobsha had filled both glasses up with water when we sat down but hadn’t touched hers once in three quarters of an hour. My glass was permanently cupped in my hands and I was on to my fifth refill. So far she'd suggested I had penis envy and sexual hang ups; that I felt guilty about being a girl, and used food as a weapon against myself in the same way a self-harmer uses razor blades. I couldn't wait till she really got warmed up.
“No, of course you should explore your sexuality!” She said. “It iz natural and healthy but your motivation, Darla, you must look at your motivation! Ze crucial question iz vhy are you sleeping around?”
Basically, Tobsha felt that my past promiscuity revealed that at a subconscious level I was desperately seeking sexual approval from men. She felt that my self-esteem was at such a low ebb that I kept sleeping with different men to prove to myself that I was attractive. The problem with this, she said, was that I would never be happy till I looked within myself for approval and stopped trying to get it from other people.
I glanced at my watch. Surely it was time to go home.
"Dahlink, I am going to hypnotise you now and take you back to ze womb, it iz very obvious to me zat many of your issues started here. It iz because of zis zat you av alvays been such a tomboy vis no interest in girly sings like clothes and make up...(what? I work for a women’s mag for Godssake!).... subconsciously, you vere trying to be a boy. But it iz ok because I vill take you back to the womb and I vill speak to the foetal Darla and I vill make her understand zat her parents love her just as much as zey would av if she vas a boy. It vill only be ze very tip of the iceberg of your many issues but I sink you
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