Big Fat Kiss

Dunkin the Dog-The Tragedy II

2009-09-15T13:28:00.007-04:00

"Dunkin' was such a peacful dog that he never acted like a "puppy" by playing this much. He dug and dug in the Sedona red sand and only hours later, his life was taken from all of us due to the ABUSE and NEGLIGENCE by the DPS in Arizona. justicefordunkin.blogspot.com Visit my site and support my new cause. Dunkin's Law must be passed to protect your pets and service animals, as Dunkin' was, from being killed. I was tortured by having to watch the DPS chase Dunkin' on the highway while I was wrongfully arrested, cuffed and detained in a hot cop cruiser on July 4th with NO Airconditioning. I have Multiple Sclerosis and I am grieving the loss of my service animal and companion daily. Please read my page and email me asking how you too can help."

PLEASE visit Rosamaria's blog, Justice for Dunkin' Dog. Rosamaria also has a Facebook page. Please consider becoming a fan. Also, post this on your blog, FB, or email a link to friends.

Dunkin the Dog~The Tragedy

2009-09-10T22:48:00.026-04:00

Have you ever seen such a happy little face?

This is Dunkin' the dog.

Sadly, these pics were taken on the last day of Dunkin's life.

It's time to share a story about a special little dog. I've been avoiding doing this post because it makes me SO very sad every time I think about it...but it's time. This lady needs our help.

As an animal lover, I know the special bond that we can have with our pets. Dunkin' the dog was more than a pet. For almost eight years he was a service dog to Rosamaria, a woman with MS. He was senselessly and unnecessarily killed/allowed to die by police.

Rosamaria was also hurt.

Here in it's entirety is Rosamaria's story:

The Tragedy
On July 4th I was driving alone with my service dog of almost 8 years of age, Dunkin’, in the rear seat towards the middle. I was pulled over on I-17 after being tailed for about one mile. The cop was very close to the rental car I was driving which was a gray Toyota corolla. The vehicle was due back on Sunday and I had planned on returning it, then utilizing the airport shuttle to catch my early flight back to New York’s La Guardia airport with Dunkin as my travel companion.

I pulled over to a safe spot on the shoulder of the road and the cop opened the door and drew out a shot gun. He actually AIMED it at me. I could see his eye aiming and it made no sense. I was shouted at and told to keep my hands where he can see them. This seemed very strange and not at all common for being pulled over. I could hear shot gun cocked and I realized that something was not right. I obeyed his shouts to keep my hands up and I allowed Dunkin to continue sleeping in order to keep us both calm. I was ordered to get out of the car, walk backwards without looking, and was very confused… I was going further and further away from Dunkin’.

I was shouted at to kneel, yelled at and then immediately cuffed and put in the back seat of a cop car. I immediately told him that my service animal is in the back of the car and to please be careful with him as he is license in NY state and is official for my Multiple Sclerosis. The car was overwhelmingly hot and my MS symptoms began as I tried breathing for fresh air. It was getting hotter and now he was drawing a weapon to the vehicle. I was very frightened that they would kill Dunkin’ as they looked like they would do so with the weapons drawn so intently.

The cop opened the rental car door which was nearest the I-17 traffic. Dunkin’ rested soundly on that side of the vehicle. When the door was opened, the cop let him get out of the car onto oncoming traffic. Dunkin’ got out of the vehicle confused. He ran into oncoming traffic, looking for me. His mission is to look for me, wherever I may be. As cars swerved and missed him… I screamed. I prayed and screamed at the top of my lungs for my companion’s safety. The cop S.D Soto (who was the one who aimed at me through his shotgun, also cuffed me) walked to the front of the car passenger area. He pulled out Dunkin’s fluorescent orange service vest and read the insert in his pocket which states that he is a service animal and he is protected under the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990. S.D Soto Read the facts, read my rental agreement (which was located on the passenger seat area) and continued to ignore my pleas for help and air conditioning.

At this point a red headed cop was on the scene too, along with a thicker sized blonde-red headed cop. I will never forget their faces. One wore shades, the other had glasses and piercing blue eyes. They completely ignored my existence and did not check on me. Someone chased Dunkin’ and I told them that he would ONLY come to me. I begged and pleaded to allow them to let me call for him. S.D Soto told me to shut up and I was annoying him. He said that he would gag me next, if I said another word and did not cooperate.

I noticed my wrists were really in a lot of pain and my body temperature was rising in the back of the car. Dunkin was nowhere to be seen, he ran off into the area where desert grows. At this point, I hoped coyotes would not get him. I was screaming for them to listen to my pleas and my proof that it was a rental and I do indeed have MS and need my service animal for my well-being. Again, I was shouted at while they walked around calmly with no care for Dunkin or my safety. My safety was compromised the moment they ignored me and Dunkin’. They never read me any rights, and continued to walk around, ignoring how hot I was in that car. It felt like a fish out of water and I was gasping for air.

Dunkin’ came back through the desert area to about 10 yards north of the vehicle which obtained me. I screamed again, and begged them to keep him safe. They again chased him, frightened him, and he ran northbound. I never saw my Dunkin’ again.

At this point the sergeant… Robert Hardt, was called to the scene. I was let out of the vehicle, still cuffed very tightly. I am 5 feet tall and weigh 110 lb’s. I whistled in vain to call Dunkin’.. I was not allowed to walk towards the area he has run towards. I was not allowed to move. I was on the gravel on the side of the road waiting for the cops to do something. I begged the sergeant to lead me, with the cuffs, or however he seemed fit, in order for me to be able to get to Dunkin’ to whistle for him. He told me not to worry and “the dog will come back.”

A cop car came back with Dunkin’s destroyed body in it. I asked an officer… is there anything left… the red headed one with the glasses and blue eyes shook his nod, indicating that there was nothing left to see. At that point, I began to mourn. I screamed and I screamed in shock. My hands were still cuffed. I was thirsty, the srgt gave me water from a water bottle he had in his car. Around that point, I was uncuffed. I called my friends and family in NY and AZ and no one answered for what seemed an eternity. I finally reached a friend in NYC and I screamed in agony at the trauma I had just undergone.

The srgt called ambulance to see about my MS. They said to me, “you cannot scream and cry in my ambulance.” I refused treatment since I could not help my emotions of having lost my dearest best friend in this earth. They wanted to sedate me and start and IV on me. I refused this as I did not think I would wake up if I allowed them to stick a needle in me. Already they had violated me.

A sheriff’s chaplain was then called to the scene. My phone died, and I was able to speak to my brother, who was in Hawaii vacationing, through the srgt’s cell phone. My brother was extremely concerned about my MS as he understands the close bond that Dunkin and I have shared for almost 8 years. I was in no condition to drive, I do not know who drove the rental back to the rental location. My belongings were put in a bag, I was put in a car with the chaplain and I continued to document my bruising by photographing my wrists with the time on the dash board.

I grieved the entire way to the hospital asking the chaplain for words of consolation and he was speechless. The bruising on my legs from kneeling on the tar/gravel started to emerge when I got back to NYC. I have attached those pictures in a previous email. I was never cited for anything, I was never read any rights, I was not arrested. I ended up in the hospital and was given a sedative. I had x-rays taken of my wrists as the pain was excruciating to the slightest touch.

My friend Andrea Barker took Dunkin’s remains to the animal crematory where Dunkin’ was cremated. His remains arrive in New York in a few days.

I have already felt the symptoms of MS which has been in full remission for 4 years. My left hand buzzes and tingles, my capacity to concentrate has diminished and my job is in jeopardy. I am a Master’s degree student at NYU and begin a new class tomorrow. I have received 2 A’s and 3 B’s in the coursework I have achieved and I hold a position of Learning Specialist at the College of Dentistry. I am my sole provider and feel the stresses of this trauma impeding my rest, my work, my concentration, my spirit (which feels broken). I experience nightmares nightly and sever bouts of mourning. My life is not the same.

PLEASE visit Rosamaria's blog where she has precious video of Dunkin' taken on the last day of his life. Her blog is Justice for Dunkin' Dog. She also has a Facebook page. Please consider becoming a fan.

John Elder Robison on Asperger/BlogTalkRadio

2009-06-08T21:21:00.004-04:00

I am SUCH a fan of John Elder Robison. His book, Look Me in the Eye, is a fantastic read if you are an Aspie or not. John was on BlogTalkRadio today doing an interview with the Asperger Women Association. Sharon daVanport was the host. It was an awesome discussion. You can listen HERE.

John was asked why he does what he does as far as speaking and writing about Asperger. The following was part of his response:

"I still remember very clearly all of the hurt that I suffered as a young person where nobody understood me and more importantly I did not understand myself...why I was different...and I naturally assumed I was different because I was defective."

Wow. What a sad, sad comment. I nearly started crying when I heard John make this statement. I felt like crying out of compassion for him...and I felt like crying for myself...not in self-pity, but in the realization that this is EXACTLY how I felt/feel about myself.

How much of my life I've spent being unable to communicate effectively(verbally)...being misunderstood and rejected. Frustrated and hurt to the point of hitting my head against the wall or beating my head with my own fists. Crying and wondering why I was so stupid and unlikeable. Knowing I was different...and like John said...believing I was simply defective...a reject, a loser, a failure.

I don't want to waste another day in that mindset, but I'm very new to this Asperger business. At nearly 49 years old, I'm an old dog, but I'm determined to learn some new tricks that will make my life better.

Baby Steps and a Dream Bike

2009-05-04T23:59:00.006-04:00

I wasn't an athletic kid. Oh, I was active just not athletic. I wasn't coordinated enough to play things like basketball or softball. Even easy things like kickball weren't fun to me. THEN in 1975, at age 15, I found jogging. Jogging changed my life. It was something that took NO coordination. Then I found hiking in our beautiful Smoky Mountains. Riding a bike in the mountains came soon after and in college I found rowing. I WAS athletic, just not coordinated.

Rowing took some coordination, but for some reason I was able to do it. I LOVED rowing. After I found rowing, I pretty much quit jogging. A back injury ended my rowing, but I continued to bike and hike for years. The biking and hiking ended after the daughter was born. Why? Well, I experienced a major postpartum depression with my first ever panic attacks. I spent a year fighting it and trying to get better.

Just as I was feeling lots better she was diagnosed with a serious genetic disease called cystic fibrosis. We were devastated. More depression. A couple of years later...at age 38...I had a complete hysterectomy that didn't agree with me. HRT didn't work and I experienced more panic attacks and major depression.

After her diagnosis, the desire to bike or hike left me. The desire for just about everything left me. I quit laughing or crying. Eventually I quit going to church. I nearly quit leaving the house at all. On my darkest days, I even felt like I wanted to die. My life had turned into a fight...a fight to keep the daughter healthy and alive. My ONLY desire was to see her live. I quit caring about me. I quit dreaming my own dreams and setting my own goals.

I thank God that my ability to laugh and cry have begun to return. I'm thawing out. I'm beginning to see tiny green points pushing through frozen ground. My mind, body, soul and spirit are tingling...wanting to wake up and come back to life. I'm not sure what is causing me to want to live my life again, but I am. I miss biking and hiking. I miss my mountains. I want to get healthier and gain physical strength and stamina again. I do!! I can't believe I do, but I DO!!!!

I haven't felt healthy for a long time. I know a lot of that blah feeling is depression and a lot the hysterectomy. I hated PMS, but I loved my hormones. They gave me energy and made me feel alive. When I can afford it, I might look into HRT again...but all natural compounded stuff, not synthetic.

I also want to start biking again! (I like athletic endeavors where you sit. I think that's why I loved rowing so much). Anyhow, I'm a big old girl these days, so the thought of a tiny little saddle seat makes me wince. With that in mind, I searched the web for a comfy bike and found my dream bike!

It's a semi-recumbent bike and is called...get this...The Dream 21!!!! It reminds me of a bike I had as a kid...one with high handle bars and something called a banana seat. I LOVED that banana bike! The Dream 21 has a major difference though...a big comfy seat AND back support!!!

The price of the Dream 21 isn't so dreamy though...$700!! At that price my dream bike might just have to stay a dream! Plus, it has a weight limit. I called the company to ask about it, but I need to call them back. The girl I talked to wasn't sure if I'd actually damage the frame or if the weight limit was "an understatement"...her words. She was going to find out for me. Uggg.

The important thing is that I WANT to ride again...that I would even THINK about venturing out of the house to do something active. I'm dreaming again. I'm hoping again. Folks, this is major. I hope it lasts for more than 10 minutes. I'm just going to have to baby step it...like Bob...and see where all this takes me!

Asperger and The Velveteen Rabbit

2009-05-01T02:06:00.002-04:00

I've been thinking about yesterday's post. After reading it again, I realized something. We eat out a lot and I sometimes see folks eating alone. I never think they are weird or suspect of ANYTHING. Why would I think that of myself? I'll admit that I've WONDERED why they were alone and felt sorry for them. I've wondered if they were lonely but that's it.

Sometimes I'm really hard on myself. I think I suffered so much social rejection and ridicule as a young person that I always expect it or something. I'm VERY aware of my social awkwardness and anxiety and just assume that it shows. In my mind, a neon sign follows me around like a little dark cloud flashing messages like "loser" or "weird" or "reject" over my head. In my mind, I see people parting like the Red Sea when I come into a room. Like...back away from the weird girl.

That is a bad way to feel and I've felt that way since I was ten years old. Having asperger makes you feel weird. It's like you think something is up with folks but you don't know what it is...until somebody outright calls you a name or you get picked last for a game of kickball. Then you KNOW something is up but you still don't know what it is you did to make them dislike you.

Sometimes I feel like I'm not a part of the human race...like I'm some mutation. I look at myself and see that yes, I have hair and eyes and stand upright and think at a high level and can form words. Yep. I'm a human alright. My picture matches up with the dictionary picture of a human....but I'm not one. How can I be? Just looking like a human and having speech capabilities doesn't make me human.

Humans need connection and relationship. Like the velveteen rabbit, we are not real unless we are loved. I have trouble with connection and relationships. I have never felt accepted and loved by the other humans. Would I even be able to recognize it if it came at me? I don't know. If I can't recognize it, then to me I've never been loved into....initiated into the human race. I am a technical human, not a real one.

I not only have trouble on the receiving end of emotions, I have trouble on the giving end. Oh, I have emotions...plenty of them and deep. I just can't get them out right. So many of my emotions are played out in my head like a movie. They are in there and being expressed inside, my body and face just don't follow. I'm kinda watching them. Then the movie is over. It's *THE END* and they can't get out after that. It's like I can't respond in real time. I have a delay.

Hard stuff to explain.

I don't like asperger but I have to live with it. It's new to me. I only found out about it in the last few months. It is generally a guy problem and there is no cure. I've lived with this for 48 years and survived. I'll be fine. Hey, I managed to eat dinner out alone for the first time in my life. I never would have done that before I found out about asperger.

Something I've Never Done Before

2009-04-30T16:19:00.005-04:00

I did something earlier this week that I don't think I've ever done before. I ate out for dinner...alone. The husband was taking the daughter to her violin lesson and I decided I wanted pizza. No. I didn't just want pizza. I had an insane craving for pizza. Not gourmet pizza, but good old Mr. Gatti's Pizza.

I try not to do loud restaurants. Mr. Gatti's is loud and has the kind of chaotic noise that makes me so uncomfortable I could cry. However, the craving was strong. The fam doesn't care much for pizza, so I whipped into the parking lot on two wheels and went in before I could change my mind.

The noise was awful even with few people there, but I handled it better than usual. Didn't even put paper in my ears. Nobody looked at me like I had leprosy or pointed or anything. Thought they might ya know....because folks with no dinner partner are suspect of...something...aren't they?

It was actually kinda nice. When I'm with the fam I sometimes feel pressured to talk. I also have to try extra hard to tune out noise and focus...so that I can listen to what they want to say. I just ate my pizza and watched TV or stared out the window. It was quite a good experience. I wouldn't want to eat alone all the time because I like my family and meals out are a great time to visit and touch base.

I did like it well enough that I'll probably do it again sometime though. Nothing socially horrible happened. Nothing happened at all. It was fine. It was more than fine. I guess I thought folks would think I was weird and stare. I imagined a neon sign flashing over my head saying, "Too weird to have family or friends to eat with. Stay back." With the asperger I always FEEL so weird that I think I must LOOK or ACT weird. Guess I don't and that makes me happy.

Comments Now Enabled

2009-04-28T21:29:00.004-04:00

So sorry! I didn't realize comments weren't enabled. A heartfelt thank you to HottyTotty for going to a lot of trouble to find me and let me know. I am going to publish the comment you left at my other blog here at BFK. Hope that is ok!

I Need to Vent

2009-04-27T18:27:00.012-04:00

I need to vent about a non-fat related issue.

My daughter has a disease called cystic fibrosis. Most people don't know what cystic fibrosis is. I know I'd never heard of it when she was diagnosed. I wondered why the doc got all emotional when he told us the test was positive. CF is a disease that kills somewhat slowly( in most cases). Many years ago kids with CF didn't live long enough to start school. However, due to advances in treatment, many are living long lives with life expectancy now at an average of 37 years old.

Our daughter has been relatively healthy but we fight this disease like crazy. She takes 20 to 25 pills a day, gets 4 to 6 breathing treatments a day(one in the car on the way to school), a "vest" for chest physical therapy, and inhalers. She also gets an annual pic line for two weeks of IV antibiotics. She had a port put in for three months of continuous IV antibiotics to kill a bad bug. They weren't sure 3 months would do it and thought we might have to do six. Thank God we killed it because the port abscessed and had to be taken out.

She goes through a lot. As her parents, we do too. We had to learn to change her port needle. Her skin was red and raw from the Tegaderm so she cried every week when we took the Tegaderm off. After the Tegaderm was off, I held her hands while she cried and her dad with trembling hands shoved the needle into the port site. No daddy should have to shove a needle into his crying daughter's side. It was awful.

I hate this disease. I hate what she has gone through and will go through for the rest of her life. She hates taking pills and getting treatments, but it is what we have to do to keep her healthy and alive. We don't complain. We don't even talk about it much because my husband has a good job and insurance and we feel blessed to have her.

However, just this year our co-pay for just ONE of her meds...Pulmozyme...went from $100 to $200 a month. Sure. We can pay for it, but what I'm angry about is that my husband has worked his butt off to be successful and this is what he gets. He makes too much money for us to qualify for any assistance.

How can an insurance company do this to a family who is trying their hardest to keep a child alive?! I don't see how they can sleep at night. I'm starting to think they'd rather her be dead because they sure are making it hard to keep her alive!

My kid is a vivacious, outgoing, strong person, but at age 13, still trembles and holds mamma's hand when it is time to get blood drawn or get a shot. She no longer wants to take the "happy juice" before she goes into surgery so she cries, her teeth chatter and she clings to me right up until the last minute.

Nobody should have to go through this. No child and no parent. And nobody should have to pay a $200 co-pay to keep their kid alive.

This photo is from a time when she had pneumonia. Like I said, she is an upbeat kid and hard to knock down. This time she was knocked down. She coughed hard and constantly and lost a LOT of weight. For the first time I was afraid she was going to die. The light had gone out of her eyes. She was tired. Thank God she recovered, but a 24 year old down the hall didn't. She died of CF the day we brought our daughter home.

Edit: The reason this is on my mind is that I just found out earlier today that we don't qualify for yet another program. I have a call in to the company that makes Pulmozyme to see if they will help us. We'll see what happens.

The Underdog Susan Boyle

2009-04-14T02:06:00.004-04:00

I can't imbed the video right now, but I hope you'll go watch it!!!!! It is Susan Boyle appearing on Britain's Got Talent...the equivalent of American Idol.

Click Here: YouTube Video of Underdog Susan Boyle Singing

I'm one of the three people in the USA that doesn't watch American Idol, so maybe moments like this are run of the mill stuff. I wouldn't know. However, I was covered in goose bumps and about to cry as I watched this video.

I'm sure this poor lady has been shredded by cruel folks all her life...over her looks and personality. I know what it feels like to be treated cruelly because the outside package and personality don't quite measure up to society's expectations.

Why is it that people love to shred other people like sharks on a bloody fish for no good reason?! I've never understood that mentality. A victory for one underdog is a victory for all underdogs. That is why I take supreme pleasure in what happened here. I'm hoping and praying that all Susan Boyle's dreams come true!

I Think Too Much

2009-02-28T13:40:00.017-05:00

Ok, I'm gonna ramble for a moment here.

I think too much about stuff. Does anybody else just think things to death?

It used to take me forever to read a fictional story because I had to get inside every single character's head to see how things felt for them. I had to try and figure out what made each and every character tick. I couldn't just go with the flow and let the story take me where it would. No, I had to know where I was going and why.

Is that an Asperger trait? I am self-diagnosed and still learning about AS. Part of me is avoiding learning about AS. The more I learn the more sure I become that I have it. Guess I always hoped that whatever was "wrong" with me could be cured with enough therapy, prayer, or medicine. No cure for AS. That means I'm going to wear my brain out with all this thinking and go insane before I die, right?

I once got to know one of my college professor's outside of class. He was a very cultured man fluent in several languages....the Romance languages. He told me about the books Tristan and Isolde and Love in the Western World. Tristan and Isolde is kinda like Romeo and Juliet but older. Cool story.

What I really loved though was Love in the Western World. After I read it, I never picked up another romantically themed fictional story. I pretty much gave up fiction altogether...which wasn't a problem for me. Like I said, fiction tortured me....romantically themed or not. I was forever trying to figure out what the characters were thinking and feeling. Reading Love in the Western World sorta set me free...free to read non-fiction without guilt.

I like to think, but I like to think about facts. It makes me oh so tired to think about people and their thoughts, actions, motives. Don't get me wrong. I'm very interested in people...but all too often it's in a science project sort of way. I am always looking at them, listening to them, trying to draw conclusions and predict behavior.

That takes me to a couple of people books I like to read....my DSM and my Synopsis of Psychiatry. They were required textbooks in grad school(I was a Social Work major). It is amazing to me that dysfunctional behaviors occur in patterns and groups so much so that the patterns are recognizable and we can diagnose people. However, beyond that, people are a total and absolute mystery to me. I am a people, but sometimes I don't feel like it. Sometimes I'd rather be anything other than a people.

I'd rather be a dog or a tree or a scab on Julia Roberts elbow....anything but a person. I just find being a person very difficult. I think this "being a person" thing to death too. Like, what makes us a person? What makes us different from animals?

Animals sniff each other's butts and go on about their business. Why can't we? They don't judge and dislike one another. They might fight, but over something important...like a chew toy. Mostly they just sniff and go. I just can't figure this people thing out...with any amount of thinking. I can't not be a person either...so I have to figure it out don't I? That's another thing that bugs me.

I am here. I am real. I exist. I will die. Nothing I can do about it. Does that bug anybody else? LOL. See, I can't just go about my life for being so aware of my life, my very existence and my inevitable end. I'm also very aware of others and that we are all going through this same experience but we don't really talk about it.

Has anybody else ever awakened from a sound sleep with this ultra awareness of being a person, being very real, and very alone? It's like all the sudden waking up with a dog's sense of smell or an eagle's vision. For a few moments my self-awareness...my awareness of being alive and real and my impending doom...is so heightened that is takes my breath away and about gives me a panic attack. Thank goodness it doesn't last long before I fall back asleep. My husband says he's had this experience.

Again, maybe this is an Asperger thing...or maybe I'm just crazy. Hum. Something else to think about.

Hush...Hush Sweet Charlotte

2009-01-30T17:48:00.007-05:00

The husband and I have a "date" tonight. The daughter is overnighting with some friends so we are going to veg out, eat some really good local pizza and watch Hush...Hush Sweet Charlotte with Bette Davis. It's on Turner Classic Movies tonight at 8pm. I'm really looking forward to it. We watch quite a lot of old movies on TCM, but have never seen this one. I think it's a wee bit on the scary side, but I like the old scary movies.

I've never seen a modern horror movie...unless you'd consider Fargo a horror movie. Modern horror movies simply don't appeal to me. I already have enough weirdo dreams and nightmares without filling my head with that nonsense. The old scary movies are fabulous though. Not a lot of blood and guts or bizarre twisted evil...just good old psychological suspense and entertainment. Can't wait to see it. Hope it's good.

Unlikely Friends

2009-01-20T13:28:00.000-05:00

This story of friendship between an elephant and a dog speaks volumes.

I first posted about the elephants at The Elephant Sanctuary in Hoenwald, Tennessee 10/22/07. Thought it was worth a rerun. Here it is:

You Big Fat Elephant
Now I'm no crazed left wing animal activist
But I'm an animal lover for sure.

What really gets my fat blood boiling
Is when a circus elephant has just had enough
And tries to run away or stomps the guts
Right out of his trainer.

He is rewarded for all his hard work and long hours
By being blown away.

We all watch the shaky amateur video over & over on CNN & Fox.
Animal experts are brought in to discuss the animal's behavior.

Come on. It's simple.
Treat a sensitive, deeply loving, intelligent creature
Badly long enough and it will run or stomp your guts out.

Fat girls get called lots of derogatory names.
"You big fat elephant" seems to be a favorite.

Elephants are special.
Call me a "Big Fat Elephant"
Anytime you want.
Click here to see some real Big Fat Elephants.

Be sure to watch some videos
And listen to the "Divas" trumpeting.
If you're having a bad day
Spend some time with these sweet ladies
And you'll soon feel better.

Grab a Kleenex.
This site had me bawling
Like a baby before I was done.

It's Finally Cold!

2009-01-14T16:30:00.004-05:00

It finally got what I call cold last night...still not cold enough for me though. I love cold weather(I have those warm extra layers ya know)! We will be down in the single digits tonight. Woohoo! Now that's my kind of cold. I took a photo of our front door this morning.

It was covered in a thin layer of soft ice with solid patches here and there. I just HAD to scratch off some of the soft layer! It felt like my fingers went ice skating! The soft cold under my fingernails was an oddly pleasing sensation.

It's Good to be Back!

2009-01-13T23:27:00.005-05:00

Thanks for the warm welcome Abby!

I'm not up and running yet, but I'm happy to be back. I really thought I was done with Big Fat Kiss, but I guess I'm not. No. I know I'm not. I'm still gathering my thoughts(always a challenge), fighting some depression(what's new) and getting over the flu. Once I get a bit more stable and focused, I'll dive in!

Another New Blog

2008-11-25T08:33:00.014-05:00

I've started another blog!

Socks & Chocolate.

For a long while now I've been wanting to write a blog that was not serious....just a regular old blog. What held me up was a technical problem. There was a template I wanted to use, but for the longest time I couldn't figure out how to use it. Squeal!!! I figured it out a few days ago. So, I have my new blog.

It is called Socks & Chocolate. I am talking about...well...nothing in particular. However, I have challenged myself to write about nothing in particular for an entire year. Self-discipline isn't my strong point so we'll see how it goes! Please come by. Both my new blogs are kinda lonely:(

I'm doing a series on my other blog called The Cat in the Bathroom. It is about my rescue cat Mia. She was very sick when we got her. She'd also been through a lot of trauma. The vet didn't expect her to live, but she did. I'm learning a lot from this beautiful little cat. I invite you to come by and read her story as I write it. I am posting about her once a week or so over at Alert and Oriented Times Zero.

This blog...Big Fat Kiss and my other blog... Alert and Oriented Times Zero are very serious blogs. Writing a serious blog takes a lot out of me. Writing Big Fat Kiss actually made me very sick there for a while. I had to see a counselor. I might come back here sometime. I can't afford to get that sick again though, so we'll see.

Because serious blogs take a lot out of me, I don't end up writing very often. Hopefully having a run of the mill blog and a challenge will get me writing every day. I need to write every day if at all possible. I've said here before that I'm 48...older than most of you. Before I got a computer and started blogging, I was beginning to lose words and occasionally forget where I was when driving. Scary stuff.

My brain is right back to normal since getting a computer about 3 years ago. See, I'd never had a PC until then. It was by choice. I'm just old-fashioned and like to keep my life simple. I didn't have a cell phone for along time either. FINALLY, after seeing every senior citizen in the universe loudly chatting it up on a cell phone, I broke down and got one.

I got a pay as you go Trac phone. Yep. I upgraded about a year ago though....to a flip Trac phone. Don't laugh. It works for me and I'm totally satisfied with it. Back to my PC. I like books and libraries. I prefer the smell and feel of a book any day over sitting in front of a computer. However, even with doing a lot of reading, my memory was starting to fail me. I needed to do something. I didn't consciously chose the computer to revive my brain. It all just sort of happened.

The library is actually where I first decided to try computers. Before that, the last time I used a computer was when there was no World Wide Web and MS DOS was the going thing. My husband had to go to the library with me the first few times I tried it. I didn't know what the mouse was, how to search, or what the *e* for Internet Explorer was. I new NOTHING. So ladies, when I started Big Fat Kiss, I had only been using a computer for about two years.

I'd heard of blogs but never read one. One day I decided to find out what blogs were all about. Got me a Dummies book, skimmed it, and had my blog up in a few hours. I've never looked back. I love messing with templates, widgets and HTML. I've pretty much taught myself everything I know about the computer and blogs. My brain loves it.

The reason I even go into this is to tell you that my goals for blogging are simple. Vent, express, keep my brain running smoothly, and practice writing. I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I joined the Fatosphere. I just knew from reading in Dummies that readers were a good thing. So, I decided I better get some readers. Boy, did the Fatosphere bring me readers.

It kinda scared me. I knew I was old and inexperienced compared to most bloggers. I wasn't so sure I wanted all that many readers after I got them. I hung in there as long as I could, but for a lot of different reasons, I had to give up this blog. It just wasn't for me anymore. I didn't consider myself a serious writer or activist. I had and have strong feelings about Fat Acceptance, but I just couldn't write about it from an activist point of view. It was and is personal for me. More of an emotional issue, not a political one.

I might come back to the Fatosphere someday. I don't know. In any case, I've gotta write and try to keep that brain hitting on all cylinders. For now I'm doing that at Alert and Oriented Times Zero and Socks & Chocolate . Hope you'll come see me there. I don't so much want or need readers just for bragging rights or anything else. I mostly want and need cheerleaders and encouragers. People to keep me motivated to keep me accountable and writing every day. Come on over and see me....help me save my brain!

New Blog

2008-09-28T21:59:00.004-04:00

I've made BFK public again so that folks can find me at my new blog Alert and Oriented Times Zero. I hope some of you will come and see me there!

Kat

Good Grief

2008-09-08T16:40:00.007-04:00

I just want to say that before I decided to go off the Fatosphere I had no idea there had been any infighting going on. I was too busy with...oh....little things like my daughter's IV treatments and getting her back into school. I wasn't trying to start a fight, continue a fight, nothing. I was just being me...something I am trying really hard every single day not to feel badly about. And if I want to be and like to be a "nice" person...I'd like it if folks didn't try to make me feel badly about that. I'm tired of people trying to make me feel badly about being MYSELF.

Myself is not a feminist. Myself doesn't use the "f" word every three seconds. Myself still considers myself a strong woman and Fat Activist if anybody else sees her that way or not. Myself isn't going to quit fighting...in my own way...for Fat Acceptance. I'll go about it in MY own little way thank you. I don't have to conform to any group or set of beliefs to fight for FA. Sorry if you don't see it that way.

I am not going away. I am not burying my head in the sand. I am not quitting the Fatosphere because I think it shouldn't exist. I'm quitting because I don't feel comfortable being on the Fatosphere right now. I never felt like I was a core part of the sphere anyhow. I don't see that my leaving will matter one whit. The Fatosphere will thrive and survive and do good work with or without me.

My God convicted me of something and I had to do what I thought was right and speak up about my conservative beliefs. I'm not leaving mad or abandoning the cause. Fat prejudice is real and it is wrong. I'm not giving up. Good grief. I'm just not on the feed anymore. Big deal.

Addendum: Also, I am NOT flouncing or taking my toys and going home. I am a sincere person. I don't really care a whole lot right now what anybody thinks of me. It does feel personal, but have at it. Rip me apart if it makes you feel better. I guess I should have just kept my big fat mouth shut, huh?

Addendum 2: Thought I was off the Fatosphere. Guess my request didn't get through. I don't know if any of these new angry and sarcastic posts are about me, but it doesn't matter. I am done. Comments are closed. I used to love this place. It was helpful beyond measure. Now I feel all beat up by it.And if the comment, "I'm sure you are a lovely person" was about me...save it. It really isn't your place...or anybody else's...to judge me or bequeath to me a "lovely person" title. I try to be a good person. I'm a sincere person who means well. Period.

I Wasn't Going To Do This

2008-09-01T18:06:00.012-04:00

Well, I said I wasn't going to do this, but I have decided to close up shop here at Big Fat Kiss blog....at least for the time being. I will be requesting to be removed from the Fatopshere. Feel free to remove me from your blog rolls. I'll be leaving the blog up but will close the comments in a few days. I might still post on this blog sometime in the future, but not as part of the Fatosphere.

I will be blogging at my new Blogger blog Alert and Oriented Times Zero. Not sure what the focus will be, but I'd love it if some of you came for a visit. It isn't public yet...I'm still setting it up.

Love and kisses,
Kat

Coming Out is Never Easy

2008-08-30T10:27:00.018-04:00

I'm coming out. In a couple of days I'll be 48 years old. I'm closing in on nearly 50years of hiding, trying to please people, keeping my head down, and trying to stay out of trouble. I just can't do it anymore. Joining the Fatoshpere and reading the blogs of so many courageous, strong and intelligent people...mostly women...has given me courage. I hope you won't hate me when I say what I'm going to say. But there I am trying to please again. Hate me if you want.

This isn't easy. Ok. Deep breath. Here goes. I am not a feminist. I am a conservative. I am a traditional Christian who believes in Jesus, miracles and has read my Bible through two times. There...it is said. It is done. I'm not going to go into a lot of detail about my beliefs and I am not going to apologize for them. I can't. I won't. It is simply who I am.

What I will say is that I was born in 1960 to a Democrat dad and a Republican mom. I registered to vote as soon as I turned 18...as a Democrat. I was one of two Democrats in my entire class at school. How I became a conservative Republican is a very long story I won't go into right now. I will say that it is related to my faith and that my faith has deep roots in a 60's southern Bible Belt culture. I strayed so far from those roots at one point that for several years I considered myself an atheist. It was a dark time in my life, a time when I felt alone and abandoned by everybody, including and especially God. I eventually turned back to my roots and made peace with my God. I returned to those roots almost exactly 19 years ago.

I've been wrestling for a good while now with the fact that I have been trying to please the mostly feminist Fatosphere by hiding my beliefs. I don't think the Fatosphere is where I need to be talking about my beliefs, but I sure don't want to feel like I have to hide them. Plus, I have been hiding my blog from my Christian friends because I have left God completely out of it. It has become increasingly uncomfortable for me to do both.

I'm working on accepting ALL of myself exactly as I am...inside and out. That includes accepting and not being ashamed of my fat self and accepting and not being ashamed of my Christian self. It is not easy being fat in this society. It is not easy being a Christian in this society. It is accepted and popular to bash both. I want to be a good person. I want to be fair and loving and kind. I want to say what I mean and mean what I say. I want to think clearly. I don't want to be overbearing about my beliefs, but neither do I want to be ashamed of them....any of them.

A couple of other things about Christian and conservative bashing....I don't like it. Why would I? It stings when I read it or hear it. I don't take my beliefs lightly and didn't come to them without much thought and questioning. No organized group poured beliefs into my empty head. I formed my beliefs over many years and they are rooted in my history and culture. It hurts to have something that is so much a part of who I am bashed.

About cussing. I don't do much of it. Yes, part of the reason is due to my spiritual beliefs. Mostly I don't do it because my parents did. Oh, they didn't cuss all day every day or anything. It is just that when they did cuss, it was done in a rage. It scared me when they cussed. It sounded like gunshots going off in my head. I felt assaulted. I hated it. I don't do it because I don't want to make others feel the way I felt back then. Every now and then I fail. (I will most likely fail EVERY time the question arises of should a person leave their mate due to weight gain).

Another thing about cussing. I admit that it bothers me when folks feel the need to use God's name as a curse word. It also bothers me when it is used in other degrading ways like "Jesus can suck it". I like Kathy Griffin and watch her sometimes. She cracks me up. I don't know. Maybe as a Christian I shouldn't watch her, but I do. I'll have to think about that one. Sure don't want to go to Hell over a few jokes. Anyhow, I would never say anything as disrespectful as "Suck it Allah" or "Suck it Mother Teresa" or "Suck it Buddha".

Why does everybody hate Jesus so much? He was the one man that stood up for the adulterous woman so that she wouldn't be stoned to death by the rest of the community. He was friends with a prostitute and didn't take advantage of her. Good grief, give the Man a break. And try to have a little respect for other people's beliefs by considering not degrading their God. You don't have to believe in their God or like their beliefs but good grief, how about a tiny little bit of respect.

One last thing about cussing. There is a lot of cussing that goes on in the Fatosphere. I am generally not offended in the least by it. I am not a prude. I enjoy a good joke and some rowdy humor. I can be a really rowdy sort sometimes. I understand we are discussing things that are near and dear to our hearts...that we feel passionately about. Not everybody was traumatized by cussing like I was as a child. Have at it. Cuss. It really doesn't bother me unless you degrade my God or are cussing at me personally. I'm not going to quit the Fatosphere due to some cussing and political differences. I'm not even going to quit if somebody chooses to degrade my God or cuss at me personally. I just hope the Fatosphere can tolerate a conservative....a fat, Christian, Jesus loving, out of the closet conservative...me.

Other Things

2008-08-24T10:29:00.034-04:00

As I said in my last post, I've been wanting to blog about some things other than my experience as a fat person. Fat people have hobbies, interests, likes and passions just like everyone else. I like poetry. I really like when poetry is set to music.

For a while now I've been wanting to share about a stunning musical talent I've been made aware of, Erick Baker. He sets poetry to music. He has opened shows for James Blunt, Edwin McCain and John Legend. Earlier this year I saw him perform live and was simply blown away. The first time I saw him was online....and I cried. I've sat at my computer and cried like a baby only two times. The first time was when I was reading about the elephants at The Elephant Sanctuary in Hohenwald, Tennesseeee.

The second time I sat at my computer and cried was when I watched this guy sing a song called Plastic Flowers. I didn't cry a few little tears. I bawled and snuffled and went on. My family was worried about me! Erick Baker has a special gift and I believe you'll be hearing a lot about him in the future. Please give him some of your time...I don't think you'll regret it.

Also, I just have to say that there is something special about Erick's band. It is Erick's viola player, Erin. She is an awesome human being I count among my friends. Erin is not only a gifted string player but a loving generous soul. Please watch and enjoy. If you don't have time to watch the full 27 minute Studio 865 interview, skip to the shorter version or music only videos. You can also go to Erick's Myspace page and look around.

Click here: Plastic Flowers to read the lyrics to this spine-tingling song about the passing of a beloved mate.

Studio 865 Interview~Long Version

Studio 865 Interview~Short Version

Live at Five

At the Bonnaroo Music Festival~2008

Nashville at Nite Interview

Addendum: I received this email from Erin today. Ashley Capps says it way better than I did in the above post.

Introducing Erick Baker

Appearing at the World Grotto in Knoxville this Saturday, 8/23 with special guest Megan McCormick. Doors open at 9 pm

A message from Ashley Capps:
Hello friends -
I want to share something special with you and I hope you'll pass it along to some friends.

I have the privilege of working with a very special young artist that has an extraordinary gift to really touch people with his music. His name is Erick Baker and he will be performing this coming Saturday evening at the World Grotto on Market Square. The doors will open at 9pm and the show starts around 10pm or so.

I've been very slow to step into the world of artist management and it still humbles me to have a role in developing someone else's career. Fortunately, I have a lot of help from several of my colleagues, notably Ted Heinig, Chris Peck, and Todd Steed...in fact, it was Ted and Chris who actually made me aware of Erick...persistently...as I told them time and time again that I didn't feel we were ready to take on another management client.

That is...until they finally succeeded in getting me out to see Erick.

I was blown away...there's no other way to describe it. Erick's extraordinary and powerful presence - his romantic and intensely emotional songs - and the strong connection that he established with his audience that night was nothing short of electrifying.

I've now seen it happen several times over...I've watched Erick walk onto the stage as the opening act before a sold out house ...unannounced...to understandably skeptical and at first totally disinterested audiences...but ultimately a standing ovation and a line in the lobby to buy his only CD. I've had an audience of jaded music biz agents trying to act cool and reserved as they call and email about what we're thinking next and what we're planning and can they help and would Erick like to open for this act and that act...

I want you to come see for yourself. If you've been moved by the work of Damien Rice, or Ray LaMontagne, or even Dave Matthews or John Mayer...I think Erick will knock you out. And I suspect you'll be telling folks 10 years from now..."I remember when I saw that guy at this little basement club.."

Ashley Capps
President, AC Entertainment

Done With Treatments

2008-08-19T12:15:00.003-04:00

I'm having trouble focusing on my blog lately. A few months ago blogging about painful issues sent me into a tailspin. I'm doing lots better, but still can't seem to focus on blogging very much. Mostly I stay pretty busy with my daughter. She was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis when she was a year old.

Almost all people with cystic fibrosis have to have something called an annual "tune up". A "tune up" is an annual treatment consisting of two weeks of IV antibiotics. A bronchoscopy is performed and mucous removed from the lungs. The mucous is tested to determine which antibiotics will be used. My daughter's mucous cultures showed the usual pseudomonas, but she also had MRSA in her lungs. It was decided that the MRSA would be treated orally with a medication so expensive that it had to be preapproved by our insurance company. Our co-pay was $50, but the med was nearly $2,000. So many of her meds are in that price range. Thank God we have insurance.

Lizzy went into the hospital early on a Tuesday morning and ended up having to stay in until Saturday. They couldn't get her picc line during her bronchoscopy because of scar tissue from past picc lines. Later in the week she was put to sleep a second time for this procedure. The second time they used x-ray images to help get it in. Thank God they got it in and we finally got to go home to finish the treatments. Her dad and I do the treatments ourselves and have become quite good "nurses" over the years.

The picc line came out a week ago and we are done with IVs for another year...unless she gets sick. She actually had her picc line in for her first day back in school. She was pretty much ok with that. Most of the kids know about it and don't treat her any differently because of it. She took her last pill for the MRSA night before last. Things should get back to normal now. Normal for her is a big bag of daily meds, breathing treatments and physical therapy treatments, but we are used to it.

We are used to it, but if you've had a child with a disease you understand the physical, spiritual and emotional toll these things take on the child and their parents. My daughter goes through a lot. She looks fine and healthy most of the time, but most folks have no idea what she goes through. It hurts very deeply to see your child suffer and to know that that suffering will never end unless a real miracle happens. Anyhow, I've been busy with her treatments and simply emotionally drained. Blogging about my issues just isn't up there on the priority list when she needs me. So, I'm retracting my once a month posting goal.

I don't know how often I'll be posting. I want my blog to serve me. I don't want to serve it. Right now I need to focus on some projects. Our house is small, old, in disrepair and messy. I want to work on cleaning things up around here. I've never been a very materialistic person, but lately I have been yearning for a bigger nicer house. I'd love to have a real laundry room and an all purpose room for things like crafting. If I get a better house or not depends upon this one selling. Right now, it might sell at a loss. We've been so busy caring for our daughter the last few years and just surviving this cursed disease that we have totally let the place go.

We seem to stay in survival mode...emotionally and financially. I have always fought mental illness, but fighting for your child's life brings on a whole different level of depression, mental, emotional and spiritual fatigue. And with CF there is no remission, no cure. It goes on and on and on and on. A disease like CF eats up thousands upon thousands of dollars each year, especially when there is a hospital stay. I've decided that I want to try harder to help with finances. My dear husband hasn't asked me to help, I just want to.

I have an Etsy shop where I sell a few vintage patterns. I'm working on opening a second shop with jewelry I make myself...nothing fancy, just fun stuff. Becoming creative again has really improved my mood and given me something to look forward to. Plus, it is a way to help with finances. Before I dive headlong into the second Etsy shop though, I'm going to work on making my environment conducive to joyful creativity. Neatness isn't my strong point, but I'm going to give it a good try.

I'm not sure how often I'll be blogging or if what I post will be strictly fat related. I've been feeling like posting about other stuff lately for some reason. We'll see what happens. I've sorta rambled on here. Not sure if I made much sense. Just trying to say where I am at the moment. Know that I'm with you in spirit and will come by for a visit and some reading as often as I am able. Hang in there folks!

I Am Not Jolly

2008-07-15T22:49:00.002-04:00

A little over a year ago, at age 46, I began to blog about my life as a fat person. I was angry....very angry. At times I was in a rage. Yes, I said rage. What was it that set me off? Oh, yeah. Now I remember. It was something about should a person stay with their mate if that mate gets fat...yeah...that's what set me off. I kinda flipped out. Fat people get angry folks. I know. I know. We are supposed to be Santa Clause-ish and jolly and ho, ho, ho and all that. Sorry, but it just ain't so.

I think I hate the jolly fat person stereotype more than any other. I hate them all, but there is something about the jolly thing that bugs me beyond measure. It sort of says to me that if I am fat I sure as hell better be self-effacing, accommodating, and easy to be around. I confess....I have feigned nice and jolly in the past. I was wrong to do it and I was untrue to myself when I did. I am sick and tired of people thinking that because I am fat I must be non-threatening and nice. A fat woman better not be assertive or have expectations or make demands. Lord help us if....what?...no...say it ain't so....she has confidence.

Jolly is defined by dictionary.com as:

1. in good spirits; gay; merry.
2. cheerfully festive or convivial.
3. joyous; happy.
4. Chiefly British Informal. delightful; charming.

Hum. Yes, I have at times been in good spirits. There have been moments of gaiety and merriment in my life. I have been cheerfully festive a time or two. Too introverted to be convivial. Can't say that I've ever been outright joyful, but I've had some happy times. Charming and delightful...um...no. Not sure I'd want to be described that way. Ted Bundy was charming wasn't he?

I am fat. I have also been a very sick, eating disordered skinny person. The key word here is person. I am a human being with a rich inner life capable of experiencing a full range of emotions. Fat people don't all look alike, think alike, have the same tastes, the same emotional makeup, or the same political or religious beliefs. We are as varied and unique as the rest of the HUMAN population. We are certainly no more jolly than the rest of mankind.

I personally am a melancholy person with a very sensitive nervous system. I tend to be serious and spend a lot of time thinking about life and death and the meaning of everything. I appreciate the arts and love animals and nature. My spiritual life is very important to me. Sometimes I fast and pray. I read a lot...mostly non-fiction. I love color and fashion and vintage clothing and patterns. I am very curious and like to learn new things. Emily Dickinson is my favorite poet.

I have struggled with mental illness most of my life. I suppose it is in the genes. My father committed suicide when I was twenty. My mom suffered major depression and had "shock" treatments WAY before therapy and Prozac were cool. When I was very small she used to hold me tight, rock me and cry and tell me we'd both be better off dead. When she'd finally let me down, my hair would be wet from her tears.

I collected rocks as a child and had a rock polisher. I could draw better than any girl in my class. Making mud pies and clover necklaces were some of my favorite summer activities. I liked storms and rain but was afraid of the wind. We never had indoor pets. I got my first indoor pets...sister kittens...when I was 29. I loved the smell of a new coloring book and the excitement of a box of sharp new crayons. Some of my favorite books as a girl were The Bobbsey Twins, The Secret Garden, and the Little House series.

There is a lot more to me than my pant size, my age or how "pretty" my face might or might not be. I am a PERSON with my very own temperament, my very own likes and dislikes...my very own perception of the world...my very own story and history. I am a PERSON. Like it or not, I am a part of the human race. I live and breathe and have every right that any other human has. Being fat doesn't negate my personhood. It doesn't make me any less a citizen of this United States. It doesn't undo my right to the pursuit of happiness. It certainly doesn't guarantee a jolly disposition.

No, I am not jolly. I am me...a whole, complete, unique human being.

PS:I have decided that I am no longer going to worry about grammar, punctuation, or spelling. My worries about getting it all wrong have kept me from writing. I want and love to write and express myself. It helps me tremendously. At my age it is also very good for my brain. As much as I love it, writing is not easy for me. All the hard thinking I have to do to get it done is surely a deterrent to dementia! If I don't get it right, please overlook me.

So I Went to Stein Mart

2008-06-05T23:18:00.000-04:00

So I went to Stein Mart to find some duds to wear to a big event in New York City. The event was the World Premier of the Prince Caspian movie. My daughter has cystic fibrosis and going to the premier was the wish she requested from Make A Wish. Make A Wish sent us to NYC for 5 days! It was fabulous.

My trip to Stein Mart was not so fabulous. They had some cute things in the plus department but nothing I was too interested in. I did see that they had some travel clothing...the slinky type fabric that doesn't wrinkle. I didn't need any for the NYC trip but thought I might pick up a pair to keep on hand. I can't wear plus size bottoms in a stretch fabric. I need a L or XL, so I scoured the HUGE "normal/regular" ladies section and could find no travel pants.

I decided to ask a sales clerk for help. BAD decision! I couldn't spot a sales clerk so politely asked a jewelry clerk if she could find someone. The lady she found seemed none too happy to be helping me. She bustled toward me looking stern and miffed. It was as though I had interrupted her from a critical brain surgery or something! Before she even spoke I felt like a first grader in trouble with an impatient ticked off teacher.

I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin and bravely told her what I was looking for. She looked me up and down very tight lipped and then YELLED to another sales lady. I was so startled and dumbfounded that I don't remember exactly what she said, but is was along the lines of,

"Hey Marge, do you know if we have any of those travel pants in the ladies
regular sizes? I don't think we carry those in REGULAR sizes do we? I know we
have LOTS of them in Plus? You don't know. OK. Hey Shirley......"

Then she spat the same thing again. This was pretty much a full volume yell...nothing sissy about it.

After the first yell, my mouth fell open and I raised my hands palms up and mouthed, "What the...." and froze. By that time the jewelry lady had come from behind the counter and was heading my way. Every other female shopper I could see had frozen in place, hands mid air above racks of clothing, eyes full of horror, staring at the sales lady and then at me.

It all seemed to happen in slow mo. I was horrified and furious. I wanted to slug her. Instead I almost burst into tears from embarrassment. I quickly said, "Thanks anyway" and went slinking to the register to purchase the cute top I had found for my daughter. Was it a case of fat hatred? I don't know. All I know is that Stein Mart needs to train it sales people a little better. A case of fat hatred or not, this lady's conduct was rude and unprofessional.

Why have a plus department if your plus size customers are going to be treated like crap when they come to shop. I found something very nice to wear....elsewhere. It was lovely. We had a grand time in NYC. The World Premier was great. My daughter got to walk the red carpet and meet all the stars at the private after party. They were all gracious and friendly beyond belief! Much more than I can say for the sales lady at Stein Mart.

If I had it to do over, I would have slugged the Stein Mart sales clerk....kidding. No, I would have immediately asked for a manager and done a little on the spot FA education. I would have referred them to Kate Harding's blog and told them to read every blog on Kate's blogroll. Plus, I wouldn't have purchased a single thing. I let both myself and the movement down and I feel really badly about it. I guess I was just so stressed and tired by that time that all I wanted to do was get out of there. Live and learn.

My daughter with actor William Mosely at the after party. William plays Peter Pevensie in the Narnia films. Not the best image due to image being taken from video!

Been Gone

2008-03-20T21:38:00.007-04:00

I've been gone...not physically, but mentally. I haven't been reading blogs or writing. I just haven't been able to.

I started blogging to express some anger and deep feelings. I did that and it felt good. I found the Fat Acceptance movement and all your bright, funny and informative blogs and that felt good. I began accepting my fat and my whole self more and that felt good. But I don't feel good. I just don't. I'm very depressed. It has been traumatic to remember such horrid times from my past. It has really done a number on me. Until I get strong again, I just can't go back there. I will read when I can, but when I don't, please know my heart is with you.

During this down time, I've been trying to pay closer attention to my body. I find that I tense up when I eat. I don't know why. I remember once breaking out in red patches all over my neck and chest while eating dinner with my husband. Why in the world do I get so nervous during the act of eating? I've been trying to catch the tension and relax during meals. Surely the tension sends cortisol into my bloodstream and makes my body hang on to every calorie? I don't know if it works that way.

Maybe I get nervous during eating because my OCD mom hurried the cuddle time of bottle feedings...in order to get back to her cleaning rituals. She was too busy for cuddle time. Or maybe the dinner table at my house was tense. I don't know. I don't remember most of my childhood very well. I certainly can't remember being a baby. I remember mom was a great cook. It was on the table at five sharp. We ate. My sis and I washed dishes.

My shoulders are tense and all the way up to my ears and my jaws clenched as I write this, so I'm going to stop.

One last thing. I had a profound experience the other day. I felt the urge to eat. I wasn't hungry. I went with the feeling of not being hungry and not eating and what would happen if I didn't eat. I stayed there for a minute and...wow...I realized nothing would happen. If I didn't eat, I would not die and the world would not end. And I didn't eat. Maybe this is the beginning of something.

Trusting My Body

2008-02-27T09:44:00.008-05:00

I've been down scratching around at the bottom of life lately. It hasn't been fun. I've not been here a whole lot, but I've been trying to keep reading your blogs for encouragement.

I'm accepting my fat ok. I'm just having trouble deciding if I'm eating disordered or naturally fat. The only thing I know for a fact is that I have a very complicated relationship with food and that I was undoubtedly an exercise bulimic.

I've always believed I was an anorexic, but I'm not even sure of that now. I know I starved myself for a long time. And I don't know if the eating I did/do would be considered binging. I know I always think about food...eating it, not eating it, why do I want to eat it, why does it rule my life, why can't I turn off the food thoughts in my head...food, food, food, food, food, food.

It is like I am never satisfied....like I'm craving something, but I don't know what it is. Sometimes I can't think of one single thing I want to put into my mouth, but I have a strong urge and drive to eat something. Then I spend the next hour trying to figure out why I want to eat when I don't want to eat. Am I sleepy, thirsty, blah, blah, blah. There seems to be no answer. Then I end up eating something...anything.

The only time I ever felt free from the thought of food, free of the drive and urge to eat was when I was on Wellbutrin. I was driving down the road and all the sudden I realized I wasn't thinking about food and I was hungry...really hungry...physically...growly hungry. I hadn't eaten or thought about food for hours. I yelled out loud to myself in the car, "I feel normal! This is what it feels like to be normal!" It was a blessed relief to be free from thoughts of food for a few days.

Sadly, the "normal" feeling went away and I again became obsessed with food. I feel like a slave, a prisoner to food. I hate food. I hate thinking about it and eating it. I don't hate eating it because it makes me fat. Thank God for that. That improvement is a direct result of this FA movement and your blogs. I just hate eating it because it rules me. I can't tell it no. I am at the mercy of food and the thought of food.

I could literally eat constantly...not because I'm a pig, not because I'm greedy, not because I don't have anything else I want or need to do, but because I'm driven to eat by what feels like a demonic force. It is more powerful than I am. It doesn't even feel like it is me. *I* try to fight it but *it* always wins. Don't tell me fat people don't have will power. People like me exercise will power every minute of every day. I'm tired from the fight. I'm depressed from losing the fight. The thoughts of food make me so very tired. The eating of food makes me so very tired. It is enough at times to make me want to off myself...just to be free from the thoughts.

I'd love to get into HAES. But I'm afraid I'll replace thoughts of food with thoughts of constant exercise. I've done that very successfully. It was great until I got a serious exercise related back injury and everything hurt...even sitting. I don't trust myself to exercise for health. I don't trust my body...my back..not to hurt.

I'd love to get into intuitive eating. The phrase makes me want to laugh. Yeah. Right. Trust THIS body!? No way. I'd neglect my family, never leave the house except to go to the grocery store or the drive through. I wouldn't read. I wouldn't blog. I'd lock myself in a room with my food and eat until I died. I DO NOT TRUST MY BODY. I hate my body and NOT because it is fat. I hate it because it betrays me and I can't trust it.

I'm pretty sure I'm eating disordered. I'm not sure if I'm naturally fat. I don't really care at this point. I don't think it matters. All I know is that I'm tired...tired of the mental and physical fight against food. I'm worn out. I'm tired of people assuming I'm weak and lazy and stupid and greedy. I'm not. I'm tired.

I want to be healthy. I want to be active and feel good. I want my body to reach its natural set point. I want to be "normal". I don't care how much I weigh or what I look like. That really isn't the issue with me anymore. I just want to feel like I did that week on Wellbutrin. It was heaven. I was free from the fight. Food didn't rule my thoughts. My thoughts didn't drive me to eat. I had room in my brain for other stuff.

For one week in my life I could trust my body. For one week I was free.