The face of a pug will always elicit a response, no matter its current configuration. Its eyes are ever seeking, ever wanting. To have and to hold and to love a pug of one’s own is a gift from the universe that is truly unmatched. There is no greater love or sense of belonging that could compare. When nothing in this world makes sense, to look into the sweet face of a pug, you realize that all of the answers are right there. To love. To connect. To be silly. To take pleasure in the smallest acts of life. To rest. There is nothing else but this very moment. If you try to hold on for too long it will all surely slip away. 

When out in public with a pug, strangers will stop and stare in delight. They will gasp and sigh, they will squeal and whisper. To glimpse a pug “in the wild” (not the actual wild, they are not the most rugged of creatures) is to get a secret peek at absolute joy embodied. If they notice you in return they will most certainly tilt their head in order to hear you better. Their eyes will widen in preparation to make a new friend. They may even approach as if to say hey I see you too what’s up new friend. 

To share your life with a pug is to never feel alone, no matter how long it has been since you’ve seen another human. You will never be without someone to talk to, sing to, dance with, snuggle with, and always always share a meal with. You will have your very own personal security detail for every late night trip to the bathroom or morning shower. If you are feeling down they will cheer you up, it’s like they can’t even help it. Their mere existence is just love and joy in a soft little body. When ill, you feel the warm weight of their body pressed against you. I’m certain it shortens the healing time of nearly any ailment.   

My beloved puggo, my shadow, my sidekick, my baby, my entire heart, passed away in the ICU on October 8, 2021. We spent twelve years together, growing and learning as we went along. He became very ill, very quickly and while he seemed to be recovering and doing well for a couple of weeks, things took a very sudden turn that his little body just couldn’t handle. Science did all it could to save him. Love did all it could to keep him. No amount of money or tears could make him feel better and finally he just stopped breathing. I was in the shower when the doctor called, I jumped out and grabbed the call, dripping water everywhere. I was on the phone with the doctor when it happened. 
No heart break has ever felt like this. No loss has ever felt like this. I am grateful that he is no longer suffering. His physical absence is unbearable. My every thought and consideration, both mental and physical, was always him. When I was out of work and dealing with the return of some terrible CPTSD symptoms and terrified of the world, he was the for me. When I had a panic attack at my ex husband’s wedding reception, my puggo calmed me down when I got home. He always knew just what I needed. If I cried he would get me to laugh by making silly sounds and flopping around on the bed. 

I have to learn how to be a human again. When my stomach gurgles I look for my sweet boy, thinking it is him. When I drop a crumb on the floor I expect to hear his paws fast approaching. I can’t bring myself to go into my backyard. I only have it for him. The worst is when I come home from work each day. He used to do a big stretch and then squeak at me and I would pretend that he was telling me about his day and respond, “Oh yeah, and then what happened?” and then walk between my feet as I scratched his back and little butt. “My baby butt!” I would say as he would quickly turn around and do the whole thing again. Now I just come home and cry.

My whole life revolved around him. Now he’s gone and I’m not sure what’s left. I’m still me but I feel like my soul is gone. I’m glad I have work, though I did take two days off, because it is a good distraction from my shattered state. Sure, it’s always there just beneath the surface, but I can cover pretty decently at work and no one’s the wiser for it. And I have a big project starting that I’ve been excited about for some time. It is in the small moments, when there’s no pretense, just mundane life things like filling the Brita pitcher or turning over in bed, that it dawns on me that he’s gone again and again. There was no greater joy in my life than coming home to that little muffin.

I cannot imagine loving anyone or anything as much as I loved him. He drove me crazy sometimes and somehow knew how to get into just the right amount of mischief. He was my reason for getting out of bed and for going to bed at a decent hour. He kept us both on a tight schedule. He didn’t get the concept of daylight savings time so I just tried to keep things as consistent as possible, regardless of what the clock said. He would never let me forget dinner time, that was always precise!

He was no big adventurer, though he had been to Gorn Rock and stayed in a Wig Wam in SoCal. I called him a shade seeking missile, he just understood what mattered in life. When he was done with something he made it clear and there was no convincing him otherwise. I appreciated that in him even when we butted heads. We had our routines down pat and had our own flow of doing things together at home. He hated baths but would always just go along with what I asked of him. I would always take those opportunities as an excuse to hold him, he wasn’t a fan, but he knew I loved it so would allow it. I would hold him up to the bathroom mirror and tell him how handsome he was.

Having the bed all to myself is confusing and torturous. I haven’t had a bed to myself since the 90’s. Well, there was that one year when my ex husband and I first split up but he was only a couple of blocks away and I saw him several times a week. No one in the world was ever as happy to see me ever than my puggo. Not family, not friends or lovers, no this tiny pug person was always SO excited to see me! I mean, he liked everybody, but I was always just as excited to see him too. 

No matter what’s going on in your life or the world, you just cannot help but get excited when beholding the face of a pug. 

• 

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***

I’m here for realness and sincerity, honesty and vulnerability, I’m here for the good and juicy bits of life that shine for me when I know I’m heading in the right direction.

Rad Fatty Love to ALL,
<3
S

Check out the Fat AF podcast on your favorite podcast app for all things fat sex with me and my BFF, Michaela! (We only recorded a few episodes but they were good!)

Donate to this blog here: https://www.paypal.me/notblueatall currently donations will be given directly to Black women in need through my network.

My blog’s Facebook page for things I share that aren’t on this blog (updated frequently and not just about fat stuff): http://on.fb.me/1A18fAS 

Or get the same “shared” content on Twitter: @NotBlueAtAll

Are you on MeWe? I started a fat-feminist group there called, Rad Fatties Unlimited, look for it! I’m also on Space Hey “NotBlueAtAll”

And as always, please feel free to drop me a line in comments here or write me an email, I love hearing from readers. (Tell me your troubles, I don’t judge.) notblueatall@notblueatall.com

Oh my sweet lovelies! These last (nearly) four weeks have been absolute torture as my beloved puggo has been incredibly ill. I’ve had him since he was a teeny puglet and he’s nearing his 12th birthday in two months. He’s always been stout and healthy, with only ear infections and a dry eye to worry over. This was something different all together, I won’t get into the gory details, but at a certain point my food obsessed pug stopped eating and I panicked. It took 3 weeks, 4 veterinarians (2 specialists), lots and lots of tests and several thousand dollars (get pet insurance now so you don’t have this happen to you) but my baby is going to be okay. He has a terribly severe case of irritable bowel disease, he’ll likely be on meds to manage it for the rest of his life. Facing this alone has been absolutely terrifying and exhausting. Doing all I could to keep him comfortable while the experts figured out what was going on was absolutely heart wrenching. When he was admitted to the ICU last Thursday as his little system went into shock, I was home just beside myself not knowing what to do without him home with me even for one night. Just two days later he was back to giving me the full pug attitude and trying to get into the garbage can like he used to. Ha!

I came so close to losing him that I am still sort of in shock. What is an appropriate gift for a veterinarian??? I have a few I need to send. The way two vets specifically handled this tricky situation was beyond impressive. I mean, one really went the extra mile to get a specialist involved even though they are all booked through October. I know for a fact that one vet spent over an hour on hold with two different places at least and even worked late to make it happen for us. They were all so kind and patient with me and my questions. I know they deal with such difficult situations only to have to put the animal down, but not my babyman. I had to keep saying that I wasn’t concerned about the money aspect of it, I just wanted him to be okay. I could hear the relief in their voices every time. And while money actually is a major concern and this ordeal has set me back financially (and can I just say fuck credit scores and how they are measured!), I cannot imagine going through this without the small safety net that I do have now. It is an impossible position to be in, but I know I made the right decisions for me and puggo.

I am beyond grateful to all who assisted in his care, my friends and loved ones for their prayers, woo, and moral support. After having just gone through my own health crisis for so many months and to finally be done with it, having this come up for my lil’ guy nearly wrecked me completely. Steroids and antibiotics are amazing medicines, when used properly. I mean, I had to watch my sweet muffin wither away in pain for days on end until we finally got the answers needed to start some kind of treatment. When he had his follow up yesterday the dogtor couldn’t believe how well and how different he looked! I have no doubt that his usual slight chonk-ness helped in his healing and handling of this. 

I am taking the last week of October off work for “vacation”. While I was originally going to take a road trip up north to bask in the magic of the redwoods, now we will simply be home and trying to get as much fucking sleep as possible! I am so sleep deprived I am waking up most days with broken capillaries around my eyes, despite my commitment to my skincare routine. Ha! Seriously, the sleep deprivation is brutal, but worth the temporary craziness to have a better and longer life with my favorite person (my dog is a person, I will fight you). May the rest of this awful year be without upset or loss, because I am not sure how much more I can handle. Hopefully my 18 year old car can hold on another two years while I recover financially. The loan rates right now are terrible! I’m glad I got the small one I did in March or I would have been absolutely screwed.

2022 is shaping up to be exciting in a positive way at least. My employer is moving offices again and it is a project I have been excited to take on for awhile now. This will be my third big office move and the planning and design parts are my favorite! It reminds me that I am capable of so much more than a “front desk” person, as many see me as. I’m an office manager by title, but I wear a few hats and am coming up on four years in my current role, I love it.

Things are changing, and I am ready for all the goodness! Are you?!

***

I’m here for realness and sincerity, honesty and vulnerability, I’m here for the good and juicy bits of life that shine for me when I know I’m heading in the right direction.

Rad Fatty Love to ALL,
<3
S

Check out the Fat AF podcast on your favorite podcast app for all things fat sex with me and my BFF, Michaela! (We only recorded a few episodes but they were good!)

Donate to this blog here: https://www.paypal.me/notblueatall currently donations will be given directly to Black women in need through my network.

My blog’s Facebook page for things I share that aren’t on this blog (updated frequently and not just about fat stuff): http://on.fb.me/1A18fAS 

Or get the same “shared” content on Twitter: @NotBlueAtAll

Are you on MeWe? I started a fat-feminist group there called, Rad Fatties Unlimited, look for it! I’m also on Space Hey “NotBlueAtAll”

And as always, please feel free to drop me a line in comments here or write me an email, I love hearing from readers. (Tell me your troubles, I don’t judge.) notblueatall@notblueatall.com

Well, I have survived my first surgery! Honestly everyone at the hospital was great, but I gotta give a special shout out to the anesthesiologist who saw the panic in my eyes but listened very carefully to all of my questions and made sure to explain everything and more to ease my mind. Seriously, a really great human! When I told him what the other doc had said about cannabis interacting with anesthesia and causing brain damage he was gobsmacked. “A doctor told you this? That’s just wrong. That’s so rude!” And my gallbladder removal surgery went exactly as planned without issue. All I remember in the actual room was scooting onto the operating table from my wheely bed (you know what they wheel you around on) and the surgeon explaining how things would go in which order. I had asked how my fat body would be moved back onto the wheely bed and they calmly explained that I was laying on a set of rollers of some kind that would make the transition smooth. Then each person in the room (6 total I think) introduced themselves, said my name and what procedure I would be having done. It felt a bit like a press conference for a celebrity only I was laying down and naked beneath a thin gauzy medical gown (that would have easily fit two of me inside). Then they put the “oxygen” mask over my face and instructed me to breathe deeply. No counting backwards or any of the old cliches. 

Next thing I knew I was waking up in recovery with RN Cassie trying to talk to me as I mostly just groaned in confusion and pain. I was so terrified of being put under but that was honestly the easiest bit. Cassie was very patient and kind and gave me ice chips and water and strawberry jello, and helped me get my knickers back on. Within half an hour I was dressed, visited the restroom, and on my way to the main entrance where my bestie J was waiting for me with his carriage (okay it’s a Toyota, but allow me to romanticize a scene now and then, yeah?!). I’m sure I said little and groaned more on the ride home, but J was the best, a tried and true ride or die. I was just super extra glad that I didn’t die. That paperwork they had me fill out really got into my head. Ugh! 

The next three days I mostly slept and took my meds and ate fruit. That’s seriously it! After that I stopped taking the oxycodone and stuck with the lovely combo of Motrin and acetaminophen. Gosh that stuff works great! I’ve been walking around like I have never had a knee injury in my life! I know I can’t take this stuff forever, surely that would fuck up my liver something awful, but it really helps feeling more steady and able to do things at home as needed. Yesterday I even chopped and roasted a ton of veggies that would have otherwise gone bad. Had I done that without the NSAIDS I would have been limping and in agony. I will definitely be discussing this with the surgeon at my follow up. 

Yesterday I went back to my office job and honestly, it was great! People were happy to see me, relieved even. My boss admitted he was worried. It’s nice to be valued. I get it in my head sometimes that what I do doesn’t matter, but yesterday showed me that’s ridiculous. While I had a ton of things to catch up on, I conquered it all and felt pretty darn good about myself to boot! I really wasn’t sure how I would feel or what I’d be walking into, but it all worked out well. Even if I did sleep like crap the night before. You know when it’s too hot without a fan but the fan is too noisy too?! Ugh! I am feeling hopeful though. Having this big scary thing over and done with is a massive load off my mind. I will eventually need to have a very similar surgery to remove a mystery mass they found when scanning my gallbladder (it’s benign but it grew), but I’m far less fearful about it all. And hey that scary “you’re gonna die” paperwork is all done! Ha-ha! 

Now if we could all just work together to end this darned pandemic, that would be greeeeeeeeat! Ha!

***

I’m here for realness and sincerity, honesty and vulnerability, I’m here for the good and juicy bits of life that shine for me when I know I’m heading in the right direction.

Rad Fatty Love to ALL,
<3
S

Check out the Fat AF podcast on your favorite podcast app for all things fat sex with me and my BFF, Michaela! (We only recorded a few episodes but they were good!)

Donate to this blog here: https://www.paypal.me/notblueatall currently donations will be given directly to Black women in need through my network.

My blog’s Facebook page for things I share that aren’t on this blog (updated frequently and not just about fat stuff): http://on.fb.me/1A18fAS 

Or get the same “shared” content on Twitter: @NotBlueAtAll

Are you on MeWe? I started a fat-feminist group there called, Rad Fatties Unlimited, look for it! I’m also on Space Hey “NotBlueAtAll”

And as always, please feel free to drop me a line in comments here or write me an email, I love hearing from readers. (Tell me your troubles, I don’t judge.) notblueatall@notblueatall.com

This entire pandemic shutdown has affected us all, regardless if you or someone you know has had the illness itself. We have all been forced to sort of slow down and do things differently. Something I have seen come up so much in all of the fat facebook groups I’m in is this deep seated shame about a lessening in mobility. A feeling of failure around being forced to be more sedentary over the last fifteen months. I’m here to tell you that for one, it ain’t just fat folks feeling all of this, we’ve all been affected by it. Fat folks seem to have a more immediate self blame/shame reaction to it, but it’s not just us, I promise!

I have previously talked about thriving in those first few months of the pandemic shutdown, and that’s true. Once my gallbladder started failing me I was forced very suddenly to simply stop everything. Extreme pain takes over every aspect of your life. Even after the initial ER visit, my situation was a mystery and the pain attacks were intermittent, which really sucked any morale I had left outta me. After three months of the pain attacks I was miserably depressed. So when the pain finally went away I still wasn’t really wanting or able to get back to my previous movement habits.

Now as I’m back at the office everyday I’m finding everything more difficult. I don’t have energy, what I do have runs out quickly. Standing still for any stretch fucks up my right knee. I have stiffness and soreness seemingly all of the time, but it gets better before it gets worse. I have my gallbladder surgery tomorrow, so I know it will take awhile for me to recover, but the mobility I have lost in the last year is very much apparent to me now. I was struggling internally about this until I started to see post after shame-filled post about the exact same issues. That’s when I realized that this is so much bigger than just me or just you. We’re all in this together so let’s throw that shame and blame game out the damned window!

One of the best things you can do right now, without even leaving your seat, is deciding and committing to yourself to be kind and patient with yourself. That really is the best first step you can take. I have seen a lot of folks worrying about not being able to walk down their block without needing a break or sitting down, so I will share some tips others have shared. First, if going out feels unsafe or you’re uncertain of your needs in such a public place, try using your home or yard to start moving more, incrementally. One rad fatty used their long hallway, walking the length and placing a chair at each end. This way you can take your time, rest when you need to (please honor your body’s cues on this) and not worry about harassment or unsteadiness outdoors. Doing any kind of stretching will also help so much! Did you know that Joyn is free now?! They have plus size instructors and all levels of classes you can try out. Check it out if that format is more your style. There’s lots on YouTube as well, but I urge you to ignore the comment sections and maybe even do some digging before searching for a class type as I have found many to appear fat positive but then they hit you with some nonsense mid-instruction that I just can’t hang with. If your knees are your main focus, I would highly recommend Cinder Ernst’s book on the subject! Cinder also has a facebook group for this, as well as youtube videos. I’ve met and known Cinder for some years now and she is absolutely a joy and a pleasure to work with.

If, like me, you found yourself in an increasingly icky depression nest, please consider (if you are able) hiring and/or asking for help.  It was very difficult for me internally to do this but I ended up hiring someone to help me clean my kitchen. It was only a hundred bucks for three hours of work, and the person the agency sent (I used an app called Diem) was absolutely lovely! They understood my situation without judgement and prioritized the cleaning tasks based on my actual day to day needs. I never could have cleaned that kitchen on my own without wrecking my back and knees. The weight lifted by having a clean kitchen was just what I needed to tackle my living room and bathroom on my own. Now I come home and I don’t feel all of the shame and guilt over having a messy/gross home. I know I deserve to feel good about coming home, and kept meaning to prioritize this, but that shame and guilt combo is fucking HARD to shake off. Maybe you have people in your life that want to help but you are afraid to ask or keep telling them no. I kept telling myself that I would do it all on my own, such is my way in most things, but I was finally faced with not having the mobility or time to accomplish this before my surgery. Sometimes we have to confront ourselves over this stuff. I am glad that I did.

There was a recent study that came out that discovered that those who spend a little money to get a little time back for themselves actually had higher levels of happiness and lower levels of stress over all. It specifically mentioned things like household chores, which has always been my struggle (thanks to my childhood). The people who clean for a living will not judge you, they will understand and will treat your home with respect. I know for me this was such a huge internal battle that I had with myself. It sent me down so many self-hating spirals I can’t even count! I even let the cleaning folks know that I was incredibly anxious and that this was my first time hiring someone for this work. I let them know that I would have to remain in my apartment (this was before my office was reopened), and I kept myself and my puggo in my bedroom while they worked. It wasn’t easy for me mentally, but again it was so very worth it! Your situation may be different, and your experiences will certainly vary, but I hope you can do something that will take some of the stress and shame off your mind and heart.

We put so much on our own shoulders before we even get out of bed each day. We all must find a way to be kind, patient, and to honor what our bodies need. It sounds so simple, but it takes a lot of effort and reframing, I have found. Please know that you are worth every ounce of effort in the world! I think after my surgery I will be seeking physical therapy of some kind to aid my recovery efforts as well as hopefully regaining my overall mobility. If you are working from home I urge you to carefully consider your ergonomic setup and reassess based on what your body is actually telling you. There’s lots of easy guides online you can look at for this (I’m an office manager so it’s part of what I do).

I say and share all of this because I honestly do care, maybe too much. I see no point in participating in my own suffering. I do not want to see others struggling with the same if I can help it, ya know? The shame and blame isn’t useful, let’s banish it from our minds and hearts for good! Remind yourself, as I do each day when there is pain, this isn’t your fault in any way, you’re human and doing what you can with what you have at any given moment. Honor that shit! You don’t have to love your body, I know that hard af and some of us will simply never get there or want to, but we can all find a place of neutrality with our bodies so that we can live our best lives. I hope you find what works for you and unburden you from the intrusive negativity. 

***

I’m here for realness and sincerity, honesty and vulnerability, I’m here for the good and juicy bits of life that shine for me when I know I’m heading in the right direction.

Rad Fatty Love to ALL,
<3
S

Check out the Fat AF podcast on your favorite podcast app for all things fat sex with me and my BFF, Michaela! (We only recorded a few episodes but they were good!)

Donate to this blog here: https://www.paypal.me/notblueatall currently donations will be given directly to Black women in need through my network.

My blog’s Facebook page for things I share that aren’t on this blog (updated frequently and not just about fat stuff): http://on.fb.me/1A18fAS 

Or get the same “shared” content on Twitter: @NotBlueAtAll

Are you on MeWe? I started a fat-feminist group there called, Rad Fatties Unlimited, look for it! I’m also on Space Hey “NotBlueAtAll”

And as always, please feel free to drop me a line in comments here or write me an email, I love hearing from readers. (Tell me your troubles, I don’t judge.) notblueatall@notblueatall.com

Hello lovely people! I wanted to check in before I have my gallbladder removal surgery (finally!) this week. As I have been preparing my home and my head for my very first ever surgery I realized that throughout the past year of dealing with what were first mystery symptoms, alllllll the medical tests, video visits with the surgeon, and more. The one thing I did not have to deal with, much to all of our surprise I’m sure, is fatphobia. In fact, my size was not mentioned once! Not at the ER and not anywhere else. I was always bracing for it, always anticipating the worst, and always ready to hand someone back their entire ass if they did. 

But it didn’t happen! The first person to mention my size was myself to the surgeon who will be performing the operation. I had asked about the robot versus laparoscopic and he explained that the robot was recommended specifically for those with a BMI over 50, mine is 55, and so he said I will have a better outcome with the robot. I was very pleased to hear this. The robot allows not only 3D imaging so the surgeon can see better in such a tight space (because hooray for teeny incisions), but the robot allows for finer movement of the instruments once inside my body. 

Look, I friggin’ love robots anyway, always wanted a robot bff a la Judy Jetson and her diary, but this made me much more calm about the whole thing. I also watched the entire procedure with the robot on youtube and I gotta say, it looked minimally invasive. There was only part of the procedure that made me wince while watching and it was at the very beginning when they first make the incision and place the posts or arms inside to make room for the instruments. Very quick, but they did this sort of shake movement that I simply did not care for, but the patient, like I will be, was under anesthesia and thus likely never knew it was occuring. 

I am concerned about anesthesia. I’ve never been put under for anything. When I had an upper endoscopy, while they were trying to figure out what was going on, I had only twilight drugs and I had nightmares about that procedure for weeks after. I don’t know if that is normal for twilight drugs or if it was my C-PTSD doing it’s usual thing, but I do worry about this after the surgery. 

I had a pre-op video visit to go over my medical history, to make sure no further tests were needed (just a covid test). During this visit they asked about any medications I was taking, and then asked about “street drugs” usage. I have no qualms about the question itself, but I do take issue with calling cannabis a street drug (it’s legal and fairly regulated in California), as well as using the historically racist term “marijuana”. I was very up front and explicit about this and my usage with the doctor in this visit. They were surprised but seemed to respect it.  They then asked about frequency of use and method. The thing is though, the medical world doesn’t know shit about cannabis use. Until very recently it was illegal (federally) to study it on human subjects. The doctor on this call insisted that I halt all use leading up to my surgery, which I have no issues with complying. 

But when they said that it will interact with the anesthesia and cause brain damage I was surprised and so I did some digging. And I was right, they don’t know shit about cannabis. That belief was based on mice and no human study has been done. Plus the mice were given high doses of pure THC. The medical world still thinks we’re out here smoking “marijuana cigarettes” which is hilarious to me as I don’t smoke anything. I vaporize cannabis flowers. It’s a very different thing, just in case you didn’t know. I take it for pain, nausea, and anxiety. I do take it for fun sometimes, but I use different strains and strengths to manage specific things. The fact that it is still perceived as a “street drug” is harmful and furthers stigma. They don’t take into account that chronic pain sufferers often use CBD products such as patches to manage their pain when other pain management has been unsuccessful or unsustainable. CBD products offer no “high” or heady euphoric states at all. And cannabis doesn’t have to give you “the munchies” or make you paranoid like the old days. The more you know! 😀

I went three months without the correct diagnosis and was in horrible pain intermittently throughout that time. I was fortunate that I could work from home due to the pandemic. I went several months without pain but after the length and severity of the original gallbladder attack I was deeply depressed and never fully recovered my energy. As I was preparing my office to reopen the pain suddenly returned and it was so incredibly hard to function. I wanted to do my job but I needed to take it easy. It has been a delicate balancing act for sure. Now I am hoping that this will all be over after my surgery and I will regain my energy soon after. Before that first attack, I was taking dance classes 2-3 times a week, walking my dog everyday, really thriving during the early pandemic shutdown. I miss who I was then. It has definitely changed my perspective on a lot of things.

I am hopeful and nervous but I know I am in good hands. I know how fortunate and privileged I am to even have access to healthcare. My insurance, through my employer, will cover most of the cost of the surgery. I can afford the rest without a worry at all. What I was not prepared for was planning for the event of my death. So that’s how I spent my last weekend with a gallbladder. I know I’m a secret goth, but it was a mind fuck! My final wishes are a combo of formal and informal documentation that hopefully no one will need to bother with. I really never imagined having to decide all of this as a single person, but here I am. I will get through this and be all the better for it! 

***

I’m here for realness and sincerity, honesty and vulnerability, I’m here for the good and juicy bits of life that shine for me when I know I’m heading in the right direction.

Rad Fatty Love to ALL,
<3
S

Check out the Fat AF podcast on your favorite podcast app for all things fat sex with me and my BFF, Michaela! (We only recorded a few episodes but they were good!)

Donate to this blog here: https://www.paypal.me/notblueatall currently donations will be given directly to Black women in need through my network.

My blog’s Facebook page for things I share that aren’t on this blog (updated frequently and not just about fat stuff): http://on.fb.me/1A18fAS 

Or get the same “shared” content on Twitter: @NotBlueAtAll

Are you on MeWe? I started a fat-feminist group there called, Rad Fatties Unlimited, look for it! I’m also on Space Hey “NotBlueAtAll”

And as always, please feel free to drop me a line in comments here or write me an email, I love hearing from readers. (Tell me your troubles, I don’t judge.) notblueatall@notblueatall.com