Category Archives: chocolate

[fat] Fatropolis

Have you ever sat on your kitchen floor, in tears, with the thought that everything in your cabinets is “fat food”? Have you ever drawn a hot bath only to realize you don’t fit in the tub? When was the last time you heard snide comments about how your size makes you automatically unattractive? Do you struggle to find both well-fitting and flattering clothes?

fatropolis

Here is proof you aren’t alone.

Tracey does a phenomenal job highlighting the absurdities and hypocrisies within our size-discriminating society by flipping the coin and showing thin people as the black sheep, and “hearty” people as the preferred body type. Fatropolis is flooded with advertisements for weight-gain products, television stars feature hearty actors, and there’s no shame in second helps or ordering dessert. No need to hide your sweet treat to eat in private to avoid judgmental eyes.

Big really is beautiful. Escape to Fatropolis and fall in love with your body again.

Order Fatropolis on Amazon Here or by clicking the Amazon link on the side of the blog (if you enter through one of these links I’ll get a commission that goes towards paying student loans and rent!)

[cranky] so broke, so pissed

I can literally feel a stabbing pain in my chest. My two $25 birthday giftcards are gone. Who has been in the house since I recieved them? Realtors, prospective house buyers, my good friend “J,” and my old high school friend and new friend-without-benefits “Jack.” About a month or two ago I had a disappearing cash meltdown — was Jack going through bags, to find my purse, to find my wallet, to take cash?! Twice? No way. Has Jack managed to walk off with giftcards that had been tucked away? Is that what he was doing instead of cleaning the kitchen after he made midnight dinner a few nights ago?

Previously the thief was my younger sister — stealing keys, making copies, and sneaking in while we were at work to steal cash and sell-able anxiety meds (usually klonopin). I feel like the biggest fool letting someone into my home and having money disappear. There is $5.05 in my purse right now, all in coins. That’s all I have. Along with no job and a student loan payment due in 7 days.

My sister has Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). She was diagnosed when she was 17. There is a list of 9 “symptoms”/behaviors and you have to have 5 to get your gold star… she has all 9. Very briefly… she was drugged and raped at age 14 setting her off into a downward spiral of shit; by 15 she had admitted to us that she was drinking heavily since nearly age 13 and she also thought she had a miscarriage without actually having had sex; by 16 she had her first tattoo out of a pay-by-the-hour motel and was dating a 31 year old man with 4 kids from 4 different moms; at 17 I took away her PTI freebie and she had to be processed at the state prison after she stole my identity and all of my money while I was out of the country, she was a member of the Crips, got checked back into the psych ward, and skipped town for several months with my mom (to this day, I’m not sure where they went), after they came back in town she was checked into a residential outdoor rehab center and was their longest ever patient– turning 18 at the facility and choosing to stay. By age 19 she accused me of molesting her repeatedly as children, and now at 20 I’m forbidden from being in the same building as her, per my mother and grandmother’s orders. J has seen her out at bars several times, and she’s going to be 21 in a few months. She’s claimed to be an alcoholic since she was 15, and now she’s regularly drinking and driving and the only person that could possibly stop her is my mother who is afraid of running her off. She is capable of constructing entirely alternate realities, alternate stories, events, persons and then believing them whole-heartedly.

Despite my father and therapist telling me otherwise, I feel like the ultimate dumb shit for allowing money to walk out of my house. I know better. I know the signs, I know what to look for. I let my guard down, and I feel like an idiot. I think there’s some chocolate box cake mix in the cabinet I can make, so I can save that $5.05 for something… no clue what…

[feminist] DNC- wednesday: where were you four years ago?

I’m hanging out with the four Unite Women national directors and a regional director, screaming and yelling at the TV and our computers. Right now its several small business speakers, but last night we had the tissues out for Lilly Ledbetter, Julian Castro, and Michelle Obama. (our mom-in-chief). I was floored by Nancy Keenan (president of NARAL, ProChoice America) being given prime time national coverage– is this what progress looks like? Cecile Richards of Planned Parenthood spoke earlier tonight, which was also incredibly exciting, but for NARAL/Democrats/Obama to be so publicly affiliated seriously just about knocked me over. Maybe we’re seeing the end of abortion-shaming and more general woman-shaming.

Like Sandra Fluke just said, its time to choose which America we are going to live in– Paul Ryan, redefining rape, advocating fetal Personhood; or Barack Obama, advocating affordable or free birth control for all women. Elizabeth Warren is on now, and we’re sitting in awe. I’m attempted to tweet from the national account @UniteWomenOrg (cough, you should follow) while paying attention, while smelling brownies baking in the kitchen. I don’t know which is most distracting, haha!

I want to know, where were you four years ago? What did you think about your reproductive rights, health care, jobs, education, debt, etc four years ago? I was just beginning my first semester of undergrad, with no concerns for how my meds would get paid for every month, or how my co-pays would be paid– not to mention what would happen when I turned 22 and was out of school. Life is scarier for me now, the future is scarier, but without Obama I have no doubt in my mind that I’d be on Medicaid and without all of the medicines that I need. I would lose my left ovary through an emergency room trip and several ovarian cysts. It would mean I’d be out of work for several weeks. It would mean I’d lose my job. I’d go back to waiting tables for $2.13/hr and wondering how I’d eat. But instead, I’m still going to wait tables for $2.13/hr, but I’m going to have my medicine, I’m going to have a whole body and a healthy mind– and that is priceless. I’m ready to go forward, and I’m ready to fight for it. Where were you four years ago? Are you ready to fight for progress?

NARAL
Planned Parenthood
UniteWomen

[fat] a new diet begins

I’ve joined weight watchers this week. The online food diary from last semester helped me figure out what I should and shouldn’t eat, but somehow weight watchers feels more legitimate?
I have metabolic syndrome, meaning that I have elevated cholesterol, elevated blood sugar, a slow metabolism, elevated blood pressure, and a knack for not ever being able to lose weight. The carrots and hummus diet did nothing. The protein water diet did nothing. So now I’m on to the most legitimate thing I can find online. I weighed in this week at a whopping 220.5 pounds. Standing at just 5 feet and 6 inches tall when I bother to stand straight, my BMI tells me that I’m obese, and that my ideal weight is 125-155. That’s 65.5 pounds to lose. And according to my doctor if I don’t lose it, I’ll be diabetic just like my grandmother. I inherited the huge boobs and bad blood, way to go.

My cortisol levels aren’t terrible right now, but stress and anxiety are words that would best describe the inside of my head. My younger sister has borderline personality disorder, my parents are going through a nasty divorce, and things spiraled out of control over four and a half years ago after my sister was drunk, drugged, and raped by a friend. At the age of 14. Chocolate and beer have been great coping mechanisms, but coupled with stress and a predisposition for diabetes, I backed myself into a cave I’m not sure I can find my way out of.
Cortisol levels screwing up means that my fat doesn’t amass on my arms, legs, belly, and boobs in a somewhat proportional manner. My legs are still as skinny and muscular as when I was swimming and weightlifting at 140 pounds. My arms have a little more fat on them than back when I could bench 95 pounds, which is pretty great for a girl. My boobs now look proportional, now that I’ve had three pounds removed at the age of 16 and they’ve grown back.
My belly looks like I’m pregnant. I bought maternity jeans because they’re the only thing that will fit me besides sweatpants. I don’t get to walk around with a sign that says “I have a thyroid problem. I have severe anxiety. I have a predisposition for diabetes.” I get to appear as the fat blob in my university classes, the girl no one can share clothes with. My weight has begun to affect the way that I can sit and move, and as a former dancer it kills me to feel unable to move easily. It feels as though no matter what I do, what I eat, what I don’t eat, my weight is slowly and surely inching up, and spiraling out of control.
Hopefully the new diet works. Right now my goal is just 209.5, 5% of my weight. And my challenge for the week is to drink all eight glasses of water every day.