FATastic!

There are times in your life when you’re faced with the hard decision of ‘taking the high road’.  You have to make the decision to either ignore something that is a direct attack, or shoot back and remind someone just how venomous and ruthless you can be.  I’ll admit, there are times I’ve done the latter, bringing myself down the level of whatever insignificant half-wit is goading me.  There have also been plenty of times I’ve taken the high road.  Today, I’ll meet somewhere in the middle.

One of my biggest pet peeves is when someone mistakes my kindness for weakness.  It’s disrespectful and completely negates the niceness that I show a person.  Recently, someone has been doing just that.  Offending me publicly, and constantly using certain things I’ve done against me as a way to make themselves look good.  I’ve totally let it slide because I like to take the high road.  BUT… my patience has run out.  So, I’ve emailed this note to my offender, but I’m also posting it here because I know she reads this blog.  I want to make sure we have an understanding.
Now, because my offender likes to share things I’ve said and done with others, I urge her to share this:

You have a lot of people fooled because they don’t know you.  They haven’t had to witness your self righteousness, your self important ranting fueled by your insecurity, or your genuine inability to live the bullshit you spew.  You take something that is very real, that hundreds of other women fight for EVERYDAY, and turn it into your personal feel good machine to feed your dying ego.  Enjoy your adulation, because make no mistake about it, after just 30 minutes alone with you, they’ll realize what you & I already know: You are a fraud.  No manner of hiding or pretending will ever change that.  Because you’re such an imposter, I forgive you… because I know you’re weak and can’t help it.  The lessons I’ve learned from our short interaction are invaluable and will surely change the way I conduct business from now on.  I wish you success, and very much look forward to seeing each other face to face again real soon.

I was having a good afternoon until you pissed me off.  I am not married.  GET OVER IT.

Everytime I see you, you have some loud ass ridiculous comment to make. Including, but not limited to:
“Ooh girl, you have a rough night?” (NO! but obviously I LOOK like I did… thanks.)
“Ooh girl, you sho’ do like your short skirts. THAT’s how you find a husband!” (WHAT?????????)
“Ooh girl, my man toe it up last night. That’s why you need a husband.” (Oh!! THAT’S why I need a husband, so I can tell strangers about my sex life… Right.) 
“Ooh girl, you know what you need that will definitely get you a husband?” (the list so far: fake nails, extensions, a perm, the number of her laser tech, fake contacts, different glasses, to stop wearing knee socks, put myself ‘out there’.)
“Ooh girl, you STILL ain’t married yet?”- (bitch, I wasn’t married yesterday, why would I miraculously be married today?)

Look, I’m sure you’re a nice woman, but of all the things I’m NOT interested in, how your man toe you up, your love of white boys with big dicks, and YOUR DATING ADVICE are on the top of the list. Shut your pie hole, and give me my goddamn change. 

When I first starting realizing that I really enjoyed singing and it was something I wouldn’t mind doing a lot in my life I was about 10.   I was chubby, awkward, and shy about singing in front of anyone other than my parents.  Even then I could tell my voice was different than my friend’s voices.  Heavier.  Louder.  Rougher.  I was crushed.  I wanted to have the sweet high pitched voices my friends had.  After many failed attempts to sound like Debbie Gibson, Madonna, or Tiffany… it finally hit me that it just wasn’t gonna happen. 

Then one day, while listening to some of my mom’s Aretha Franklin I noticed that her voice sounded kinda like mine…. Of course, MUCH more powerful and amazing, but it was that same  rough, fullness I’d been trying so hard to get rid of.  Then I got a hold of my mom’s Etta James.   By this time I was 12 and had had my 1^st brush with heartache:  Philip Rivera.  He’d let some other little bitch wear his break dancing bandana and I was devastated.  Cue sad soulful music.  1^st time I heard ‘All I Could Do Was Cry’ all I could think was how sad and perfect her voice was.  Even through my pre teen melodrama I could tell I’d stumbled on something wonderful.

She immediately joined Aretha in the ranks of my inspiration and obsession.  That hard, rough, smokey, power in her voice was amazing and familiar.  It let me know that it was ok to sound the way I sounded.  My voice that, had once sounded heavy and cumbersome to me, was all of a sudden full of magic and emotion that I didn’t even know I had.  It sounds cheesy, but that woman helped me be ok with my sound. 

I’ll never have the power and perfection that I think is Etta James’ voice, and that’s ok.  What I do have is confidence and affection for my voice that I wouldn’t have had it not been for her and other artists that screamed, hollered and belted their way through their music.  And for that I’ll always be humbled and grateful.

Most of 2011 kinda sucked for me.  So, here are 15 goals for myself, that I think will make this year and life in general better for me.

Time Management:
This is the bane of my existence.  I am THE worst time manager I know.  So much so that I’m late ALL THE TIME.  This wouldn’t be a big deal, but I’ve found that I miss out on so much time with people I love simply because I can’t seem to get my ass to where I need to be on time.  I’ve definitely gotten better over the years, but I’ve got a long way to go.

Enjoying My Body
The older I get, the more I notice changes in my body.  There are things that I can’t do anymore, that I used to be able to do.  I figure that’s only gonna get worse.  I just want to enjoy the body I have right now.

Enjoying My Youth
I forget that in the grand scheme of things, I’m still pretty young.  I’ve got to stop complaining about not having my 20’s anymore and recognize how AWESOME my 30’s are.  I find myself so obsessed with what’s coming that I’m not even recognizing what’s here now.   And that shit is REAL lame.

Less Complaining, More Action
Pretty self explanatory.  A lot of shit gets on my nerves.   I’m vocal about it.  So, instead of only complaining, I’ll complain then do something about it.

Quiet Solitude/Enjoying My Own Company
This one is really a struggle for me. I find it hard to be quiet and still.  Alone.  I strongly feel like sometimes a person has to be able to be alone and be ok.   You have to be able to just shut the hell up and be still.  (Without falling asleep, which is what I always end up doing)

 Be More Active
I love dancing, I don’t do it enough.  I love walking, I don’t do it enough.  I love swimming, also don’t do it enough.  My asthma SUCKS… what makes it better?  Being active.  See?  It’s all intertwined.

Aggressively Work On my Phobia
Okay… this thing…  So, I am VERY afraid of murals, large paintings, and large statues.  Like…terrified.  I can’t go anywhere near them.  To the point of hyper ventilating…. It’s bad.

 1st pic is just a mural…but just looking at it makes me very uncomfortable, and in a living room?  NO MA’AM….  2nd pic, Littlefield fountain statue… HATE that thing. Seriously.  HATE. 
I’ve been working on this fear for years, and it’s gotten better, but not by much.  After going to The Carousel, and having to just stand still, and look straight ahead the whole time, I decided “okay, bitch… that’s enough”.  Luckily I had people there to keep me preoccupied which helped a lot, but I was struggling.  So, this year, I’ll be doing a little cognitive therapy on myself, and testing my limits. We’ll see how it goes.

Aggressively work on being healthier. (not necessarily lose weight)
This one is easy.  Gotta eat better, gotta be more active.  That’s it.  Not concerned with losing weight, I just don’t want diabetes, or worse, because I can’t keep my hands off Whataburger french fries.   

Plant Roots
I’m from Austin, so I have roots in this city.  I’m lucky enough to have my family here.  BUT I need to plant roots where I live.  I need to nest, it helps me feel grounded and safe.  I haven’t felt grounded or safe much of the year because of, either my inability to or unwillingness to plant roots.  I’m committing to making where I live my home.

Be creative everyday
I’m crafty.  I like doing it.  SO everyday, I will.

Sing more
I’m already kind of on path with this one.  I just need to remind myself to keep it up.  When I’m not singing, I’m not happy.  Simple as that.

Spend more time with my niece.
She’s  awesome.  That’s all.

Wear a little make up everyday
I like the way I look with mascara on.  I should stop being so fucking lazy and put some on.  That’s it really.  Oh, and lip stick.  I’ve been seeing all these AMAZING bright colors I wanna try.

Write more:
I love writing.  It seems to be the only way to make sense of what’s going on in my head.  I’ve just started another blog with a friend of mine called Fat Girls on Fire…. It’s gonna be something so damn serious and great!  I can’t wait!

Do what I say I’m gonna do:
One of my biggest pet peeves is when someone never does what they say they’re gonna do.  It drives me NUTS.  Then one day after I flaked on something I thought: “oh shit… glass house… stone… pot… kettle… black… fuck!”  So I’m going to be the change I want to see in other people.  PLUS it’ll give me more leverage, when being pissy about others.

That’s it… 15 things I want to work on in 2012.  Hopefully the world won’t end before I accomplish them all.

Yesterday was a strange day in the office. The day started off with an odd conversation in the breakroom and ended with some sort of haphazard intervention between me and people I barely know.  Let me explain:
My allergies were TERRIBLE yesterday, which meant my eyes were red, swollen slits that I rubbed constantly.  So, it comes  as no surprise that several people thought I’d been crying.  BUT… one lady took it to a whole other level:

8:03am breakroom:
Her: “Morning!”
ME: (Stumbling and confused) “Hi.”
Her: “Rough night?”
ME: “Huh? No…. ” (finally look up at her)
Her: “OH MY GOD….. are you ok?”
ME: “Um… yea….”
Her: “Have you been CRYING?”
ME: “Wha?  No. No…”
(sounding not at all convincing cause I’m confused and wondering wth is wrong with this woman)
Her: “Oh, honey….”  (with genuine concern on her face, coming in for a hug)
ME: “Ma’am, I haven’t been crying… I promise.  It’s allergies.” (jerking away like she’s got the plague)
Her: “Allergies. Right. Look, honey, it’s ok to cry… you know we ha….”
ME: “MA’AM!  Seriously… I have NOT been crying.  I have really bad allergies.”
(hoping and praying for just one goddamn sneeze, so this bitch will go away)
Her: “Ok, ok…. if you don’t wanna talk about it, I understand….”
ME: ”Uh… ok.  Well have a nice day.”

2 Hours Later I run into her on the way to the bathroom, I’m sniffling to keep the snot from dripping out of nose, and she’s looking at me like I’m some sort of fucking battered wife.
Her: “Heyyy……”
ME: “Hi.”

 4:30, I hear a knock on my cube, and it’s her and some other lady that I don’t know who’s got cookies in her hand.
ME: “Yea?”
Her: “Listen, this is my friend (blah blah), she kind of going through a tough time right now too, and she thought maybe you’d want these to help cheer you up.”
Now…. 1st of all… why are you assuming  my fat ass wants cookies?  2ndly, WHERE did they come from?  Did this bitch go buy them at lunch?  Cause if so… that is just crazy… 3rdly… I was mad, cause I kinda wanted them damn cookies!  So as I’m contemplating whether or not I should just pretend and take the cookies, the new one blurts out:
Random Girl: “He’s not worth it.”
ME: “What?!?!” (now kinda laughing)
RG: “He’s not worth it. If he’s gonna upset you so much that you’re crying at work, he’s not worth it.”
Now I’m straight up laughing loudly in their faces…. Totally tickled.
ME: “Alright ladies, that’s enough… ok… that’s enough get out. For reals.  Y’all are killing me.  Come on… I got work to do. Out.”
Her: “Well, I’m always here if you need me.”
ME: “Alright… awesome.  Come on… out…. OH!  But you can totally leave the cookies….”

What. The. Fuck?


I got into a pretty heated discussion with a friend yesterday that is still rattling around in my head.  Basically we were talking about me and men and being single.  I told him that it was harder for me to attract dudes than most girls.  I said that I had kind of a disadvantage because of my size and because I’m not what’s considered traditionally beautiful.  I told him I felt like dudes have to catch up to others in realizing that I’m the shit.  Now… let me say right off, that I wasn’t fishing for compliments, I was just stating something that I thought was fact. Here’s a little bit of the convo:

Him: “Bullshit.  You’re beautiful.”
Me: “Yes, but not the way a lot of people are.”

Him: “BULLSHIT!”
Me: “Alls I’m saying is that, it’s difficult for me to attract dudes ‘cause I’m not traditionally pretty.”

Him: “That’s ridiculous, you’re very pretty.”
Me: “You already know me and my personality… typically people become more  beautiful the more get to know and love them.  I’m just saying you’re biased. I’m talking about strangers, not people I already know.”

Him: “I think that’s a shitty thing to say.  People tell you you’re beautiful all the time.”

Me: “Yes, people I KNOW…. It’s different. “

Him: “No it’s not!  If you’re attractive, you’re attractive.  Period.”

Me: “Says the INCREDIBLY attractive man, that gets hit on all the time.”(Admittedly  not the BEST answer… but that’s all I could come up with)

Needless to say, it just kept getting worse, and by the end of it we were pretty pissed at each other. I know I could’ve expressed myself better, but I was in a defensive position and the conversation didn’t turn out the way I’d planned.

Here’s the thing:  Traditionally attractive people don’t have much of an idea what it’s like to be invisible to the opposite sex most of the time.  I’m not saying you don’t know what it’s like.  I’m saying you don’t know what it’s like to feel that way MOST of the time.  We’ve all felt invisible in our lives, but when I tell you I fell invisible to men MOST of the time, I’m not kidding.   I feel like a lot of it has to do with being fat, but some of it is also I’m not a traditionally pretty girl. And I won’t explain traditionally, ‘cause you all know what I mean. 

I understand attraction is important.  You have to have something that draws you to a person to even think about approaching them.  Typically that something is physical.  Because this is often how things work, I’m invisible to men a lot of the time.  Now comes the obligatory, reassurance that I know I’m awesome.  I know I’m a pretty girl, and I know I’m a catch.   I’m very lucky to have friends that tell me how great I am all the time.  Not to mention the boy who, though we’re apart, is a constant source of ego rocket fuel.  I’m not wanting in the self esteem department.  Talk to me for 20 minutes and you’ll find out.  But, what is true in my life is that being fat, nappy headed, quirky, cute and fabulous (and by no means are those adjectives negative) doesn’t have the men beating down my door.   Do I think it’s their loss? Fuck. Yes.  But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck, and it doesn’t mean I don’t get tired of waiting for them to catch up.

You know what I hate?  When people tell me I look like whatever random fat black woman they know, have seen lately, or see on tv.  It seriously drives me BONKERS!  Like for real.  It happens all the time.. OH, and if she has natural hair… that’s a wrap!  She’s automatically my twin.  ALL FAT BLACK GIRLS DO NOT LOOK ALIKE.  Period. We don’t.  Take 2 damn extra minutes and notice the obvious differences before you say something stupid.  And this is not a black/white thing, cause EVERYONE does it. 

Case in point:  A girl just told me I look like Gabby Sidibe.  1st, let me say, I think she’s beautiful.  Her skin is amazing, and her smile is off the hook… AND her sassiness makes me giggle whenever I see her in interviews.  Having said that.  Other than the fact that we’re both black and both large, we don’t look ANYTHING like each other.  Observe:
Gabby:

ME:

Both ADORABLE…. But to me there’s no resemblence.  The lady at work though… WOW… she went on and on about how we could be twins, and how it’s uncanny… and blah blah blah…. I’m gonna chalk it up to her being old… But seriously?  The f*ck outta here with that shit, man.