NotBlueAtAll

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

Without A Mother; Mother’s Day

May9

I posted the following on my personal Facebook page yesterday:

  Sarah   May 8, 2018:
Sharing this memory as all the usual feels are beginning to swirl and the rising tide of “BUT YOUR MOM!!!!” messages for this made up holiday have reached a deafening level. There’s no card for this shit. SMDH.

  Sarah   May 8, 2016
Shout out to all the kids who had to grow up too early or sacrifice way too much of their childhoods because their parents weren’t equipped for the job, for whatever reason. We don’t get a “day” but we don’t need one because the things we had to do for others were never done for us anyway. Keep on keepin’ on! 

There are things we go through in this world that cannot be put into words. Emotions, experiences, and while some words do exist, what does it truly mean and feel like to be in “awe” or “miserable”? As I reread what I had written back in 2016, I paused. I took a slow, deep breath. This isn’t unusual these days as I have been practicing this for some time in order to actually consider things before responding to them (rare in modern society, imho). I realized in this pause that I had had some tension building up inside me. That I had been getting grouchier in recent days without knowing why or really even questioning it. For transparency sake I will admit that I simply expected the constant numbness inside me which often precedes full blown depression to be the culprit followed by PMS, but now I think it’s marketing for Mother’s Day. Ugh!

Image result for anti mother's day
First let me just say that I don’t have anything against mother’s and I fully support them in all that they do. Having said that, I have never had a mother figure in my life, save for the first 5 years of my life. My mother was physically present after this time, but rarely mentally so. I’ve written about this before, so let’s not get back into those specifics today. No, I want to talk about those of us who had to step in and up, without really understanding or knowing what we were undertaking at the time of course, because we had to. I hate that I have felt shame over this. I hate that I have felt hurt and scornful and full of wounded pride that doesn’t even belong to me over this. I hate that my biological parents will never admit to how things really were for us kids.
But I am not filled with hate. I am definitely not filled with anger (yuck). I am filled with a sense of loss and longing for something I have never had. I’ve witnessed countless families with fully or mostly functioning parental figures. Not to knock my dad, he had to work all of the time for us to just scrape by ( but my shit with him is heavier and darker and that is not what this post is about). I saw broken families with strong maternal bonds in my childhood neighborhood. My childhood best friend’s mom always kept me at a distance, but did her best to include me and my awkward ass from a poor family in things that mattered. I always felt like an outsider, no matter how long I knew a friend and their family, I never felt like I got a ticket to the having a mom in your life ride. That unconditional love shit? Where do I find this? *DigsForWallet*
I have friends who have incredible and beautiful relationships with their mothers. Single mothers and their eldest daughters being in the majority amongst my circle of friends. Even friends with parents who have married and remarried seem to actually love and like each other and that honestly just does my head in at this point. While all unique and none without issues, they are all what I have never had and there’s really no way to make peace with that. There’s no way to fill a hole you didn’t know you even had until later in adulthood. I’m not one for black tar heroin, so passe, but I also don’t seek fulfillment in that part of myself at all. (Okay, if I do I am completely unaware of it!)
The closest thing I’ve had to a true maternal figure in my life was my grandma, my dad’s mother. They had a great relationship, she was a wonderful human being in the truest sense. She was a registered nurse, met my grandpa in WWII, worked in elder care for a convalescent hospital for my entire life…but we weren’t very close until I was about 19 years old. I had escaped an abusive relationship that I’m not sure anyone in my family was even aware of (though much of it happened in our home), I’d been living twenty miles away until my roommates got us evicted (they were such sweet stoners until they brought meth into the equation). I had to move back home. My grandma had the best sense of humor and a way of seeing the world’s beauty and misery in a way I want to believe that I have carried on. There is so much I wish I could talk to her about now, but I wasn’t the person I am today, then. She passed away in 2003, just a few months before my first marriage. (I’m assuming another marriage though I have no plans, hopes, or desires. Ha-ha!)
Later I bonded with her (only slightly) younger sister who was such a spitfire! She saw the bullshit my dad’s wife was dishing and sought to gain my trust and confidence, and she succeeded. She taught my then husband and I to play her favorite dominoes game and to make a great (strong!) vodka-tonic. She saw me as an adult, something my dad just could. We lost touch due to said dad’s wife and her incessant lies that tore our family apart. At her funeral her children demanded to know who I was and I don’t know what hurt more that or losing her all together. It was the end of matriarchs in my family. It was also the end of my family, imo. It’s not about forgiveness or anything of the sort. It’s about just being human and doing the right thing, even if it’s too late.
Fleeting but strong bonds that have carried me through darker times than these, that continue to inspire and push me to keep on keepin’ on. Truly, though? I have come to distrust the motherly tone of anyone aiming their vocal chords in my direction. Years of Mom-agers in tech startups bullying or gaslighting me (for real!) have proven to be the worst of the worst in my book. I am a feminist! I don’t have anything against actual mothers, in fact I admire them. But a Mom-ager is something differently entirely. Other women I have known have really been great friends, lifelong friends even, and I hold friendships to a very high standard. It’s not the same though. Not having that person you can tell tough things to, to show you how to “be” a woman or do “womanly” things, I have never had. From my period at age 9 to my first pubic bush in all it’s lustrous glory, kissing and sex, relationships and my own identity struggles, you name it, I have relied on other weird kids I hung out with for information and tips and advice, even the library proved more fruitful than adults growing up.
The marketing and manipulation that Mother’s Day brings is so fucked up it creeps up on me every year and I always think I’m immune to it at first. I just roll my eyes and figure it simply doesn’t apply to me and try to live my damn life. But it’s EVERYWHERE!!! Just now I received an email from a company I like (Rainbeau Curves) with the subject line, “Celebrate Mom!” UGH! I still feel mostly numb inside, like I haven’t felt anything in awhile. It’s weird, but familiar. It’s better than being overly emotional in that at least my lack of emotion doesn’t offend anyone or leave me drained and wrecked. I go through spells where I long to feel something, but then those floodgates open up and I wish it would all go away again. Even all this motherly stuff hasn’t brought on any actual emotions, just tension and frustration in a physical sort of way. Meh, I’m weird.
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So shout out to the weird kids who are still just weird kids in grown up bodies struggling to break free of the bullshit that distorted their world views and robbed them of their childhoods. Shout out to the weird kids who had to hide to survive, who struggled their entire lives to fit in or even be seen…by anyone at all! We don’t get a holiday or greeting card companies profiting off our collective weirdness. But I see you, I celebrate you, and I embrace you and alllllll of your amazing weirdness! We hold together the very fabric of society and no one seems to realize that. Fuck ’em! We don’t need them, we’ve figured it all out by now and can support one another from here on out! So I hope you do something absolutely wonderful for yourself this Sunday, I’ll do my best to as well.
Rad Fatty Love to ALL,

<3
S

P.S. Check out and use the hashtag: #FatAndFree on Instagram & Facebook!

Check out the Fat AF podcast on your favorite podcast app for all things fat sex with me and my BFF, Michaela! (You can listen straight from the web, too!)

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

Are you on MeWe? I started a fat-feminist group there called, Rad Fatties Unlimited, look for it!

I also have an Instagram, though I need to get back into posting there: 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

Eat Your Heart Out!

April18

Life is such a funny beast of a thing! When you think you know yourself, and I feel like I really know myself at this point, things happen or change and suddenly you’re meeting an ex downtown for tea. WHAT?! I know! SO not a Me thing to do. Shit happens, things change, you pivot or bail, whatever! Ha-ha! It’s good to surprise yourself, I guess. And, well, I guess I’m glad that I did it! So…what happened?

So, after I left my husband in 2012, I befriended a man I had met at a terrible BBW club. There was attraction, but it was more than that (always is for me).We didn’t ever actually date. We “hung out” and were “friends” but whenever things felt too serious for him, he’d bail and I wouldn’t hear from him for weeks. *Yawn* Long story short, after a year of chasing after the dumbass, I found some love elsewhere and left him in the dust. He moved away, I had moved one. End of story. Sort of. Really he has continued to text me every few months. Usually simple things like, “Thinking of you” or “I miss hanging out and having tea together.” nothing offensive. I have not responded to him with one exception in 2016 when he called my phone for the first time since he moved away. I was expecting a work call, I was at work, and picked up by mistake not recognizing the number. I was very curt with him, professional even, and ended the call quickly. It was also my birthday and I got drunk with some coworkers and on my train ride home I drunkenly text him demanding to know his intentions for calling and texting me before my phone died. Outside of that one day, I haven’t said a single thing to him.

Sometimes I would forget about him entirely. 6-9 months would go by and he would be the furthest thing from my mind. And then *TextNotificationSound* He’d pop up again. I would roll my eyes and archive the text, not wanting to block him which might inspire other means of communication. I saw in my blog’s stats that he regularly downloads pics of me from my posts, mostly old ones from right before I met him. He doesn’t even read what I write! Psshht! So he wasn’t even aware of my breakup last year or that I’d been with the same person for four years. So, not long ago he started to text me again. I thought nothing of it or him, to be honest. Mild flattery at best, mild annoyance at worst. Then he called my phone again and I didn’t pick up. Why should I? I’m not really into talking on the phone unless I have to for work things. A few days went by after that and I get a random text while in line at CVS one night, “You suck!” and it was all I could do to keep the tears at bay from my laughter!

Something about that “You suck!” text just tickled me! Talk about the long game! Ha-ha! I still didn’t reply, because why?! Fuck that. My life, my terms. Being single and living alone means I am beholden to no man (okay, my puggo and perhaps my landlord? Hahahahah!). Then a few days later a few of us were sitting together to get a project done by the end of the day and were supporting one another through the process. I get another text from him, this one full of regret and apologies, things he’s never said before. I was surprised, but firm in my non-respsonse. Until I read what he said to two of my coworkers. My bff/coworker “A” gave me the “Oh hell no, grrrrl!” look and went right back to work. Another coworker was all, “Maybe I watch too many movies, but you never know, what if he ends up being the love of your life!” and she looked so wistful and sweet that I actually fucking caved and text him back!

He was in town, but leaving in two days, and wanted to see me to apologize for how he treated me in person. I gave him hell, but agreed to meet quickly for tea near my work. I showed up hard as nails, ordered my tea and sat down. He walked in and I won’t ever lie to you here, he looked gorgeous! I kept my cool and insisted he say whatever he needed to and then I would leave. But you know that isn’t how it worked out, right? I’m not afraid of confrontation, and relished the opportunity to put this fool in his proper place, in the past! He gave non-apologies, I rejected each of them. I then called him out for being a homophobic racist and misogynist. He was shocked! He expected, I imagined, that I would be all starry eyed and sweet like I was back when. Ha-ha! Nope! While I had to explain some things to him, I pushed back and insisted he needed to get with the fucking times and read some books before claiming to not be the things I know him to be.

I want to give people the benefit of the doubt. I want to believe that people can change. I have only ever given one person a second chance when it comes to romantic relationships. That didn’t go well. I don’t intend to make that mistake again. And this guy? Oh. Hell. No. That doesn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the moment or his company again, even if only for the short time at tea. Soon we were talking and catching each other up on life and family things and very naturally he asked if we could walk around the lovely little downtown area we were in. I was game, but I was on guard! We talked about all sorts of random things and then he said, “Sarah, I have been thinking a lot about moving back to the bay area to win you back.” I laughed loudly at this. “You said we were never together!” I nearly shouted before laughing a whole lot more. “Do I have a chance to win your heart back?” he inquired. “You never had it or wanted it until I moved on. You are not up to the challenge of even attempting to properly date me. You’d have to read so many books! Ha-ha! No, no, you couldn’t possibly! Ha-ha!”

We walked around and talked some more and he had asked for a hug at some point and I said no. He was confused but respected that boundary. Shortly after though, whilst laughing about something together, I grabbed him and kissed him. Curiosity got the best of me, what else can I say?! I immediately told him that it meant nothing and was not intended to imply anything at all and that I was just curious. He was in shock and happy af! Ha-ha! Then I gave him shit about his past behavior again. I did kiss him again before saying goodbye, but he understood finally that there was no chance for there to be an “us” now or ever. He’d asked if he could see me before he left town and I said no and explained that I already had plans.

The next day he text to invite me to lunch, but I’d woken up with a terrible headache and said no. He text me later to see if I was feeling better and I honestly was and my plans had been pushed back until later that evening so I text him, “Where are you buying me dinner tonight?” with a sunglasses emoji. He responded a bit later but with the perfect answer and to that I sent him a pic of me looking dramatic and glamorous (bottom-center pic below)! He replied, “Who is this model?!” *Barfs* Ugh! But I went and it was a fantastic meal, and honestly the conversation was enlightening in that I could feel/see the spell I had on him and it felt fantastic to finally not be the one pining away for someone. You’d think that would make me kinder to someone in that position, but no, I treated him as he deserved and he understood and admitted and agreed. He even took me out for gelato after dinner and we hit up this little boutique we used to venture into years ago and he bought me a pin of a pug I wanted. He walked me to my car, I wished him well and agreed that he could text the next time he was in town but that I would make no promises to respond or meet up again. At that we said goodbye and I kissed him one last time. He hasn’t text me since.

I’m not saying it’s right or wrong, my behavior or his. We do things that even we cannot understand why. In the end it felt amazing and powerful and exciting and ridiculous all at once. I’m glad I met up with someone I was once gaga for and confirmed that I have zero feelings for. While in line at the gelato place he said he understood that I had no feelings for him, but asked if I cared about him, even a little. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to get hit by a bus.” was my response and I saw in his eyes how disappointing that was for him to hear. I felt a little bad, but he refused to remember all of the pain he caused me and insisted that I should only remember the good times. He holds onto some fantasy version of a memory of me that never actually existed. He’s still stuck in a time that I was trying to escape from back then. He doesn’t see me as a whole, equal and completely amazing human being. He sees me as a beautiful woman, made for traditional trappings of which I have no interest in. He enjoys my sass, which is abundant, but he is not a worthy mate for me by any measure.

I had never done the running into an ex thing before. I don’t look to my past for lessons in life these days, I keep it behind me. I’m always suspicious of anyone from the past popping up with seemingly good intentions. It’s never what it was and is rarely worth the time or trouble to entertain. I don’t regret meeting up with this ex, I know now for certain that what once was can never be. I feel good about that, actually. I do not care for loose ends. There’s definitely no one else in my past that I would give the time of day to. So, this feels more like a closure that, while it wasn’t needed, it was kind of nice. And damn did I look great! His jaw dropped when I walked into the restaurant…my other “plans” jaw dropped later that night, too!

 

(the dress is from Eshakti.com and I’m in love with it! My glasses are from Coastal.com and the pearls are old but from ShaneCo.com)

Rad Fatty Love to ALL,

<3
S

P.S. Check out and use the hashtag: #FatAndFree on Instagram & Facebook!

Check out the Fat AF podcast on your favorite podcast app for all things fat sex with me and my BFF, Michaela! (You can listen straight from the web, too!)

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

Are you on MeWe? I started a fat-feminist group there called, Rad Fatties Unlimited, look for it!

I also have an Instagram, though I need to get back into posting there: 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

The Shame of my Home Game

February27

This post talks about how anxiety and depression can impact our lives in unexpected and often not talked about ways. If you’d rather not know about the very personal impact of these things on me, or feel it may be triggering for you, please come back to the blog another day or feel free to explore the archives. Thank you and take care of you! <3

********************************

 

Today what is on my mind is my mind, literally. Weekend before last, I came across an article, “17 Honest Photos of the ‘Embarrassing’ Sides of Depression We Don’t Talk About“, and it kind of shook me to my core. It was like holding up a mirror to the life I’d been living for the last 2.5 years. I was not prepared for that. I don’t think anything could have prepared me for that. I really had no idea how common this was or what it looked or felt like for others. Isn’t that always the way, though? We think we’re so weird or wrong that we can’t imagine our experience being common/normal.

Basically, when I moved into my current place it was right after some serious trauma and everything just sort of stopped for me, mentally. Moving back to the town I grew up in and experienced the worst trauma of my life (physically and emotionally abusive relationship from ages 14-19), I was frozen in time in a sense. So I never truly unpacked except necessities. I left boxes out on the patio, at first under a canopy but later that got shredded by the elements, as did my boxes, and finally the neighborhood rodent society took refuge.

My small studio in-law unit remained as it was when I moved in, half unpacked, some things very much randomly plunked, and my life continued around these obstacles without acknowledging them. This was fine at first, I kept the place reasonably tidy, which was easier with everything in boxes. But soon those boxes became bigger obstacles, items spilled out, or the boxes deteriorated. At first I was holding out for my landlord to affix my large bookcase to the wall before I filled it, living in earthquake country, but that never happened.

It felt like one thing after another kept me from settling into my lil’ shack (no hate, I love it, honestly) and while my life continued on with new people and jobs and troubles and so forth, my ability to keep it tidy fell away completely. I started to tell my then boyfriend not to come over anymore, that I was too ashamed of the mess but unable to tackle/manage it on my own. He never understood, but at least had compassion for my situation. The thing is though, I never attributed this combination of feeling overwhelmed and yet unable to do anything with my mess of a house to my anxiety and depression. The mess also never was as bad as it is now, or has been the last year.

A year ago my long term boyfriend and I broke up. I was in the midst of rearranging and organizing some things I’d been putting off when it happened. He’d even bought me a new gorgeous set of dishes with butterflies on them. I said I didn’t want to take them out of the box until my house was tidy again. Those dishes are still in their original box. They are too beautiful to live in my space as it is now. I long for the day where I can have a friend over and cook for them using these lovely dishes on the table.

It is very difficult to explain the feelings involved in all of this, but I can tell you that everything in that article rang true for me. The worse my “mess” got, the more overwhelmed I felt, the more I felt unable to deal with it…on top of the usual injury/pain issues I have (spine, knee, one foot), depression is exhausting and it hurts, too. I felt trapped in a semi-catatonic state almost. I just felt helpless and stuck in a really terrible and shame filled way.

I thought I was coping and appeared fine, and I did. No one was the wiser until anyone mentioned coming over to my place and my stomach would knot instantly. I would fluff it off as being inaccessible (it sort of is), too small for company (not a lie), or whatever else was going on in my life at the time. I told my 3 closest friends, but one lives many states away, the other two live very much in a messy state as well, though are always willing to help out. But I can’t accept help, nor ask for it. The thought of someone having to sift through my mess makes me feel ill.

I grew up in this state of mess, sometimes worse, but the realization of this came a couple of months ago. I had lost my job and thought to myself that while I have the time to job hunt I could also make time for getting my place together. My sights were not set high, I am okay with my usual bit of clutter, but I had a moment where I looked around and I was surrounded by recycling and I realized that this combined with many clothes hampers full of clean clothes looked an awful lot like my childhood squalor-filled home. It sucked the wind from my sails entirely.

Then sometime in November I had a few days of what professionals might call mania but it just felt like finally having the energy and focus to tackle something (ANYTHING!) and actually got rid of a lot of stuff. Like 12 garbage bags full! It was recycling guilt that kept the cardboard boxes of all shapes and sizes piling higher on my kitchen table. But then disposing of everything was difficult. My landlord’s home only has one very small trash bin and one regular sized recycle bin. So, I went into stealth mode! Ha-ha!

I felt a great sense of relief after this, but then soon found depression taking over entirely once again, just in time for the loneliest holiday season of my entire life. I truly felt like I was on a deserted island for about a week solid. It got rough. I was not my best self nor even a decent friend to myself. I reached out but no one seemed to be around or maybe didn’t know how to be supportive, who knows. Then after the new year I kicked my job hunt into into the highest gear ever and ended up in a whirlwind of non-stop interviews for nearly a month solid. I lost my voice several times.

I know this isn’t the best version of myself. I know I deserve to live in a space that I’m proud of and can look after on my own. I have lived in many other places with roommates and partners and have never had it get like this. I keep telling myself that I just need one big reset and then I can start fresh and keep it up. I even paid a woman last year to do just that, but after 3 hours and $300 she’d really only hung up most of my clothes and gathered things into bags (which honestly made a lot of things worse).

Shame is such a powerful and terrible thing to live with. People have told me that they always thought I was fancy or well-off, dates have called me intimidating, and all of this leaves me so confused. If they knew where and what I came from, if they knew the way I live now, they’d never think those things of me. Coping is a serious endeavor and for survivors of long-term abuse, to those who live with PTSD their entire lives, you cope without realizing. You present yourself in ways to appease and please others automatically. You keep secrets from everyone without trying, without even knowing sometimes. It takes a lot of fucking self work to acknowledge and process and work through and maintain. I have been on this path for over twenty years and was doing pretty fucking great, actually, until I moved back to my hometown.

After reading that article I didn’t leave the house for 3 days. I was in shock. I felt as though the curtains of my shame had been ripped away, exposed to the world. Then I went back to work at my new job and tried to be okay with everything until I couldn’t. Last week I reached out to a company that assists hoarders with removal and organization. This was so difficult for me to do. To open myself even mentally to the outside world like that, but I trusted that this was an org that specialized in this unique service and understood the needs for both me and my place. I know I’m not a hoarder, but thought the basics would align in what I needed in the end. Unfortunately no one ever got back to me and that’s probably fine. I am certain I couldn’t afford it anyway.

I will be reaching out to my healthcare provider once my coverage has begun. I have decided that I should explore the option of antidepressants. My previous thoughts and feelings on the subject have changed and while I am very much averse to ongoing unnecessary medication, this feels too important to not at least try. It is terrifying, I’ve never even had therapy for my various mental health concerns, but I also don’t believe I need the traditional talk therapy setting now. I have done the work and research in that realm for the last 20+ years and feel very capable and supported emotionally. But if there’s a chance that I could feel as I did those few days in November, where I had the energy and focus needed to get my house together, for longer than just a few days, I need to find out. If I can improve my quality of life at home I know it will allow me to excel in my career and personal life, too. I deserve the chance, at the very least.

Once I get a few paychecks, my first coming tomorrow, I can pay someone to haul away the damaged stuff on the patio at least. You’d be surprised how much such a thing costs, as I was when I first called 1800gotjunk to take the stuff away in November, only for them to take 1/3rd of it for $200 (they wanted $750 for all of it, but I was out of work and the $200 maxed my only credit card). It would be nice to use the outdoor table and chairs when the weather warms up again. I would love to have my bffs over for card games, or my dance partner for rehearsals and you know, just dinner.

I am trying to see my new job as a new leaf, a new start sort of, in the sense that I’ll be making a bit more than my last job and a helluva lot more than unemployment was providing, so I can pay for things I’ve put off (like puggo’s overdue vet exams and vaccinations) and hire help for my mess…hopefully. I don’t even know what would have happened if my unemployment had continued on as it did two years ago. I was already close to the brink, as it were, after only three months.

If you’re reading this and you relate, please say so. If you’re reading this and you know how I can get the support I need to get my place together, please say so. If you don’t have these issues or know what orgs can assist, but you have deep sympathy for this situation, please say so. So much of our lives is spent afraid of saying something. It feels so lonely not knowing that so many others in the world are in the same situation. It doesn’t have to be this way.

I will say that despite all of this, I do have a life full of love from great friends who are patient with me and kind, always. I have not spoken so openly about this before now, but that was the shame hanging over me. It’s still there, but beginning to feel just a little less heavy. I’m quite certain that the cause of the state of my childhood home being in such disarray is the same reason I’m living like this now. I know my bio-mom was always mentally ill. It’s one (of many) reasons why I didn’t think I wanted to reproduce. I never thought I would return to my hometown nor the state of the living conditions I grew up in. I hope I can move past this period of my life and onto brighter days and nights, cozy and warm, snuggled up with my puggo, in peace.

Rad Fatty Love to ALL,
<3
S

P.S. Check out and use the hashtag: #FatAndFree on Insta & FB!
And my hashtag #DateMyDamnSelf on Instagram if you feel so inclined

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

Update: Good News!

February23

I got a new job! I started two weeks ago and I love it! I’m the office manager for a tech startup in the heart of silicon valley. In the short time I’ve been there I’ve received such great feedback from everyone and have already started to sass ’em, too! It’s challenging and different every day. I’m hosting a happy hour to hopefully get people mixing and mingling more, we have a lot of new people, not just myself. I’ll be making a pitcher of a spruced up gimlet (gin, lime, simple syrup – maybe soda?) with pineapple juice and fresh sage. Pretty stoked about it, too!

I’m truly excited to have a role where all of my skills will be utilized and recognized. Any support role is often thankless, but when it’s for good people (I hope, too soon to tell, right? Ha-ha!), it doesn’t feel that way. Sure, I’m in the honeymoon phase and have been burned by how many startups now?! Ha! I’m trying to look on the bright side, it takes effort, but seems worth it.

It is such a relief to be working again. Once paychecks start coming in I’ll truly feel a heavy burden lifted. I’ve been working on grown-up things like debt consolidation, taxes, and reaching out for help when I need it. It doesn’t really seem to get easier, but here the hell we are. We all just keep on keepin’ on. I’m glad that we do!

Also, I’m in love with this City Chic dress I snagged on eBay for a steal! I couldn’t get a decent full body shot to share, but he’s a selfie so you can see the lovely print (and my eyebrow showin’ off!).

Today I used a favorite fashion hack of mine. I have this high-low, babydoll cut, tunic-length top from Torrid that I adore. But the scoop neck combined with heavy-ish fabric and button front makes for some inappropriate wardrobe malfunctions. It’s either mega cleavage or hello bra staps. So I grabbed my handy dandy dollar store duct tape and rolled it around my bra strap (sorta like you would do to hang something up like a flyer or poster) and then just firmly stuck my top to it in a position that worked best for my purposes, and that sucker didn’t budge all day!

Image is of black bra strap with white horizontal pinstripes with a piece of duct tape rolled onto itself

I’m sure it’s nothing new to the world, but it’s little things like that, when off the rack fashion always leaves sizing and fit to be desired, that make me love my wardrobe even more. Do you have a favorite fashion hack of a similar nature? I’d love to hear all your tips! Hearing a few people mention my unique style recently gave me a little boost. But it’s also great to work somewhere I can dress as up or down as I want. I’m utilizing dresses and tops I haven’t been able to in ages. Woo!

I miss writing but needed a serious break from the topics I was writing about here. While necessary for me to get out at the time, it forced me to process some things that I guess I wasn’t entirely prepared for. I was also deep in my job hunt jungle, interviewing every weekday for three weeks solid. It was so exhausting. I’m so glad to have a break from that. I hope I can get back to writing again.

Tell me what’s new with you in the comments section below. I hope you’re well and I’m glad you stopped by.

Rad Fatty Love to ALL,

<3
S

P.S. Check out and use the hashtag: #FatAndFree on Insta & FB!
And my hashtag #DateMyDamnSelf on Instagram if you feel so inclined

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

 

Fat As Fuck! (Podcast)

February22

Hello!!!

I have something wonderful to share with you.

My BFF, Michaela and I have just launched a new podcast called, “Fat As Fuck” and I’m so excited to share it with you! We just released our first episode, so we get into the who and why and what our podcast is really about.

Here’s a teaser for episode one:

Fat As Fuck Episode 1 TEASER

I hope you check it out, follow via your preferred social media and podcast apps, and let us know what you think and what topics you’d like us to explore. We’ve been friends for ages and if you’re reading this it’s semi-likely you’ve already heard her voice on my first podcast for this blog years ago. We laugh a lot and hope you’ll be laughing along with us.

Rad Fatty Love to ALL,

<3
S

P.S. Check out and use the hashtag: #FatAndFree on Insta & FB!
And the hashtag #DateMyDamnSelf on Instagram if you feel so inclined

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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