Tag Archive for fat

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?

swimwear scare

so this will more than likely be my last post before dinah shore. there have been numerous bumps in the road on the way to getting me there, and surely i will encounter many more, but i am looking forward to this lesbian spiritual journey.

oh, and by “looking forward to,” i mean “in a state of absolute panic about,” as that is my nature.

although this weekend is set to be the first time i have appeared in a bathing suit since 1989, i had virtually abandoned the fear of looking like a beached whale in public because a) many women there will be terrifying mullet lesbians in cargo shorts and i don’t really care what they think, b) while i do care what my friends think, i figure if they do think any cruel thoughts, they will be nice enough to keep them inside, c) i have a boyfriend waiting at home who loves me and thinks my body is beautiful, and finally, c) a more accurate description of the garment in question, as opposed to “bathing suit” would probably be large, black tent.

in fact, i could have probably saved a healthy penny if i just skipped the chase and went straight to home depot, but as luck would have it, i spied a decent-looking impostor of swim garb during that fateful trip i took with my mother to kohls. it is actually kind of cute in a retro fat lady way, black with brown polka dots, a tie at the chest, and a little skirt. i’m so self-conscious i normally don’t even bother with bathing suits and just wear little shorts and a tank, but i have been to a few pools where they won’t let you swim that way and i didn’t want to take any risks. sometimes i just sit in the sun and don’t swim, but in palm springs i will need to get in the water!

well, if you were reading closely, you would know that although i previously decided not to be apprehensive about this bathing suit business, i am now kind of really dreading the whole thing. i officially haven’t been as fat as i am now in two years and i don’t really know what to do with myself. i still feel the same most of the time, and it’s only when i am trying to get into some of my older clothes or see myself in a photo that i realize things have changed. still, i don’t know if i can really relax in public in a bathing suit, albeit the worlds’ least-revealing, least-sexy one.

UrbanoutfittersBathing_suitsometimes it is sexier to leave things to the imagination, but i think people who say that one-piece bathing suits are sexier than bikinis have the picture on the left in mind, while my bathing suit looks a little more similar to the one on the right. oh dear god, what have i got myself into? my road to a healthier weight and body (thanks queen latifah for the inspiration!) is well underway, but i don’t feel good about how i look at all right now. is it really the best time to go on a vacation that will include thousands of half-naked lesbians? probably not, but there is no turning back now.

well, goodbye for now dear readers. wish me luck! i will return with tons of photos and hopefully lots of great stories to tell.

will the Failure Princess ever be Queen?

contrary to the rampant rumors making their way around the interwebs, i have not committed suicide, as i promised long ago to do once i turned 27 if i had not accomplished anything significant. i have just been beyond depressed lately and wit completely escapes me. san fran was loads of fun up until the last day, which is really what sank me, plus i got my period that day, plus the aforementioned suicide deadline was this past tuesday, my 27th birthday!

i don’t even really know why i’m writing this except to say hello. i hate not writing for a whole week, it’s silly, but i just can’t think of anything funny to say. i wanted to post a video of my new reason for living: the jenny craig commercials featuring queen latifah, but they don’t have it on youtube, so you will have to watch it here. the best part is obviously how she keeps it real from the get-go with “i don’t watch the scale. that’s never been my thing…” while also subtly letting us know with her body language that wearing purple cowl neck sweaters with long, flowy skirts has never been her thing either, along with not being a huge dyke, which is MOST DEFINITELY NOT her thing. she is the biggest lez ever. i actually found the commercial somewhat inspiring though, and i liked the health over forcing thinness upon oneself angle. lord knows queen is never going to look like nicole richie, and thank god for that! she’s gorgeous!

in that vein, i found it ironic that i posted this entry about losing weight and what you gain and lose with it exactly a year ago when the other day i stepped on the scale only to discover that i have gained pretty much all the weight i ever lost back. i don’t know how that is possible since i still fit onto some of my “skinnier” clothes, but i guess it just kind of crept up on me. i was barely holding on, well over fighting weight, but still at jean shorts-and-high heels-possibly-getting-laid-tonight weight when i met joe, got laid, fell in love, and totally just lost it. i am in this sort of delusional denial of it all, but all the signs are there. if i see a dress i think will fit me and try it on, it never does. this is a dangerous game when you acquire most of your clothes thrifting, cause sometimes there are no fitting rooms and also to not fit into an awesome dress or blouse is 100,000,000 times more depressing when it’s one of a kind. so sad. i’ve been back to my old tricks of only buying accessories and shoes, but i hadn’t even noticed i was doing it! three things are to blame for this (besides me) love, pizza, and american apparel, for making it so easy to live one’s entire life in a super-low v t-shirt, showing sexy cleav and not even realizing that your waistline and backfat are slowly but surely obliterating the possibility of you getting onto any tops with buttons in the foreseeable future. none of my favorite vintage dresses or tops fit and i think even my feet have gained weight.

one of the things you take for granted when you lose weight steadily like i did last time is how easy it becomes to look “good” in a photograph. i had completely forgotten the old fat girl days of taking shots at extreme angles, extreme close-ups, or avoiding the camera altogether. suddenly, while there were of course LOTS of awful pics of me, there were a lot of good ones too… and by good i mean thin-looking, even though i realize that is wrong. these days i have to erase just about every pic that is taken of me, which is a damn shame, since i just got a new camera for xmas. to me, all my pictures look kind of like the ones of those who had watched the evil video in “the ring,” blobby and awful. horrific.

well, there you have it folks, i am officially a 27 year-old failure, still broke, still fat, and still crazy, if only mildly suicidal. i have decided that since i love joe so much i will give myself one or two more years to live and see if i become famous, and, if not thin, then at least healthy and not giving a shit what anyone thinks, like queen latifah.

clandestine cow

soooo… i know i promised to write every day this week, but instead of writing tonight i went out and got hammered. but it wasn’t my fault! i only had two beers, but i haven’t really eaten in days. i am too broke to afford to buy food and, despite what one might think “moving back home” entails, it does not involve one single meal at my mother’s house. the woman does not buy food!

not that i deserve to eat. and i don’t mean that in the genuine anorexia way, i mean that in the holy fucking shit i am, like, 300 pounds way. i saw an ad on the… i don’t remember something educational channel… for this show with this guy on it who dresses up as different animals to fool them and joins them in the wild. the most recent installment is called “dangerous encounters: undercover hippo.”

a) hilarious.
b) perfectly describes my life from the time i lost a bunch of weight up until now.

the fact is, i will always be a hippo, no matter how much weight i ever lose. wait, to be clear, i mean hippo Dangerousencounters3_undercoverhippas in fatty, not as in highly aggressive, semi-aquatic mammal who kills more people in africa each year than any other animal. anyway, i definitely have this deep connection to being a fat girl. i think being fat has enriched my life in numerous ways and taught me many lessons, although often painful. the thing is, i don’t want to be as fat as i am right now. i am self-conscious all the time about my body, even around joe, who loves the way i look. i certainly wish i could learn to love myself no matter what, but i fear that may be a pipe dream, and i have not a pipe to smoke in, at this point.

which leads us to the future, my new project i have yet to give a clever name to. i fully intend upon publicly humiliating myself as much as possible, which should be fun for all of you guys, at the very least.

more to come. for now, goodnight!

good morning, i mean.

like the deserts miss the rain

one would think that being denied membership in a somewhat prestigious webring based solely lack of posts and not content (brilliant content!) would light a fire under said bloggers ass to post more often, but alas, weeks later, here we are. i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i guess i have built up expectations in my mind over what is appropriate to post here, and now even though i gotta say, 90-93% of my thoughts are hilarious, i just don’t know if i want them on my blog. this combined with the fact that i have Budltpretty much, save for meeting the love of my life, reverted back completely to my nineteen year-old self. i am eating constantly and without discretion, staying up until 6 a.m. and sleeping in until 2 or 3 p.m, and watching more television than i previously thought possible. the only difference is that i don’t masturbate twice a day, but that is because i have a lot more sex than i did then and i didn’t just get my first vibrator for my birthday (sweet 19, indeed!). this is what happens when i have no job or money. if i had money at least i would leave the house to buy makeup and probably clothes, therefore realizing how fat i’ve gotten and being forced to exercise. ugh, it’s so so so DEPRESSING! i watched that tape of myself again and it made me so sad i had to drink like, seven beers. beers have so many carbs but vodka is expensive! and the cycle continues….

oh well, i have a job interview today, which seems fairly promising and a great opportunity. we shall see.

Orbach2sizedit’s raining out and as we all know, i hate the rain. i simply cannot stand walking around perpetually damp. it is uncomfortable and makes my hair frizz. luckily, as i mentioned above, i have very little occasion to even step outside. i am staying at j’s house quite a bit and he has directv. it is RUINING MY LIFE. i have logged in enough hours with the law and order team i feel nearly qualified to take the bar exam. hot damn, that show is good! mostly, i enjoy SVU these days because it has ice t on it and jerry orbach is dead so regular law and order is just not the same any more. i miss jerry orbach, probably not as much as his family and friends, but definitely as much as someone who watches seven hours of law and order a day.

i have also been watching movie channels. the other night i was up until about five a.m. watching “happy 1808467432pfeet” (makes no sense, despite cuteness) and “swimming pool,” which is a french film. i liked “swimming pool” a lot. it reminded me that i love french films because so many of them rattle along, luring you in with their beauty, nudity, and strange calm, then wallop you over the head at the end with something insane. like “fat girl” (american release title)! oh man, you have to see that movie, it’s so good (fucked up). in that vein, i also watched “the quiet” which was sucky but entertaining and also fucked up. mostly i liked it because camilla belle and elisha cuthbert are both crazy hot and the director is jamie babbit, so the movie was crazy lesbionic. good times.

i suddenly feel so talkative! i missed this blog, i guess i really did. some other things i miss include getting a paycheck, the days when “shopping vintage” meant so much more than simply stepping into some glossified, over-priced hovel next to american apparel, and my grandpa living at home (and remembering me). that’s just a few things. i’m sure there is more.

clothes minded

luckily for me (and you) i have a lot of time on my hands lately to think about how annoying everything is. oh man, not having any money around this time of year is so depressing. don’t get me wrong, i know it could be worse, blah blah blah, you don’t read this blog for my astounding amount of social-awareness and grateful attitude, and you know it. all i’m saying, though, is that i hate that i am probably going to have to spend ANOTHER christmas with no money to buy presents for my family and friends, not to mention my lovely boyfriend. ugh, it almost makes me glad i still haven’t set up my plastic surgery savings because then i would probably be dipping into if for things like “emergencies.” better to be completely broke than wasting my eyebrow lift money on food and tampons.

the impending holidays, my recent extreme weight gain, and unemployment have led me back onto the path of rage drinking. when i drink like this, i seriously have no control over my mouth and i seem to forget who my real friends are and who i can trust and it gets me into trouble. all i want to do is have a laugh, but i usually end up falling asleep in a blind, drunken rage. wha? no more. i am limiting myself to three drinks a night when i go out, including beers. also, i am going on a diet. i was toying with the idea of becoming fat-positive and trying to love myself as i am, but three things have stopped me dead in my tracks: 1) thigh chafing. GOOD LORD. i lost “the weight” (i love when people say that) so long ago, i forgot what this was like. ouch. i mean, it’s not like i am fixing to start any major fires under my pencil skirt, but there’s a rub and it is not pleasant. 2) i am too broke to afford a new wardrobe, and all my clothes are getting too tight. last winter i was considering having my favorite slacks tailored because they are just so lovely, but they literally were falling off me, looked sloppy, and i couldn’t wear them without a belt. today, they fit like a second skin, and not in a good way. 3) i am working on a top secret film project and i had to see myself on film today. i looked absolutely fucking HUGE! it was all i could do not to weep openly right there in front of the camera crew. wtf?

i also realized that my face looks terrible when it moves and that my voice is really weird and annoying. it’s a good thing i deal primarily in print, because sweet jesus! ugh. i am going to start practicing faces in front of a mirror a la “america’s next top model” and take some voice lessons. this combined with the weight loss i am expecting from my new diet (dubbed “the lettuce/mustard diet” because that’s all i am going to eat), i should be skyrocketing to superstardom in no time. i will post the info on super-top secret video project #1 as soon as i can.

now, i know i complain a lot about how i look and that probably gets pretty old. i was going to try and make myself feel better by writing a post about how badly everyone is dressing now and how everyone looks the same and it makes me want to cry, but then i realized that i am way above that. not because i found out that the true secret is tolerance and it’s what’s inside that counts, but because bad fashion actually makes me feel WORSE in general, even if it makes those of us who know how to dress look better. it is just really depressing and wears me out. i feel weak and tired even thinking about this girl i saw at ikea the other day….

but i will save that one for next time. until then, i love you all. i will leave you with this: when the line between “hipster” and “safari leader” gets this fine, it’s every man for himself. it’s a jungle out there.

we-no

this weekend isn’t really worth following up on. i had a date on friday that ended up being kind of a disaster, but not because of my date. then i ended up at “truckstop” which is a ladies night at Here Bar in west hollywood. look, i don’t really go to west hollywood and here’s why: it blows.

in west hollywood there are many beautiful women, none of whom are butch and all of whom would probably assume i was asking them for change if i tried to speak to them. i’m no butch/femme identity nazi or anything, but there is no more terrifying a surprise than seeing a girl you think looks like a handsome young butch in a sea of tacky, unoriginal weho femmes, then looking down and finding that she is wearing pointy heels. shuddershudder. just a personal preference though, pay me no mind.

on a side note, i am really fat right now. i keep planning on losing weight, but i have been in a state of general mental crisis lately and it just so happens my comfort foods are all noodle-based. in another, sweeter life my comfort foods will be scraps of toilet paper and coffee grounds, but alas i have been dealt this lot for now. anyway, i just thought of that because i feel like everyone at “truckstop” was thin thin thin. i don’t know, that place should be fun because i love dancing to cheesy music and staring at cheesy people, but something about it just shakes me to my core. maybe it’s the horrifying air-strike siren that goes off every half hour announcing the entrance of the “hot” gogo dancers who are really a bunch of straight girls in victoria’s secret overstock lingerie dancing on the bar semi-lasciviously (OMG THOSE TWO GIRLS ARE TOUCHING THEIR CLOTHED PELVISES AGAINST ONE-ANOTHER!). whatever, i have seen my own mother be more scandalous.

wow, i am really on one today. it is really fucking hot and humid and i don’t think i should have to suffer through this weather unless i am on a rainforest hike and there is some kind of naked waterfall in my near future.

eh, sunset junction was only fun because all my friends were there and we made it fun, but it was actually hot and lame and i missed blonde redhead.

of course, afterwards i got to go home with my new cute friend and we made dinner and had a lot of sex. i’m kind of wary about writing about all this because i feel a general unrest re: hanging out with and banging someone i actually like a lot, but you know, i guess the time has come to be forthright. i don’t know what’s happening really, but i’m having a good time laying in bed, laughing and talking, which is pretty much my favorite thing next to complaining about stuff i can’t change. oh yeah, and my newest favorite thing, which is having several orgasms in a row, one after another. how embarrassing is this? i seriously want to punch myself in the face every time i catch myself walking around with an idiot’s half-smile. ugh. whatever, i gotta go. i’ll write more later. or soon, i hope. i have no internet!

love you, bye!

barrel of laughs

sometimes i get tired of people always saying i’m funny. it’s not that i am ungrateful for the appreciation of others, the sentiment, or this wonderful, useless gift god has chosen to bestow upon me… it’s just that i wish there was something else special about me anyone could say.

i would give six or seven of my teeth to be thin and beautiful, and that’s a fact. of course, then i would technically less beautiful and unable to eat, but i suppose i could settle for just being painfully thin. hurray!

oh well, i guess i am just a big old barrel of laughs. that is, if the barrel totally has splinters, and is filled with salty, bitter tears.

rule #4

never lose too much weight. if you lose all this weight, then people who barely know you think they can come up to you and say “oh.my.god! you look GREAT. look how skinny you are. before, you were all fat, and gross and, like, unlovable, but now you look amazing! you look almost like a human being worthy of respect and dignity!!!”

then, when you inevitably gain some of that weight back, those people just walk by you, silently shaking their heads.

trust me, i know this. two years ago i was forty pounds heavier than i was last year, and a year ago i was ten pounds thinner than i am now. oh, let me tell you, what a mindfuck it was to suddenly be able to wear clothes that were in the “average” sizes. to walk into a clothing store and buy anything at all. i mean, most of my clothes are second-hand because i like it that way, but it was nice to have the option.

now that have gained some weight, i face losing that and i really don’t know what to think. part of me wants to be like, “fuck those body fascists, i look hot!” but the other part is in a state of sheer panic and has already created a shopping list for the next grocery trip in her mind, consisting of 2 twelve packs of diet rite and a sack of cashews.

the fat leading the blind

so i’m on craigslist for the last THREE HOURS perusing jobs when i finally find a hostess job that doesn’t require prior experience, admits to being easy, and pays $10/h plus tips that claims to add up to about $20/h, and then it’s like “applicant must send photo with resume and be comfortable wearing a girls’ baby t-shirt.” aw, fuck. what the hell is wrong with this town? i should send a pic of myself wearing this:41722523_150x150_front_colorpinksalmonjp

my new sourse of bitterness is beauty and the geek. i never watch that show because i… well, i don’t want to, so forgive me if i’m a little off here, but it seems to me that the point is that the viewer is supposed to make fun of the “beauties” (i use the term loosely, as i feel that sporting extensions and/or 507303804
frosty lipstick automatically calls this trait into question, especially if it’s Revlon *shudder*) for being stupid and the “geeks” for being… smart… (haha, what a dumbass, he’s SMART, hahahahahaha. huh?) and lacking in social skills. wait, but then, toward the end, you realize that the beauties are solid gold because they have brought the geeks out of their shell and shown them how to have a good time, and the geeks are so grateful for this, that they can see past the glowing white teeth, the smooth, luminous skin, the perky breasts, and develop an affection for these women, in spite of all their faults. wow, that’s really great. what we have learned here is the classic tale whispered into our sweet ears from the time we were only little girls: “it doesn’t matter how smart you are, as long as you are pretty. and just for the record, the man you choose doesn’t have to be attractive at all, as long as you are. did i mention you will die alone otherwise? goodnight, princess!”

please god, WHY? why is this boring old tale supposed to warm our hearts? this show is for people that cried watching “shallow hal.”

now, if you will excuse me, i am going to go put on my “i had a nightmare i was a brunette” belly shirt and smoke a cigarette in the rain.