No, I'm not changing my position on kids. I still don't want your kids bothering me.
I just felt it would be appropriate to update to say that while walking to the train today, the group of moms with kids and strollers were back. But this time, they left a very, very wide gap between them and the non-street side of the sidewalk, with plenty of room for me to pass through. Yay!
I'm not thankful because I don't think it's really that necessary to, say, thank someone for doing something that they should have already been doing (which is why I don't thank my roommate for vacuuming 3 days after I left the vacuum out for him, and he only did it because I had to ask him, and then he didn't dust or do anything else to clean).
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
And no, I'm NOT sorry
It occurred to me today as I was walking to work that I'm not very apologetic about being fat.
But before I continue, I want to make this clear:
The things I consider apologetic about being fat are things that I consider apologetic when I do them. If you do any of these things, I'm not calling you out. Whatever works for you is what you should do. It just so happens that the things I was doing were because I was deeply insecure, and felt guilty among other people for being fat. There are plenty of things I still do that other people might consider apologetic, like wearing a tankini instead of a bikini. It's not apologetic behavior for me; it might be for someone else. I hope I'm being very, very clear because that's the key to this rant: I learned the ways in which I, personally, just me, not you, just this person here had been "apologizing" for my fat (and, very specifically, for my female fat).
So, yeah, I'm fat; I've been fat since high school. And for a while, I've felt as if I have to apologize for it. What are the ways in which I've apologized for being fat?
- Eating obviously healthy food, like vegetables and salad and stuff that just screams "health nut" if I'm eating around other people (like eating salad on dates or avoiding candy at work functions)
- Not talking about food, or what foods I love, or what foods I've eaten with people who are not fat (for example, not mentioning that I spent Saturday after the gym eating Edy's ice cream right out of the container*)
- Not wearing shorts or skirts, or tank tops, to avoid showing off my not skinny thighs and my not skinny arms
- Squeezing over as far as possible on public transportation**
- Considering myself unsexy or ugly because of my weight
- Seeing how long I can go without eating as a way to prove that I have will power
- Avoid discussions of exercising
- Avoid discussions of health issues
Here's what I do now:
- I eat what I want to eat; if that means eating 3 times a day at work so I'm not hungry, then fine. And if that means going out on a date and eating fried calamari? Well, I already did that, and it was totally delicious and worth it. I was putting up a front before, not because I always eat healthy, but because I assumed people were judging me when they saw me, a fat girl, eat. Now, I don't care if they're judging; I earned this Twix.
- I consider it pretty standard that my favorite foods fall into the "full of sugar, typically served for dessert, and always eaten by me in super-large, diabetes-inducing amounts," and I'm no longer afraid of sharing it. I love dessert; that makes me normal***, not fat, weirdos. And while I'm still careful about mentioning the entire-container-of-Edy's-fun-time-party I had over the weekend in front of the likes of my mother, trainer, and doctor, clearly, I don't mind YOU knowing about it.
- My lack of shorts has more to do with my general discomfort with them, and because I also get a huge red mark on the back of each thigh when I wear them. But if it's hot out, you bet I'm wearing a skirt and a tank top. You see these arms? More muscle than you think! And how big they are? Bigger is better, right? As for the people who are actually offended by my fat, I consider fat-chick-wearing-a-tube-top to be an excellent kind of immersion therapy, or whatever it's called.
- I'm sitting on the train, just trying to get to work or to get home; I'm already sitting in my seat, and not taking up all your space; I also was polite enough not to do that thing where I take up the seat(s) next to me with my bag. What more do you want?
- I'm aware that I'm pretty and attractive. In fact, you can thank my AWFUL HORRIBLE FAT for giving me nearly perfect breasts. Bwahahaha!****
- I do not like the feeling of being hungry. So I eat. Not all the time. But I need to eat SOMETHING every few hours. That's actually pretty healthy. Will power, also, is for losers.*****
- I no longer avoid discussions about exercising for two reasons. 1) I actually exercise, so it comes up, and 2) the best way to get motivated to start moving is by talking to people about exercise and asking questions. Also, I not-so-secretly love how surprised people are that a fat chick works out (please note that I work out because I'd really rather not get diabetes, which I am at risk for, NOT because I'm apologizing for being fat, aaaaaah).
- One reason why I've avoided discussions of health issues in the past was that there's a very, very nasty stereotype that fat people are unhealthy, and all of their health problems are caused by fat. WRONG. So while I don't just blab about every little health issue I've ever had (I'm pretty sure people at work would rather not know that when I had UC, I was on the can a million times a day, often times crying), I don't keep them hush hush. My calves hurt and make running difficult frequently; this isn't caused by my fat, guys (although it's helping to preserve some of that fat, haha). And yes, I have a crazy, fucked up immune system. Unrelated to fat. Makes eating peanut butter bad (and therefore makes me sad!). But if it's relevant to the conversation, I'm not afraid.
I'm not sorry that I'm fat. I'm not even sorry if it bothers you. I'm not unhealthy, or at least not in ways that are related to my weight. I'm not causing you any trouble (if you're upset that I'm walking slowly, it's probably because I'm sore from the gym and have extremely short legs). So, get over it. I did.
And speaking of the gym, if I don't stay fat, who cares? I'm not switching sides. I will always be a skinny chick stuck in a fat chick's body. If I lose weight, then I'll be a skinny chick stuck in a fat chick stuck in a skinny chick.
--------------------------------------------------------------
* Fully Loaded Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. That's right.
** It's polite to, you know, sit in your own seat and not take up the seat(s) next to you; this one guy on the train the other day did not move over at all and was taking up easily half my seat. That's rude. But if I'm sitting in my seat, not taking up yours, I'm not scootching over. I'm fat, but I'm not taking up your space.
*** Normal is a subjective term. If you don't like dessert, you're not abnormal. In fact, we'd make good friends because there would be a bag of candy and you'd be like, "No thanks, I'm set," and I'd be all, "YES, I LOVE CANDY."
**** By no means do I want people to say, "Well, you're fat, but you've got great boobs, so we'll accept you as a member of the human race." That's not my point. The point of my boob comment was that the American-boob-standard (skinny + huge boobs) requires that you have no body fat ... except in your boobs (and sometimes your butt), which is just stupid. The point of the entire - though is that being fat doesn't negate beauty, especially since beauty is subjective and encompasses more than exterior looks.
***** All right, not for losers. But I'm tired of the idea that "eats candy" = "no will power" = "loser." So I called you all WITH will power "losers." It's just what the Republican party would do.
If you read through all those asterisks, you win a prize. True story.
But before I continue, I want to make this clear:
The things I consider apologetic about being fat are things that I consider apologetic when I do them. If you do any of these things, I'm not calling you out. Whatever works for you is what you should do. It just so happens that the things I was doing were because I was deeply insecure, and felt guilty among other people for being fat. There are plenty of things I still do that other people might consider apologetic, like wearing a tankini instead of a bikini. It's not apologetic behavior for me; it might be for someone else. I hope I'm being very, very clear because that's the key to this rant: I learned the ways in which I, personally, just me, not you, just this person here had been "apologizing" for my fat (and, very specifically, for my female fat).
So, yeah, I'm fat; I've been fat since high school. And for a while, I've felt as if I have to apologize for it. What are the ways in which I've apologized for being fat?
- Eating obviously healthy food, like vegetables and salad and stuff that just screams "health nut" if I'm eating around other people (like eating salad on dates or avoiding candy at work functions)
- Not talking about food, or what foods I love, or what foods I've eaten with people who are not fat (for example, not mentioning that I spent Saturday after the gym eating Edy's ice cream right out of the container*)
- Not wearing shorts or skirts, or tank tops, to avoid showing off my not skinny thighs and my not skinny arms
- Squeezing over as far as possible on public transportation**
- Considering myself unsexy or ugly because of my weight
- Seeing how long I can go without eating as a way to prove that I have will power
- Avoid discussions of exercising
- Avoid discussions of health issues
Here's what I do now:
- I eat what I want to eat; if that means eating 3 times a day at work so I'm not hungry, then fine. And if that means going out on a date and eating fried calamari? Well, I already did that, and it was totally delicious and worth it. I was putting up a front before, not because I always eat healthy, but because I assumed people were judging me when they saw me, a fat girl, eat. Now, I don't care if they're judging; I earned this Twix.
- I consider it pretty standard that my favorite foods fall into the "full of sugar, typically served for dessert, and always eaten by me in super-large, diabetes-inducing amounts," and I'm no longer afraid of sharing it. I love dessert; that makes me normal***, not fat, weirdos. And while I'm still careful about mentioning the entire-container-of-Edy's-fun-time-party I had over the weekend in front of the likes of my mother, trainer, and doctor, clearly, I don't mind YOU knowing about it.
- My lack of shorts has more to do with my general discomfort with them, and because I also get a huge red mark on the back of each thigh when I wear them. But if it's hot out, you bet I'm wearing a skirt and a tank top. You see these arms? More muscle than you think! And how big they are? Bigger is better, right? As for the people who are actually offended by my fat, I consider fat-chick-wearing-a-tube-top to be an excellent kind of immersion therapy, or whatever it's called.
- I'm sitting on the train, just trying to get to work or to get home; I'm already sitting in my seat, and not taking up all your space; I also was polite enough not to do that thing where I take up the seat(s) next to me with my bag. What more do you want?
- I'm aware that I'm pretty and attractive. In fact, you can thank my AWFUL HORRIBLE FAT for giving me nearly perfect breasts. Bwahahaha!****
- I do not like the feeling of being hungry. So I eat. Not all the time. But I need to eat SOMETHING every few hours. That's actually pretty healthy. Will power, also, is for losers.*****
- I no longer avoid discussions about exercising for two reasons. 1) I actually exercise, so it comes up, and 2) the best way to get motivated to start moving is by talking to people about exercise and asking questions. Also, I not-so-secretly love how surprised people are that a fat chick works out (please note that I work out because I'd really rather not get diabetes, which I am at risk for, NOT because I'm apologizing for being fat, aaaaaah).
- One reason why I've avoided discussions of health issues in the past was that there's a very, very nasty stereotype that fat people are unhealthy, and all of their health problems are caused by fat. WRONG. So while I don't just blab about every little health issue I've ever had (I'm pretty sure people at work would rather not know that when I had UC, I was on the can a million times a day, often times crying), I don't keep them hush hush. My calves hurt and make running difficult frequently; this isn't caused by my fat, guys (although it's helping to preserve some of that fat, haha). And yes, I have a crazy, fucked up immune system. Unrelated to fat. Makes eating peanut butter bad (and therefore makes me sad!). But if it's relevant to the conversation, I'm not afraid.
I'm not sorry that I'm fat. I'm not even sorry if it bothers you. I'm not unhealthy, or at least not in ways that are related to my weight. I'm not causing you any trouble (if you're upset that I'm walking slowly, it's probably because I'm sore from the gym and have extremely short legs). So, get over it. I did.
And speaking of the gym, if I don't stay fat, who cares? I'm not switching sides. I will always be a skinny chick stuck in a fat chick's body. If I lose weight, then I'll be a skinny chick stuck in a fat chick stuck in a skinny chick.
--------------------------------------------------------------
* Fully Loaded Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. That's right.
** It's polite to, you know, sit in your own seat and not take up the seat(s) next to you; this one guy on the train the other day did not move over at all and was taking up easily half my seat. That's rude. But if I'm sitting in my seat, not taking up yours, I'm not scootching over. I'm fat, but I'm not taking up your space.
*** Normal is a subjective term. If you don't like dessert, you're not abnormal. In fact, we'd make good friends because there would be a bag of candy and you'd be like, "No thanks, I'm set," and I'd be all, "YES, I LOVE CANDY."
**** By no means do I want people to say, "Well, you're fat, but you've got great boobs, so we'll accept you as a member of the human race." That's not my point. The point of my boob comment was that the American-boob-standard (skinny + huge boobs) requires that you have no body fat ... except in your boobs (and sometimes your butt), which is just stupid. The point of the entire - though is that being fat doesn't negate beauty, especially since beauty is subjective and encompasses more than exterior looks.
***** All right, not for losers. But I'm tired of the idea that "eats candy" = "no will power" = "loser." So I called you all WITH will power "losers." It's just what the Republican party would do.
If you read through all those asterisks, you win a prize. True story.
Monday, July 13, 2009
WHYYY
Oh my GOD, MY LEGS.
Also, you know you're getting your ass kicked when you do three circuits and you're sweating more than you were that time you ran two miles straight.
And then you went RUNNING? What were you THINKING? My ass feels like it's going to fall off.
If my arms aren't sore tomorrow, I'm going to kill someone. If my thighs ARE, I'm going to kill someone. Figures.
(This post is brought to you by Synergy Exercise Clubs, kicking my ass since last Saturday, ow ow ow.)
Also, you know you're getting your ass kicked when you do three circuits and you're sweating more than you were that time you ran two miles straight.
And then you went RUNNING? What were you THINKING? My ass feels like it's going to fall off.
If my arms aren't sore tomorrow, I'm going to kill someone. If my thighs ARE, I'm going to kill someone. Figures.
(This post is brought to you by Synergy Exercise Clubs, kicking my ass since last Saturday, ow ow ow.)
Aaah! My thiiiighs!
I just joined a gym this weekend. It's not a gym where you sit around, watching TV, and you keep thinking, "Man, I should go to the gym." Not only do you have to go online and make appointments, but the whole thing is personal training (small group level). For 25 minutes, you're running around, doing all these exercises that the trainer has you do. It's always different, and you'll work every muscle. You're going fast enough, from exercise to exercise, that you don't stop and rest much. So the workout is far more aerobic than, say, lifting weights normally is.
And then you spend 25 minutes on a cardio machine.
Saturday was my first day, so they didn't have me do the 25 minutes of cardio at the end. I did stuff like reverse lunges and jumping jacks and curls, among way more stuff.
Well, my thighs have never been this sore. Walking up and down steps? It's not okay. And my lower, lower abs are sore, so yesterday, if I was lying on the couch and had to get up to, say, pee, it would HURT to sit up.
Tonight, I'm doing it all. Over. Again.
And then you spend 25 minutes on a cardio machine.
Saturday was my first day, so they didn't have me do the 25 minutes of cardio at the end. I did stuff like reverse lunges and jumping jacks and curls, among way more stuff.
Well, my thighs have never been this sore. Walking up and down steps? It's not okay. And my lower, lower abs are sore, so yesterday, if I was lying on the couch and had to get up to, say, pee, it would HURT to sit up.
Tonight, I'm doing it all. Over. Again.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Sleep deprivation
I seem to have lost my ability to sleep through the night.
Most nights, no matter how tired I am, and even if I haven't had any sugar or caffeine before bed, the only way I can fall asleep is by taking a Benadryl tablet or gelcap (I have both; I have more antihistamines than God, and that guy has terrible allergies). Frequently, although not every night, I wake up around 2 or 3 or 4, at which point I do fall back asleep. And now, every morning this week, I've woken up at 6 am. Today, I woke up at 6:00 on the dot.
The weird part? I'm much less groggy when I wake up and it's 6:00 than when I wake up and it's 7:00 ... and my alarm is beeping and my bird is beeping.
Loki was very, very alert this morning. As soon as I took his blanket off his cage, he wanted to come out. Not just his little doe/wet-eyed, puffy-feathered "I love you, please play with me" look (along with "Are you ... leaving me?" chirps). No, he full-out Kiwi'd: he launched himself to the front of his cage and started beeping. So I let him out, and he ran around for about 10 minutes while I got ready for work.
I wonder how it is that he's more energetic, alert, and enthusiastic after getting 7 hours of sleep than I am; after all, I only need 7-8 hours, and he needs 10-12.
Weirdo.
Most nights, no matter how tired I am, and even if I haven't had any sugar or caffeine before bed, the only way I can fall asleep is by taking a Benadryl tablet or gelcap (I have both; I have more antihistamines than God, and that guy has terrible allergies). Frequently, although not every night, I wake up around 2 or 3 or 4, at which point I do fall back asleep. And now, every morning this week, I've woken up at 6 am. Today, I woke up at 6:00 on the dot.
The weird part? I'm much less groggy when I wake up and it's 6:00 than when I wake up and it's 7:00 ... and my alarm is beeping and my bird is beeping.
Loki was very, very alert this morning. As soon as I took his blanket off his cage, he wanted to come out. Not just his little doe/wet-eyed, puffy-feathered "I love you, please play with me" look (along with "Are you ... leaving me?" chirps). No, he full-out Kiwi'd: he launched himself to the front of his cage and started beeping. So I let him out, and he ran around for about 10 minutes while I got ready for work.
I wonder how it is that he's more energetic, alert, and enthusiastic after getting 7 hours of sleep than I am; after all, I only need 7-8 hours, and he needs 10-12.
Weirdo.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
MAY DAY AAAH
Since I started work, Loki has become less and less satisfied sitting and playing in his cage when I'm home. If I leave the cage door open, he'll probably climb out eventually.
Sometimes, he does it when I'm not in the room.
But that's okay! Because now, I can somehow tell the difference between his, "I'm just havin' fun, bein' a birdeh" tweeting, and his, "MOMMY, COME GET ME!" chirps. Inevitably, when I hear the latter chirp, he's out of his cage.
Places where I've found Loki after his Great-Escape chirps:
- the hallway, walking/bouncing into the living room to find me
- latched onto the side of his cage, trying to crawl around it
- on his boing (the flexible, "boingy" stand next to his cage)
- in an upright shopping bag
- on top of a pile of laundry
Sometimes, he does it when I'm not in the room.
But that's okay! Because now, I can somehow tell the difference between his, "I'm just havin' fun, bein' a birdeh" tweeting, and his, "MOMMY, COME GET ME!" chirps. Inevitably, when I hear the latter chirp, he's out of his cage.
Places where I've found Loki after his Great-Escape chirps:
- the hallway, walking/bouncing into the living room to find me
- latched onto the side of his cage, trying to crawl around it
- on his boing (the flexible, "boingy" stand next to his cage)
- in an upright shopping bag
- on top of a pile of laundry
Friday, July 3, 2009
I dreamed a dream
I've been known for either not remembering my dreams, or remembering the really, really weird ones.
Last night (or this morning, I guess), I dreamt that it was Sunday morning, that my brother was graduating from college and I was still in Boston, and my mom told me I had to wear a dress to the graduation. So I had to shop for a dress and still somehow make it up to fucking Vermont in time for the ceremony. I was trying to search online and see what I could find, but my computer kept crashing. And, in the dream, I had to wait till Sunday to go dress shopping because I had work all week, and stores were closed for the 4th the day before.
When I woke up, I was surprised and confused to find that it was Friday, not Saturday (once I fully came to, I wasn't so surprised). And I acknowledged several things: that if I had to wear a dress to a graduation, I had some I could wear; that it was not Sunday; that Brian graduated three years ago; that he would have been graduating in May, not fucking JULY; that I would never have made it to the late morning ceremony in time if I were still in Boston that morning; and while my computer crashes on a semi-frequent basis, I would have just gotten up and gone to the mall instead of searching "Natick cocktail dresses" online.
Oh, and when I got up for real, I did that search to see if it meant something, you know, BEYOND its face value. It did not.
Last night (or this morning, I guess), I dreamt that it was Sunday morning, that my brother was graduating from college and I was still in Boston, and my mom told me I had to wear a dress to the graduation. So I had to shop for a dress and still somehow make it up to fucking Vermont in time for the ceremony. I was trying to search online and see what I could find, but my computer kept crashing. And, in the dream, I had to wait till Sunday to go dress shopping because I had work all week, and stores were closed for the 4th the day before.
When I woke up, I was surprised and confused to find that it was Friday, not Saturday (once I fully came to, I wasn't so surprised). And I acknowledged several things: that if I had to wear a dress to a graduation, I had some I could wear; that it was not Sunday; that Brian graduated three years ago; that he would have been graduating in May, not fucking JULY; that I would never have made it to the late morning ceremony in time if I were still in Boston that morning; and while my computer crashes on a semi-frequent basis, I would have just gotten up and gone to the mall instead of searching "Natick cocktail dresses" online.
Oh, and when I got up for real, I did that search to see if it meant something, you know, BEYOND its face value. It did not.
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