My Song

I was watching America's Got Talent last night. They closed the show with a 12 year-old opera singer. Of course they showed the obligatory, tear-inducing back story of the girl before she sang. She spoke of her grandfather who had first played opera for her and encouraged her to sing and develop her skill. Then she spoke of her grandfather's passing and how it affected her. She said that at least when she sings, it's as if her grandfather is still with her. Naturally I (and I assume half of America) was in tears before the kid uttered a single note. I wept because I know exactly how she feels.

This is my mom on the day I was born.  She looks pretty damn good for a woman who just spent 38 hours in labor.

My mom was a singer.  So were her sisters and brothers.  Her whole family is musical.  My mom put my sister and I in our first choir almost as soon as we could speak.  We fell in love with music.  I sang from the age of 5 up until I finished high school. I even competed vocally from 8th grade-12th.  But then I went off to college and became distracted by work and exams and boys.  Music just kind of fell out of my life.  I regret that.

Part of my world came crashing down the day before Thanksgiving in 2001.  My mom went into the hospital for minor out-patient surgery.  At least it was supposed to be minor.  Things went horribly wrong.  She ended up having emergency open heart surgery. They intubated her, which involves sliding a tube down the trachea through the vocal chords.  She was intubated on a ventilator for weeks. It did permanent damage to her vocal chords and she was never able to sing again.  At least, not like she had once upon a time.  She survived, but she was no longer the mom that I knew.  She wasn't the mom that sang me to sleep so many years ago.

My mom died 9 1/2 years later.  It was a Sunday.  Suddenly I had to plan a funeral.  I had to select her favorite verses of scripture, pick the perfect flowers, and, of course, the right music.  That part was easy. My mom and I share the same favorite hymns.  My cousin asked if we would like her to sing at the funeral.  Of course we said yes.  By that point I was exhausted by the process of saying goodbye to my mother so I told my cousin to pick whatever song she would like to perform.  My cousin didn't tell me what she intended to sing, and I didn't ask, so I didn't find out what she had selected until I heard the opening bars. She chose Amazing Grace.  It's actually rather ironic.  My mother hated Amazing Grace.  No, I think hate is too strong a word.  She felt that it was overused and had lost its resonance.  Regardless, she wouldn't have wanted it at her funeral. My sister and I looked at each other wide-eyed with a look of  'Oh s**t.  What do we do?' But we were sitting in a packed funeral chapel surrounded by family and friends and our cousin was already signing her heart out.  So we just sat there and tried not to laugh.  It became our little secret.

Music is a powerful thing.  It has the power to instantly transport you back to a specific moment. Now all it takes is hearing any number of songs that my mom loved and, just like that 12 year-old opera singer, I feel her with me.  The connection is so strong that sometimes I have to remind myself that she's not there. Then again, maybe she is.

I'm no longer part of a formal choir or musical group. I sing for myself now. All the time. Incessantly. Just ask any of my past coworkers. I sing to make myself happy.  I sing because to stop would be to lose a part of myself. There's a song I performed at OMEA competition (all you music nerds are familiar, I'm sure) that I think sums it up.

     For as long as I have music
     As long as there's a song for me to sing
     I can find my way, I can see a brighter day
     The music in my life will set my spirit free.

A Hard Day's Night

I'm not 100% sure how this hedgehog will tie into this post.  I haven't really planned out what I'm about to say.  I'm just going to wing it and hope I reach a semi-plausible and uplifting conclusion.  But, come on, isn't your day already better looking at that adorable face?  If not, well I just can't help you.  You need more professional help than I am licensed to provide.

I've fallen on some tough times recently.  I tore the cornea in my eye (not just scratched, actually tore; as in needed corrective surgery to put it back together) which is excruciatingly painful.  It's pretty hard to look at a computer screen (which just goes to show how dedicated I am to my small handful of followers).  All of my immediate family members have also suffered their own tragedies and challenges recently, but their stories aren't mine to tell.  Just know that the Pirrone family can use all the prayers it can get.

We all fall on tough times.  Some days feel more dire than others.  In those times it can seem impossible to see a way out of the jungle through the tangle of trees and vines.  Life is hard.  It's overwhelming.  But we can't just quit.  We can't allow ourselves to be defeated.  We all have our own coping mechanisms to deal with it.  For those Christians out there I point you towards several verses that have helped me.  

Psalms 34:18 "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

Romans 8:37 "No, in all things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us."  

Philippians 4:13 "I can do all things through Him who strengthens me." (There.  I managed to tie in the hedgehog. Good for me.)

For those of you who do not subscribe to Christian dogma, this is where friends come in.  When I found out I had cancer I was terrified and felt completely lost.  I still have no idea what my doctor said after she gave me the diagnosis.  Once you hear the word "cancer" everything else fades out and it becomes you and this disease and nothing else.  I learned very quickly, though, that I was not alone. That I had dozens of people there to support me and help me fight the good fight.  Sometimes that meant hugs and tears but sometimes it just meant getting me out for ice cream and a movie (Thanks, Tiff. You're the best.)  Sometimes we simply need to humble ourselves and ask for help.  Often that is the hardest thing, but the most necessary, that we can do.

Why, then, is it so dang hard for me to ask for help?  Not just for me, but for everyone.  Maybe because when you're in the midst of something, your heart is burdened and you don't want to pass that burden on to others.  It's all about pride.  So I'm going to say this, and I'm saying it to myself as much as to all of you.  Get over yourself.  Your friends aren't just there for the crazy dance-all-night, one-tequila-too-many, whose-pants-are-these times. Not the good ones, at least.  The good ones are there for both the ebbs and the flows.  They are there to hold your hand when you are lost and your heart when you are broken.  When you take that away from them it's as if you're saying you don't trust them with your well being.

My best friend lives 200 miles away from me.  That's almost as painful as a torn cornea (almost; a torn cornea is pretty bad) but I know that I can call and cry for an hour and she'll be there.  I am safe with her.  Where she is, I am home.  But it only works when I ask.  

So, please, ask for help.  Don't give in to the weight of the world.  Challenge yourself, but ask for help along the way.  No one knows how to do anything perfectly the first time around.  Don't expect to change the world today.  Just expect to change YOUR world today.  Do that, and you'll accomplish more than you ever imagined.  Even Mr. Hedgehog agrees.

I guess you'll do

This is me and a guy I dated back in college.  We look pretty happy.  Actually, we were pretty happy most of the time.  There were even moments when I thought I might marry him someday.  Things didn't work out, though.  To be honest, I'm happy they didn't.  Don't get me wrong, I loved him. I was 100% all-in, head-over-heels in love with him, but we weren't meant to be together.

He wasn't a bad guy.  He treated me all right. He was, for the most part, respectful, and never ever thought about raising a hand to me.  But we weren't meant to be a couple.  For over a year I put up with his drinking and recreational drug use.  I tolerated coming in second to World of Warcraft.  I defended him over and over again to my friends and family.  We had very different values and aspirations, but I convinced myself that my love was greater than all our differences and that, eventually, he'd change.  Those are the types of things you convince yourself of when you're as young as I was.

Looking back, I think there was a part of me that just didn't want to be alone.  I didn't think very highly of myself which led me to assume that the rest of the world didn't think highly of me either. There I was with a cute guy already committed and willing to attach himself to me and I was too scared to go off in search of something better. I think a lot of fat girls know what I'm talking about. We're so desperate for affection that we say yes to the first person that asks.  I've been doing it most of my life.  I've dated drunks.  I've dated guys that belittled and humiliated me.  I've even dated guys that beat me senseless.  All in the name of not being branded "single".

Here's what I've learned from all that: You will not find a real, worthwhile relationship until you value yourself.  I say 'value' not love because I don't think any woman ever truly loves herself all of the time.  It's important to remember that even when you are unhappy with certain physical or emotional characteristics, you can still value yourself.  Until you recognize your true inner value, you will stay in adequate relationships.  Nothing great ever comes out of deciding "he'll do."  Go watch The Notebook.  Do you think that story would have been as powerful if Noah and Allie had each thought the other was just swell?  Consider Romeo & Juliet or Pyramus & Thisbe.  Both couples would rather die than live in a world without their other half.  Even in the real world, King Edward VIII of England abdicated his throne, a first for the monarchy, in order to wed an American divorcee. His love for her was greater and more valuable to him than the crown.

Bottom line, don't sell yourself short.  You have so many amazing gifts and talents.  You deserve better than someone who is no more than a place filler.  You deserve better than just to be someone else's place filler.  You deserve the longing glances, the butterflies in your stomach, the passion and desire.  You deserve doing stupid things out of love.

I'll be the first to admit that it takes a lot longer waiting for someone special when there are so many possibilities for 'ordinary' out there. But I've gone down the road more traveled and just gotten worn out. Even the break-ups end up being ordinary.  This time I'm waiting for extraordinary.

I'm not saying don't take chances.  When I met the boy in the picture above, romance was the last thing on my mind. But I took a chance and ended up falling in love.  I remember coming home one day and finding a notebook on his desk with the words "This won't work" scribbled over and over again covering the page.  It broke my heart.  So I put a post-it note on top that said "Yes it will.  I believe in you."  In that moment I wanted him to know I believed in him no matter what.  He wasn't just a place filler. Turns out he was just testing out all his pens to see which ones still worked.  In the end I was just a place filler for him.  That's why things didn't work out.  We definitely weren't right for each other, but I got to be in love, if only for a little while, and I walked away knowing a heck of a lot more about who I am and what I need out of a partner.

What I hope you'll take away from all of this is that you are worth the wait.  You are worth flowers and love notes and missing each other when you're apart.  You are worth 'till death do us part'.  It sounds a lot better than 'till something better comes along' and it feels a lot better than 'I guess you'll do'.  So take a deep breath and prepare for the journey.  In the end, it's well worth the wait.

It's a Sham

There's always an element of fear that you need to work a lot until people get sick and tired of you or finally figure out that you're a fraud after all. -- Ben Stiller

Things gained through unjust fraud are never secure. -- Sophocles

I hate to brag, but I gotta tell you, I’m freaking awesome.  I’m pretty. I’m smart. I’m hilarious. I’m driven. I learn fast and work hard.  I’m not too terrible a writer. Yup.  Pretty freaking awesome.

Now that I’ve said all that I can tell you with complete honesty that I am 100% full of crap.  I’m not that pretty; at least boys don’t seem to think so.  I know enough random facts to convince everyone I’m smart, then I leave before there are follow up questions. I don’t learn quickly at all. I actually struggle with learning new things.  I do work hard, and I am hilarious, but those are just to cover up my litany of inadequacies. The majority of my time is spent feeling like a complete and utter fraud. I honestly thought I was the only one that felt that way until I saw a post on a friend’s page about this very issue. They call it Imposter Syndrome. It’s that feeling where no matter how much you accomplish in life, you still feel like you’re tricking everyone and you’re actually not good at anything. Even on those occasions when I do manage to get things right I feel like it was a matter of luck, not skill.

A while back, long before starting this blog, I started a series of posts on FB titled “Notes to My Younger Self”.   It was intended to be a comical/satirical series about things like missing socks and automatic toilets. Then one day I was feeling particularly insecure and unsure of myself so I decided to write to myself about the problem.  It really helped clear my head of some things. Some of you have already read the following, but for those of you that haven’t, I hope it brings you comfort or maybe just lets you know that someone else feels that way, too. Enjoy.

Dear Young Andrea,
There will be many days in your life that you will feel like an imposter. You're just waiting for the world to discover that all your accomplishments are no more than smoke and mirrors. Please understand, everybody feels that way sometimes. EVERYBODY. No matter how bright and shiny everyone else's lives seem, they all feel uncertain inside.

Now, it's okay to feel that way sometimes. It's normal. But there's something I NEED you to remember so put down the Game Boy and pay attention. You are AMAZING. You put yourself through college. You graduated despite all the roadblocks that got put in your way. You've suffered losses but didn't give up. You've had your heart broken, but you're still out there willing to take a chance on love. You've held onto your faith in a loving God despite what feels like constant adversity. You've survived abuse, accidents, even cancer.

You are not a sham. You are the real deal! You have been forgiven and blessed here on Earth but also (and more importantly) in heaven. People love you! You inspire people! So the next time you feel like a big old fake, read this and know just how special you are.
Love Always.
Older Andrea

To See or Not to See

"I am invisible...simply because people refuse to see me."

-- The Invisible Man, Ralph Waldo Emmerson

Can you imagine being invisible?  Never to have your very existence acknowledged?  It is more than just a painful slight.  It leaves one questioning their validity and worth in this world. Others do not value you, so you simply do not exist in their world.  In youth, children are very vocal about their judgments and condemnation. In adulthood we resort to freezing someone out.  Everyone somehow cumulatively decides to pretend an individual doesn't exit. 

It doesn't seem like that much of a problem.  Everyone in your sphere reaching an unspoken mutual agreement to cast you out. Who needs them anyway, right?  But keep in mind, humans are pack animals.  We require interpersonal relationships within the herd in order to exist. Remove those relationships and you remove the victim's motivation for survival.  In the wild, pack animals will banish those who have misbehaved for varying lengths of time as a punishment for misbehavior. Humans, however, do it simply because an individual is different. It is a cruel, inhumane, lonely existence for those shunned by society.

On the other hand there is the life too closely examined.  For those of us on the fringe of society, too much attention is dangerous. It gives our detractors more ammunition to use against us. You begin to feel as though you were under a microscope with each flaw being pointed at and mocked.  When you add in the threat of cyber bullying the attention can be too much to bear.  There's a line from the movie Pretty Woman that comes to mind.  Julia Roberts tells Richard Gere "The bad stuff is easier to believe."  That is more true than we'd like to believe.  Being invisible makes one question their worth, but being scrutinized tells you that you have none.

I'm not sure that one scenario is necessarily better or worse than the other.  Both leave the individual feeling worthless and hopeless.  I've survived both scenarios and I can't say I enjoyed either one.  I DO know what would have changed those situations for me and it only takes 3 words. "I appreciate you."

We all put so much emphasis on saying 'I love you' to others but I think 'I appreciate you' carries just as much, if not more, weight.  Think about it.  How often do you hear those words? 'I love you' is said so often that it becomes a knee-jerk reaction.  "I love you" followed by "Love you, too."  We say it so often it becomes an automatic response. Instead, try telling someone you appreciate them.  It's definitely not something anyone expects to hear out of the blue.  In three words you both acknowledge someone exists and validate their worth.  I appreciate you.  It's so simple, but so unexpected.  It catches the listener off guard and makes them think a moment on what they've just heard.  It makes them feel special and, yes, even loved.

I encourage you to try it out.  With three words you can make a person feel both less invisible and less scrutinized at the same time. It will change the recipient's perspective of themselves, you, and the relationship you share.  With three words you can change someone's world and, as an added bonus, maybe even your own.

Rise

Greetings, friends.  I’ve had a funny memory rattling around in my head for the past several days.  I’ve been thinking about it so much that I’ve decided it must be God telling me to write about it.  Message received, God.

Once upon a time (about 6 or 7 years ago) my mother was very ill and I had to take her to the hospital.  Her knees had been damaged in several car accidents over her life so she had difficulty walking.  Because of this, the hospital put a bracelet on her that said “FALL RISK”.  She looked at me and said, “They should put one of these on you” to which I replied, “There’s a difference, Mom.  I can get back up.”

But my mom was right.  I should have a bracelet that says ‘FALL RISK.’  This is a pic I took while waiting at the hospital after I broke my wrist in May 2015:

I think that was my 13^th broken bone.  There have been several more since.  That’s why my nickname is “Accident” Pirrone.  At this point I should probably skip the bracelet and just get the words ‘fall risk’ tattooed on my forehead.

The thing about that brief exchange with my mom that keeps it in my mind is the punchline.  ‘I can get back up.’ That’s somewhat a metaphor for life, isn’t it?  I’ve been knocked down, but I always get back up.  That’s the key; not the fall, but the rise.  Victims are knocked down.  They become survivors when they get back up.  They may be bruised or have a few scars, but scars are not signs of defeat.  They are badges of honor; war trophies that proclaim to the world that we have survived. 

The painful truth is that the world WILL knock you down.  I don’t care if you are fat, Muslim, black, gay, a teen mom, a recovering addict or some other group; people will find something, some way that you are different, and they will beat you down until you fit into a little box with everyone else deemed ‘different’.  They will convince you that you have less worth.  Eventually you’ll start to believe that those labels are right and just.  You’ll start to see yourself in terms of that label.  That’s the fall.  It takes great effort and patience to see beyond the label.  You have to stop seeing these derogatory words as anything more than adjectives.  If you can do that, if you can start to see the offensive as mundane, then you can take the power out of the bully’s hands.  You reclaim yourself and your identity.  You get back up.

It sounds so simple, doesn’t it?  But it’s not simple.  Trust me, I know.  It’s almost the hardest thing we will ever have to do.  Even as we try to reject surface judgments, the world will continue to tell us those judgments are true.  And to a certain extent, they are true.  But they aren’t the whole story.  They aren’t what makes us who we are.  We choose that by what actions we take and how we live our lives.  Our inner selves are determined by what drives us, what we are passionate about, and what we are willing to take a stand for. 

We will each fall many times in our lives.  We will face prejudice.  We will be humiliated.  We will be ashamed.  We will be broken.  We will be lonely.  We will be scared.  It looks insurmountable.  It feels hopeless.  One could look at that list and ask why try?  To which I say, because those thing are all temporary.  Because there are greater things to come.  Yes, you will hurt.  But you’ll learn to toughen up.  You will stop listening to the maddening crowds.  You will stop looking up and saying ‘I can’t’ and start looking back and saying ‘I did.’  You will stop discounting yourself.  You will love and be loved.  And, when you’re ready, you will rise.

Pretty Women

Greetings, friends.  We all have those days where we just don’t feel confident. I’m not talking about depression (that’s a topic for a later date).  I mean those days were everything seems cloudy and blah. I have a suggestion for surviving those days that some of you will totally agree with but some of you may find offensive. It’s very simple. Put on a dress. Or a skirt. Or even just makeup. 

I can already feel some of you rolling your eyes. You’re saying that this suggestion just feeds into antiquated gender roles and stereotypes. Do me a favor and hear me out.  That’s not what this is about.  I don’t believe anyone should be forced to wear a dress or heels simply because society says so. But while I’m NOT saying that you are required to play dress up, I AM saying that dressing sharply can, and usually will, make you feel better and more confident. I didn’t invent this fact. Your brain did. If you still disagree with me, go complain to your prefrontal cortex. 

There’s an old expression that I live by that says ‘Look good, Feel good.’ Sometimes all it takes to change your mood is a swishy skirt.  Even on those days where I’m going to be on the run and don’t feel like dealing with a dress, a little mascara and lip gloss will work just fine. I don’t know why it works, but it does. When I take a little extra time getting ready, I feel more confident and self-assured.  I become more productive, more friendly, and just more fun to be around. I must warn you though; in order for this to work you must adhere to one simple but crucial rule: Do NOT dress for anyone but yourself. Wear something that makes you feel sexy and adventurous. Dressing to please someone else completely defeats the purpose.

As a general rule, there are some staples that every woman should have at the ready.  I feel that every woman’s closet should have at least one dress appropriate for weddings, one for funerals, one for interviews, and one for dates. There may very well be some overlap, but your wardrobe should always be prepared to accommodate each of those occasions.  I know a woman who has 1 dress that covers all 4.  Lucky jerk. I’ve been trying for 20 years to find a dress like that, but it’s somewhat like searching for the lost city of Atlantis. Realistically you know it just doesn’t exist, but your heart drives you to keep searching.

In addition to having the perfect dress for any occasion, you should also have the perfect underwear.  I can’t tell you how many women have told me that they don’t have any sexy, fun lingerie.  Seriously, ladies?  Come on!  A pretty bra is the simplest path to Look good, Feel good!  A good bra will lift and separate and make your boobs feel like they did when you were 18!  I know lingerie can be expensive, but you deserve at least one pair of panties that didn’t come out of a 5-pack.  This is one area that you deserve to spend a little on. You moms out there need this more than anyone. Once you have kids, it’s like you stop being a woman and suddenly transform into this asexual ‘Mom’ being. You deserve something that reminds you that you are still a sexy, fun, wonderful woman.

It can be really hard to maintain a positive disposition all the time.  Actually, I’d venture to say that it’s impossible.  Not only does the world heap expectations on us, but all too often we do it to ourselves. We expect to be the perfect mothers, wives, employees, neighbors, and friends. We set standards that are unattainable, then feel defeated when we come up short.  With all that pressure, we need certain tricks at our disposal to help us keep it together.  That’s what Look good, Feel good is all about.  It’s not about antiquated gender roles or meeting society’s expectation. It’s about finding ways to remind ourselves that we are fun, sexy, desirable women.  Even on the cloudiest of days.

Snake Oil and Desperation

Greetings, friends.  This is another one of those topics that I've gone back and forth on.  Do I keep quiet about this subject to protect my dignity, or do I open yet another drawer in my closet labeled 'Horribly Embarrassing'.  In the end, I AM attempting to help others and write for the greater good, so I guess 'embarrassing' it is.

The picture above shows SOME of the diet pills and vitamins I've used over the past 6 years in a vain attempt to lose weight.  SOME, not all.  These are the ones I haven't already consumed or thrown away.  There's easily a couple grand invested in that box.

I can hear some of you now. You think I'm stupid, gullible, lazy, and/or looking for a quick fix. And to a certain extent you'd be right.  But I think the adjective most of you skipped over, the word that never occurred to you, is 'desperate'. Desperate to lose weight. Desperate to be accepted. Desperate not to die at a young age.

The common consensus of the public, be it TV, radio, internet, or other media platform, is that if fat people don't want to be fat, they should just stop being fat.  To the "normals" it's just that easy.  Wake up, say you don't want to be fat anymore, problem solved. We don't take that approach to those suffering from other addictions.  That's why heroin addicts go to rehab instead of just saying 'I don't want to use heroin anymore'. Not only is that a ridiculous suggestion in both circumstances, but there is a big difference between food and other addictions. You can live without heroin, you can't live without food.  Maybe you can in the short term, but it's not a viable 5-year plan.

Losing weight is a battle. Keeping it off is a war. Members of the plus size community put on armor every day hoping that today goes better than yesterday. It doesn't help that the opposing team is yelling slurs at us and trying to psych us out. Given that environment I ask you, does it seem like such a cop-out to resort to diet pills?  Can you see why individuals would try anything at their disposal to get a leg up? The entire world is screaming at you to be thin yesterday so, yeah, you go to great lengths.  We're lucky that today's elixirs are special teas, or green coffee bean extracts, or mysterious roots found only in the most remote corners of the rain forest.  It wasn't that long ago that tapeworms were the recommended diet cure-all.  And I bet if that was still an options, I'd probably have tried that, too.

Last night ABC aired an episode of the show 'What Would You Do?' that was particularly apt for this discussion  If you haven't seen the show, I highly recommend it.  They set up ethical dilemmas, then film to see if anyone will intercede.  One of the dilemmas on last night's episode centered around teens using diet pills.  ABC loaded up a public restaurant with hidden cameras then had two thin teenage girls (actors) pressure their chubby friend (also an actor) to take diet pills.  The mean girls tried very hard to convince their friend saying things like 'Don't you want to be pretty?' or 'Don't you want a boyfriend?'  Then they let the unsuspecting public do the rest.  I gotta say, I am so proud of those unsuspecting patrons.  Time and time again they approached either the group or just the lone girl begging her not to take the pills. They made the girl aware of the negative side effects that pills can have, but more importantly they warned of the negative side effects of keeping such crappy friends. They told her she was beautiful.  They told her she was valuable.  I was almost in tears.

I no longer use any of the pills in potions in the above referenced box.  I finally woke up and realized that, if ANY of those pills worked, the world would not have an obesity crisis.  I stick to watching what I eat (when my willpower allows) and letting Yolanda kick my ass in the gym.  But not everyone has gotten to that point yet.  I implore all of you to be more like the restaurant patrons and not the shitty friends.  Encourage your friends.  Praise them.  But never, ever, ask them to comply with some arbitrary standard.  Don't worry, they'll discover beauty on their own.  Even if it takes them 30 years to get there.

Us and Them

Greetings, friends.  I've been thinking a lot about prejudice today.  I realize that I spend a lot of time on here talking about the prejudice that I have experienced.  I don't apologize for that.  Social awareness is one of the reasons I created Life in the Fat Lane to begin with (that and the fact that it's really fun to say Life in the Fat Lane).  What I DO apologize for is coming across as some poor victim that the world has eviscerated and everyone should love me and feel sorry for me.  Screw that jazz.  I'm no victim.  I'm a survivor.  A victim wallows in their misery.  They rest in a pocket of despair and grief that has been carved out for them.  A survivor builds a rope ladder and climbs the heck out. Please understand, I'm not attacking those still trapped in the 'victim' stage.  Anyone who has ever suffered hardship starts off at that checkpoint.  It just takes some longer than others to move on.  Even those who HAVE made it past the 'victim' stage will occasionally backslide.  That's what happened to me yesterday.  I heard terrible jokes made at my expense and I backslid all the way back into my hole.  But I prayed about it and I sought help from others and I reminded myself that other people don't get to define me.  Only I get to do that.

Another thing I feel it's important to interject is that not all prejudice is inherently bad (go with me on this).  There have been times when I have found myself walking alone at night (which is a stupid thing to do and none of you should EVER do it). If I see a man coming towards me, I will probably cross the street or change directions.  Now, I KNOW that there's a 99% chance that the guy is an upstanding citizen and I'm just being a bitch, but I'm okay with that.  I'm thrilled every time I make it home without being raped and/or murdered.  I'm really sorry if it hurt your feelings strange, scary man, but I care a lot more about my feelings than I care about yours.  I think self-preservation is, at times, an acceptable reason to display prejudice. Now if I had yelled something like, 'Stay away, [insert racial slur]! I've got mace!" That would have turned it into a completely different situation.  But, as long as you quietly go about the business of not being raped and/or murdered, you get a pass.

Back to bad prejudice.  Yes, I have experienced a great deal of it.  But I'm sure I could be accused of doling it out as well.  I once made a comment that deeply offended a gay friend of mine.  Granted, I was 17 and incapable of controlling the words that came out of my mouth (heck I'm 37 now and I still can't) but that doesn't make it okay.  First off, you don't make jokes about the LGBTQ community. You just don't.  Period.  They've been persecuted enough.  They deserve safe zones where they can be themselves without being afraid or uncomfortable.  Second, this person was someone I loved as if they were family.  You don't do that shit to family.  Family deserves so much better. That was 19 years ago but I'm still ashamed about it. I don't think the other person even remembers this happening. I'm not sure. We lost touch in college.  If they DO remember and happen to be reading this, I am so very, truly sorry from the bottom of my heart.  Although I still feel shame, I'm somewhat grateful for that mistake. It makes me humble. It reminds me of what words can do. It stops me from saying things that might hurt the people I love.  At least most of the time.

Nonetheless, I'm human. And I make judgments of people based on stereotypes and gut feeling.  For example, my 8 year old nephew wants to play in the NFL when he grows up.  Now, I love my nephew very much. But he's a tall, rail thin, Irish kid from the 'burbs.  It's very hard to tell that adorable, pasty, freckled face that he hasn't suffered enough adversity to make it to the NFL, if you know what I mean. Instead I just tell him that he'll be a great astronaut some day.  Let his mom teach him about racism.

As far as I know I haven't been overtly prejudiced against anyone. I try not to be. I firmly support both Black Lives Matter as well as Blue Lives Matter (I don't understand why people think you have to pick a side). I'm not blind to the fact that I benefit from white privilege, but I try not to go out of my way to milk it for all it's worth (I figure my boobs will gain me more favor than my pasty skin).  I firmly believe that women should be included in the military draft and should be able to serve their country in whatever capacity they desire.  As for my nephew...well...I'm buying that kid an astronomy book.

The Great Joy Heist

Greetings, friends.  It’s good to know you’re still around after yesterday’s intense lesson.  Today I thought it prudent to adopt a lighter tone so today we will talk about joy.

There’s an expression we’ve all heard over and over again to ‘Never let anyone steal your joy.’  That is so, so true.  It’s definitely a mantra I have to repeat in my head daily if not hourly.  All too often we plus-size people fall into the trap of letting other people steal our joy.  For example, you could be having the most amazing day at the beach, but let just one teenage douchebag make a “beached whale” comment and the party is over.  Fold up the chairs, grab your towel, we’re out of here. 

But why?  Weren’t you having fun?  Did you build a sand castle?  You can’t leave without building a sand castle!  Sand castles are one of the two funnest architectural structures to create (the other being blanket forts).  Then there are always shells to collect, and waves to play in.  There’s boogie boarding and surfing if you have any shred of balance or agility (which I do not).  So, why are you leaving?  Oh right.  Because the douchebag said you were fat.  The guy that you will never, ever, not in a million years ever see or hear from again.  It reminds me of a lesson that my dad taught me a long time ago about life in general.  He said, “Your success or failure in life will depend on your ability to deal with a**holes.”  When you suffer from low self-esteem, regardless of whether it stems from body issues or something else, it can be very hard to find yourself in a positive situation where you feel happy and fulfilled.  So, for those fleeting moments that you DO feel joy, don’t waste it!  ESPECIALLY on a**holes.

Now, as important as it is to protect your joy and never let anyone steal it, it’s not the whole story.  The crucial part that always gets left off of that life lesson is, ‘Do not expect anyone to create your joy.’  It’s just like how the Declaration of Independence endows the right to the PURSUIT of happiness, not happiness itself.  I missed out on so much of my life sitting in my room waiting for others to come to me.  I waited patiently for someone to invite me to live.  I did manage to do SOME living.  I’ve had slumber parties, went trick-or-treating, visited the beach, even went horseback riding in the Appalachian Mountains.  Those moments of joy are mine to keep forever.  But they were fleeting.  I listen to people talk about their crazy exploits during high school and college and feel like I really missed out.  They all had so much fun together!  They had fun while I waited patiently for someone to invite me to live.

Now I’m a grownup.  The days of impetuousness have passed me by.  Now we all have jobs, spouses, kids, responsibilities.  We schedule in coffee around Little League games and dance recitals.  We promise to have dinner as soon as I’m back from my next business trip.  Most of our conversations end with, “We should get together sometime!”  But then we never do.  We mean to.  We truly want that time to connect.  We might even pencil it in on the calendar.  But then that day rolls around and the dog goes missing, and Mikey comes down with the chicken pox, and your boss needs you to put in some extra hours on the Feldman case.  Next thing you know, that window you created for joy flies away, not to be seen again for another hundred years.  It’s Just. Not. Fair. 

I have a friend who is a relatively new mom.  Her world currently revolves around identifying which part of her baby is leaking fluids and plugging the leak.  Then there’s me.  I have my own child.  He just happens to be 68 and named Dad, but he’s every bit the challenge for me that the infant is for my friend.  Despite the roadblocks, we are making an effort to be there for each other more.  Believe me when I tell you, it feels pretty damn good spending time with her.  Being with girlfriends heals you in a way other relationships won’t.  You feel stronger, prettier, and more capable just because you spent time with them.  So hire a babysitter (or force dad to be alone with the kids for once), call in sick to work, and go see your girlfriend.  Create a moment of joy for yourself and don’t let anyone take it away from you.  Not even yourself.

The Phoenix

This will, in all likelihood, be the hardest, scariest, most painful truth that I've ever put online.  I really hope those of you reading these words will share them with the world.  These are real statements from real people that have had real impact.

WHAT WE SEE/HEAR ONLINE

 “I can't even find a normal human-shaped person to date around here. Everyone is fat, especially females. I've tried dating them but their naked bodies are SICKENING. They don't even look like humans.” – Anonymous

“The Crusade against Fat People has written time and time again on the problems that fatties cause in our society, and why they are sub-par humans for it. “– Anonymous

“To the overweight people, no, I am not going to accept you for who you are with that bullshit excuse 'you should love me because I am beautiful'. Your personality may be beautiful but your body is not. It's not OK to be overweight.”-- John Burk

“Excess Body Fat Is Repulsive”—John Barban

“Tell me how fat chicks aren’t among the worst human beings on the planet.”—Edward Thatch

“They're grotesque. Those rolls of fat hanging off their bodies are not attractive. They're disgusting. Fat people are more of a parody of humans than actual human beings.”—Anonymous

HOW IT MAKES US FEEL

“No matter where I go I am ashamed of who I am. I don’t like to eat in front of people, even if it’s healthy, because I feel like people give me dirty looks. Like I’m not allowed to be hungry because I’m fat. And I’m scared to walk the neighborhood for exercise because I’m worried about getting dirty looks or mean comments. Same at the gym. I’ve been getting them my whole life.”—Destinee

“One day while on my daily walk, someone screamed out of their car “you’re still fat”. I was so discouraged, it’s like I was trying and still some random stranger had to put me down. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. It’s very hurtful when people think it’s their right to tell you you’re fat or not trying hard enough.”—Dawn

“I do hate myself. I’ve starved myself, but only gained weight, dieted, and done just about anything to lose this weight; to no avail. I’m 20 now and I have absolutely no motivation to try anymore. My body is beyond repair and so is my self-esteem. I am afraid to go outside, because of the ridicule I face, so often I just hole up in my room.”—Amelia

“You can’t possibly suggest that it doesn’t hurt, and you should think twice about saying that we deserve it to hurt.”—Jay

There’s one more I need to add.  I’ve separated it because it has meaning to me:

“Can you kill yourself already?  This school will be a much nicer place without you.”

I separated it because it’s my story.  It was said to me.  I was 16.  I wish I could say I didn’t consider her suggestion.  I wish no one EVER considered that type of suggestion, but they do.  Some do more than consider it.  I guess I’m one of the lucky ones.

It feels strange to call myself one of the “lucky” ones.  I was tormented every day at school. Then I would go home and hope I didn’t get beaten up by my dad. I took to cutting the inside of my arm and then my thighs with really sharp scissors.  I wasn't trying to kill myself.  Physical pain is just much easier to handle than emotional pain. 

I barely had any friends.  I joined various clubs and activities to try to make more friends, but no one wanted to be associated with the fat kid and I was quickly edged out of the groups.  I was a smart kid, so I started doing homework for the B-List’ers hoping to eek my way off the D-list by association.  That didn’t work either.  I was even ostracized at church because all the kids in the youth group came from families with more money than mine.

To be honest, I’m not sure how I survived high school or the decades that followed.  You see, bullying doesn’t go away after graduation; it just relocates.  It follows you from job to job, city to city.  It creates a monologue in your head telling you that you have no worth.  It whispers in your ear that you are too ugly to be around the "normals".  The voice is so powerful that you begin to believe that the world would be so much better without people like you in it.  You lose hope.

It has taken me almost 30 years, from ages 9 through 36, to start to appreciate myself.  Now I know how amazing I am.  I am smart.  I am funny.  I am generous.  I am loyal.  I am strong.  I do not fear hell because I have already been there and survived.  I am a phoenix.   

There's a plaque in my doctor's office that says, "You never know how strong you are until strong is the only choice you have."  I wish I could give that plaque to every fat girl out there who is struggling.  I wish I could whisper in their ears and remind them that we must fall before we rise.  I want them to know that only through great adversity do we gain great strength.  Then I want to be there to see them discover that strength and see what they do with it.  I can't wait to see how they will change the world.

Fitness Accomplished

Greetings, friends.  Today I'm writing this message not just to you, but to myself because this is something I struggle with every week.

I work out with a personal trainer 2-3 times a week.  I have to push myself just to walk through the door to the gym because, when I'm there I'm surrounded by beautiful people with abs and biceps and no body fat.  It makes me feel like a circus freak.  Even my trainer is gorgeous (damn her).  Just to prove it, here's a picture of me and my trainer:

Yes, my shirt says "EVERYTHING HURTS AND I'M DYING".  It's a true expression of how I feel at the gym, both physically and emotionally.

It's very hard being at a gym surrounded by beautiful people.  Plus, some of the trainers there work with high school athletes.  Do you know how it feels to be fat AND old at the same time.  Not good. Not good at all.

Still, I go to the gym.  Diligently.  Three days from today marks my 1 year anniversary working with my trainer.  As you can see, I'm still fat.  But I still go because I have ulterior motives.  I'm not there to become a size 2.  I'm there because I don't want to die.  My mother died from heart disease when she was only 68.  I don't want to die when I'm 68.  So I choose to work out to strengthen my heart.

Now I'm not the greatest athlete (is there an Olympics for terrible athletes?) but I try very hard to accept every challenge my trainer gives me.  Still, It's just not fair having to do it around all the pretty people.  Yes, I'm very pretty.  But not at the gym.  At the gym I'm a sweaty, red-faced, stringy-haired troll doll.  It's not a pretty sight. Here's an example:

Even though I'm not at my best after work outs, I actually have several pictures of myself taken after working out in the gym or going for 10+ mile bike rides.  Yeah I look terrible, but those pictures remind me of my accomplishment.  I EARNED that troll hair!  At the gym, I'm surrounded by Barbie dolls and Mr. Universe contenders doing super cardio and bench pressing 200 pounds while I'm using 10 pound weights.  But the truth is, I feel like the work I do is an accomplishment because of what I have to work with.  I'm no athlete.  I'm shaped like a potato.  The rest of my gym mates are born athletes and have been sculpting and toning their bodies for years.  I can't compete with that.  No, I SHOULDN'T compete with that.

Last week I warned you about the dangers of comparing your life to your friends on social media. The same goes for people in real life.  I'm not trying to be a Barbie doll or a Mr. Universe contender. I'm just trying not to die (though at times I secretly think my trainer is trying to kill me). It's a day-to-day struggle, but I'm learning to take pride in myself and be excited about my accomplishments. When I'm able to squat a little deeper, hold a plank a few extra seconds, or bend over and touch my toes I remind myself that those are things I couldn't do a year ago.  Those are MY accomplishments. So I'm not going to compare myself to what all the athletes around me are doing.  No, I'm just going to high five myself for a job well done.