BulgingButtons

Not bad for a fat girl


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So Much Hatred

I try to add images to my blog posts that will capture the spirit of the writing. Occasionally I use my own photos, but most of the time I use images that I find online. A quick search will usually unearth several options from which to choose. Often my search terms are a bit unusual, but I still get images that will work for my article. Recently, however, that wasn’t the case.

I wanted to find something appropriate for yesterday’s post on fat and fashion, but I didn’t what I was looking for. Let me tell you what I did find. First there were beautiful models and bloggers and various other fat girls and women. They are the ones who make fashion and fat work together. They had on cute dresses, short skirts, leggings, blouses, swimwear, and lingerie. Their hair was done, their makeup was perfect, and most of them looked adorable. They just weren’t quite what I was looking for.

I expanded my search terms and that’s when I got back results I never expected. Sure I know there are jerks on the internet. I believe that people with jerk tendencies get way jerkier when they hide behind their keyboards, and the stuff I stumbled across seemed to confirm this theory.

What I came across was the FA war. I didn’t even know there was such a thing, but sadly there is. What is FA, you ask? Fat Acceptance. Now I don’t claim to be an expert on this “movement” if that’s what it is, but my understanding of it is this, fat people want to be accepted for who they are. At least that’s the simple explanation. Now that seems not only reasonable, but it seems perfectly logical to me. In fact, if you take off the word “fat” and just say people want to be accepted for who they are, I think most people would agree. It stands to reason, then, that any kind of people would want that same acceptance: fat people, gay people, disabled people, elderly people, left-handed people, vegan people, whatever… So why do so many people hate them?

Yes, I said hate. Yes, I know it’s a strong word, but some of what I saw was way stronger than that. Here were these people posting pictures and messages of self-acceptance and other people were completely bashing them, spewing all sorts of verbal venom. Frankly I found it disturbing. What kind of person refers to a stranger as a “moronic sea cow?” One who’s not very nice, that’s for sure.

I’m in favor of returning to the golden rule. Don’t agree with someone? That’s fine. Express your opinion, but be respectful.


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Nobody Looks at the Fat Chick Anyway

suitcaseI’m going out of town, to a family event. There are religious services involved, and at least two family celebrations. It’s back east, where the weather is colder and the events tend to be more formal. I just packed.

The last family event was my niece’s Bat Mitzvah, four months ago. It was summertime, so it wasn’t quite as dressy as an autumn event, but the daytime portion of the program was still a dress up affair. The evening party was advertised as casual, but really nobody wore what I would consider to be truly casual clothes. I wore a cute skirt and top, and was very comfortable with my choice. I didn’t even cringe when I saw the pictures the photographer snapped of me.

This weekend, however, is a different story. First of all, I don’t have a huge dress up wardrobe. A simple dress is about as dressy as I usually get, plus I have a couple of skirts and jackets that occasionally get pressed into service. Secondly, I’m currently the size of a small nation. I’ve gained weight since the last family event, and I’m dreading seeing my mother and hearing whatever “loving” comments she’ll make about it. I feel like a blob, and I feel like nothing fits me. I caught sight of my reflection in the window the other night eating dinner, and frankly I was taken aback. I’m huge. In fact, I’m terrified that when I board the plane in a few hours I’ll have to request a seatbelt extender for the first time in my life.

As I faced the empty suitcase I sucked in a breath and dove in. I mentally rehearsed several outfits, and even tried on a few blouses that I thought were iffy. Finally it dawned on me that nobody expects the fat chick to look good anyway, so why was I making myself crazy over this?

C’mon, you know it’s true. If you’re a big fat person like me, that’s all people really see. They don’t care that you’re dressed well or poorly, unless you’re off the charts on either end of the spectrum. Since I’m not going out shopping with a stylist (but wouldn’t that be great? My own personal episode of What Not to Wear!) and I’m not planning on turning into a hobo between now and my flight time, I have to be satisfied with what I have.

No, I won’t be the best dressed woman there, but I won’t be the worst dressed either, I’m sure. I put in some decent separates, and decided that I would make my final wardrobe decision just before each event. My family will be happy to see me for me, and the strangers in the room will only see the fat girl anyway, so it’s time to quit worrying.


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Reclaiming the Wasted Hours

I’m in the process of trying to reclaim the things that I want for my life. I have managed, over the past several months, or maybe even more, to get comfortable. That comfort has led to laziness, both physical and mental.  In a nutshell here’s what I think happened.

I was married for a long time. I had a normal little family (mom, dad, kid) until suddenly, one day, I didn’t. I got divorced and was forced to spend some time soul-searching and figuring out what I wanted from my life. I was still a mom, only my role had changed, since I didn’t have my son with me all the time anymore. That was brutal.

I had to decide how I wanted my life to turn out. I was required to make difficult decisions that I never thought I would be faced with, but I did it, and I’m proud to say I did it with grace. I pulled though stronger and better equipped to face the future than I would have thought possible.kill your tv print web

I was beginning to understand what made me truly happy, perhaps for the first time ever. I did things I had put off doing, and went places I wanted to go. I began to develop new interests and I dusted off some old ones. Then I ventured out into the big wide world, and I miraculously managed to meet someone wonderful.

We’ve spent time getting to know one another, and we’ve committed ourselves to each other. We, along with my son, have become a family. We’ve purchased a home and we function as a unit. It’s a very happy, safe, and comfortable place to be. I like this feeling a lot.

We both work long hours, and we both are sort of home-bodies. We do enjoy the theater, and attend live performances regularly. We both enjoy food, so dining out is a fairly regular occurence for us too. Other than that, we tend to stay home. We like our home. We like each other’s company. But here’s the thing, I’ve noticed that I’ve pushed the other things I enjoy to the back burner so that I can just “hang out” with him. I need to quit doing that. Participating in NaNoWriMo and NoBloPoMo are great ways for me to make sure that the time I’m spending isn’t wasted time.

I’m not suggesting that spending time with loved ones is wasted time. It isn’t. Spending time watching sitcoms with loved ones can be, though. Instead of mindlessly watching tv, I would rather bring out my laptop and work on a chapter of my novel or begin a new blog post. Instead of watching the adult cartoons he so enjoys, I can keep him company while I stitch on a quilt binding (of course there would have to be a quilt ready to be bound for that, but you get the idea). Maybe I can even convince him to take a walk around the park with me. It would do us both a world of good. And I still have all this extra weight I need to lose. The couch isn’t any good for helping me make progress in that area. Neither is the half price Halloween candy, but I digress.

There are only 24 hours in each day, no matter how you look at it. I need to use mine to further my goals and to help me live my best life. Watching tv won’t help me do that. I know that, but I’m still keeping Monday nights open, after all, everyone needs some downtime, right?