From One Fat Chick to Another: An Open Letter (whatever the hell that means...)

Dear Ladies (and the occasional wandering eyes of gentlemen),

Once upon a time there was a little baby girl, and for some reason or another she grew and Grew and GREW into an enormous, unhealthy woman.

She blamed her state on everyone else:
Even though no one was force-feeding her like a goose.
Even though she was perfectly capable of lifting whatever five pound object was in her home (a large jar from a failed DIY project, one of her many cats).
Or put on a pair of shoes and walk outside at a brisk pace.
With slim exceptions, such as the bleak hours of the night where one secretly admits to the Sandman their folly- her unhealthy state was, unequivocally not her responsibility or fault.
She blamed all men for not seeing her inner beauty.
At times, people were mean to her about her weight, so clearly she had the right to be mean to others, considering she was the victim and all...

For hours she'd stare zombily at social media sites.
She posted quotes by amazing people, as if to live vicariously through their minds (although most were dead, so it was more retroactive...) but never acted on anything that inspired her.
She ogled pictures of faraway places and beautiful cultures, but decided the mountains looked too steep for her, the oceans too deep.
Her favorite thing she COULD do, however, was mock ugly pictures of celebs.
Or wait sneakily, like the villainous cat from 'The Great Mouse Detective', for someone to post something, anything to sink her teeth into.
With a whole list of retorts she'd been holding back since middle school (because kids are judgey assholes at that age) finely crafted through the years- she was a warrior of the comment section!
The touch pad her sword and the 'delete' button her shield.
Titles like:
"Blah blah FAT SHAMING blah blah"
and 
"REAL WOMEN HAVE CURVES!"
and
"Insert Generic Comment Here About How Every Womyn's A Goddess And Men Are Pigs."
and
"Health Tip Only Meant For Already Healthy People But The Blogger Is Trying To Raise Their Viewership, So They Make It Seem Anyone Can Do It!"

To these, the woman would tear vehemently at the article and posters, with the ferocity she'd show a German Chocolate Cupcake with a truffle in the middle.
She cheered and shouted out, and wrote how true it was her curves were that of a woman- men SHOULD love her the way she was!
With puffed chest, she'd look down upon the kingdom of her feline masses like the Goddess she was meant to be.
She'd repost the health tips, as if everyone but her should be doing them, because, after all, they'd never have known it without her.

She'd tear down the people she longed to be like and raise up those that were just like her. 

There were times she'd watch a woman or girl she considered much fatter than herself walk by, hand in hand with a universally hot guy.
Sometimes it was a hot woman with a balding, pork-bellied man.
She wondered how it was possible (and not in a good, self-respective way).

At some point she may have found love.
Maybe they were both just settling because neither wanted to 'die alone'.
He may have accepted her weight, maybe not.
In those bleak, Sandman hours maybe both wished they were lying next to their ideal instead.  
Maybe he was just like her and content to talk about all the things he'd like to do as he binge-watched Netflix with her for the rest of their lives. 
She may even have had kids; fat chubby bastards, just like their parents- after all, monkey see monkey do.

What I do know is that she was always tired.
Her skin was always oily.
Her hair greasy despite all the fancy shampoos at Sephora.
In her thirties, without any sort of disaster or infortuitous circumstance, her body began to ache at the joints.
First her knees.
Then her hips.
Next to rebel were her arches.
She began to have 'pains', like her nerves twitching in odd places.
Paranoia set in about heart attacks just in time to get diabetes.
The electronic chair helped her get around, despite everyone always being in her way.
She wasn't very kind at this point either.
The world owed her.
She watched from her chair as women twenty years her senior still laughed and moved around, unhindered.
She died eventually, like we all do.


And that was her life.
She never went on an adventure because she knew she couldn't make it up the mountain or across the river.
Certainly not without help.
Certainly not without embarrassing herself and having to admit she couldn't make it.
Admitting it out loud.
And she never found the person she felt she deserved, unlike that bitch, Savannah down the street, still outside everyday doing yard work. 


My morals of the story are these ladies:

-Weight has nothing to do with health.
-Our health is the only true thing we have control of in this world.
--Thus: Your health is your responsibility. No one else's. Only yours.

-Healthy people want to spend their time with other people who care about their health.
--It's not that our personalities are necessarily lacking, but we can't blame others for finding value in one's body when we aren't showing we do as well.
---Healthy doesn't mean a size '0' or being able to run a triathlon while skipping: it's being able to physically do all those things you want to do, and only stopped by physics, genetics and anatomy. 

-Choosing to spend the amount of time ALL of us do on Social Media and Netflix, letting those hours slip by unnoticed, is a fault.
--If you have the time to spend doing all that, you can equally chose to improve your health with that time.

-A "Real Woman" has two X chromosomes. And then there are those that want to have two X chromosomes and guess what? They can be real women too. The more the merrier! So knock the rest of that crap off.

-Being happy with one's self isn't usually followed with verbal hostilities about someone else.
--Shrinks call it 'masking' or 'projecting'. Recognize yourself.

And most importantly:
I want you all (myself included) to live an amazing, healthy and happy life filled with all the potential you could possibly achieve.
So please, let's all drop the ego, the act, and the excuses and get our own asses out there.
That's my New Years wish at least... 


Sincerely,
Dust in the Wind

In a Superperson World #3- A Diary

April 10th, 2035
My Apartment, Mid-City



Dear Diary,

My mom used to say 'Karma's a bitch'. But I've met her (or at least one of them) and she's really quite nice. A bit skittish, but nice.
'Karma's' are a type of person, who many claim are 'cursed'. Technically because their 'ability' is just there.

According to a study conducted by UC Berkley, led by a Professor Charles Xavior:

"There is no conclusive evidence showing when and why a 'Karma's' ability manifests... Appears to activate randomly... Happens to/around an individual/group whom partook in a single or multitude of malicious and/or self-perceived immoral behavior(s) toward another human being/creature and/or environment- without consequence of when such an act(s) occur(red)... Nor can we conclude how said 'Retributional Event(s)' are weighed via the offense which activates the ability. 

The only two conclusive finding of this panel are as such:

A. The individual 'Karma' is not conscious of the activation of their ability nor in control of the 'Retributional Event'.

B. The 'Retributional Event' may effect more that the intended 'target'."  

They fall into the 'Miscellaneous' group of Superpersons, but don't qualify for the Superperson tax exemptions or protection acts. 
All are tagged in their teens and monitored. 
They are not allowed to take part in communal celebrations or festivals. The UN says it's for the good of humanity. 
I say that's crap.    Don't be a dick.    It's that easy. 

Because of this, most lock themselves up at home. Shy away from public transit, peak hours at grocery stores. The suicide rate is pretty high for them. How bad does that suck?

So a 'Karma' named Daisy walked into a bar. My bar. A couple months back.
She got caught up in a downpour. I'm talking a displaced Niagara Falls (it's happened), or the time when Storm hit menopause. 
It was a regular, local crowd. A little slow that night. 
She looked kinda startled at first. Eventually, albeit warily, walked up to the bar. 
Petite thing. Big brown eyes like a cow. Drenched. 
She shyly asked for a menu. I tossed a look at the old bar rats. Their staring was making her squirm. We don't have menu's at Bunsen and Beaker. Whatever a person wants, we can make. No matter how profoundly obscure. How complicated. Or vile. Period. 
It's a pain in the ass.
She ordered a hot toddy. Easy enough. I gave her a bowl of cashews and continued polishing glasses.

There was a poker game being played in back. A new cardy was doing exceptionally well. A couple guy's already quit the game. Paychecks lost to the pot.
A perma-peeved dude was crunching numbers at a table along the wall. Bunch of guys were watching the opening games of the Baseball season.
Nothing unusual. 

Half hour goes by quietly. Rain hasn't let up. 
I've moved on to restocking my wells.
This kid, couldn't be more than fourteen, sneaks through the back door. Stops behind the Mr. Perma-Peeve. Looked like he'd been meditating under a fire hose. Shivering so hard water's flying half way 'cross the room.  He's whispering to Mr. PP (heh, funny) who's mostly ignoring him. Finally tells him to go wait back in the rain. He's not done yet. 
The kid looks to argue but the guy's hand whips through the air. The crack resounded longer than the kid's yelp. 

Everyone is on their feet. 
In this world, there's a lot we've got to put up with. But not in our own fucking bar, we don't.

Daisy though, skittered backward. White as a sheet.  No one noticed.
She bolted to the door. Tripped over a high-top table leg. A couple pint glasses flew into the air. 
That caught our attentions. 
The glasses bulleted in opposite directions. Weird. 
You'd think it's normal in this world of Superperson's. It's not. And that's the funny thing about Karmatic retribution. Starts as a small, unintended act that snowballs. 
We watched them ricochet around the bar. Off the loft at the back.
Bouncing here. And there. And everywhere. 
One collided into the autographed bowling ball on the wall. The other knocked a plank loose... Like watching one of those 'Mouse Trap' competitions held by the Villains League of Ingenuity.
Mr. PP still engrossed in screaming. Poor kid cowering. 
A loud pop. 
The bowling ball bounced off Mr. PP's head. 
...I didn't know those balls could bounce...
It continued. Dribbled toward the disrupted poker game. Hit the underside of a table. Sent a shot glass barreling through the air. It cupped into the socket of the new cardy's eye. Another pop.
Not a pleasant sound.
He shrieked. Daisy shrieked. Mr. PP didn't. He was unconscious.
The cardy was flailing about. A few aces dropped from the collar of his shirt. 


The bar rats were already calling 911. I sighed. Now there'd be paperwork to do.
Threw the other players a dirty towel. They were caught between irritation and that adreneline rush that comes with a crisis. Told them to leave the glass alone. Let the paramedics deal with it. He was about to pass out anyway. 
Took the pulse of Mr. PP. It was there. 
Grabbed the hand of the kid and sat him between the bar rats. Set a bottle of "medicine" (read:bourbon) in front of 'em and an extra glass.

Daisy was sobbing under the table.
I crouched down. She shrank back. Clutched the stand like it was the only reason she was still attached to this earth. I handed her a clean towel. She whimpered.
I went back to the bar. Filled two more glasses with "medicine". Came back. Sat down cross-legged. Slid a glass to her.
"You could use a drink."  
Then waited.
She picked up the glass once she was done sniffling.

Rest of the bar knew the drill. They're decent folks, really. 
Paramedics showed. So did some cops. Statements were given.
The bowling ball and pints were taken as evidence.
The bar rats felt for the kid. Convinced him to be honest. The cops put a blanket around the kid. Promised to take good care of him. They were pretty gentle...
Some hot, muscly firemen strutted around. All in all, a decent show. 
Everyone skirted around us like a plague was biting at their ass. 
Worked for me. 

Generally, people are terrified of 'Karma's'. It's that whole unknown aspect.
The 'incident' would be reported to the UN Board of Universal Befuddlementals and Counter-Action. Only two people were involved, so no investigation was likely. Just a note added to Daisies file.  


We sat there until the circus was over. 
Jules (bar-back) began moping up the blood. Zand and some of the guys straightened chairs. Then, one by one, they grabbed their drinks and joined us on the floor. 
Everyone just talked. Laughed. Told stories. Daydreamed what they would have done to Mr. PP or the cheat if karma hadn't stumbled in. 
Like I said. Decent folks. 
You could tell a few of them were weary. After a bit, they mellowed out. Daisy began to laugh. Listened to the others. I got the feeling talking with people was new for her. 
Eventually, we drew her out from under the table. Took the party to the bar.    
And at the end of the night, we told her we'd see her tomorrow. 
The rain had stopped. Everyone went home.


Bunsen and Beaker has a new regular now.



See? Karma's not a bitch, unless you are first. 
I guess that's as good a moral as any to end this. 


Cheers for a tomorrow,

Penny

Contemplations of a Fat Girl: The Beginning

     I want to make one thing clear: If you could hear my tone, you'd know I'm not writing this to whine, cry, kvetch, be angry at the world or get down on myself. That's not who I am, although I'm sure that was a big part of my daily life years ago. Probably all at once... Well... not the crying, I've never been big on that.
I don't really feel comfortable writing about this subject toward the general populace either, even if I have a near lifetimes worth of knowledge and anecdotes for it, which flow seamlessly in my head. However, with so many other people who breach the societal weight class, if nothing else, maybe someone reading this will have an 'Oh!' moment or... I think it's the same thing all writers want when sharing their thoughts; they hope that if, for even a second, it will cause someone to think in a different way or feel connected to the subject and thus not so alone, that the embarrassment stemming from sharing a part of themselves so openly will be worth it. So here it goes!

    I wish to introduce to you, myself. I won't tell you my exact weight, but I can tell you it is well over 200 pounds and has been for a good portion of my life. Before high school even. Most people don't believe me, not that they think I look thin, but they don't think I weight so MUCH more than they're guessing. I tell them it's because I'm lucky enough to carry it well, genetically speaking. In the back of my mind though, the thought is, 'if you can't see it as much on the outside, doesn't that mean it's all in my arteries?' It's a chilling realization. I first had it when I was 16. My mum, Lew and I were doing the Atkins diet for almost 4 months when the creator died. He so strongly believed in his methods, that he followed the diet himself, but when they did his autopsy they found his veins completely clogged with fat. Although some of his point were valid, the overall diet was not considered very healthy. That's the rumor I heard. Still, it made me think about my own arteries and had my own 'Oh!' moment (no one said that 'Oh!' moments are always happy ones). Although I was making splendid progress at the time and felt better, more lively, we went off the diet and I lost my confidence again.
Over the years, I haven't gained more than 10-15 pounds more than I weighed then. I know enough about nutrition and health from the various fat camps, nutritionists and classes to keep my ass from burgeoning much wider. I work on my feet, constantly moving and visit a gym across from work regularly now, so that is helping a lot.
I got over my infatuation for candies (mostly taste like chemicals anyway), ice cream and sugary drinks. I still love baked goods and have moved on to alcoholic drinks, which are a type of sugar (not helpful). However, I avoid bringing that stuff home anymore, stockpiling in the fridge with two packages of oreo's sitting, half eaten, on the counter. If I want it, I go out and buy one of something and eat it at the restaurant or on my walk home. Not have enough crap- chips, soda, candy and Safeway bakery cookies- to fill up a trash can or two (which I once did when I realized that things were getting out of control and decided to throw it all away. It was a shocking experience and the right decision in the end, even if I was pouting at myself for being so wasteful the rest of the day. I even thought, 'if I just eat it all now, then there'd be nothing left, it's the same thing'... It is not, by the way). I have a roommate who makes delicious cupcakes though, my control falters a bit there. For instance, I just had a cupcake which is breakfast/lunch for today. I usually forget to eat all together until really late on my days off.

    My first contemplation for all of you is on the beginning of the cycle, the reason on why one becomes fat in the first place, and why, when most of our bodies aren't meant to be that heavy, we stay there- it's almost a desperate insistence.
Let's bullet point some of the reasons for weight gain shall we?

•  Big boned-ness- Genetically speaking, some peoples bodies are meant to carry more weight, their infrastructure allows for it. These people are often time considered heavy or obese by medical scale and societal standards, but that, in no way, means they are unhealthy. In fact, there is a propensity of being reaaaaally fragging strong. But let's be honest, I've even seen my own xrays from dentist offices and such, I'm not big boned. Most people are not, it's a very small amount of the genetic populace actually; Samoans and Eskimos come to mind... Direct descendants of smaller indigenous populations, maybe some Swedes... A genetic mutation or two. It's still a widely used excuse though, because no matter the real reason of your weight, if you can't remember, or have never seen a thinner version of yourself, it's the safest excuse you've got. 
• Childhood trauma- This can be anything from the popular boy in class calling you ugly when you had a crush on him, to (and sadly in many instances) sexual abuse. The range is huge, and when we're children we're very vulnerable; a simple, careless comment from a parents can shadow their kids mind for a lifetime. As we were all kids once, (I'm very sure of this), you know what I'm talking about. Unless we take the time and put in some serious mental effort, or hire some one to help us explore those memories and how they affected us and the many aspects of our growing lives, one may never get past that emotional hump, and so shall their rump remain. Some problems may be considered forever unresolved, especially if it's a delicate family issue, or maybe they're all just THAT stupidly stubborn and want you to keep your head in the sand with them. It's easier than having to wipe all the little bits of sand from ones eyes and actually look at one another. Everyone knows it's a hassle to see stuff and people. Geez. Inside of childhood traumas, we put on the weight (consciously or subconsciously) for several reasons or a mixture of them.
• To hide- as you get fatter, less people notice you, and/or cast you out of their minds because you are fat, it's unpleasant to them. If it's someone who hurt you, and you hope they don't notice you again, then gaining weight and fast is something your mind might actually do for you, depending on the amount of fear you're feeling.
• Comfort- as they say, a lot's of people eat to comfort themselves, kids eat even worse stuff because they associate sweets often with filial love and adoration. Sweets are a treat. They're given to us as kids, especially if you had a mom like mine, sparingly. If you did something good, if you got sick, behaved well at the dentists or optometrists office, if she was just thinking of you and thought that the tootsie pop would make you happy because you had a hard test that day. These aren't just tasty sugary bits to us, they're a smile, a hug, a pat on the back. If something traumatizing happens to a child, they'll seek out what comforts them. If, in the case of a divorce, the child doesn't feel they can talk to their parents, or feels as if the family is falling apart, they will start seeking out that which was comforting, even if it wasn't handed to them by the parent, because even if it is such a simple thing as a snickers bar, there's warmth in the memory, just holding it in your hands makes you feel better. And then, if everyone else is too busy to notice, it can rapidly spin out of control.
• Attention- 'My dad doesn't notice me anymore'. Kids don't think of why that is. Whether he's in midlife crisis or having an affair, struggling at work, struggling in his marriage- it's very likely he doesn't realize his kid sensed a change in his focus at home. But kids are crazy perceptive and even if we don't know or understand all the details, we can sense the change in energies, tone and attention. After all, parents or guardians are usually the only people we see everyday for our adolescent lives, why wouldn't kids know their rhythm? So, to get attention, kids go a couple ways. 
• Emotional- as in either acting out or receding into their own mental space, locking everyone else out so they can't be hurt. 
• Bodily- crazy stunts that send them to the hospital, self mutilation, change of appearance (ie: hair dyeing, piercings, as you get older, tattoos), and, you got it, gaining weight. Because nothing screams please notice me like an extra hundred pounds.
  Most of the time, when it comes to getting attention, the child ceases to care about themselves and is only focused on how to affect their parents attentions. After all, it's only natural that you want someone you've always loved and been loved by to be there with you as you continue growing.

• Anger- because you don't know what else to do, so why not hurt your body to match how much you heart aches? At least you'll feel consistent. The bigger you get, the more justified you'll feel, and with that justification, eventually the pain will stop... right? Under this also falls- To Prove Them Wrong and To Prove Them Right.
• To Feel Grown Up- This one I rather recognize in myself the most. Sure others points play a part, but upon reflection, I can remember actually being happy because one day I noticed that my calves were really big, I'd gained muscle that was more like an adults. I didn't think for a second, (even when I pointed it out to my dad enthusiastically, ignoring the concerned look on his face), that they'd gotten that big because they had to support my weight. Those thoughts don't come later until you take classes like anatomy and learn how the body works or someone points it out... or both... When you're young, you notice that, even if you understand and could add thoughts to an 'adult conversation', they, like the big kids on the neighborhood basketball court, won't let you join in. Why? Because they assume you don't get the subject and wish to continue on without having to possibly break everything down so that a child can understand. Maybe you wanted to grow up because you don't like or understand the kids in your middle school class and the feeling is mutual, but you do like those awesome older people that hang out in front of the bookstore, who casually talk to you like you're a person and seem free and untethered. Perhaps it's because you feel, if you could only grow up a little bit faster, you could change things, have your family rely on you, protect yourself because you don't feel there's anyone around who will do it for you. Thousands of reasons to want to become older, and then that translates to bigger, next thing you know, you're celebrating being only 12 and heavier than your step-mom because she's 125lbs and you're up at 152lbs and can barely fit into her old clothes. That must mean you've grown up, right?

• Your Parents Never Told You "NO!"- Whether it's because they wanted you to feel like you could have everything you ever wanted without showing any restraint or consequences or over-compensating for glitches in the parents own behavior. Possibly they don't understand health and have a unhealthy lifestyle themselves- thinking that a plate lunch of teriyaki chicken, mac salad and rice is healthy- or worse yet, because they just didn't give a flying monkeys banana and the handful of skittles at 10pm got you to leave them alone, some kids grew up eating whatever they want. They have no idea what is healthy and not healthy, what may do serious long term damage or not and frankly, because they are kids and their parents let them get away with it for whatever reason, they don't care. Not as kids, and unless someone, whom they care about in their lives, expresses some major and sincere concern, they will likely never change. I remember when a couple cousins came to visit and stay with my grandparents for a week during summer break. They brought POUNDS of the candies you get from the bin section in a grocery store. The girls were eating it as if it was a food group. Well my grams (who always keeps a full cookie jar and offers ice cream at the end of dinner ever since I can remember, my point being, my grams is not strict against sugar) would not have that sort of behavior in her house, it was too much, and rightly so  confiscated the candy from them. However, despite her best efforts, my cousins began sneaking their candy late at night. I remember how pissed my grams was at them, and their parents for one, giving them the candy in the first place and two that their craving was so strong for it that it had skipped well past 'want' and straight into addiction. Needless to say, she banned sweet anything for the rest of the week and threw everything away.If you don't think this extends into adulthood, you only have to google, 'Woman/Man Freaks Out Over Chicken McNuggets' and you'll see what I mean.
• Adult trauma- Weight gain from adult trauma is much the same as childhood trauma only now we have more knowledge on how to make things bottom out faster, more emotions to pull from to drag one even lower, no parent (usually, because you're probably not living with them, or at least living a separate life from them) to stop us and the income and age to do whatever we damn well please. Unlike childhood trauma, where the kid might not remember anymore what it was like to be more healthy, a previously healthy or at least thinner adult will begin despising their new body and either get themselves down for it in an emotionally abusive way which triggers the comfort response of food again or begins to hate on whoever triggered the change and begins angry eating again. Often times, because of the sudden gain of pounds, the body doesn't know how or where to put the weight and this is where you get those people who only weight 180lbs but look around 300lbs.
• Medical Issues- One boy I knew in my youth and grew up with, was a rather wild and rambunctious character. He was a couple years younger than me but we both liked playing veterinarian with his stuffed animals on his bunk bed. One day, he needed a new kidney. Luckily his mum was a match and everything was successful. However the medication he had to take made him gain a lot of weight. Almost a shocking amount. Later in life, more toward adulthood, he was able to DDR the weight off, but that doesn't mean he won't have to continually fight for his body to stay that way. Even my mum was thin until she had gall stones. Medical issues can ruin the most sculpted and Herculean of bodies. It's sad, and sometimes there's nothing you can do but to remain optimistic, adjust and try. Under this, I would also place diagnosed mental illness and thyroid issues.
• You Just Don't Care- Yes, weirdly enough, there are those who either always tried too hard and now they just want to relax (valid), got into a relationship and now don't think they should have to try anymore (silly), and those that just give up or don't honestly care (get you hormone and chemical levels checked, could be a sign of depression. It's very popular these days). 

    And there you have it! The beginning for most of us. I'm going to stop here for today. All this typing is making my brain feel sluggish from all this engorged contemplation, the sun is setting and I should probably move around and work off that cupcake. Oh, eating dinner might be good too... Honestly, so much to do with so little time.
Thanks for reading! Stay Tuned for Part Two! What will it be about? "The World May Never Know!"

Sincerely,
Dust in the Wind