My Wall-E-esque Life: Part 1

“Fat Acceptance” has been a catch-phrase for at least 40 of the years I have been alive. In 2 parts, I share my experiences and lessons learnt being a part of the…

Fat Acceptance Movement.

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I’ve been fat ever since I got my tonsils out when I was 7-years old.

Fat kid, teen, adult and now a “mature” adult.

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Trials (and Errors)

I’ve done dozens of diets, been prescribed Black Beauties & other speed (starting at age 8), belonged to many gyms, taken Phen-Fen (with success, but with heart valve damage), tried Topamax (fail), used Wellbutrin (fail), had a Roux en Y Gastric Bypass (with fabulous success, then epic failure), done hypnosis & acupuncture (fail & fail), become a daily Mindfulness Meditation fanatic (fail for weight loss/huge win for pain relief), have tried to have anorexia, then bulimia, hand-written hundreds of thousands of journal pages, letting them “hold” my pain, shame, revulsion, self-hate, wishes, fears, hopes &, eventually, resolution with my size.

I remain in resolution.

I will never diet or take diet drugs again. Ever.

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Time & Money

Thinking about the masses of time and money I’ve spent trying to lose weight makes my head spin.

Time

  • Going to the gym
  • Writing out menus
  • Researching rules and techniques for success
  • Real life or online support group meetings, including social networks talking about losing/gaining weight
  • Shopping slower to read labels and make sure food is “appropriate”
  • Learning new cooking methods
  • Fighting with family about the change in foods in the fridge and cupboards
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artist: Sapphire4723

Money

  • Gym membership
  • New cookbooks
  • Membership fees & apps
  • Tools for success (exercise equipment, pedometer, walking/running shoes, gym clothes, etc.)
  • Tossing all the “bad” food in the garbage
  • Buying all the “good” food
  • Probably eventually buying more “bad” food for my family because they whined so much about foisting my diet on them
  • $28,000 cash for RNY gastric bypass (GB)

Can I include the time and money (including the taxpayer’s) for the years of therapy discussing and crying about all of this?

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Positive?

I was a Fat Activist in the mid-late 80’s, mostly in the lesbian community. I’ve written about being fat-positive for almost 3 decades.

In the beginning, when I was in my 20’s and early 30’s, I was healthy… labs were fine, no diabetes, my joints or feet didn’t hurt. I crowed (bragged, was arrogant) about how it was the fat-hating that made fat people sick and die, not the fat itself.

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Reality

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Now, at 56-years old, I see how delusional I was. I am well on the road to dying before most people in my family did, and they all had diabetes, too. My future resides in my memories of my Cuban relatives & the diabetes complications they endured before dying. Heart attacks, going blind, having toes, then feet cut off, eventually dying in a coma because the body just gave up.

I see it coming as if it was a roaring train heading right for me.

Litany of Pain

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Here are my fat-related illnesses and issues:

  • Type 2 Diabetes (diagnosed at 34 years old), now on 2 insulins and metformin
  • I heal terribly because of the diabetes, often needing antibiotics for residual infections
  • Stage 3 Kidney Disease from the diabetes
  • Pain with every step I take
  • Osteoporosis and arthritis in my feet, which have broken 3 times just from walking for exercise, and one foot breaking while swimming
  • Broke one foot falling off the Wii Fit Board trying to exercise… needed 3 surgeries to repair
  • Arthritis in my lower back, was on opioids for 8+ years for the back pain, becoming incredibly addicted, finally getting clean 3 years ago (yay me!) Now I use Mindfulness Meditation for pain relief, though many times I wish for some Norco.
  • It took me years to find surgeons I felt safe with to get my 4 hernias repaired (one surgery) and then my gallbladder out (a separate surgery, with 3 hospital visits afterwards because of infection)… several turning me away because of my enormous belly size (blessedly, I found the docs and those issues are resolved)
  • Bone loss from possibly 2 main sources: lack of exercise & the GB
  • Walking with a walker, but should be in an electric wheelchair, my feet hurting so badly
  • Using an electric wheelchair when I shop

Nautilus

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My world has gradually become smaller and smaller. After 32 years in birth work (where I hurt daily as well), I am now a sedentary Phone Sex Operator. I live in a small space and leave the house only for doctor appointments, physical therapy, shopping and seeing my doggies at mom’s house.

Writing that makes me sad.

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Part 2 On Its Way

In Part 2 of My Wall-E-esque Life, I will talk about the place the Fat Advocacy Movement does have in our lives. While it might not be health (despite the incessant refrain that it does), it is most assuredly have an enormous place in our physical and emotional world.

More soon!

The Tarnishing of Trump

I have this vision of the Oval Office having “FUCK FUCK SHIT FUCK”s bouncing off the walls like molecules pinging in boiling water.

It is not uncommon for that now-golden-hued room to hear expletives, but I’m betting that as the days unroll with the word “Russia” in each sentence, the “Shit, fuck, damn’s” have been accelerating and getting progressively louder. (And amusing side note: When searching “trump White House expletives,” the suggestions at the bottom of the page all had Bannon’s name in them. Hilarious… and expected.)

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For 100 days, I cried and wrung my hands in terror that someone in the White House would accidentally (or on purpose) hit The Red Button and our world would be annihilated.

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During those first 100 days, with every stroke of the president’s pen that removed women and children’s rights, that signed away our natural resources so the rich could get richer, that created enormous doses of xenophobia, Islamophobia, racism, ordering the confiscation and deportation of people struggling to stay alive and on and on and on… and with every bizarre cabinet appointment, my heart broke and despair settled in.

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I was directed by my doctors to stop watching the news because all it did was submerge me deeper into depression. I was joined by millions of others who had the new PTSD diagnosis called President Trump Stress Disorder, our nation’s leader now holding the distinction of being the first president to have an anxiety disorder named after him.

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Will Durst says in President Trump Stress Disorder (Baxter Bulletin):

An epidemic is sweeping the nation, causing sufferers to experience feelings of hopeless doom, certain annihilation and cataclysmic collapse. It’s an existential plague manifesting itself by enveloping the stricken in a black cloud of despairing suicidal thoughts. The malady that is striking down innocent citizens left and lefter is … the Presidency of Donald J. Trump. It is literally making people sick.

>100 Days

But now, with the variety of Russian headlines intertwined with you all in that Oval Office, I am glued to the TV, the real news, (what you call the “fake news,”) and I sit on the edge of my seat waiting for the next delicious morsel of information.

And I am no longer depressed.

It is no longer Opposite Day in America.

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Instead of my being unable to sleep, now it is your turn to toss and turn all night, worrying about your futures. I, on the other hand, am finally able to sleep soundly.

And every morning since Day 100, I wake up smiling again.

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Smatterings

Unfinished Writings

I have several posts pending, but cannot seem to finish any one of them.

  • My Wall-E-esque Life: “Fat Positivity” Fails

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  • Pain: A Cruel Mistress

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  • Gallbladder GONE!
  • Acceptance Into Anthology

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Other Crap

I’m also having olfactory hallucinations again and would like to write about that, too. And then there’s 45 and his bullshit trips abroad.

I’m struggling with work, losing client after client because I am so sick I’m unable to be signed in for them to call me.

Wahhhhh!

But I felt I owed my few readers at least some update about why I have not been around. Really, really, working hard on getting at least something done and posted.

Please stay tuned!

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Oddities & Ongoings

Oddities & Ongoings

I am nearly immobilized by the events happening right now. 45 is trying to kill us all. Just because he is at the end of his life and has a good bunker to hide in doesn’t mean the rest of us should have to die for his ego. I have horrible thoughts I wish I could purge, but they come unbidden sometimes. That man is evil. Just pure evil.

(And people felt this way about Obama?!? He never came close to killing us, much less in the first 3 months of office.)

Kinky Exam Room

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Is this an exam “table” or what?!

Work is slow for me which is frustrating considering I am still in the hole from the manic donations to Syria relief. I have been writing some really good pieces for my work blog, but one of my best, about Medical Fetishes, was pulled because I used forbidden words (pee, shit, toilet, bathroom). Sheesh, I just wrote about peeing in a cup at the doctor’s office! But work is very PG13 and even though it wasn’t golden showers related, it was yanked. Now I am lost about how to continue the series.

I want to write just basic: This is the exam table with stirrups, This is how an enema works, This is the speculum, This is the gown, This is the syringe… you get the gist. All regular normal things that loads of folks fetishize. Having been a midwife for so long… and being twisted… I am able to make each of those topics highly sexualized and fetishized.

Only twice as a care provider did I think anything sexual about women in my charge. One was Zack when he was pregnant and laboring; we became lovers soon after. Then there was another woman I had a sexually visceral reaction with (she felt it, too) and I removed myself from her direct care and became her doula. We never acted on the feelings, but they were most certainly there.

Feminist Porn

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Life with my cub is delicious and fun. He is amazing… is having some psych issues, but I’ve been able to nudge him into therapy and that will, I know, help lots. It has to be an enormous challenge being Muslim and kinky. And that’s just the off-work life!

Things between him and me, however, are in a self-sustaining/maintaining place. Just a delight being with him, talking to him, having sex with him. So so much fun! And I just realized, because he told his therapist, that I am TWICE HIS AGE! Fuck, I am old. We’ve been together for almost 18 months and I just figured this out?! (Where have I been?!)

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I don’t think I told you, but I found a Feminist Porn site! We’d been looking for one for quite a while because standard porn is a big ol’ yawn to me. Fake fake fake and just weird what with the girls wearing stilettos to bed and tromping around the pool in heels and giving the stupidest blow-jobs ever.

Googling “Feminist Porn” brings up several for-pay sites and someday, I hope to be able to use them, but Syria has the bulk of my money at the moment so finding a free Feminist Porn site was quite the coup!

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Bellesa (https://bellesa.co/ – NOT .com) has culled free porn from several free sites, including PornHub which is one of the largest regular porn sites out there, but have screened the videos before bringing them to Bellesa. Even so, some of the screened ones don’t make my cut.

I cannot abide by women faking pleasure. They squeak like mice and no matter what position they are in, they act like they are having a clitoral blast. Can you see me rolling my eyes? I’ve been screening the videos before my cub and I watch together (today I had him screen) and any squallering garners a thumbs down from me. (I keep a Word Document with the names of the videos I like and don’t like, besides the Star rating system on Bellesa.)

I will not watch a video if anyone has bruises that are not explained in the scene. I love kinky bruises as much as anyone else, but unexplained ones, especially if they look like they were made by hurting someone without their permission, squicks me.

I am not 100% sure, but would probably not watch one that had the girls in shoes on the bed. That is just so fake and ridiculous. Fuck, you’ll rip the sheets!

Hamilton

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I am still obsessed with Hamilton: An American Musical. I listen to the music 15+ hours a day sometimes. I love the Hamilton Mixtape, too, but right now am on a continuous loop of the original cast album. If you’ve not yet discovered the music, do yourself an enormous favor and immerse your Self, too.

Because of the musical, my cub and I read the original book, Hamilton, by Ron Chernow. It was amazing, too. After we finished that, we read Washington: A Life, also by Chernow. I actually loved Washington even more than Hamilton. I had no idea George Washington was as incredible as he was. Chernow brought him to life.

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I loved American History in junior high school, considered being a History teacher at one time, but then just lost interest over the years. Hamilton has reopened the passion I once had for American History! While I think Chernow is a fantastic researcher, his other books don’t really interest me. So, my cub and I have moved on to Lincoln, jumping right into the center of it all with Lincoln: Team of Rivals. We’ll be starting it later this week.

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Okay, time to sign off of here. My cub and I have a date to watch the 3 porn videos he found for us to watch together. Woo hoo!

I do have to laugh a little at his saying how much more discerning he is with porn now, which is amusing because he’s watched it for about 18 years now. Hey, if I can convert a regular porn user to feminist porn, my day is complete!

I Am 56

 

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Today is my 56th birthday.

Sometimes it is really stunning to see how fast time zips by.

I was just 16 and in high school. And 21 having my first baby. And 23 having my second. And 25 having my second. And 42 nearly dying from Disseminated Coccidiomycosis. And 43 marrying Zack in San Francisco. And 47 marrying him legally. And 53 moving back to Orlando. And 54 meeting my cyber-love cublet.

And today, 56.

The number 56 has always been my favorite number, since 6th grade. I have no clue where it came from, why… how it came to appear on every school jersey, my band jacket, when I had to pick a number between 1 and 100 (and I often won the prize!)… and now my lucky number is my birthday.

I wonder what this year holds for me.

Happy Birth Day to me and my mama!

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My News Blackout

Today was a really difficult day.

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So much crap in the news… you can look for yourself if you want to… but I have to quit watching and reading the news lest I end up in the Psych Hospital. I knew I was watching/reading a little bit more each day, but today I watched the clock, too, and stopped counting at 6 hours. Of news.

My hallucinations have gotten really bad, they are almost constant. And I have felt increasingly depressed. In fact, for a few days, I have wondered if I should take myself to the hospital because of the suicidal ideation that’s been flashing through my mind… way too often.

I know it is all a direct result of the pain of watching what is happening here in the United States, in the Americas, in the world.

I wish I could do something.

Right now, my something to do is save my own life.

I closed my Facebook tonight (it is always on my desktop), took everything political off my Tumblr page (including unsubbing from anything political) and am putting myself on a News Blackout.

Effective an hour ago.

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Bipolar Diary: Zero Gravity Hallucinations

I’d thought I’d come to a place of balance. I was still having hallucinations, mostly visual, some auditory and tactile, but those not so often. Even though the hallucinations have continued, I told the Psychiatrist I did not want to take more Risperdal to try and make them go away. The short time I was on the increased amount (double what I am on now), I gained 30 (fucking) pounds in 6 weeks. As soon as we halved it, I stopped eating like an insatiable animal, and have now lost 10 of those 30 pounds. I told him I’d just suck up dealing with the hallucinations.

However, there does come a tipping point between what I can live with and seeing much of my room floating around as if I was in space.

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Balance – dance troupe, Pilobolus

What’s Going On?

I cannot pinpoint why they are getting bigger, more bizarre and more aggressive. My sleep is weird, but I am sleeping. I’m in an inordinate amount of pain, but that isn’t too new… I had my gallbladder removed on February 2 and have had a series of infection complications since. I’ve got other pain, but can usually meditate to work through it. (I have Trazadone if I need help sleeping, but have only taken that a couple of time.)

Visual

A crazy hallucination I had the other day was seeing my pillow breathing. Yes, I know… ridiculous, but I stared at it as it inhaled and exhaled for the entire 5-minutes I watched. I blinked, shook my head, told myself there was no way in hell that was real, yet the pillow kept inflating and deflating, slowly, as if it was breathing. I glance over a lot to see if it’s going for a repeat performance. Nothing so far.

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I have the usual roaches and now some flying bats, but those are pretty yawn-inspiring since they’ve been around so long now. It’s the floating toilet paper roll, the pens, my Blistex lip balm… things that are here in my room, in my real life, just appearing, mid-air… there… and then fleetingly gone again. My food shifts next to me. I “see” music coming out of the speaker. The movements around the room are near-constant. (The book next to me is shuffling the pages as I write this.)

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I try to drive infrequently and only for less than a mile or two because it is frightening to not know if that box flying through the air is an illusion or really fell off that truck up there. I am terrified when I pass bus stops because people are so close to the edge, they slide over into the road sometimes, sliding back just as I get ready to veer away from hitting them. I do everything in my power to never drive during school drop-off or pick-up, the amount of busy-ness in the roads confuse me terribly. Don’t even get me started on mailboxes.

Tactile

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I am tapped periodically. No one is here to tap me. It’s nothing. I feel things crawling on me a lot. My room is clean! There are no bugs to crawl on me. No fleas, no gnats. Nothing. Yet I could swear there was a spider crawling up my leg or on my arm. Even when I am looking right at my skin, seeing with my eyes that it isn’t there, it is there… I just cannot see it is all. (Talk about a mind fuck!)

Auditory

I have these the least at the moment. Just some occasional whispers. Nothing telling me to do anything, I don’t get those kinds. I just get ominous whispers, just out of hearing range… my name whispered a lot.

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Resolution

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artist, Gustav Klimt

Writing all that down, I see I really might need to just up the Risperdal to curb some of this extraneous activity in my brain. I am crying writing this, fearful of gaining more weight. (I gained 80 pounds in 3 months when I started the Risperdal 13 years ago.) I know there are other meds I can try, but I get Tardive Dyskinesia so easily… and have it already from the Wellbutrin… I am so wary of changing from meds I know work.

Fuck, this is confusing sometimes.

Thanks for listening.