NotBlueAtAll

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

#DateMyDamnSelf

December30

I sit here wondering if it is just easier to do it this way, to sort of date myself. Exhausted by the ceaseless emotional labor demanded of me by any potential suitor reaching out through numerous dating apps. I ask each, regardless of gender, “Do you call yourself a feminist?” and their responses have all been the same, save for one (okay now two and I met the second Last Night!). I joke with my friends that I’ve become a sort of feminism 101 professor through these interactions. As many people as I have talked to through these apps, I have gone on very few actual dates because of this. It is the word of the year for fuck’s sake! My new motto:

Get with the times or get left behind!

Oh, that one, with the right answer? They were a great date! Like, a real and honest, nearly traditional, sit-down date. At an Italian restaurant no less. The date was filled with dazzling conversation that left me with great hope for a future date with them. They’ve traveled back home to visit with family for the holidays, but we have loose plans to see each other after the 3rd. They are brilliant in mind and conversation and a talented artist from what photos of their sculptures they shared in their profile. We discussed everything from UFOs and ghosts to body dysmorphia, art, sci-fi and video games. The food was divine and the company so great, I was sad to see it end but it had to.

I probably approach dating very differently than most. A friend recently insisted I was being unreasonably discerning by my declaration of a date wearing white jeans as a major red flag for me. It may sound shallow, but I assured my friend that someone who can comfortably and proudly (they were actually trying to impress me by wearing them) wear white jeans out in the world would have zero understanding of me or the lifestyle of the working class. It was a horrid date, something out of an old Seinfeld episode it felt like, but we all have our horror stories. Ha-ha!

I do not think it unreasonable in the least to insist that someone I might invite into my life, or bed, see me as an equal and whole human being. The fact that anyone in the world thinks this to be even remotely too high of a standard can fuck right the hell off! I refuse to be complicit in my own oppression. You wouldn’t expect a gay man to date a homophobe! Many cis-gendered, hetero males feel women owe them their time and attention, regardless of how they treat women in general. I will not stand for such nonsense, especially in my personal life, nor should anyone.

Feminism is not a dirty word. Feminists don’t hate men. Feminism is for everyone! Misogyny hurts everyone! Anyone who rolls their eyes at the word feminism/feminist is willfully ignorant and quite frankly a selfish and misguided asshole, period. Unpopular opinion? Perhaps, but I do not care one bit what the popularity level of my opinions are. I’m not here to appease or kiss asses, never will be. I’m living my life for me. I am creating a life of my choosing and creation. The folks that insist they are “good guys” aren’t. They just aren’t. That is not a thing! This isn’t an 80’s cartoon, good guys vs. bad guys, no. Not even close. This is me trying to protect myself from those that would harm me.

When I tell men (I date all genders, but get more messages from hetero cis men, currently) that the leading cause of death in men is heart disease and the leading cause of death in women is men, they often laugh or try to laugh it off. They don’t want to live in the real world. They don’t want to see women as equal and whole humans. They want to live in the world they feel safe and in control of. THAT IS NOT MY WORLD! I live in reality and I face it every time I leave the house. I know I can’t control everything, nor would I want to. Control is a falsehood, change is inevitable, and everything is temporary.

I will never be the grateful fatty, happy to gain anyone’s romantic attentions. Fuck that! I will always insist upon more. More than the typical, more than the expected, and please, far more than superficial. I would rather be alone and independent than stuck in a one-sided relationship again. Nothing feels lonelier than that. Besides, I already have the unconditional love and companionship of the most charming gentleman I know…my puggo!

So what does it mean that I want to #DateMyDamnSelf? It means I will put in the time and attention to myself when I go out alone or with friends, that I would for a potential date. It means owning all that I have and being proud of it because it is true! It means enjoying my alone time, practicing self-care, being a better friend and spending more quality time (as in walks and new experiences) with my puggo. It also means calling out folks who claim to be something that their actions prove they are not. I will only socialize with unapologetic feminists, regardless of romantic intent.

I have been struggling, but I am feeling so much better now. I have had a few loved ones in crisis lately and supporting them has made me feel seen, too. It seems my unabashed honesty and ability to see patterns and through other’s fake bullshit is a blessing after all! Ha-ha! Seriously though, this week has proven to me in a multitude of ways that there is no need to ever struggle alone or in silence. Reach out! You may have support and love in your life you didn’t previously recognize. Speak up and let someone know what’s on your mind and in your heart. People want to help, they want to support, they want to connect and love you. Let them, accept that you’re worth it…YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY WORTH IT!

Rad Fatty Love to ALL,

<3
S

 

P.S. Check out and use the hashtag: #FatAndFree on Insta & FB! And now my #DateMyDamnSelf on Insta, because why not?! Please, join in on the fun!

Donate to this blog here: https://www.paypal.me/notblueatall

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My blog’s Facebook page for things I share that aren’t on this blog (and updated daily): http://on.fb.me/1A18fAS 

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

I also have an Instagram I’ve finally started to actually use: https://instagram.com/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

Self Preservation

December29

“You are important and you matter. Your feelings matter. Your voice matters. Your story matters. Your life matters. Always.”

When you read this it will be nearly a week after it’s written, and that is only if you read it the day it is published. I’m sitting with some complicated feelings today. I awoke feeling pretty good, but then just felt nothing. I went about my usual morning rituals of ablutions and espresso with milk and honey, and today a special treat of sourdough toast and real Irish butter. I have a pretty consistent issue with access to wifi/internet at home and was not in the least bit surprised to find it down once again. Luckily my landlord was home and able to reset the router fairly quickly. I was able to finish the movie I had watched all but 25 minutes of last night with my BFF, she’s in Wisconsin at the moment. (The movie was “Bright” and in my opinion a hot mess, but I’m a snob.)

As I checked my social media apps for updates and messages I was fortunate enough to catch up with someone I feel deeply connected to, but we are both powerless, currently, to our life’s paths and thus it is the only way we are able to stay in touch. They confided in me some recent struggles with suicidal ideation. My heart hurt at the thought, but my soul knew all too well what that feels like. What was most upsetting is how the people in their life treated them when they confessed what their friend had saved them from doing. I thank them and that friend infinitely for keeping them here, I know it is painfully difficult. Theirs is a light I am not sure I could bear being extinguished.

They said that they have better support now, committing to getting better and are on meds and supplements now. They’ve begun the next steps of hopefully removing themselves from their current and likely very toxic environment. I am in awe of their maturity and strength (they are very young but ahead of their peers by far). I expressed my love and support and offered a speedy extrication if needed, though I live some 4-5 hours away. They may be moving as far as one can whilst still being in the same country. This breaks my heart most of all. I haven’t seen them in five years, but they’ve always felt near to my heart. I wish with all that I have and am that I had the means to take them now and keep them close to me always, but that is not in the cards for either of us today or soon enough to matter.

I share this as I reflect how I was feeling nothing and then feeling helpless and then more complicated things about being alone in the world and feeling it so for the first time in my life. I am okay with it, though, truly. It’s just, well, it makes it even more difficult to relate to others. The time of year plays a heavy role in this. I cannot escape it, even when I don’t leave the house for days. I don’t even know how I feel about any holiday now, I think I feel nothing, but it seems as though I should feel something. What can it mean to be alone in the season of togetherness and not feel a drop of sadness over it? I suppose it’s a sort of self-preservation. Everyone is out of town or busy, as society dictates we all must be. Where does that leave the orphans, spinsters, outsiders, and others?


“I have come to believe that caring for myself is not indulgent. Caring for myself is an act of survival.” Audre Lorde

I had spent the last five days in pajamas when a former coworker and now friend reached out last night to offer to put me on “the list” for a fun drag show with a holiday theme/story all told through Dolly Parton songs. I’m not a big fan of Dolly, though I find her delightful in a general sort of way. I didn’t think I knew but two or three of her songs, but I found I knew more than I realized. I took the invite and opportunity to get dolled up myself and though I intended to keep my product usage to a minimum, and I succeeded in that, I was also really feelin’ myself and got quite caught up in it all. You see my skin has been freaking out lately and I keep having a mystery reaction to either stress or an allergen, who knows. It makes my eyelids swell and the skin on them rough and red. I only use hypoallergenic eye makeup now, so that is what I stuck with last night. It turned out splendidly and I threw on my gold sequin skirt, a simple black top, black tights and my cherished black doc martens.

I made it up to San Francisco in time for the show, but finding parking proved to be the ultimate challenge. A wrong turn forced me into a fifteen-minute traffic jam at Union Square, not where I wanted or needed to be. Driving seems to be a relentless test of patience these days, at least in the Bay area. I finally found fairly reasonable paid parking ($15 in SF is a damned bargain, especially for a Saturday night!), and only needed to walk two blocks to the venue. Me being my ultimate and most authentic self-got lost whilst on foot…twice! We all have our hidden talents. Ha-ha!  I made it to the show thirty minutes late, but stopped at the bar at the front of the house for a drink and to catch my breath. As I ventured into the theater entrance I was quietly greeted by two sparkling drag queens, larger than life itself, in the dark as the show had started sometime before. I was hesitant to move, but they insisted intermission would be soon, and then offered me a seat in the front row if I didn’t mind it. Mind it?! It was the best seat in the house!

The show was fantastic! The queens were effervescent, classy, filthy, glamorously trashy and it was all I could have hoped for! My friend was the stage manager. During one song with a Hanukkah theme, the curtains at the center-back of the stage parted and she appeared as a light-up, head to toe menorah! I was crying tears of joy at the sight! As she danced and twirled with the other character on stage my heart sang! She may not be a drag queen, but she is a queen, indeed, to me. I called her my 90’s fantasy in the past and confessed that to her after the show at the bar. I am very grateful to know her. I had had a couple of cocktails, but it was the beauty and power and honesty and humor of the show that made me feel hyper and giddy.  It is a rare thing for a social setting to leave me anything but completely drained after. This one was very special and I felt what I imagine a true extrovert must: exhilarated by it.

 

“You can’t pour from an empty cup. Take care of yourself first.”

I sit here wondering what to do with myself. I have job things lined up towards the end of the week. What do I do today? The “eve” of the “big day” for most. What do I do tomorrow? A few days ago I posted the following on my personal FB page:

I’m unable to give gifts to anyone this year and that has been humbling and difficult to accept. I can’t even buy supplies to make handmade things.
I can, however, provide to anyone who wants it, my ridiculous and hilarious and often awkward af company and will happily share my birthday wine stash, too! I have no plans on my calendar, except job interview things. The coming weeks are tough for everyone, so let’s lean on each other a bit.
I can teach you how to do basic crochet, bring a karaoke mic to your house for some fun times (it Bluetooths to a phone, so cool), be your personal cheerleader, take your pics (even boudior if you’re so inclined – all genders welcome), show you my manicure tricks, help you cook or make something, bore/dazzle you with my endless supply of useless information, and so much more!
Act now! Supplies are not limited, though my sanity might be! Ha ha ha ha! 

A few friends commented with interest, but I hold no expectations for concrete plans. I’m sure that sounds terrible, but it is a rare thing these days for even solid plans to come to fruition. I have reached out with invitations of all manner of things, but being this broke and people knowing the terrible time I’ve been going through, I think that there is some natural aversion to my company. I can smell pity before it shines on the faces of those who care for me. I want to be seen as whole and good, fun and valuable, independent and kind, but also be there for others most of all, because I am going through a tough time, not in spite of it. So I stay home today, and for the foreseeable future, in order to not spend money and not find more disappointment and despair. Netflix and the puggo are much more agreeable company than the pitying and masked faces who now cannot help but feel above me in some absurd way. I lost my damned job, not my bloody soul!

It sounds pathetic to claim no cause for celebration, so I suppose I have at least my own existence and survival to raise a glass to. I’m not sad. Nor depressed. I feel physically well, I slept great. I am dreading having to go to the grocery store and have put it off, likely foolishly. I cannot go today or tomorrow, that would be a trigger for a panic attack for sure with the stressed and distracted crowds and drivers out. I have frozen things to sustain me, and a few fruits in my fridge to get me through. I’m not worried in the least. I’m not much, as far as feeling anything. Not now at least. I’d very much like to be drunk and happy and dancing the night away, but everyone’s already left town and nothing will be open. So it’s a party of one, filled with stubbornness and a tiny kernel of hope that the good I have done in the world will find a way to shine its light on my life once again. That’s more than I had two months ago.

I hope this post finds you in good health and spirits. If it does not, and you feel it, please reach out to me or someone you care for. There is no need to suffer alone in this world, regardless of the pictures I paint with my words here. I am not in despair and will be okay. You will be okay, too! You will. I trust in you to be. *Hugs*

Rad Fatty Love to ALL,
<3
S

P.S. Check out and use the hashtag: #FatAndFree on Insta & FB!

Donate to this blog here: https://www.paypal.me/notblueatall

My blog’s Facebook page for things I share that aren’t on this blog (and updated daily): http://on.fb.me/1A18fAS 

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

I also have an Instagram I’ve finally started to actually use: https://instagram.com/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

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The Lies They Sell in the Name of Body Positivity

December28

Women’s Health (Ha!) magazine published an article by Anonymous (Not the cool one, I assure you) entitled, “How Becoming A Nudist Helped Me Accept My Body” (I refuse to link because fuck that magazine and all it promotes) with the following image at the top:

(Photo depicts a thin, white, seemingly able-bodied woman from behind with long wavy brown hair coming up out of the water.)

My immediate and initial reaction was an overly dramatic eye roll. Not at being a nudist, mind you. Nah, to each their own, live and let live is my way. My reaction was mostly to the photo. My inner thought was a very snarky, “Oh sure, it’s a helluva lot easier to love your body, especially amongst nudists if you are the embodiment of western social beauty standards! Psshht!” Today I decided to examine my own snark and read the actual article. My initial reaction, I found, was not wrong. Ugh!

This was written by someone who claimed to already love their naked body, to feel their best when wearing nothing at all. They then go into how they were at their largest size after years of yo-yo dieting. The writer then aims to demystify what nudism is and how meetups and events work. Sexual and lewd behavior is not allowed, it’s all very normal and nice, just nude. I was open to what they had to say until it ended with:

“Now that I feel a healthy acceptance of my body, I feel all the more motivated to improve it. The body that I love is healthier than ever, and I consistently make an effort to nourish it, exercise it, and pamper it.

After all, I have quite the audience these days. And I love it.”

One of these days I will surely get my eyes to permanently roll so far back the can no longer sit in their natural place! For fuck’s sake! How did I fucking know?!?! This person never loved their body and they still fucking don’t! This person points directly to how their size increased and then recommits to the same destructive pattern in yet another futile attempt to “improve it” after participating and feeling part of a community that has embraced her and believes:

“Nudists (or naturists, if you will) consider the human body a beautiful creation, and something of which no one should be ashamed.” 

What in the actual living fuck?!?! NO! This is not how that works! Why did I read this infuriating article? Why am I sharing this here and with you at all? Because we all need to recognize and think more critically about this bullshit that gets shoved down our throats in all media, even and maybe especially when it paints itself in pretty, body positive colors. UGH! Yeah “body positivity” is really just another way the weight cycling (read diet/fitness/etc) industry adds to its billions of dollars in profit. That profit comes from those who just want to feel better, to feel like they belong in this world, to feel whole and human and right. It’s all lies!

You need only to scratch the surface to find co-opted language ripped from the fat positive/acceptance movement directly. I remember the gross, deep, awful feeling that sat in the pit of my stomach as I saw for the first time the weight watching ad depicting an outright rip off of Marilyn Wann’s “Yay! Scale”. I’ve seen companies such as lane bryant pushing a seeming body positive message in order to shill their control-slimming-torture garments in order for us all to fit in…or is it really just fall in line?! No thank you!

All bodies are good bodies

“There is no wrong way to have a body!” I believe originally said/written by Lesley Kinzel, but google results were too numerous and varied to prove this, thanks to further co-opting in the name of body positivity that actually isn’t at all. We don’t need media further profiting off of us when we’ve been beaten up our entire lives by a society that sees us as inherently wrong and othered. I refuse to consume anything that makes me feel like shit or tries to convince me to. Fuck that noise! That’s all it is, too, is noise. It is a din that finds its way into our very pores and then sells us pore minimizing creams lest the rest of the world discovers we inhabit actual human bodies.

I am obsessed with Sailor J, who has a YouTube vlog in the style of makeup tutorials. Only she uses her fantastic and sarcastic sense of humor in such a way I have not encountered online. To find inspiration in someone so much younger than myself is humbling, but awesome! One of my closest friends is 24 and while the world opens its doors to her as it slams them on me, she is open-minded and willing to see what that means and why that is. Sailor J reminds me of her, but funnier and more feminist in her own way. Love them both! I think it is both easy and wrong to dismiss the views and experiences of those younger than us/me. I highly recommend Sailor J’s Contouring 101 video. I have no interest in the subject itself, but it is a fantastic commentary on the absurdity of beauty standards in a patriarchal society.

I am fat. And I have this radical idea that I am allowed to exist.

There is nothing wrong with having a fat body, of any size. There have always been fat people, throughout time! Humans seek to control anything that feels out of their control. Today’s beauty standards have not always been based on thin, white, euro-hetero-centric bullshit. How fucking boring and unreasonable is that?! I love the diversity of where I live, the San Francisco Bay area in California. I love that nobody looks the same or is shaped the same. I have visited places where that is seriously not the case. It was surprising to me and I couldn’t feel comfortable in those locales. Why anyone would want that I will never understand, nor try to, honestly.

While we cannot change other people, or their beliefs or ability to see people of size as whole and equal, we can choose to laugh in the face of those who oppress us with those boring and small-minded views. We are not here to be pleasing to everyone, or anyone, other than ourselves, dammit! We have just as much a right to exist in this world, to seek happiness and create a life of our choosing, as anyone else. They will try to lie to our very faces and insist we live a life confined by their standards and miseries, but that isn’t the life I want. That isn’t the path to fulfillment. Follow the money, examine what media you consume and think critically about it. They love to take and take and take from us, but to walk in our radically self-accepting shoes would rock their damned world!
(Que “Fat Bottom Girls” by Queen LOL!)

Rad Fatty Love to ALL,

<3
S

 

P.S. Check out and use the hashtag: #FatAndFree on Insta & FB!

Donate to this blog here: https://www.paypal.me/notblueatall

My blog’s Facebook page for things I share that aren’t on this blog (and updated daily): http://on.fb.me/1A18fAS 

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

I also have an Instagram I’ve finally started to actually use: https://instagram.com/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

You’ve Got You!

December25

Everyone is talking about “The Holidays” but I won’t. I don’t buy into societal obligations that leave us stressed out and feeling like garbage. NOPE! And, No Thank You!!! I want to talk about our support systems, most importantly starting with ourselves. Yes, you are the biggest and most important part of your support system. It seems like no one talks about that vital component. It’s always addressed in the external. Your friends, family, etcetera. In our quietest moments, in the darkest of times, the one thing we have always is ourselves.

That thought used to make me feel a great sense of unease. It wasn’t until one of the darkest times in my life that I really faced this fear of being alone with my thoughts. I had avoided it for so long, relied on so many coping mechanisms, quite successfully, for so long that I wasn’t sure what would be left to face and that was enough to avoid it. Brains that have experienced the amount of trauma, especially during more formative years such as I have, work extra hard to avoid the scariest bits of both our minds and the world. It doesn’t matter how long ago the trauma happened, it’s all still in there.

It was the day I had filed for my divorce. I had left my husband six months prior but kept putting off that final step, though we’d signed all the documents well before this. I went to the courthouse alone, didn’t see much reason not to, though my husband later wished he could have gone along, that’s just who he is. I had paid Legal Zoom to prepare all of the paperwork since such things make my head spin (like taxes), so I felt prepared. The court clerk was helping someone else before me. As I waited and couldn’t help overhearing how this woman had already filed a restraining order against her husband and was trying to finalize a divorce that seemed to have been dragged out, my heart hurt. I felt fine otherwise, but she began to cry and I wanted to comfort her but who the hell was I to this person, ya know?

Soon it was my turn at the clerk’s window. I handed over my stack of papers and said, “I would like to file for divorce, please.” with the meekest smile that ever crawled across my lips. The clerk began to go through the papers and soon started shouting what seemed to me to be random letters and numbers, getting louder and more insistent with each repetition. I was taken aback and stunned and confused. This was certainly apparent on my face as the clerk became overly flustered. “I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t know what those letters and numbers mean.” I pleaded. Finally, and I mean a good five minutes of this bullshit, she explained that I had in my packet an extra and unnecessary form. Why she couldn’t simply say this from the start I don’t know, but she slid it back to me under the security glass and I tucked it away from her sight. After that, all was done and I was told I’d be contacted for my court date.

I drove home, it was still pretty early in the day, about 10 or 11 am at the latest. I text a couple of friends, I didn’t contact my husband that day.  A sinking feeling took hold of me. Then wave after crashing wave of inexplicable sadness. I was so confused and felt abandoned and more alone than ever before in my life. “But why?!?!” I kept thinking and even whimpering to myself in my dim and later dark bedroom. It felt like mental hell, but I couldn’t figure out why and that was the worst of all. Then, finally, hours later, a bff I had known for over twenty years replied to my text from that morning, “Yeah, it just feels like the worst failure ever, even when you know it was the right thing to do. Ride it out.” (They are not the empathetic or compassionate sort. We’ve since lost touch.)

It did feel like the worst failure ever. I had an amicable split and remained close friends. We weren’t happy together, but we didn’t really fight or ever betray or lie to each other. Others thought we had the perfect relationship, and in a lot of ways we did, but I knew better. I left to find an identity for myself outside of any relationship, something I had never in my life had. I felt compelled to leave, it was what I wanted and needed to be happy or to at least seek the happiness I thought the world might hold for me. Yet I couldn’t avoid the feeling of failure. I wasn’t talking to my family at all by this point, but my grandma is always in my heart and mind. Would she understand? (She had passed just a few months before I was married, but we’d been engaged for 3 years, together for 6 before then.) I forced myself to face these demons alone in my room that day and evening. It felt like facing death. (I was not so well versed in the ways of my panic attacks at that time. Now I would have recognized the preceeding symptoms and possibly have been able to prevent the eight hours of crying and hyperventillating.)

After about eight hours (I know how dreadful that sounds and I can assure you it felt worse), something finally gave and I started to feel a sense of why this all was. It was for me! It was my choice, I did this to create the life I wanted. This mattered so much! It felt like a beacon of light from within myself. It felt like a baby step towards the person I wanted to become, my truest self. It felt like a friendly and helping hand, only from within. I put on some music and lay on my bed, wrapped in blankets, still fully clothed from that morning’s outing. I tried to envision the life I wanted to carve out of the world for myself. I pictured dancing, laughing, hugging fellow rad fatties, creating and crafting, touching and moving, all seemed to be in support of myself through the service and support of others. And that realization was a breakthrough. I didn’t leave my room until the following day, but I felt loads better before actually finding solace in sleep.

I spent five years of my teens in a physically and emotionally abusive relationship. It had stripped away more than just my identity. It left me physically and mentally destroyed. Escaping was an obsession, but I was mostly obsessed with who would or could save me. In the end, I saved myself, with the support of one of the few friends I had in the world (though when they re-entered my life I barely knew them). They sensed something was very wrong without knowing exactly what. They offered me a place to live twenty miles away from my abuser. While it wasn’t exactly that simple and straightforward, it did truly save my life, they saved my fucking life! We never talked about what was wrong or why I needed to leave, no one wanted to, especially me. They were going through a divorce at the age of eighteen, I was lost and terrified at age nineteen. We became great friends for a time, we had fun and leaned on each other for support. I’ll never forget the first week after I had moved in, we had an epic whipped cream fight after buying a pumpkin pie at the store.

It took me years of self-loathing, both related and completely unrelated to my body and eating disorder issues, some damaging behaviors, and risky encounters before I finally met someone who saw me for me. That was when I met who would later become my husband. We were friends at first, but abuse survivors recognize each other, even unconsciously. We bonded over that shared pain and fell in love when we both split from our relationships. I still love my now ex-husband, but I can’t speak for their feelings for me. I left when I realized that all of the trying in the world on my part wouldn’t amount to a hill of beans if they refused to do anything at all to save our marriage. I had saved myself before, but this time I had to save us both by leaving. It hurt, a fuck ton!

This time I had no more self-loathing, I had healed most of the harm done to me at the hands of others and myself and had very few fucks left to give. I had never lived alone, though. I had found a room for rent about three blocks away from my husband and best friends apartment building. My new roommate was a stranger to me and it took us both a long time to warm up to one another, though we were always kind and accommodating. There were no distractions, though, not even from myself. I was forced to deal with all that I hadn’t until that point. It was hard, and it was powerful. What I had was a better foundation within myself and support system in my friends.

Years later I finally enjoy being alone. I often prefer my own company, and that of my puggo, to general socializing. I have been through another fucked up long-term relationship, an even more fucked up breakup, mental and physical trauma from a couple of terrible jobs, but I have and know myself more than ever! I know what I am capable of and feel quite certain and sure of myself. I have found great strength and inspiration in the works of the Bronte sisters and Luisa May Alcott. The women in their books often had nothing at all but themselves and yet they didn’t die and even when they failed and flailed and struggled through the most desperate of times, they held onto that inner sense of self for strength and persevered.

I now see the world and my own life’s journey very different than even just a year ago. I am beholden to no one but myself (and my ridiculous puggo). Yet I feel more supported and loved and wanted and needed in the world than ever before in my life! I’m broke as shit, have been unemployed for two and a half months and have had to face some severe depressive episodes, but I feel strong. I feel more me.  Sometimes I feel the tap on my shoulder of depression or the whisper in my ear of self-loathing and self-harm, but I know that deep down, even if I succumb to those often unavoidable moments and spells, I will pull through and be a better me on the other side of it. I can face these things head on even when I don’t get a toe-hold before they take possession of me for awhile.

Yes, I have friends that make me feel cared for and loved and seen, but what makes that possible is that I am able to do that for myself, too (though not consistently, I’ll confess). It takes a shitload of self-work, self-reflection, and exploration, sitting with feelings that make me want to scream and run and crawl out of my skin, being the most vulnerable with myself and deciding to just fucking own it. I no longer run from my aloneness. I don’t avoid the deeper and darker crevices of my own mind. I sometimes prefer to dig even deeper because I know it will be meaningful and provide perspective and growth that others simply cannot provide. I have to be here for me first, before anyone else, or I won’t survive. And I have been through far too fucking much to hide from all of that again.

I have found incredible strength and inspiration, especially very recently, by those who have found some value in my words and stories here on this blog. I know I don’t write like others, I still struggle with some hidden shame in that, but I love that I am able to help others find their inner light and strength by sharing my own and how I got here, how I keep fighting and trusting in the journey that this life has given me. I cherish each voice and story that reaches me. I see you. I hear you. I feel you. I love you. It is an awe inspiring thing to connect in this way and I thank you ever so much for coming along for the ride.

Rad Fatty Love to ALL,
<3
S

P.S. Check out and use the hashtag: #FatAndFree on Insta & FB!

Donate to this blog here: https://www.paypal.me/notblueatall

My blog’s Facebook page for things I share that aren’t on this blog (and updated daily): http://on.fb.me/1A18fAS 

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

I also have an Instagram I’ve finally started to actually use: https://instagram.com/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

Do the Damned Thing!

December24

Apply for that job. Date that person. Buy that plane ticket.
Move to that city. Do all the things that scare you, because they’re worth it.

What have you held yourself back from doing?
Who in your life has insisted you couldn’t do something?
Have you been told you can’t do something simply because of your size?
Has fear kept you from living your most authentic life?
What would you do, right now, if you knew you couldn’t fail or be hurt or shamed?

One of my nearest and dearest friends, Tigress, posted something along these lines on her iofthetigress page and I found myself typing my own responses before reading what others had written. I just immediately knew what that list was and how much I’ve done in my life despite what others said I couldn’t or shouldn’t. My list of things I’ve done feels both bigger and smaller now than they did when I did them. Time is a funny thing! Haha!

It is a terrible thing to allow others to steal your thunder, to crush your dreams, and worst of all, make you doubt yourself and what you’re capable of. These things become impossible to affect you once you stop caring what anyone else thinks of you. They are also impossible to live with if you want to live a life of our own making and choosing. At a certain point, you have to decide what is best for you. No one else can do that but you.

At the age of 14, I was part fearless and partly lost. It was an exciting time, it was a dangerous time. I’m quite certain that many who knew me then but didn’t keep in touch would assume the worst of my life’s course from that point on. Luckily, I’m one helluva survivor and fighter when I need to be. It is unfortunate that I had needed to be at such a young age and for so long after.  An abusive boyfriend took control of every aspect of my life and identity, though I escaped five years later, it left me a shell of my former self. I literally had to start over from scratch. I really don’t want to call it a blessing. I’ll never know what those important and formative years could have meant for my life’s trajectory, but it is what I survived and formed the individual that I am today.

Finding love in a friend and bonding over our mutual life traumas created a relationship that was strong, long lasting, if not entirely healthy. We were young and broken. We tried to fill each other’s brokenness, but never addressed our own on our own. Instead of telling each other that a traditional marriage wasn’t really our thing, we both entered into that institution thinking it the only way to stay together. We spent so much of our lives not living for ourselves but for each other. That likely sounds normal and right to many of you, but I can assure it is not. Making life decisions for yourself so that you won’t upset or lose the other person is not an authentic life at all. You begin to live a lie and lose yourself and all that you are in the relationship. That is the reason I left my marriage, after fifteen years together in life. I can assure you that nothing has scared me more than leaving my best friend. I am not sure I would make that same decision knowing what I do now, but it felt absolutely necessary at the time.

“If you feel safe in the area you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area. Always go a little further into the water than you feel you’re capable of being in. Go a little bit out of your depth. And when you don’t feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something exciting.” David Bowie

When I first had the idea to open my own cafe, it seemed so ridiculous and far-fetched. I went to my nearest and dearest friends with the idea, secretly hoping they’d talk me out of it immediately. They did not. They cheered me on, lent a helping hand, and encouraged me every step of the way. Every second of that, we’ll call it a project or obsession as it was never a lifelong sort of dream, felt terrifying. And yet it is one of my proudest achievements! It taught me so much about myself, what I’m capable of, who my true friends are, and where I do and don’t belong in the world (business is the short answer). It was absolutely the hardest thing I have ever done on my own terms. I had so many business professionals insist that what I wanted to do was pointless, fruitless, if not downright impossible. I defiantly smiled right into their faces and said, “You don’t get it. So, watch me!”

What other great big scary things have I done? I started fat positive meet up groups a few times. I started this blog and talked about so many things others call taboo. I organized 2, some may say legendary, fat positive events in San Jose that were free and open to the public: Fatty Affair! I have become a regular performer in the annual big moves bay area dance shows, both as a dancer and later as a singer. I have walked a fashion runway three times now (once in lingerie), though each time it feels so ridiculous and not “me” at all. Haha! I have walked an imaginary runway in front of a group of not imaginary strangers completely naked. I have been photographed completely nude for Adipositivity. I have flown in a helicopter in Maui, even though I had to buy two seats…it was gloriously worth it! I have been to Paris and Rome and a large portion of Ireland. All at a size 26/28 or roughly 300 lbs. Yeah, I did that shit! It was scary as fuck each and every time! But I did those damned things and no one can take that away!

We can’t allow others, the haters, to dictate our lives! Whatever obstacles you may have, I hope you will stop holding yourself back from living your best life! You deserve to have and be whatever you want! Get out of your comfort zone and Choose You! You’re worth it!

Rad Fatty Love to ALL,
<3
S

P.S. Check out and use the hashtag: #FatAndFree on Insta & FB!

Donate to this blog here: https://www.paypal.me/notblueatall

My blog’s Facebook page for things I share that aren’t on this blog (and updated daily): http://on.fb.me/1A18fAS 

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

I also have an Instagram I’ve finally started to actually use: https://instagram.com/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

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