FatGirl vs World

Yes, I know it's been a long time since I've blogged (June 2017 to be exact).  I have been stuck in the same feedback loop of injury, recovery, [bonus obstacle!], injury, recovery.  Reporting back and forth on that cycle doesn't seem very exciting.  But a big THANK YOU to everyone who has kept be buoyed up during my rough patches over the past 2 years.  I can only hope to return the kindness one day.

Left Coast:  In the beginning of December, I traveled to San Francisco for the first time.  It's super gorgeous there.

I still have the heel spur reduction/plantar fasciotomy on my right foot to look forward to (the last surgery was for my left foot).  Doctor and I had hoped to do both in quick succession, but the nerves in my foot had other plans.

Right Coast:  Towards the end of December, I visited Dad in NY.

Got this amazing photo of him looking out on the Narrows.  Had a lot of long talks and good times.  But (without going into too much detail) it's a reminder that sometimes when I'm going through a lot in my own life, that it's easier for me to focus on other people.

I hate using trite analogies -- but I need to put my oxygen mask on first.  It's not an "in case of a decrease in cabin pressure" type of situation; a "you're of more help to others if you help yourself first" thing:  my situation is more of a "girl, you are running on fumes, it's okay to take some air for yourself" kind of thing.

I'm good at taking care of myself in some ways ("adulting") and terrible at actually enjoying myself.  I find that my life is swinging from crisis to crisis. I need a better mode of travel through life. eh?

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In other news....

Many years ago, someone bought me a very nice candle as a thank you for some work that I did for him.  As I'm not the kind of person to spend $40 on a candle (I'm more likely to spend $5-6), I filed it in the "to be saved for a special occasion" category along with other things like fancy/delicate stemware, clothing that I don't want to get dry cleaned, and shoes that only feel comfortable for the first hour.

The other day, I was cleaning and dusting, and took out the candle and opened it up for the first time in years to smell it.  It just didn't smell as bright and as fresh as I remembered it.

Okay, my point with all of this is that sometimes things in life are amazing and special, but they're also fleeting.  Sometimes you have to light the candle and enjoy it then and there because the "special occasion" may never come, or you might not know it when you see it.  Create the occasion and it will be special.

The next step: realizing that you're the occasion :P

Just got back from a screening of Embrace and I think I need some more time to process. My thoughts are flying in a few different directions.

But I want to put to you all a question that I asked after the movie to the panel (but I am going to ramble a little more here).

So much of society and consumerism feeds off of insecurity -- keeping us from feeling comfortable and secure in who we are and what we look like. Essentially, we question our own worth and value.

The parallel in boxing is instability--when we get too narrow. When we "get narrow" it makes it easier for our opponent to knock us off balance at the same time it limits our range and power. Getting narrow with self-love often looks the same too--trying to take up less space and disappear.

The response is to "square up" (widen our stance to create a better foundation) -- sometimes only a single step in the right direction to restore our range, power, and stability.

What do you think is one way we all can "square up" in the direction of improving our self-confidence and body image efficacy? 

There really should be water in the glass. Sorry dairy lobby.

It's about time I got to talking about diet.  I've already written about my thoughts about the other parts of the puzzle:  1/5:  The Foundation and 1/5:  Exercise.  Just to refresh, I firmly believe that wrapping your head around being healthy can be split into a pie with 5 wedges and distributed as such: 

Andrew WK is a professional partier. He's a professional partier on a mission to spread the party lifestyle around the US and around the world.  



It's not about headbanging (and getting a bangover), or doing the things that help people escape from their daily life (drugs, alcohol, vices and distractions).  Andrew WK wants everyone to reconnect with what it truly means to be alive and human. He wants everyone to step out from the darkness and choose to be in the light of hope, joy, possibilities.

Last night was more than just attending a speaking engagement by a rock star (with him taking audience questions and staying until after midnight to talk to everyone, take photos, and sign stuff).  I think Andrew WK wanted to connect with everyone in the room and remind us of the joy in life.  

I felt like a terrible audience member, but I took notes (via twitter) so I'd remember what he had said after the adrenaline had worn off.  Here's some of his gems: 

I'm quite fond of saying that weight loss/health gain has 3 main components (I used to say 4, but I now include it the other categories) that are not weighted equally:


I wanted to talk a little bit about the foundation work.  That little slice of the pie can look very different for different people.

For me, the first part of the foundation was coming to grips with why I put on the weight to begin with (suffering the loss of my nana and my mother).  I needed to understand that trauma before I could effect any meaningful change in my life.  Otherwise, I'd be doomed to repeat the coping mechanism of eating over and over again.  I spent a good year in therapy to deal with my anxiety and did more work with my dietician to help understand the relationship between food and my sadness/need for connection.

The second part of my foundation had to do with coming to grips with my health and my body metrics.  I'm still going through this; starting over as someone with Celiac Disease and what that means for my diet and how I need to compensate.  But when I was first starting out, I think I needed to exhaust myself of all the excuses that absolved me of responsibility (such as a thyroid condition).  I needed to accept that my body was the result of my choices.  I needed to know my baselines -- my body chemistry, my body measurements (weight and tape measure) and my physical ability.

The third part was about changing my environment, my patterns, and my relationships.  It's not fun to take a look at your life and realize all the places that are pitfalls.  I had to own all the places in my life where I was able to make better choices but didn't -- because it was easy, it was what I always did, or what everyone was doing.  I had to be selfish and say "If I want my life to change, I need to change these things in my life."  And there was a lot of pain here as well as catharsis.  Doing this created space in my life to add things that would not only benefit me but benefit the people I cared about.

And the fourth part (that used to be its own category) is what I like to call "recovery."  I said that I integrated it into each category -- and it looks different in each category.  Foundation recovery is giving yourself the permission to take care of yourself and to let go of the rest.  Let go of the pain that disables you, let go of the grudge that eats away at you, let go of the people that bring you more sorrow than joy.  And then let go of the guilt of letting go.  Know that you can do these things and still survive.

I've been talking to my dad about his foundation, his path.  I said this to him privately, but I'll say this to you all (and to him) right here -- "I want your heart and mind to embrace this process.  Nothing to fear or avoid."  If you lay the foundation right, everything else becomes a product of self-discovery, of joy, of pride.  And none of it is because you're punishing yourself.  And that's what makes this time different than all the other times.

**POSSIBLE TRIGGERS:  Please proceed with caution!!**

So... the whole Nicole Arbour "Dear Fat People" video thing... 

**deep breath**

1.  Obese people are fat, not blind.  We know we're fat.  We don't need some chick with a big mouth and a rabid following not talking to us but rather yelling at us as if we're complete idiots.  It's not like we need some Youtube channel to provide the same epiphany our very own eyes can provide.  

1a.  She makes a joke about fat people not being able to chase her down... LOL.  She doesn't know about us athletic fat people -- you know, the ones that finish marathons, IronMans, Tough Mudders, etc.  And she also doesn't know about sneaky, light-on-our-feet fat people that don't need to be fast because we're so nimbly bimbly after all those Zumba, yoga, and barre classes. She forgets about the strong ones who could dead lift her heartless, humorless body. 

1b.  There are many of us who aren't strong enough to weather the gale-force bullshit spewing from her mouth ("You have to be really f*cking slow to be offended by satire," she says in the [follow-up] video. "If you can't handle the truth it means you're a psychopath.").  And for as much as she thinks her "truth bombs" can help people, there's collateral damage for which she doesn't seem willing to take responsibility.  She offered some lame ass apology, "I never intended for kids to be watching it and I'm sorry if any kids who didn't understand that I'm a comedian were shocked or upset."  As if kids are the only ones who can be hurt by her words.

2. Yay! Another skinny person telling us how our fatness offends them using the transparent guise of "helping us."  **eyeroll**  If you want to help people, you ASK what they need.  And not all fat people are created alike, and not all fat people need the same help.  Some people need easy things like motivation, accountability, recipes.  Some people need experts (see below).

2b.  No where in her video or links does she offer actual help.  No online resources or support groups.  No recommendations to go see your doctor and get a physical, work with a dietitian, work with a NASM-certified trainer.  Nothing.  

3.  Her OPINION (i.e., not really a "truth bomb") really misses the mark.  In my opinion (based on talking to a lot of people, reading a lot of books, studies, and other materials) excessive body fat is a symptom more than it is a disease. I have said time and time again that I think that obesity is more often than not the byproduct of trauma (physical, mental, psychological, sexual).  And the more I started thinking about it, the more I came to believe that most food/exercise/body disorders (as they're interrelated and on a spectrum) are as well. (And if it's not trauma, there's still other outside forces that can influence a person's size, shape, and health -- but I'll leave it to other people to argue socioeconomic and other points.) 

3a.  Making fun of the survivors of trauma makes her an asshole, not a comedian.  

3b. Making fun of the survivors of trauma for not being able to wrap their heads/bodies around the trauma in their lives doesn't help people to address the trauma.  It re-traumatizes them.   For example, look at how many people gain or lose weight as a barrier between them and the people who sexually abused them.  You wouldn't yell at a bulimic to eat a cheeseburger when the real issue was someone violating their body.  Equally, you shouldn't tell a fat person to put down the cheeseburger when the real issue was someone violating their body. 

3c.  People who have endured trauma should probably start with professional help. 
(a) Cause you never know what trauma is lurking underneath all the layers of fat, and sometimes what's lurking needs a safe place to make its debut.
(b) It's really easy to transfer one harmful behavior to another.  For instance -- people who go from being food addicts to exercise addicts is not a myth.  It's an actual thing.
(c) People have been known to do some pretty harmful things in order to chase down their unrealistic goals. 

I'm sure there's more... but I'm kinda annoyed with myself for even giving it this much time/thought when really I should have just said "Bitch please."

Old photo is a perfect salute to Nicole.

I've recently become fascinated with the UK television show Embarrassing Bodies.  I've been following Dr. Christian Jessen) on Twitter for some time (he's adorable, candid, and always has good info).  I don't plug my TV in/don't have cable, but I don't think anything like this exists in the United States.  People in the UK talk about their medical problems on national TV.  Not only do they talk about them, but they quite often get naked and have exams.
following one of the show's doctors (

But I like their take -- that despite the show's title, our bodies are nothing to be embarrassed about, that we owe it to ourselves to get to know our bodies, and to have honest and frank conversations with our medical providers.

Anyways, I was watching an episode last night and they had a feature on a woman who has had arthritis since she was a child.  She's had both hips replaced and both knees replaced.  She uses a wheelchair to get around most of the time, but she's not confined to it. She said something that stuck out to me -- "Arthritis has added something to my life."

For so many people with chronic illnesses,injuries or pain, the illness/injury/pain is about what it has subtracted from his or her life.  We think about the things we can't do or have missed out on, we think about how we feel like our bodies have betrayed us and sold us short.

But man... what a novel concept that chronic illnesses/injuries/pain can actually add to our lives.  I know that my spine injuries have helped me cultivate more compassion for others as well as for myself, and more gratitude for my good days (and even a few of my bad). It has also helped me chill out a bit.

Her statement also reminded me to stop being so adversarial with my back injury. My refuge and relief will come from honoring the gift my injury has given me -- the ability to listen to my body, honor my pain, and returning to trusting my body.

Buddhists have a term -- dukkha -- that often gets translated as "suffering." But the term dukkha is much more complex than just the sensation of suffering:  Dukkha is the dissonance between what is (the present moment) and that which was (the past) and/or that which we want (the next moment).  Quite often the dukkha comes from the desire to control what happens in the next moment -- controlling a situation, an outcome, and even our own self.  Buddhists hope to end or mitigate dukkha by focusing on what is true and real in the present moment.


I've yet to find someone looking to lose weight/gain health that isn't suffering.  I see it in their eyes and I hear it in their words.  They suffer the past unhappiness and trauma that lead them to gaining the weight.  They suffer the present moment of having to carry the physical and emotional weight.  They suffer the anxiety and fear of having to live the rest of their life on a diet or in a gym.

Past:  So many people who are looking to lose weight are held back by their feelings about the past (disclaimer:  in the case of trauma, any investigation into the past should be done in a safe and moderated environment such as a psychologist's office so as to not cause further trauma).   In my opinion, it is next to impossible to change your life until you address the past and untangle yourself from its influence.  It's not about denying that your past happened, it's about saying that you're no longer going to let it dictate your present and future. Understanding one's past is much different than being held hostage by it.

Present:  The present is the only part in your timeline where you have any control, any say, any choice. In order to truly be in the present moment, you need to forgive yourself for any missteps that you may have made in the past and then let it metamorphose into the love you have for yourself today. Believe it or not, this is the way to enjoy the weight loss/health gain process.  Transformation cannot come from a place of shame, deprivation, anger, fear, or outside influence. It comes with having your mind and heart connected to your body in this very moment. You will have good days and bad, and moments that are hard, but you will find the strength to endure because this is a process of love.  Be a part of the the process; not apart from it.

Future:  The future is anything that has not already occurred and is not happening at the present moment. It's a place of endless possibilities.  When we try to control situations, outcomes, people, we restrict those possibilities of what could be.  Who knows, maybe the universe has something better for us than we could have ever imagined with our limited point of view.  The magic happens here.  When we learn to let go of our anxiety and fear in the present, we open a door to the future.  It's the ultimate act of relinquishment -- to give in to the process and say "let this path take me on a journey" versus "I know where I am going."

Now... just because I understand these concepts doesn't mean I'm a good practitioner of these things all the time.  I know that I hold on to the past; a past defined in loss. I find myself so focused on trying to get through things in the future that I have blinders to the present moment.  I forget that I can make healthy choices even while I feel inundated.  And I'm so very bad at trusting a future based on present actions.

BUT, I'm able to practice awareness of these things. I can catch myself in moments where I'm stuck in the past, or where I'm trying to architect a future. I feel the dissonance in my body when I'm trying too hard to control things that are not within my purview to control.

Shotover River, South Island, NZ

Sometimes I just close my eyes and imagine myself in a stream, and instead of trying to swim upstream, I just accept the flow, relinquish control, stop resisting, and enjoy being a part of the flow.

Bert Stern, "The Last Sitting"

I saw this photo last week -- the unmistakable, unparalleled Marilyn Monroe and the scar from her gall bladder surgery -- and it struck a nerve when it came to how I feel about my own surgical scar.  She was simultaneously strong and alluring as well as vulnerable and human.

Prior to my artificial disc replacement surgery, I was worried that a scar would be an indicator of my being broken.  I made plans on how I would cover it up with scarves and distract people with jewelry.  I was surprised that after the surgery (1) it itched like crazy and (2) I felt very tender toward it -- that it was an indicator of my healing.  It wasn't the scar on me, it was my scar.

This past weekend, I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Alvin Mitchell of the blog People In This City.  Not only does he take photos but he likes to interact with the subject.  We talked about the skill of photography, and how Photoshop makes people unrecognizable from who they truly are -- that a good photographer reveals the subject, they do not disguise or hide the subject.


Jack cat was needing some extra stimulation and love after losing his brother, so I took out on his harness/leash for a walk and some time watching birds (this happens to be in a church yard).  I hadn't taken a shower, my hair was a bit of a mess, no makeup whatsoever, and I was covered in cat hair.  In other words, that was me on a weekend.

Alvin showed me the picture and I was very struck with the colors and the way Jack is looking out.  It wasn't until he published the photo on his blog that I noticed my scar.  I then read what he took from our conversation and realized how poignant it was to my very own story:  "People make assumptions about one another’s body… The scars and small details are a part of me.  Try to get to know the person -- that’s when the magic happens." 

The scar is just a part of my story.  It is not the whole story.  
The scar is a part of me and I refuse to be ashamed of any part of me. 

The ever awesome YumYucky reminded me of something that I may have forgotten: 

It's go time, baby! As your imaginary trainer, I command you to do what you love in a safe way.  But here's the kicker... you have to give it your all.  100% commitment and daily dedication to the process.  That is what this fake trainer requires of you.

People ask me all the time where to start the weight loss and health gain.  I've learned through experience that attitude is the main difference between people who are successful at weight loss/health gain and those who are not.  The people who succeed base their whole journey and experience in joy.  The people who fail base their experience in punishment and self-loathing (yep, those people exist).

On Friday, my neighbor had me over to show me his new setup:  a 150lb heavy bag in his living room.  Like a giddy little kid, I went over to his place with my boxing gear.  I threw a few punches, he threw a few punches.  Not only did I forget how much I like boxing, but I also forgot how much I liked giving people feedback on what they were doing.  I pointed out how my neighbor didn't get all the torque out of his punch that he could and made a few adjustments.  Apparently the adjustments worked -- within minutes we had knocked the bag off of its mounting.

Did I forget about this fierce fighter?

But that feeling of glee... oh dear readers... I had completely forgotten what that feels like, or rather, I had forgotten to cultivate and nurture that feeling of joy in every movement, in every meal, in every sweet dream.

In talking to my neighbor, I realized that in the year after my neck surgery, I hadn't even shadow boxed.  My body had recovered but my mind was lagging behind.  I think part of me abandoned the thought of ever being able to throw a punch again without ever even trying.  Though the doctor had cleared me, I had held myself back.

I wonder how many people out there reading this are afraid to start their own weight loss/health gain journey out of fear that they may not be the best at something, completely forgetting what Josie asked me to do -- to love what I do and be 100% committed to whatever it is.  As my first voice/opera teacher once told me, if you're going to sing the wrong note, sing it "strong and wrong." 

Have conviction in whatever you're doing. 

And yes, I'm giving you permission to have a dance party. 

New Year's Eve 1999-->2000 I was in Times Square with a few thousand of my closest friends.  The mood was celebratory, but a little tense.  No one knew what Y2K would do.  Would nothing happen or would there be a massive failure of all the world's systems ensuing in panic, rioting, and a police state?  Some people brought gas masks in case there was rioting, other people brought flasks.  We just didn't know.

I had gotten there many hours early so I could spend my first NYE in Times Square with a view.  I was supposed to meet up with my college friend Romy, but because he got a later start, he was unable to reach the area where I was.  Alone, I had no choice but to make friends with the people around me.  A very handsome guy from Wisconsin named Andy decided that every hour on the hour, he'd celebrate by kissing me.  I think we celebrated the New Year in six time zones, and few of the in-betweens.   (**waves to Andy, wherever he may be**)

I was thinking about this last night as the final minutes of 2013 were ticking down.  I've done the crazy NYE in Times Square.  I've done the NYE at home in pajamas with the cats and a half pound of shrimp.  I've been surrounded by family and friends.  I've also spent many New Years completely asleep.  How did I want to end 2013 and begin 2014?  

I looked around the room and there were plenty of random, unattached men who I could borrow for a few seconds.  There were friends I could hug and kiss on the cheek, but in the end, I took out my cell phone and decided that I wanted to reach out to the largest group of friends and acquaintances that I have:  the Tweet began like this, "May all of you come to know in 2014 the place you hold in my heart..."

Before I could finish the Tweet (...Like a Tardis, my heart may be small, but it's bigger on the inside.") and send it in the last seconds of 2013,  some random guy that I didn't know walked up to me.  As 2014 began, the bar erupted into a kissing frenzy.  He looked around, raised his glass to me, shook my hand and said "To the New Year's rejects."

I walked away when I should have slapped him across the face.  I walked away when I should have read him the riot act and told him to not include me in his pity party. All the good will, love, and gratitude that I had felt in the end of 2013 (I blame Love Actually) drained from my body, and I began 2014 like this (weird timestamp though): 


Instead of starting out 2014 the way that I wanted to (broadcasting a message of gratitude and love) I reached out to social media, my friends and my acquaintances alike, because I was just trying to keep a brave face (no one likes the crying girl in a bar). 

At the end of last week, I posted this on Facebook:

Much to my surprise, many of you have been feeling the same way.  ((HUGS TO ALL)) 

It wasn't until I ran into a friend/coworker that I began to make some sense of it.  She said that I was in a interstitial space.  ("An interstitial space or interstice is an empty space or gap between spaces full of structure or matter.")  In other words, I wasn't adrift in a sea of nothingness, but I was between two points in my life.

It seems that ever since starting this blog (and indeed, for a little longer than that even), that I've been engaged in many struggles to overcome injuries, moods, habits, relationships, etc.  More recently, I spent the past two years with my neck injury and its rehabilitation.  And now, for all intents and purposes, I'm healed.

So... now what?

I think for most of my readers, they get to this mental place when they hit their goal weight (something that I've yet to do), and they no longer have something to fight against.  The new fight becomes not just maintenance, but how to live when every day isn't a struggle.  When we've spent most of our lives suffering under the burdens we carry, and then this period where we learn our strength and cast off the burden, we then have no clue how to live each day with the aim to thrive.

Now, you must be thinking that the path is cleared for me to go full tilt, to actively go for my goal weight, and that's where my mind is.  But I still feel that isn't a fixed point.  I've never been a healthy weight in my adult life.  Finding out my balance point is pretty much a crap shoot.  I don't know what that's going to look or feel like, and I think that's making me scared.  So not only am I in between two points, only one of those points is fixed (my past). 

I don't think I've overdone it.  I know some people absolutely kill it, meet their goals, and then suffer some sort of whiplash.  Though I've done a lot in the gym this past year, it was at a slow and manageable pace.  I didn't push my body past where it wanted to go.  I just allowed for whatever my body would allow for. In the same time, I think I got apathetic with everything -- gym, food logging, food preparation, life.

Kudos to all of you who go out there every day and fight the good fight.  I applaud your motivation.  I applaud your courage.  But man, even being that motivated requires so much energy sometimes.  It'd be nice to have an auto-pilot sometimes that will just take me where I need to go without having to think about it so much.

1994 (age 13) was a rough year.

I have always had good taste in men.  Even the gay guys that I've had crushes on are exceptional men.  Even the guys that I loved as brothers were (and are) some of the most special people that I'll ever know in my life.  For the purpose of this blog entry, we'll ignore some of the shittier examples (like the guy that almost broke my neck).

As a 6 year-old on the elementary school black top (in a brand new town), I singled out the boy I'd have a crush for the next 11 years.  While I ended up being a bit of an outsider, he ended up being the captain and quarterback of the varsity football team, a great basketball player, an honors student, and an all-around nice guy. 

He taught me an important lesson:  I think he knew that I had a crush on him all those years (I have the subtlety of a sledgehammer sometimes) and he never once disrespected me for my feelings.  He was kind and gracious even when he didn't have to be (like the time I called him half an hour after finding out that my mother had died, and I just needed to hear his voice and have hope).  At a time when it was easy for everyone else to make fun of me, he never did (or if he did, he did it in a way where it never got back to me).

I think that I was keenly aware that from age 8 onward I was an overweight, pimply emotional wreck, though I was smart and talented.  I knew that I wasn't a catch or popular, and that I probably would never get a chance to date a guy like him.  I had a few other crushes over the years, but my crush on him was enduring and grounded me.  In a way, adoring him was a promise to myself to always aim high, to have standards, to not give up on myself.

This is my sexy face.

All of this is a very long prologue to what I actually wanted to say...which is... that it's ridiculously sucky that even though I'm a completely different person (that no longer resembles a goth Janet Reno), I'm still doing the whole "pining away for unattainable guys" thing.

But it was so much easier to swallow when I didn't think I even deserved a chance.  It was so much easier when I thought that I was dateless and unloveable when I didn't love myself.  Now that I've had a chance to know myself and love myself, I have no clue why guys aren't beating down the doors to love me. (It can't just be that I'm intimidating.)

Never once in my life have I had a guy relentlessly woo me.  I've never had a guy tell me that it would be the end of life as he knew it if I look his way.  I've never had a man stand under my window with a boom box (mp3 players just don't have the same gravity). No flowers sent to my office every day.

Thirty-two years spinning round the sun, and very little romance to show for it.  This makes me so very sad.  I've yet to experience the kind of person that I am or could be with reciprocal love under my wings.  I have the love of my friends (**hugs to everyone**) and family, but it's very different than romantic love, eh?

For many years, I think that I was afraid of loving someone because I know the absolute heart-wringing pain that losing that person feels like.  It's very natural to want to avoid pain like that, and so I did.  But all the same, I'm that foolish girl that runs straight at love, full speed, without slowing down to let it come to me.  I'm not afraid of my heart breaking as much as I'm afraid of living a life where it never gets to be used to its full potential.

I know that scares the shit out of boys.  Good thing I am looking for a man, right?