I'm just a fat gal with a blog and an opinion. Well, lots of opinions.

Still Kickin’!


So, here we are, January 2016. I’m still here breathing and feeling too many things and questioning everything, but hey, I’m also still kickin’! The last month of 2015 was more of an eye opener than I was prepared for, so the simple fact that I am still here is feeling like a triumph in and of itself. If only surviving was all life was about, eh? Ha-ha! If only indeed. I had a few folks express concern after my end of the year post, I did not intend to alarm anyone, but I do appreciate the check-ins, for real. I’ve been thinking a lot about what people do when the world kicks their ass. We get hurt or mad but we rally and we huddle with our families or friends. I can always use more and/or some of that. I know who loves me, who will always have my back, who I can trust, where I feel safe.

The holidays are a fucked up time and can bring out the worst in people. I have been unpleasantly surprised by some of my nearest and dearest and I am still trying to process that shit. I realize that my expectation of friendship is perhaps too high for some, or so I have been told. For me it boils down to trust, honesty and respect, in any relationship. My chosen family lineup hasn’t changed and for that I am truly grateful. The two people I had considered bffs and maybe more have left me heartbroken, shocked and unable to confront or deal with what has come to pass but I’m certain that time will sort it out, usually does. People do things, or don’t do them, for their own reasons and sometimes those reasons are a mystery even to them. Fair isn’t a given in life and I wonder if it exists at all.

I was, however, excited to give my brother exactly what he wanted for his Christmas present, that felt good. Thank the stars for my bargain hunting skills! Ha! He’s really the easiest person to please and I am so grateful for every text and phone call I get from him. He’s kind of the light of my life. Well, him and my boyfriend and puggyman. And yet I feel more lonely than ever. *sigh* It’s hard to be grateful, to try to stay positive, to enjoy the few pleasures I do have in my life when I am so far from where I want to be. There was a time I felt like things were really coming together, where I was coming into my own and it felt as fantastic and terrifying as flying. I had a path and that alone felt good.

I don’t know what I should be doing, where or what my path is and right now all I can think about is in under two months I will be financially ruined and without an income. That is when my unemployment benefits run out. If I don’t have a job by then I will have to default on my personal loan (which I took out just before losing my last job in order to reduce the interest I was paying on my credit card) and credit card, which I’ve been using to survive. I can’t get that out of my head. I’ve always hated the sound of a ticking clock and thus do not own one. Yet the one in my head is the loudest one of all. I’m doing my best, every moment, to not think about it or it will suck me back down into the abyss of sadness I found myself in last week.

Patience is something that comes with age, I think. It’s something I have struggled with, worked on and practiced. I don’t think there’s a person alive who’s met me now who could say I am not patient. In fact, the people who know me or even those who have just met me always say the nicest, kindest things about me. No one seems to understand how or why I don’t yet have a fantastic job because, surely, “You of all people deserve it!” I never know what to say in those moments, but always lean on the advice my friend J gave me years ago, “Just say thank you and then move on.” Of all of the interviews I’ve had in the last eight months, only 2-3 seemed like they weren’t a sure thing. That’s not me blowing smoke, I mean most felt really great. Most interviewers said things like they would love to work with me, I’d be a great fit, they look forward to seeing me again very soon, or were generally super impressed with my skills, attitude and experience. So what gives?! I wish I knew.

We’ve lost some great beings these last two weeks as well. A veil of grief has shrouded my online interactions with folks, but I do think that there is something valuable and important in allowing grief to come. I think it can reconnect us to what we want in our lives, who we want or need to be for ourselves and others. Because of this I had a bit of a self-care morning with a hair treatment and made to sure eat an actual breakfast. I keep trying to think of something to look forward to. That means a lot to me, to have something to anticipate with great love or fondness or just positive vibes over all. I don’t have much in that department, sadly. But it sounds like we’ll be celebrating Video Game Pajama Donut Day (the holiday I invented) this Saturday. That’s pretty dang rad!

What is Video Game Pajama Donut Day? It is a day off from work and major obligations where you spend it’s entirety in your pajamas, snacking and drinking and doing fun things with your closest besties. Plain as! Anyone can celebrate it. It doesn’t fall on a specific day, though it’s mostly been celebrated in the past between Christmas and New Year’s. I didn’t think we’d be able to synch up our schedules this year, but it seems like we have. I have my Wonder Woman pajamas from Torrid at the ready (two different sets, actually). I have some things to make and bake and drink at the ready. It will be good for us to come together and enjoy each other’s company when the world seems too cruel to bear. I’ll have to hook up my Wii, but that is something to look forward to as well. Wii games! Oh I have missed my beloved Mario Kart! Ha-ha!

No way to know what the future holds, I just keep on keepin’ on, but I can hold onto myself and be true to what matters most within me.

Rad Fatty Love,

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A Thousand Posts and Counting


My last post was also my 1,000th post! Holy shit! I can’t wrap my head around that! What the hell have I been writing about?!?! Ha-ha! When I started this blog I wasn’t sure what I would write about. It began as an art blog, whatever that means. But soon my fat activism became my focus both in my personal life and on this blog. This blog has seen me through the good and the bad. I’ve made friends through this blog. I’ve received love and support from my readers over the years and have been so touched each time someone reached out for support or to ask advice or to just know that they aren’t alone in the world. I’ve done themed days like Tank Top Tuesday, Fats in Winterwear, TMI Tuesday and more. I’ve done podcasts (my own and others) and videos as well as print interviews and radio shows.

At the end of 2011 and the beginning of 2012, I was going through a transformation. I had never questioned the choices I’d made in my life. Things always just got done when needing to be done. That started to bother me and lead me to start actively participating in my own life. This also meant leaving my husband of almost fifteen years together (just realized that today is exactly 4 years since that day). That was really hard. No one understood and everyone wanted to know WHY?! The lesson I learned, that I continue to share today, is that any time you go through a break up (of any type of relationship!!!) it does not matter the circumstances, YOU DO NOT OWE ANYONE AN EXPLANATION!!! Seriously! It is your business and yours alone. If fools want to prove themselves to be fools, they will, plain and simple. That doesn’t mean you have to fuel their idiocy.

I can’t say it enough, though. YOU DO NOT OWE ANYONE AN EXPLANATION!!! Not for your existence, not for the choices you make, not for your lifestyle or anything else, at all, ever! I’ve always touted myself as an open book, but I am beginning to keep a lock on that book these days. Even some of the folks in my life that I thought were tried and true, bffs and whatnot, have proven themselves untrustworthy. That hurts most of all. I don’t like having or keeping secrets of my own, for me it feels shame-y and gross. More than that, I need people in my life whom I can trust with what I’m struggling with and what I’m working on or through. That group seems to be shrinking more than ever (thanks 2015, you piece of shit). Unconditional love is never a given, even when years have shown that someone can give it, it doesn’t mean things won’t change over time. Things always change.

I know that I haven’t been writing at the volume or level that I used to. I wish I could explain that other than just saying that life happens, writer’s block is real and I do feel as though I have lost my voice and momentum within the fat movement. I look back at my Fatty Affair events and the radical fat activism I’ve participated in and I am in awe of that person. I was that person and yet it feels so very foreign and far away…Like a movie I saw at someone’s house that I truly enjoyed and maybe was inspired by and yet can’t recall the name of the film. Like that! Ha-ha!

As hard as I have always pushed myself, the last couple of years have pushed me harder. With every hot new startup job I accepted, I gave away so much of myself. One step forward, two steps back. Each time I was laid off I took it in stride and understood that this was just part of life in the silicon valley. Even when it got personal I did my best to move on and keep going. But that last one? Whew! That was a doozy! (It still gives me fucking nightmares!) Even when I owned and operated my cafe and pushed myself to my own physical limits, I didn’t injure myself doing it! No, that took the special little Toxic Startup that I sprained my back for and was treated worse and worse each day. I wish I could say that I learned something from the experience, but I really only learned that people are assholes and liars and they often don’t care who they have to step on (even literally) to get what they want. I am not that kind of person and I hope that I never will be.

I wish I knew what I should be doing. I wish I knew where my passions lie these days, but I doubt I have any at this point. So many things seem to happen at once, for better or worse, and it’s up to us as individuals to make sense of it in our own lives and minds. Moving back to my hometown threw me for more of a loop than I ever could have imagined. PTSD ain’t something to fuck with! And I don’t mean the trendy version of “ohmigosh becky! I got the wrong item in my trendy clothing store order! I have PTSD NOW!” *Barfs* NO! That is not fucking PTSD! PTSD is waking up in the middle of the night not knowing where you are, unsure if your abuser is waiting for you on every corner and in every shadow after twenty years of no contact with that person. It’s years and years of self work flying right out the fucking window because of where you are and all of the horrific memories flooding back without warning.

I wasn’t sure I’d make it through this past summer alive. No lie. It was really tough fighting those old demons again. It was awful. Plus, I was alone, but for real this time, 25 miles away from my friends and boyfriend. I had my puggo and little else and so I fought my way through everything including my own desires to give up. I’m glad that I got through it, as hard as it was. I have to keep trying, ya know? I have to keep some semblance of hope alive that something good will eventually come my way. It has to. And I have never been so close to the worst case scenario than I am now and that clock is tickin’ louder each day. So I take it a day or even an hour at a time. I get up everyday, no matter how depressed I am, and I apply to every possible job I can!

I wish I knew what the future held. I wish I knew that things would work out. I wish I had a fucking clue about what I should be doing with my life! But that’s not reality and so I must accept each day as it comes. That’s how I’ve always approached my writing, too. Let’s not grade that on a pass-fail basis, deal? Ha-ha! I’ve had moments where I knew I was doing just what I should be and I miss that feeling of purpose. I miss having a fiery passion burning inside of me. I want to be the mover and shaker that I know I once was. I just gotta get my footing again! I’m so close to the precipice of what could be absolute disaster if I don’t find a stable job soon. It seems there’s always some catch.

If you have enjoyed even one of my posts I would like to ask you for a small favor: Send me some woo, juju, love, positivity, prayers, wishes, hopes, whatever it is that you believe could help, send it my way! I’m in a safe place and so unbelievably grateful for that. I would like to stay here for awhile and get my debts in order before they consume me entirely and I’m literally out in the cold. I have hope. I have to. I mean, if only I could find a way to create an income for myself in some other way I would in a hot minute, but it’s not like snuggling a pug pays these days! Ha! Sadly, working hard no longer matters, if it did I’d be rollin’ in money!

Thank you, my dear readers, for all that you have done for me with your presence and kindness. I hope to one day find that I have written 2,000 posts for you!

Rad Fatty Love,

My blog’s Facebook page for things I share that aren’t on this blog (body positive always, funny sometimes):
I also have an Instagram, I rarely use it but would like to more…encourage me to?:
And as always, feel free to drop me a line in comments here or write me an email, I love hearing from readers:
If you would like to give money via paypal, you may do so here:

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Loss of the Oddest Ones


I thought I was never one for the worshipping of deities. I was raised Catholic, but questioned it all from the start, and really pissed off the nuns with my questions. What I didn’t realize until yesterday was that this was a lie. Believing I had no religion, no gods or ceremonies or rituals, this was all false, only I hadn’t known it. When I got home Sunday night I was already in tears. Sunday nights are difficult for a myriad of reasons, but let’s just say facing yet another week of applying to jobs, endless rejection and loneliness is just a lot to handle emotionally, and things have not been looking up for me in the ways of prospects. I poured a glass of wine and hit up my prescription in short order. I sat down with my box of tissues and turned on the Golden Globes. I’d meant to record them but forgot and ended up tuning in just before that magical moment of Ryan Gosling and Brad Pitt walking on stage. The awards show was alright I suppose, nothing terribly exciting for me. Right after the golden globes ended the local news began, I rarely tune in on purpose. I had gotten up to go to the restroom and had just returned to my little loveseat when the news hit me.

I wasn’t looking at the screen of my television so when they announced his passing I had a sort of delayed reaction. A sort of, “No, you didn’t just hear that, check and you’ll see it’s wrong.” I looked up and sure enough there was his image, “At the age of 69, legendary rock star David Bowie has died today from cancer.” The air was sucked from my lungs. I sat still and in complete shock. Fresh, hot tears poured from my eyes down my face. I didn’t feel anything in that moment. I couldn’t hear or see anything. It was as though a light had burst and wiped away the world for that moment. Finally, when the tears had begun to pool in my cleavage, I grabbed a tissue and wiped them away, blew my nose, took a large gulp of wine and just said quietly to myself and my puggo, “He knew.”

I’d been listening to his newly released album “Blackstar” since it was available on Spotify last week, almost constantly. He gave us such a gift, both with his newest music release, but more so with his mere existence. I don’t know a world without David Bowie and I refuse to live in one without him and so his music will always be in my heart and soul and I’ve been listening to his newer stuff more because, well, because.  He is someone I simply think about often, for strength, for hope, for security in myself for being weird. He was born a redhead with funny teeth, so we’ve always had that in common. Sunday morning, before he passed on, when I was in the shower listening to an 80’s mix I was thinking about his life, about all of the artists and musicians he’s known and lost, how he’s simply a human man and yet so much more than that. It didn’t seem odd to me at all to have these thoughts. Later that evening on the newest episode of The Simpson’s someone had a cat with two different colored eyes named “Bowie” and since I didn’t watch it until the next day it really spooked me. Coincidence?

The next morning I had a difficult time getting out of bed, everything just seemed so hard and pointless. I had to get up and start applying to jobs, though, just like everyday. I checked my emails and put on some music but I couldn’t hear it, like, it felt like my ears were buzzing. I went to facebook and someone has shared a link to the isolated vocal track from “Under Pressure” with just David and Freddie’s voices, no other instruments. I held my breath at first, then was simply lost in their beautiful voices. When the track finished I found myself holding back deep sobs, hands pressed together so tightly my fingers were the palest white and in that moment I knew.  I’ve had religion, gods, all along. My life has held a short string of them and I’ve lost each and every one.

I remember when John Lennon was killed. I’d never seen my father so heartbroken. I remember when Kurt Cobain died, I was getting ready to leave for work, I was just 16 years old, when Kurt Loder announced it on a breaking MTV News brief. I was in shock. I couldn’t breathe but I had to get to work. I remember driving my giant boat of a car down the tree lined street to my job but having to pull over twice to wipe away my tears. I remember when Michael Jackson died, it was right before I’d opened my cafe and I just couldn’t believe it. I stayed home and just sat in disbelief watching his funeral hoping against all hope in the world that somehow it couldn’t be true…he couldn’t be gone!

Music has been my religion since I was born. The rituals and ceremonies are shared and communal.  We share in them as a species and we infuse our culture with it. It seems the greatest gifts, the truest visions of a heaven, are always taken from us too soon. Guns, drugs and now cancer. We must find a way to continue and to learn from their wisdom. For me, there have been three gods: Jackson, Cobain and Bowie. Sure, I could easily include others but these three in particular feel so close to my heart that their passing feels personal. They are my gods, my religious icons and truly so much of my heart and so much of my life can be found in their music.

Kurt Cobain, The Patron Saint of the Misunderstood and Lost Causes

Michael Jackson, The Patron Saint of Abuse Survival and Whimsical Escapism

David Bowie, The Patron Saint of Outcasts, Artists and Weirdos

I don’t need frankincense and myrrh. I worship with red wine and weed and dancing out of rhythm to my own internal beat. I sacrifice my heart to them every day of my life. In moments of pain and joy, loss and connection, I turn to them and I find my kindreds. When I am feeling as dark and alone as I am today, and the past week or so, I have their chants and incantations to listen to and take into myself like communion. These three could not be more different musically, in their legacies and lifestyles and yet their twisted souls have touched so many and in similar ways.

When I was going through the hell that was my last job, I would play this video, and this song is an absolute masterpiece, on repeat while getting ready each morning in order to get the courage to face another day.

Obligatory End of the Year Post: 2015 Can Suck it!


Yeah I know, look on the bright side, but to be honest, and I mean brutally? 2015 beat me up in every possible way. I started the year off with a new job that was already kicking my ass with constant changes in management and endless and impossible tasks. So much so that I sprained my fucking spine in March! Yeah…that! To make matters worse, this was also the exact moment my managers started to treat me worse and worse. The job that felt like so much possibility and opportunity was then sucking my will to live. I never had back problems in my life before that job and now I fear I will never not have back issues. Fuck you toxic elitist startup! I went into it, every fucking day, with the best attitude espresso can buy and lemme tell ya, by lunch time everyday I’d be exhausted, drenched in sweat and reeling from the conflicting directions from my two passive aggressive managers (actually being told to be in three places at once despite my argument in favor of the laws of physics, c’mon!). May karma give them the worst teenagers in history! And may I never again have “Momagers” instead of actual, experienced in managing adults, managers. Ahem.

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To make matters worse, I was soon after rear-ended and my poor, sweet, beloved car still hasn’t been repaired. The guy let his insurance expire and my car ain’t worth shit to anyone but me so the paltry check I did get a month later I had to not spend because I then lost said shitty job the day after I received said check. UGH! Two weeks after losing shitty job, my landlord gives us a sixty day notice to move the fuck out. Yay life! NOT! I had already begun rehearsing with Tigress for the annual Big Moves dance show and things just didn’t get easier. A treasured bff came to visit only to have really scary health shit happen and we both thank the stars above we had each other despite what assholes who think only of their own needs and interests choose to believe! *GivingStinkEyeWhereItBelongs*

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The dance show was fabulous and I didn’t fuck up any of the major dance moves that couldn’t be covered up by a hip swivel or sassy hand gesture! Woo! We looked fantastic, too, by the way! I made our skirts, Tigress made our hats and it felt good to have something positive we worked hard on to look back on. Then my bff had to fly home and I was left to deal with having to find a place to move to on my own for the first time ever. My beloved Raven came through with nothing short of a miracle and I found myself living in my hometown for the first time in over twenty years. And then the demons came for a battle. PTSD is no joke! Just when I thought I might never really have to deal with the worst of it again, it all came flooding back! Fuck! That was the goddamned worst! Afraid to leave the house, memories of everything that happened at every corner and landmark, fucked up family shit and just more than I could handle. But then my boyfriend sort of saved me in the sense that we went on a spontaneous road trip to SoCal and I was able to get out of my own head for a few days. It was lovely.
Things seemed more positive when I returned, I started to get more interviews at least. I was growing more comfortable living alone and starting to feel more safe overall. It wasn’t all so bad, right? But it actually sort of was, I just had no idea I’d be out of work for so fucking long! The PTSD stuff waxed and waned and I dunno, I guess I still don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to be doing with my life now. Eight months is a long fucking time to be unemployed. I really can’t believe it’s been so long. I haven’t been out of work this long since 2003! Scary thought, that. I’ve had very promising interviews, but a lot of rejection and flakiness from potential employers to boot. I don’t really know what tomorrow holds.

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There were some highlights, some good bits that occurred this year, but it’s so very hard to see them through the muck and the mire (notice me trying not to mention my dreadful birthday). I know they’re there and that will have to do for now. The scariest bit of all is that I feel a giant clock ticking at my back counting down the minutes until my unemployment benefits run out and then I don’t know what I shall do. I’d say it’s keeping me up nights, but what isn’t?! My schedule is so fucked! The truth is I’m incredibly lonely. I only see my bf on weekends and lately even they’ve been cut short. I have no friends here and the few IRL friends I do have are far too busy struggling to make ends meet to do much of anything and try as I might my anxiety and depression keep me from just popping in on folks, besides I think that’s a bit rude.
2016? A big bag of who the fuck knows and that will have to do. I was just starting to get a real hold of my finances and move in the right direction (of being debt free soon) when I lost the job and the home and everything. I’ve had to live off my credit card again and it’s brutal to see the running total each month. It makes me physically ill, if I’m being honest. I try always to be honest.

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I feel as though I don’t really have much in the world. Nothing really to look forward to but a few phone calls from my brother and an NYE party at a friend’s house. Gawd I sound pathetic! Ha-ha! I’m not into self harm so no worries, I just don’t really have a fucking thing going for me other than a safe place to live for the next two months, I suppose. My puggo is my real best friend, anyway. Even if he does drive me batty spending the odd night with my landlord. Ha! I’ve mostly got a hold of my PTSD stuff and feel better over all on that front anyway. It’s the depression that’s got me this week. It hit me quite badly Saturday night, I just sort of burst into hysterical sobbing for three hours, no big deal. Actually, it did feel like a panic attack and probably was. I was able to reach out to a few friends who were able to talk to me long enough so that I could get a handle on my breathing enough to get some food in me. It was pretty bad but the scariest was the actual reaching out. Humans are so fucking ridiculous! I’m fucking ridiculous!
I am grateful for what I do have. I know it’s more than many have and I do my best to never take anything for granted. I just sort of feel both stranded and adrift. I’ve always managed to make things happen in my life and yet here I am and I’m completely out of options. Once that clock runs out, your guess is as good as mine where I might go or what I’ll do. I suppose I’ve always been a bit of a by-the-seat-of-your-pants sort of person. But my debts are far too high now, the consequences of poverty too great. It’s a daily struggle to get up and look on the bright side when faced with dwindling job listings this time of year. Seems like something’s gotta give, though.
So, here’s to the unknown futures for us all! Here’s to merriment and bubbly! Here’s to living for today because who the fuck knows what or if tomorrow will bring anything at all. Everything seems so uncertain. I guess it is, really. *DeepBreath*

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Good riddance 2015! Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!

Here’s to you, dear reader!

Here’s to me, as always, I’ll keep on keepin’ on!

My blog’s Facebook page for things I share that aren’t on this blog (body positive always, funny sometimes):
I also have an Instagram, I rarely use it but would like to more…encourage me to?:
And as always, feel free to drop me a line in comments here or write me an email, I love hearing from readers:



How do you handle rejection? How do you handle repeated rejection…for like 7 months?!

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I just received two rejection letters from jobs that I was certain would come through. I’m beside myself at the moment and need to find the energy and motivation to clean my apartment tonight and paint my nails because I have another promising interview tomorrow. I just can’t shake this sadness. I was on cloud 9 all weekend and into this morning, my happy vibes fueled the massive amount of errands I ran today. Now I’m just shattered. Every time someone tells me they want to hire me, I try so hard not to get my hopes up. But these two jobs? UGh! I was not expecting to be rejected outright. I was expecting second round interviews on both counts. You could say that any wind that would typically be in my sails has truly been sucked out by this.

I can’t help but wonder how much and how many of these rejections have to do with my fat body and less so with my abilities and skills, especially since I always nail phone interviews. I guess I’m lucky that no one has actually told me to my face this time around that my fat is the reason I won’t be hired (it’s happened in the past a few times and perfectly legal). I just don’t know why they feel the need to lie to my face instead. I know, I know, their loss, yadda yadda yadda. I can’t.

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So, how do you do it? How do you bounce back, dust yourself off and keep trying? How do I find the energy to clean right now, let alone prepare a meal for myself when I feel so low?


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