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Heart Attacks, Healthcare, & The Time I Did Meth

According to this video, I am currently and am always having a heart attack.

This is terribly unfortunate because I was recently denied health insurance on the basis of my weight. I had a stronger emotional reaction to this rejection than I expected, partially because I never actually expected to be denied. I’m (relatively) young at 31, have no serious health problems, no penchant for cliff diving or anything risky or edgy at this point, and I don’t plan on doing anything expensive like getting pregnant EVER (which should be covered anyway, in my opinion, but just sayin’). If I’m feeling the symptoms in the video above, it is due to anxiety, which can obviously affect one’s health negatively in the long run, and I thought I could do something good for myself by seeking insurance coverage for my minor (by comparison) issues with that. I thought I was being smart and a good person by not lying about my weight (sorry about that, Driver’s License), but now it feels like I’m being punished.

Usually when the subject of obesity comes up among civil folks, two camps quickly form: those who advocate for size acceptance no matter what and those who are quick to inform everyone that they don’t hate fat people, it’s just that they are worried about us because we are probably going to drop dead at any second and are pretty much stealing the money directly out of everyone’s pockets with our expensive diseases (aka concern trolls). The issue of fat and health and whether or not the two can coexist has been debated at length and quite frankly I don’t want anything to do with it. I cannot stand it when people use concern as an excuse to shame fat people (that’s what it comes down to, pure and simple), but I’m also not a doctor or someone that likes reading doctor-y statistics, so whatever. I can only go by my own history of physical and emotional health as a fat person with a lifetime of baggage because of external and internal fat phobia. I struggle constantly with the disconnect of how I logically feel about body acceptance, my personal struggle with internalized fat phobia and low self-esteem, and my health issues and fears. The majority of past posts on this blog were written when I was at a much lower weight than I am now but starting to gain it back. When I was going through the archives recently, adding tags and such, I was kind of surprised and ashamed at just how much I talked about my weight and how I was absolutely planning on “starting a new diet asap.” I guess some parts were supposed to be funny and in-step with the whole Failure schtick, but reading now it feels embarrassing on two very different levels: 1) because I never want to feed into my own or others’ insecurities and body fixation/shame and 2) because I never did go on that diet. See what I mean about the disconnect?

Anyway, I thought it might be interesting to write briefly (HAHA) about a few of my adventures in trying to lose weight.

Shame
I never forget I’m fat. I mean, how could I? It’s a constant focus within and by the world around me. Sometimes it seems like my (thin) friends forget I’m fat, though. Surely that could be the only explanation for someone having the audacity to inform me, breathlessly, mouth curled in disgust, how “omg sooo FAT” so-in-so has gotten, or showing me FatBooth pictures (that app has thankfully fallen from popularity, but one remembers these things when an acquaintance was so genuinely horrified by what she would look like fat that she nearly cried), or posting Instagram shots of oozing burgers, decimated pans of brownies, or sometimes even just a regular plate of food with the caption “Uh oh, my inner fat kid is coming out!” or “Being a fat girl again” or (my favorite) simply, “I’m so fat!” My own “inner fat kid” comes out every day when I get out of bed as my outer fat woman, a person who is haunted by past ridicule and is subjected to very real prejudice in the world. For the record, my inner and outer fat persons are not particularly partial to burgers or sweet treats and are resentful at the suggestion that only fat people eat a certain way or at all and thin people don’t. I shouldn’t have to feel ashamed for nourishing my body. I’m not that sensitive when it comes to jokes and I have one of the most off-color senses of humor, but shit like this wears me down after a while. How many “Oh, I wasn’t talking about YOU”s can a person accept in their lifetime? I cannot pretend that when you, even unintentionally, say cruel or hurtful things about fat people, you aren’t talking about a fat person “like me.” You are. I’m fat. That being said, I am obviously not free of fat phobia. My own internalized fat phobia does some pretty impressive contortionist moves. I don’t hate fat people, just myself. I love the fat positive movement, but I could never be that. Wow, she sure is brave to eat that in public where everyone is watching and judging her. I want another serving, but I know what people will think. I just love how hot Beth Ditto looks on stage when she takes her clothes off, but I could never do that, my body is disgusting. All of my fat friends are prettier than me, which is why they can pull it off. It never ends, and yes, it is as painful and tiring as it sounds. All of this shame is something I’ve tried to use as motivation in the past to try to lose weight, and it just does not work. It leads to deeper patterns of despair, desperation, and negative behavior.

“Diets”
I won’t bore you with all 20+ stories of me trying to beat (and measure and count and blend) my weight into submission using Weight Watchers, Slimfast, etc., starting from about six years old. The main thing using Slimfast taught me was that there is no way a shake is a full meal for me and that adding a banana to one of their chocolate shakes, while counter-productive, is damn delicious and banana+chocolate is the dream team. All I really ever got out of Weight Watchers was the terror of being dragged there by my mother and weighed in public each week and probably, deep in storage somewhere, several vintage sets of measuring cups, kitchen scales, and books emblazoned with the WW logo. Today Jennifer Hudson wails at me from my tv to say that if I want it, I’ve got it, I’ve gotta believe, believe in myselllllffff. I wish I could tell her that one of the main reasons I DON’T believe is that I DID believe on and off throughout the 90s and yet here we are. Oh well.

Diet Pills/Meth
Seriously. Meth. Okay, sort of. When I was in high school my group of friends and I met a group of older kids, Caltech students, and started hanging out with them. We found out that the school actually has a not-so-secret reputation for its wild parties. Apparently extreme science nerds need to cut loose somehow, and that somehow was with booze, weed, ecstasy, GHB, meth, and K. Someone told me they used their superbrains to make their own drugs sometimes, but I don’t know if I believe that. I do know that there was a hollowed-out electrical box in the wall of one of the dorms containing piles of condoms and clean needles, among other goodies. I never got down with any needles, but I was curious and self-destructive enough to try just about anything when the creepy ringleader dude gave my friend and I a tiny baggie of speed one afternoon. We took our first ever nostril-burning rails in our Catholic school uniforms as he stared lecherously, leaning back on his bed. It was totally weird because he obviously expected something other than money in return, so we got out of there fast. I remember feeling slightly euphoric for literally about four minutes and then feeling my emotions come crashing down as I walked along the sidewalk, wishing it would open up and take me inside. When we got home we put on a movie in an attempt to chill out, but I could not relax, laugh, or even smile. The movie was There’s Something About Mary, and to this day I don’t know if it was any good. I mean, I highly doubt it because I don’t find Ben Stiller very funny, and is the main gag seriously semen as hair gel? But it WAS sort of a 90s classic, never the less, and now I’ll never be able to appreciate it. We stayed up all night until the little baggie was gone, trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to ward off the terrible feeling of coming down. We talked in circles about everything awful under the sun and moon and damn near made a suicide pact. Somehow we made it through to the next morning when my mom picked me up and I’m seriously glad I can’t really remember that awkward car ride. Just before I finally fell asleep late the next afternoon, after trying to force myself to eat a piece of bread that tasted like poison in my mouth, my friend and I swore to each other in whispers on the phone that we would NEVER EVER try speed again. I hadn’t tried it to lose weight, just out of teenage curiosity, but fast forward a few years later and I was trying a diet pill for the first time, the original formula of Metabolife, which was packed with ephedra (a powerful stimulant which has since been banned by the FDA). I pretty much had a meth flashback and a total meltdown, so no, it didn’t help me lose weight, because I was only able to take it once. I had hoped it would give me energy and cut my appetite, but instead it just made me jittery and depressed. If you know me, you know if I drink even one cup of coffee I start having racing thoughts, pacing back and forth, and being generally intolerable. This “energy boost” doesn’t help me get stuff done or concentrate or feel invigorated. I’ve since tried caffeine-based diet pills and they have a similar effect. It doesn’t really suppress my appetite much, but even if it did (like meth and the amphetamine diet pills that some doctors still prescribe) it wouldn’t work for me because I hate that speedy feeling. I know a lot of people love it, but we all know that real speed and fake speed and even excessive amounts of caffeine can be just as terrible as or much worse for your body (speaking of heart attacks) than being fat, so there goes that method of weight loss.

The Not-So-Healthy Diet and Exercise Plan
Several years ago I tried to go on The South Beach Diet but failed to lose even one pound or inch, despite the fact that I had followed it strictly for over a month. I had healthcare at the time and went to the doctor to be like WTF and was tested and diagnosed with PCOS. It had been so hard to lose weight even when I was genuinely trying my whole life that it was in some ways a relief to be diagnosed with PCOS, a disease that makes weight loss more difficult, among other symptoms. The thing is, even though it’s harder to lose weight, weight loss can help alleviate some of the other symptoms. I began a strict regimen of birth control pills, anti-androgen meds, generic metformin (a diabetes drug that can be helpful to some PCOS patients, but has several unpleasant side effects), exercise, and an extreme low-carb diet (as in not even fruit for the first month) all under a doctor’s care at first. Eventually I did start to lose weight, but I wasn’t exactly at my healthiest. I lost my health insurance through my mom and was no longer seeing a doctor. I was newly living away from home and was hanging out with two thin girls who were both very concerned about their weight, and we talked about it constantly, obsessively. I was getting thinner and thinner for me, but never “thin enough.” There were days I cheated on my diet and ate whatever I wanted, weeks I ate salads for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and times where I wouldn’t consume much at all other than vodka sodas (low in carbs, you see) when I went out at night. I had a job where I was constantly moving and on my feet in addition to taking daily walks and spending feverish nights on the dance floor. I was such a hot mid-20s mess that I rarely remembered to take my medications then finally stopped altogether. For me, losing weight was a FULL TIME commitment and lifestyle change that had started for health reasons, but that was never the real issue. I wanted to feel better about how I looked and be more accepted, and people did treat me better, sadly, but it was never enough. I never got skinny, I never felt like I looked as good as my friends in clothes, I still hated my body, I still hated myself, inside and out. And I certainly wasn’t being healthy about it after the first few months, skipping meals because I was too busy and going out every night, not dealing with my real problems. I think people who find it easy to moderately difficult to maintain a certain weight really don’t understand that when they say “why don’t you just lose weight?” to someone like me, they are essentially saying “why don’t you devote just about every waking moment to looking a certain way and being my and society’s definition of beautiful and healthy?” I mean, I kind of feel like no one should be getting in anyone’s body business like that anyway, but it is particularly annoying to me as someone who has a condition that makes weight loss extra difficult.

So, this is where I’m at now. I feel defiant, like going on a diet and exercise plan would be me bending to society’s will. I don’t want to be shamed or bullied into doing something that could potentially be healthy for me, and losing weight definitely isn’t the answer for everyone’s health. It sure wasn’t the answer to my biggest problem, which was my absent sense of self-worth. I do want to make steps to avoid certain health pitfalls I know may be prone to because of my history. I feel like this time I could be trusted to do things right and for mostly the right reasons, but I keep going back and forth. Attempting to get insured was a big step for me, but we know how that ended up. It feels extra hurtful and crazy that I would need to lose weight to get health insurance but getting health insurance could be one of my best shots at losing weight, if that’s what I decide to do.

Ugh. Is it Obamacare yet?

target: women

i have been feeling like a bit of a bummer these days, so anything that makes me smile is much appreciated. thanks to one of my favorite blogs, gaycondo, i have been introduced to the hilarity that is sarah haskins’ “Target: Women” videos. she serves up brilliant comedic analyses on how the media, advertising specifically, targets women in bizarre and sometimes downright insulting ways.

this is familiar territory for me, as i think about this quite a bit, but sarah brings up some things i never really thought about before, like why birth control is sold as period control and not, um, BABY REDUCER. i guess it never occurred to me as a gay lady who takes birth control to control her periods (they are about 9-10 days otherwise) that most women who take the stuff do so to stay kidfree. with all the sexuality on tv, this is just kind of appalling. women have sex! FOR FUN!

here is the birth control video. it’s LOL funny, so watch at work with caution.

this one on chick flicks had joe and i both in hysterics over “friend-o’s” alone.

and finally, this one made me laugh a lot…

because it’s true, then days later i heard about this:

Splendafiber
splenda with fiber!!! fiber in your artificial sweetener. talk about a target audience.

 

of course you know, however, i WILL be purchasing this. i love a little extra boost of fiber. i’ll let you know how it works.

big wheels keep on turnin’

if you guys think just because the weather is getting all fall-like and crisp that i have quit doing water aerobics, you are so wrong! okay, actually this is l.a. so it is only slightly fall-like and crisp and only at night, but i plan on doing water aerobics all year-long if my work schedule will permit. it’s no longer my only reason for living, but it is definitely still a bright spot in my ever-darkening life. it gets pretty cold when we get out of the pool at around 7:30, and i know that will only get worse as the weather gets colder, but it’s worth it. i love being in the water, especially at night.

keeping with my general existential theme (failure), i cannot afford to have even a low-cost heath insurance plan. i am pretty much legally blind and my glasses are hideously ill-fitting, scratched, and horribly out of date, so i rely on my contact lenses. seeing as i have no insurance, i have been wearing the same disposable monthly pair for like seven months! this is wrong on many levels, but i have justified it by removing and cleaning them meticulously each night. well, my eyes have been bugging me  Michaeldlately. i have experienced itching, soreness, and sensitivity to light… all VERY BAD THINGS. oops. well, i have been trying to wear them less, but my glasses make me feel useless because they suck so much. last night i had a dream in which my eyes hurt the whole dream and they were getting puffier and puffier, like an old person’s eyes, all hooded and saggy. then, finally, i looked in the mirror and i had morphed into MICHAEL DOUGLAS! wtf is that supposed to mean?

Wateri don’t know what made me think of that just now. i guess because i have been trying to wear my glasses to water aerobics because it’s not super-important to see perfectly or look good, but it’s hard to have on glasses in the water. there is one girl, no, two, who wear glasses and they are both kind of the nerds of the class and they always strain really hard to hear the teacher, try to be extra-fast and impressive, and don’t really ever smile or talk to anyone else. total over-achievers. it’s kind of hilarious. on the other end, there are these two women, and i mean WOMEN, like, in their 30s, who obviously know each other outside of class because they talk THE WHOLE TIME. i always try to stand either away from them or near the radio, but they not only talk, they also have the nerve to stand in the medium-front-center of class! i like to be toward the front on the side, so i often end up right near them. every time i have a class with them, i think of things to say to them like, “hey, maybe you guys wanna talk about this later over lattes?” or “well, your mouths must enjoy this workout!” but then i just lower my head and suffer in silence because i don’t want to alienate myself from everyone in the class. i guess some things never change, by land or by sea.

last night’s class was mediocre at first because we had this one teacher that just basically stands at the edge of the pool and does these weird interpretive dance moves while practically whispering the instructions. normally, i would most def be into interpretive water dancing, but since it is a) done with no sense of irony whatsoever, and b) so unlike the GREAT workout we get from our two other teachers, it’s frustrating and annoying.

but then, at the very end of the class, there was this nice little moment. we were all doing the bicycle, pumping our legs in the water while using pool noodles as handlebars, when the teacher put on tina turner’s version of “proud mary.” slowly, softly at first, thirty women in a swimming pool began singing along. it was kind of embarrassing, but by the rippling glow of the underwater lights, i don’t know, it was also kind of beautiful.

“rollin’ rollin’ rollin’ on the river…”

more sports?!?!

sorry guys, i’ll try to write more later today if i get a chance, but i’m exhausted.

here is a video i found on youtube with a montage of changes in the uneven bars in gymnastics over the years. i found it while looking for videos of soviet gymnast larissa latynina, the first and (so far) only woman to ever win 9 gold medals, and is also, i think, the most decorated olympian of all time with 18 medals total. as i was watching videos of her i noticed first how her body was so much more “womanly” than those of gymnasts today. i used that term within quotations because i am well-aware that women’s bodies come in all shapes and sizes, but the difference in their appearance is striking. sure, she is still thin, but she isn’t as small or muscular as they seem to be today. it seems like back then it was a little more about grace and style. it is the natural evolution of a sport, of course, and it is wonderful to see the female gymnasts of today exhibiting such strength, it just makes me uneasy that they look, and are, so very very young.

you will also note the use of tori amos’ “little earthquakes”. how emo!

eye of the tiger overfed housecat

i promised myself i wouldn’t let it happen this time. i avoided the tv, avoided checking up on it on the internets… but alas, i have caught OLYMPIC FEVER!!! it cannot be stopped.

four years ago my ex took me on vacation to vegas and i swear to god, we spent nearly the entire trip glued to the television watching gymnastics. it was fun and all, but i still think about how kind of lame that was, especially since i have weirdly decent luck in vegas and probably could have won some shrimp cocktail money on the penny slots. damn.

like anyone who doesn’t understand sports with balls and stuff, my favorites to watch are any race-type sport, particularly swimming, and like anyone who dreams of being a cute flying tiny, i also love to watch gymnastics. the problem with those two sports are that when i picture the people that get into doing them, at least in the usa, i think of white kids with rich parents having the time and money to do whatever they want. that’s all fine and good, and certainly no one could deny or diminish their athletic talent, but it’s not nearly as fun as a crazy story about rising up from Rnothing to win gold and the love and respect of your entire country. because of this, and i tend to root for whatever athlete/country has the most interesting story and/or is the underdog. sometimes that happens to be the usa, such as in the SUPER-AMAZING men’s freestyle relay i watched tonight. man, that was good. i also watched cuba CRUSH the usa 3-0 in women’s volleyball, which was awesome. okay, so cuba wasn’t the underdog in that game, but what can i say?

now i am watching the chinese women (can you even call them that? there is even some controversy this year with people saying some of them are not the required age of 16, and it certainly looks to be true, although the olympics committee says it isn’t.) do floor exercise. floor exercise kind of bores me sometimes and so does the chinese team. they are a bit robotic, and i like a little drama. the announcers are talking about how the romanian team sucks now and aren’t as rigid and hard on the girls as they used to be. they are talking about how the girls used to focus only on their routines back in the day and now they actually talk to each other and when one does bad the coach still hugs them, whereas before he would just walk away. um, okay, this is awful. i don’t know why i love watching gymnastics so much, it is a terrible sport! a bunch of ripped mini-ladies with amenorrhea and ponytails so tight it is probably killing their brain cells. plus, the american team looks so boring this year. i need to research them, but on looks and outward-shining personality alone, none of them looks special. i bet they are all named “staci.” are they? they are, right? i’m gonna google it.

Svetlana_Korkina_3who am i kidding, though. I LOVE IT I LOVE IT! still, no one will ever be svetlana khorkina to me. she is a goddess! i always liked the russians. dunno why. anyway, if it comes down to usa vs. china, i will definitely be cheering for my countrywomen. there is some kind of mini-crisis re: injuries going on just now making them seem much more appealing to me. also, one of them, nastia liukin, is apparently russian and there is another girl with giant boobies and gay face. okay, done, i’m totally on board.

anyway, swimming is still my favorite, it’s so exciting! i also like to watch diving. in fact, i like to think of the aquatic sports as “my” sports, because as you may know, i am taking water aerobics now. yeah, i really know my way around a pool, i gotta say.

Water-Aerobics-at-Thermal-Spa-Harkany-Hungary-Framed-Photographic-Print-C12421856water aerobics is really fun and, with the right teacher, actually an awesome workout. there are things about it that make me a little uneasy, like how everyone else walking by the pool kind of looks at us funny, which is not helped by the interesting music the teachers sometimes play. yesterday i walked into the pool just as a mega-mix of hanson’s “MmmBop” was ripping through the crisp sunday morning peace. i was also nervous at first about being in my bathing suit and exercising. luckily my fears were put to rest on day one when i was greeted with at least 30 women who were about 30-40 pounds heavier than me and mostly much older. there are a few skinny women, but everyone is really nice and being under the cover of the water is truly a blessing. although, i Aqua-socksshudder to think of what the view from an underwater lens would be like. yikes! all in all, though, i am into it. i’m not into how the bottom of the pool is making me have sandpaper-feet, though, so i am getting pair of water socks. i know that’s super-gay, but luckily so am i.

wow, this is totally becoming a sports blog! i think i am going to go out and buy a tracksuit! and by “tracksuit”, i mean “ice cream cake.”

amy caron wins bronze at X-Games 14

well, i guess the title tells it all. that’s hard-hitting journalism. there ya go.

just kidding, i will be posting all about my X-Games adventures later today or tomorrow when caron forks over some pics. i was in a sweet spot for watching the competition, but my pictures during were kind of weak because i didn’t have a full-access pass and also i was enjoying watching everyone so much!

more aussie love: sia

i know the whole world, particularly lesbians for some reason, were obsessed with sia’s song “breathe me” a looong time ago, but i am a late-comer. i just finally got my hands on her latest album some people have real problems and it’s absolutely brilliant. i have issues with the whole neo-soul movement at times, but her voice is beautiful and i think her lyrics are amazing. nothing she does seems contrived to me. and yes she is from australia.

here is the video for “day too soon”, which is so beautiful and i can relate to so much.

Oh I’ve been running all my life
I ran away, I ran away from good
Yeah I’ve been waiting all my life
You’re not a day you’re not day too soon

so i will try to post a longer entry today if i get the chance. i’m very broke and hitting the pavement looking for a second job.

more like Cul-de-sac of the Dolls

Valley of the dolls

first, two things:
1) my cold is gone, but now i am completely despondent and sick with self-loathing.
2) i’m pretty sure i’m mildly dyslexic. if it’s possible to be “mildly” dyslexic.
on the bright side, my sick time last week was spent reading. sure, it was the trash classic valley of the dolls, but hey, emphasis on CLASSIC. i can’t believe i hadn’t read this before! i had a lot of problems with the narrative, not to mention the over-indulgent use of the word “fag,” but i have to say once i started i couldn’t put it down. i am always fascinated by stories where, while there are moments of vulnerability and goodness, most if not all of the characters are not terribly likable. i guess this comes from my early exposure and love for soap operas. i was hooked on guiding light, as the world turns, and the young and the restless by the time i was seven. i’ve mentioned before how i feel like this warped my brain a bit. instead of fairy tale complex, i definitely have it in my mind that life is a never ending struggle in which it’s more than likely that you are going to lose your husband to your best friend, probably get hit by a car, and the event of having your baby stolen by an escaped mental patient is just shy of inevitable. some people call that being dramatic, negative, or paranoid, but i think of it as being mentally prepared.
anyway, i always thought the “dolls” in this book were the women, but they are slang for the pills the women take, specifically seconal. pills scare me because i feel like it would be super-easy to get addicted to them by accident. it’s not like you have to score them in some crack den. well, personally i think the crack den aspect of addiction would be the most rewarding because of all the wacky characters and atmosphere, but that must be the writer in me.
most of my experience with pills was limited to the time in high school when my best friend and i met this older guy who gave us valium and vicodin all the time. the valium got me through some rough spots, such as my graduation day when i was sitting there knowing i wasn’t going to get my diploma, but honestly i think the most i ever popped was two, and i mostly only used them when i felt i “needed” one. nerd alert, right? as for vicodin, i learned my lesson with that shit when i took one on an empty stomach once before religion class (catholic high school), and not only did i feel like i was on storm-beaten ship, but the teacher asked me to get up and shut the door and, upon doing so in my dazed state, it smacked me right on my forehead. i think she knew something was up then, and i never really got into that stuff again.
when i think of what could have happened (see: the episode of A&E’s show intervention about a woman named sandra who is addicted to pain pills), i feel lucky, but then i remember that i don’t really have an addictive personality. truthfully i am a big square deep down, don’t let my tales of boozing and public sex fool you.

feminist nightmare

my decisions today regarding food have been poor at best and now i am sitting here watching t.v. and every single thing is making me emotional, from paternity tests on maury to ethnic discrimination on oprah to mother’s day card commercials. i am living the feminist nightmare.

do you remember in school when people would come dressed up for halloween as “housewives,” wearing terry cloth bathrobes, slippers, curlers, and even mud masks? from a very early age i was taught that this costume was sexist, not to mention inaccurate, and that these women and men were called stay-at-home moms/dads, homemakers, domestic artists, whatever, and they don’t just sit in front of the t.v. all day watching oprah and eating bonbons.

i have a feeling that the traditional “housewife” halloween costume has fallen out of style with most young girls, hopefully in favor of, oh, i don’t know, zombie congresswomen, long-dead poets or sculptors, or witches with a keen business savvy. that may be wishful thinking, but i have a lot of time on my hands as i sit here in my terry cloth romper, watching oprah, and eating açaí berry haagen dazs. some things never change, but some things change a lot yet not at all.

now that’s scary!

 

too legit

yeah, i’m making up another new category.  i’m pretty mixed up
(read: suicidal) right now on account of the fact that i am incapable
of loving or being loved, and it’s pretty much impossible to write
without any direction.

moving right along, today when i was driving my ipod was on shuffle
and the mc hammer song “2 legit 2 quit” came on. my first thought was
obviously “HELL YEAH,” but then slowly i felt a deep, hollow sadness
creep over me. i was confused. i mean, it easily could have been
because of the bravado of the lyrics combined with the knowledge that hammer
died cold, poor, and alone (i think he’s alive and i just made that up
for dramatic effect, actually), but i didn’t think that was it. suddenly, through my salty tears, i remembered why that song always fills me with a sense of profound loss.

when i was a kid i constantly had my face in a book. i know that’s hard to believe what with how stupid and useless i am now, but i was quite the avid reader in my youth. i walked around reading a book in the supermarket, at disneyland, and in the car. one night, when i was 10 or so, i was reading one of those mystery/thriller books for teens (do you like how i’m pretending i don’t remember which one?) and it got to a really sad part in which the protagonist realizes that she was wrong about  who killed her brother. throughout the whole book she had blamed her best friend for the suicide of her brother, but really the suicide was staged and the killer was in love with her, but about to kill her because she would never be with him. it was a very intense moment, scary and really depressing at the same time. there was just something lonely about the the characters, even though they were both kind of assholes. anyway, i was riding in my mom’s car reading this on the way to my aunt’s house when “2 legit” came on the radio, and apparently to this day that song takes me back to that place. to a place where my own young, lonely heart was learning to ache on a dark night, captive of the page, of emotions i could not control, of the music.

which just happened to be a song by a man who is best known for his iconic pants, “hammer pants.” seriously, i am trying to google an image and i can’t even find the real name for these pants.

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