NotBlueAtAll

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

My Legs & My Ah-Ha Moment

August28

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Words to live by: There’s no wrong way to have a body.

At the start of this year I set a strange sort of a goal for myself, to finally figure out how to wear skirts. I’d figured out dresses years before, but skirts remained a mystery. I’ve never been one to tuck in a shirt, at any size my body may be. Just not my style, not my thing, no thank you, please, and thanks again, to you. As a teen I would wear a baggy t-shirt with a short, knit, body-con skirt. Never gave it much thought at the time. Now the concept seems so foreign.

I realized part of this was the whole form over function argument that would swirl around in my head. And then, do I go knee length or maxi?!  Then there was my own body issues. Yeah, I still got ’em, don’t we all? Like, I know I’m a seasoned fat activist or whatever, but there is no 100% body issue free moment of enlightenment. At least not in a permanent sense. I’ve had moments and days maybe without any sort of self hate directed at my body. Unless it’s a full length maxi dress or skirt, I can guarantee you wouldn’t catch me without teggings underneath anything I was wearing that wasn’t pants, regardless of the temperature.

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All bodies are good bodies

If you search “teggings” in google images, you will find many pictures of me in the mix, if you add “notblueatall” to that search you will find countless pics of me from this very blog. I was obsessed! Not that I don’t wear them now, but I gotta say that I finally figured out skirts and decided to just love the tomboy legs I have instead of feeling need to hide them from the world. That was the key! My fucking legs. My lovely legs that have gotten me away from danger more times than I can recollect. My legs that have given me so much joy in every moment of dance that I have moved with them, even when in pain. My legs that are still strong and surprise me by their flexibility. Yeah, I figured out that it wasn’t really skirts that were the issue, it was simply how I felt about my damned legs.

I grew up a tomboy for the most part. I loved to play in mud and help my dad work on his car. I took apart my bike or my skateboard and put them back together to try to figure them out. I climbed trees and preferred the cub scouts over my silly brownie troop’s activities any day. I had a bowl haircut, a gap in my front teeth wide enough for a McDonald’s straw, freckles galore, it was the eighties, life was alright. I always came home with new bruises and scrapes. Once I flew off my bike and scraped my knee so bad I swear you could see the bone beneath. I have survived a lot of trauma, at the hands of men, too. I have all of the scars to prove it! Because of this I never showed my legs. I showed cleavage, no problem. Something that would highlight my bodacious butt, you betcha. But anything above my ankle? Forget it!

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Love your body

I realized that I felt most weird about my legs because of comments from others, even when my legs weren’t visible. Comments about body hair and paleness, mostly. Two things I have struggled with. Paleness I can no longer avoid, nor care to. I’m a redhead, yes natural, it’s just who I am and if I can finally come to love my hair color, then I can finally appreciate my paleness. Living in California, people get obsessed with being tan, no matter how one achieves it. Ugh! Even my former MIL would insist that I just needed a good base tan. Not possible! Now that I’m allergic to sunscreen, there is just no other option for me. #MorticiaLife

Body hair is another issue and for me more of a feminist one. In the past I had shaved my legs at first to fit in, then as a matter of attraction I suppose. That sounds silly to me now, but no cis-guy ever seemed okay with girls having visible body hair, and at the time I was boy crazy. I was fortunate to have a husband once who didn’t really care either way, but certainly enjoyed when I was freshly shaved and they savored the smoothness. Once on my own I only shaved when I had a date. Even if I shaved, I was still covering my legs with clothing. In my last relationship we never had sex so I never felt an obligation to shave and so I didn’t. I maybe shaved 2-4 times a year for the last five years, or whenever it tickled my fancy to bother.

As a fully fledged spinster I reveled in my long leg hairs. Seriously! They were soft! Ha-ha! I didn’t give it much thought at all, except when faced with social obligation things like the two times I did that whole runway fashion modeling thing. And then the weather warmed up. I was buying used clothes on eBay and looking for hot bargains and kept coming back to this black and white striped maxi skirt from the Ava & Viv line from Target. It was so cheap I felt compelled to give it a try, I could always gift it to someone if it didn’t work out. But then it did work out! And then I tried another skirt and then another, all maxi length. Then I got this body-con jersey knit dress with cute rutching from Torrid, via eBay and it was like a lightbulb moment.

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You do not need certain body type in order to be happy.

I felt sexy af in that dress! I wanted to shave my legs and show off what I had to show in that dress! And I did it! And how! WOW! Then I found a stretch velvet back pencil skirt on eBay from Torrid and fell absolutely in love with it! I now wear that pencil skirt, I wear it at a midi length mostly, with a t-shirt and I feel more myself than ever! Go figure! Ha-ha! My teenage self is still very much alive within me, probably more than I care to admit. Ha! Truly this was a big deal for me! Even if no one else knew, noticed, or gave a shit. These legs were out there and loving every minute of it!

This also happened to be about the same time I started to experiment with low heels and wedges. I found a pair of pre-owned Earth brand shoes with what my bff rudely refers to as my “granny heels”, but I prefer training heels, thank you very much. And I gambled on a pair of Skechers wedges on Amazon, thinking the return policy would save me, but I wear them most of all! They are rainbow and have memory foam! Ha-ha! The silly things I get excited about, I swear! But it really does still feel revolutionary in my own warped mind. I do know better, I know others struggle with these things, too. Something about legs always felt unreachable to me in my femme-ness. Even as everything else seemed right.

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All bodies are beautiful

It just goes to show you, as time goes on, we change and grow so much! I never would have believed that I would feel confident and comfortable in the things I’ve been wearing to work lately, but the compliments prove it’s right! Not that I need the validation, only that it confirms there’s nothing wrong with showing my legs. No one has gasped and backed away upon glancing on my paleness or plumpness! There’s nothing wrong with wearing kitten heels or a mid-wedge. There’s nothing wrong with my body. There’s nothing bad or unsightly about my legs! My past traumas aren’t obvious to others and they no longer have to hold me back.

What body issues have you continued to struggle with? Are there body parts that you cannot stand, regardless of how fat positive you are? What was your last body ah-ha moment?

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

Perfectionism is a Trap!

August27

Life is fucking messy! It just is. No matter what your beliefs, intentions, control measures, or income level, life will find a way to kick you in the ass or throw you for a loop! There’s nothing anyone can do to prevent things from happening, they simply do. What matters is how we react or respond (there is a difference) and how that creates an impact on our lives there after.

I have known many perfectionists in my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been one myself, more of a control freak I guess. I’m workin’ on that. Perfectionists are just in a constant struggle with themselves, it seems. I don’t think it’s any sort of personal failing on their part, I’m sure it’s more to do with societal pressures or how one is raised. It is often painful, at least for me, to watch or try to work on something with a perfectionist, though. It’s as if you can see the anguish they are dealing with manifest itself physically as they begin any new project. I feel for them.

I think we all fall into the perfectionism trap from time to time, though. For me it’s always gift wrapping! Grrr! My nemesis! Seriously, though, it feels as if the credibility of my woman-ness and existence is tied up in how “perfect” a gift looks after wrapping and adorning it. I do not know where this came from. Nothing in my childhood lead to this that I can see. But I’ll be damned if every time I am tasked with wrapping a gift that my heart doesn’t cease up at the very idea of it all! I now stick with gift bags! Ha-ha! (Though fussing with the tissue paper gives me a mild version of the usual anxiety around gifts).

This is where the self-image/self-esteem stuff gets tangled with the whole perfectionism thing. If you believe nothing you do is right, why keep upsetting yourself with the idea of perfection? I believe that perfection is a myth. It doesn’t actually exist. It is merely a concept or ideas that is ever-changing and a constantly moving target: impossible! By striving for this idea that it has to be perfect, when that in and of itself is unreachable and cannot be nailed down, you’re literally just making yourself stressed out. This is when the fear and guilt and shame come into play.

 

To live in fear of not measuring up is a very relatable human thing. To live in fear of not being perfect is the most absurd thing, but also very relatable. We’ve all been there, that dread and that anxiousness. Ugh! It’s exhausting! The thing is though, there is no perfect person. Not one personal of 8+Billion the world over is completely and entirely perfect. Go ahead and take a deep breath! It’s all going to be okay. Nobody’s perfect! Ha-ha! It’s kind of awesome if you think about it. Really takes the pressure off.

I love Brene Brown, though I’ve only read one of her books, she really has a way of writing that leaves me saying, “YES!” or “Ah-Ha!” with the turn of every other page. And she understands how these things happen and swirl around in our brains giving us all of the emotions at once leaving us tired and feeling crazed. You do not have to keep this up. Know that you are not alone. Perfection is a myth. You can let it go. When you feel it rising up in you again, take a pause. Take a deep breath. Do some power poses. Center/ground yourself in your human-ness. You are of the Earth, and that is a lovely thing!

I hope that we can all let go of any shame, guilt, or stresses that get tied up in feeling the need to be or attain perfection. Even those we hold up in the world as perfect people would laugh at the notion. Your flaws are beautiful. Your uniqueness is valuable! You are amazing and worthy of all of the goodness this world and this life has to offer you! I promise! 😉

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

Oversensitive…My Ass!

August24

This whole concept of being “oversensitive” really sticks in my craw! The people who have called me”oversensitive” have all been outright assholes! The same people who demonize political correctness. The same people are also racist, misogynistic, homophobic, and more. Truly. I have never in my life heard a calm, rational, critical thinker call someone “oversensitive”. And yeah I’m using quotes, I know it’s a real word, but I disagree entirely with it’s existence, let alone usage. Isn’t this just a way to police our behavior instead of theirs?!

Political correctness is often demonized, ridiculed, and tied into “oversensitivity”. The thing is, the people who feel this way simply do not want to a.) be uncomfortable for any reason at all ever, b.) have anyone tell them they are wrong for any reason at all ever, c.) are resistant as fuck to change anything about themselves outside of the superficial. So their response when faced with someone saying something they said or did is wrong/inappropriate/hateful/racist/sexist/hurtful/damaging is to lash out by saying the problem is ours alone. Yes, ours, most often but not always women, am I right?! UGH!

I know, I know, # NotAllMen…FUCK THAT! #ALL(cis)MEN! I think many may use the term “oversensitive” as a way of trying to calm the other person or minimize the situation, they may even have good intentions. The thing is, intent doesn’t mean shit, impact does! Every man that has ever told a woman to smile may have had the best of intentions. Perhaps they envision a world of smiling faces staring back at them (the horror!), but that is not up to them, the impact of their remarks are demeaning at best.

I do understand that we’re socialized differently. As children we are raised to act a certain way around others. If you’re a girl, this means using manners, playing hostess to any guests in your home, considering others feelings before our own, sometimes even not speaking unless spoken to, always there to help and serve others. Boys may be raised with some of the same, but expressing emotion/pain is definitely not one of them. This is treated as weakness or even offensive. Imagine, then, when faced with someone telling them something they said or did was wrong/hurtful/oppressive, that they cannot even compute this! “I just said something I’ve heard others say and not get shit for it!”

Many people (of any gender) are not always or even often aware of the impact of their words and behavior. I work with some interesting characters, lemme tell ya! Ha-ha! Seriously though, a colleague today mentioned how quiet it was now that someone had moved their desk to the other side of the office. I replied, “And they’re on vacation this week!” and they said, “Oh that must be it! Ha-ha!” because this person is well known for being loud and basically obnoxious (IMO Toxic AF!). They have very private phone calls very loudly while walking around the office, completely disrupting everyone else. Ugh! This person knows these things about themselves, they think it’s cute or makes them look more like a leader somehow (barf – as if), they simply do not care enough to change. That is the key!

You see, it’s never “just words”. Words have meaning, this is how we communicate, it’s called language. Words can hurt, cause harm, effect others even if they aren’t present, they can change how someone feels about you or others. We use our words to get our point across. When you call me “oversensitive” you’re telling me way the hell more about you than you’ll ever even get the chance to know about me!

I don’t believe that anyone is “oversensitive”. I’m an empath, I’m hella fucking sensitive, but to me there is no “over” part. If you’ve been called “oversensitive” take it as a compliment for not being a callous jackass! A friend recently posted about being called this and I wanted to shake them and hug them and tell them, “NO! You are not “oversensitive”! You are a finely tuned instrument of love!” It’s a skill, a sixth sense, if you will. It’s a wavelength not all get to tap into. Cherish that shit! I do.

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

 

Sharing & Self-Caring

August23

This past weekend I dedicated myself to doing things that would be relaxing, calming, soothing, or otherwise get a load off my mind/body/soul. I have been headed towards burn out for awhile and after getting mega sick a few weeks ago I knew that I needed to be more mindful about these things on the regular. So, Friday after work I had an appointment with my ex-husband/CMT for a massage. I went home and completely chilled out after with a comforting meal (roast chicken, rice, broccoli, leftovers from a work lunch), and watched the last episode of season 2 of Harlots (Hulu) and then began Black Mirror (Netflix) and curled up on my lil’ loveseat with my puggo.

The following day I didn’t want to get out of bed, it was just so comfy! But I did and the notion coffee lead the way like an old cartoon. I put on music instead of the t.v. and sat with my thoughts before I plotted the day ahead. And that’s when I saw how bad my toenails looked! HAHAHA! True facts! I looked down at my feet, ever the shoe gazer, and saw the jagged edge of my big toenails and decided I needed to get a pedicure. It had been almost two months and in that time I was in a dance show while also discovering a new found love of wedges. My poor feet needed some love, so I called my favorite salon, 20 miles south of where I live, and made an appointment for that afternoon.

It was hot that day, which made leaving the house that much harder, but worth it once in the air conditioned salon. It was just me and about 6 nail technicians. I picked my color, OPI (always) and in a lovely light violet-shimmer, and had a seat. My technician was Wendy. She was sweet and seemed to genuinely care about me. I’m sure part of that is simple customer service, I mean props for that too, but when my nails were drying she and I started to really chat. Well, I should say, she started to talk at me at first and I immediately went from defensive to offensive. “My daughter, you know, she’s fat like you. She never goes out. She doesn’t want to, she just stays home and eats. So sad.” My knee-jerk response, “There are many reasons for being fat, eating is not why I’m fat. Have you considered that perhaps how she’s treated “out” in the world may be the bigger reason why she doesn’t want to go out? Maybe she’s depressed? Maybe she gets harassed? Maybe she just prefers to stay home.”

I could see right away that this was not the typical “OMZ OBEEESITY” conversation I was having as her eyes lit up when I said all of this to her. She then asked about my life and shared some factoids about her own. When I told her I was forty, healthy, and loved my body, and being single, she smiled so big! We talked about balance and how important that is over everything else we’re told to do in the name of health and she closed her eyes and looked quite serious for a second and then said, “Honey, I know you’re right. I need to stop worrying. Thank you.” I promised her that I would ask for her specifically the next time I had an appointment. It was kind of beautiful, that convo could have really soured my experience there had it not gone the way that it did.

I don’t have to talk about my life to strangers. I don’t have to talk about myself at all, anywhere. I don’t have to share my stories and life experiences here; my blog is a luxury, not a necessity. I gain no money or “exposure” from such things. It is these small moments of connection, enlightenment, and sharing that keep me doing it! Those smiles or eyes when they light up give me so much more than money can buy. It is a special privilege to touch the lives of others and to have my own touched right back. (Okay that sounds weird, but you get me.)  I cherish it far more now than ever before.

As a fat person living their life in the western world, I’m used to remarks and comments from strangers. I am often on guard because of this. You just never know when a simple comment or response can turn into harassment or assault. I tend to walk around with a “fuck you” vibe when I’m running errands, I suppose it’s my own defense mechanism. I’m not here to be anyone’s jolly fatty! I am a mostly jolly fatty, but I don’t need anyone telling me I need to be or any other ridiculous notion folks get in their heads about fat people in general. Sometimes I engage when comments fly, sometimes I aggressively roll my eyes or flip them off, it’s all in how I am feeling in the moment.

There is just too much stigma about fat bodies in the world, much of it absolute lies. I’m not here to be or prove myself as a “good fatty” in anyone’s eyes. I prove myself every fucking day by living it on my own terms! I don’t need anyone’s acceptance or validation. I don’t need to be liked or popular by any standard. I don’t fear much in this world as it all feels mostly predictable, but it is the unpredictable and unstable folks and their actions that I do fear. I am in no way suggesting anyone do what I do or say what I say to strangers in the wild. I have 25 years of honing my customer service and interpersonal skills, I can usually tell where things are headed and choose my own adventure from there. If ever I feel unsafe I have a plan in place to do what is needed to get to safety.

You don’t owe anyone your attention, time, response, apologies, explanations, or anything. You are allowed to exist in this world no matter what you or your body look like. People may act poorly, but that is on them! What anyone thinks of you is none of your business! Seriously! It’s so easy to get caught up in all of the bullshit around these things, but create that boundary for yourself, it helps so much! Or just laugh it off, in their faces! Ha-ha! I love that, too! Honestly, laughing at things has become a bit of a defense mechanism for me as of late. When some agro-dude cuts me off and we end up at the same light, I look over and LAUGH!!! (Picture me laughing wearing giant, heart-shaped, mirrored sunglasses.)

Self-care isn’t just having a pedicure or a spa day. For me getting a pedicure is only an occasional luxury. It was something that I felt I needed at the time, but self-care is SO many other things, too! Self-care is staying hydrated, taking your meds, being mindful of how you’re feeling, taking a shower, putting on makeup or a cute outfit, saying no to things, asking for help, masturbating, taking a mental health day, taking selfies, shutting off your phone for an hour…self-care is anything that helps you, in my opinion. Something that gives something to you, (calmness, relaxation, a moment of silence, a mental/physical breather) feeds you in a sense. A lot of times we think we’re doing ourselves a favor by engaging in things that often take from us or damage us in the long run.

What are some things that you do to give something back to yourself? I would love to hear about other folks’ self-care things!  Have you had a positive conversation about fatness with a stranger or service provider? Or perhaps it started negative but it ended up being better? Tell me!

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

#GothLife

August22

I think I’m finally owning my goth-ness. I never really felt cool enough to be a goth. I’ve only been going to goth clubs since 1996! Ha-ha! I’m ridiculous! More and more though I keep coming back to fashions, accessories, music and more that all harkens back to those 90’s glory days at the “So What” at the Maritime Hall in SF. I discovered so much about myself there and so much fantastic music and fashions and just a safe space for weirdos of all sorts. I found my people, so to speak, but I certainly didn’t know it at the time. I was too awkward and extremely insecure, like in every possible way. At first I went, very reluctantly, with a group of friends. I didn’t even know what goth meant or was and just didn’t really care either. I think they bribed me in some way that first time, but not twenty minutes after walking through the door of the So What, I fell for the whole scene!

That first night they had a live band playing already as we entered the dance floor area. After two songs I walked right up to the merch table and bought their cassette (it was 1996!). The band was 16 Volt, whom I later met and hung out with at a different club in San Jose (RIP Cactus Club), but the album was Letdown Crush. All these years later and I still love that band and their music. You may have heard their stuff in various video games over the years, industrial. Anyway, it was kind of love at first listen. When the band was done with their set and the DJ started to spin I had no idea what was in store. Just the best music ever! I found out that I lean new wave/romantic, but enjoy some stompy industrial stuff, too. The Cure & Depeche Mode being my personal mainstays.

I didn’t know how to dress for this type of club. I basically just wore some kind of random lingerie top over a black bra and black jeans. Picture also my red glitter, L7 (all-women Punk Band), chain wallet, and as many chain and cross necklaces as I could get my hands on. Oh! And my beloved 1460 Doc Martens, obviously! I don’t think I did a damned thing with my hair because I never did back then. Makeup was just tons of black eyeliner and blood red lipstick outlined in black. No blush, no eyeshadow, no foundation…just my natural redheaded palor and youthful glow! I did not wear glasses then. I later wore a sub/dog collar with the loop in the middle.

This club was just so special and I had no idea. Once a month they would have a masquerade ball with a theme and a live bondage show. I learned so much there! Even if I was too shy/scared/etc to incorporate these things into my life then. I’m good with all of that now. Ha-ha! (Fat AF is my fat sex podcast with my bff!) I have so many good memories of that place. I eventually started going on my own. At age 19/20 I rarely did such things but felt badass and brazen going to the So What solo. I really thought all goth clubs would be the same, but little did I know that I would spend the next two decades trying to find that same vibe elsewhere. *Sigh*

Now I mostly stick to one or two clubs that lean more 80’s New Wave than anything else. Lately it’s been strictly Club Satori at The Ritz in Downtown San Jose and Stragelove or whatever other New Wave type of night they have at the Cat Club on Folsom in San Francisco.  I’ve never been to Bondage A Go-Go or Death Guild, though they are legendary, but have heard some of those DJ’s spin at other clubs. I’ve been to some woman-run goth nights, including the only BBW Goth Club in the U.S. Club Bodice at the White Horse in Oakland, and The Hanging Garden at The Uptown in Oakland. I’ll stick with my old ass stuff, to be honest. I don’t feel the warmth, respect, and general weirdo vibes at those last two that I do at others. It’s more younger peeps, acting cooler than cool, most people don’t even dance! Such a tragedy. And maybe I’m too fucking old for this new goth stuff. That’s possible!

My favorite of faves is at Club Satori when they do The Cure night once a year.  They do play other music, but there is such a hefty and healthy dose of songs by The Cure mixed in that I dance all night every time and it’s like my happy place! I think it was February 2017’s The Cure night when I peeped a hottie on the dance floor and told my bestie that I wanted to bite this humans luscious arms. This is not something I’d ever done or had the urge to do, mind you, and very much out of my character I can assure you. But soon it became a bet. Okay, my bff bet me a quarter just to see if I’d do it and so I could say it was for a bet. I was sweaty and slightly buzzing from the hard cider they have on tap (Nice!), so popped into the restroom to refresh and touch up my hot pink lipstick. When I came out and was walking up the ramp I saw this hottie getting ready to leave. I locked eyes with my bestie and determinedly headed for said hottie.

I asked them if I could bite their arm. They said, “Wait, mine or anyone’s?” and I said, “Oh no, just yours!” and gave that sorta sexy, sorta demanding, sorta flirty, because you know you wanna, look at them. They had already put on their leather motorcycle jacket and said, “So, through the leather?” and I just shook my head slowly and said, “No.” And so they walked over to a nearby stool, took off their jacket, hoodie, and placed their helmet on top. They held out the top of their forearm and said, “Not too hard, right?” and I just smiled, grabbed their arm and pulled them closer so I could get a big juicy bite of their bicep. After I smile and laughed, they laughed and hugged me. I thanked them and girlishly ran over to my bestie to giggle like children about the whole thing. Then said hottie came over to us after getting their gear back on and asked if they should get a rabies shot. When we looked confused they responded, “Sorry, I’m a vet, bad joke. You’re fine. Have a good night. Ha-ha!” If I wasn’t wearing tights that night I swear my panties would have hit the floor! Ha-ha! That night is legendary in my social circle and I love how so not-me this bit of fun was. I keep an eye our for that special veterinarian every time I go to that club, but especially on The Cure night. Never have seen them again though.

I have lots of goth club stories and memories, but I’ll instead show you some recent goth night looks, sadly outfit pics are impossible in my tiny house, so you’ll have to use your imagination…dream me up something fancy! Ha-ha!

I wore this to Club Radio in Oakland for a goth night that kinda sucked but I met some cool people, Dre especially,
who smoked me out and bought me a bottle of water when I ran out of cash.
My hair was two braids pinned on top, that I wrapped a length of lace around for fanciness. Ha!

This was from The Cure night in San Jose this past February, the Friday night before I started my new job.

I had also done something fancy with my hair that night. Gotta love YouTube tutorials!

I’m wearing the Boleyn dress from Chubby Cartwheels, and get tons of compliments each time I do!

I want you close to me, too, Robert Smith! <3

He just gets it! ^

These are from last week, just a workday, nothing special, but more goth than I usually go for. I love it!
At my desk, dorkin’ it up!

Aw this is a cute pic of me, if I do say so myself! Ha-ha!

Still in love with my Zenni Optical heart-shaped sunglasses! C’mon!

The following are from last Friday night which was Depeche Mode night and I did a fun thing with my hair!

I also recently gave chokers another shot (since the 90’s) with a 5 pack of ’em from Torrid.

The ring is a black stone with skulls and it’s my favorite amazon purchase, it was like $8.

The wrap is literally just a yard of mesh halloween fabric from Joanne’s with skulls on it, but I dig it.

No filters, no fucks to give, no need for anyone’s validation.
I’m a fucking forty-year-old goth, dammit!

Rad Fatty Love to ALL,

<3
S


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