Fat shaming and wilfully low IQ.

I really don’t appreciate it when everyone that crosses my path is suddenly a medical professional. I’ve spent most of my adult and teen life at 250lbs. I was born with poorly functioning lungs and several other health issues.

At the start of puberty, I began to gain my weight faster than anyone eating and moving like I was should gain. I went from WELL under 100lbs at 10yrs old to watching the scale climb.

I found out I have a Metabolic Syndrome which includes Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome and a pancreas that will overwork no matter what I do. Insulin, in and of itself, makes you gain weight. Having to then prevent potentially deadly low blood sugar levels, even if you’re not hungry and ate 5min ago only adds to the problem.

People assume if you are overweight and diabetic that you ate a poor diet first and then became diabetic. While that is true for some people it’s not even close to all of them.

I also have bad lungs. The Prednisone therapy needed to keep me breathing also causes weight gain. People still assume I must live on junk food. I can’t stand the stuff.

I was very ill 6 yrs ago. Over the years I was in and out of the hospital trying to get my lungs back on track I went from 250 to North of 500lbs. I stopped looking at the scale at 500lbs.

I credit a bad divorce and family stress for my loss of over 250lbs. I am, however, at 350, 100lbs larger than when I started, I would like to get back to 250lbs.

I’m not ashamed of myself. I eat a healthful diet and exercise as much as I can while caring for my elderly parents. I am however incredibly embarrassed FOR ALL of those people that feel free to criticize me. Clearly, they have a VERY limited understanding of how the human body works and it’s pretty obvious they aren’t capable or willing to know any better. That reading a patient leaflet is beyond them or their willingness to know what they are talking about, let alone picking up a medical text.

They rely heavily on the media to tell them that anyone who is overweight and diabetic MUST have done this to themselves and of course they think we’re idiots. If they could grasp such a limited concept then we must be stupid to not understand that it’s “ONLY” about calories in and movement to erase said calories.

Somehow it’s never about genetics. It’s never about medical conditions. After all, if it were, wouldn’t the media and everyone who isn’t a Doctor but IS somehow a perpetually thin, “expert” on the subject of fat, stop blaming everything on fat people…? (Of course not. Shame sells and so does superiority.)

If you try to insult me under the guise of helping me lose weight. You are an idiot and you must think I’m an idiot If you think I believe a near or total stranger gives a crap about my health.

If “You’re fat!” is your go to insult. You are an idiot. If you are delusional enough to think for even a nanosecond that I don’t know I’m fat or how to eat correctly and exercise…. YOU. ARE. A. GIANT. A-HOLE. *AND* AN. IDIOT.

You however, you ARE NOT, a Doctor. Let alone a Doctor that specializes in metabolic disorders. Please practice your pretend medicine elsewhere. Better yet, don’t. If you still wanted to play Dr at my age you should have tried harder in school.

If you actually are an M.D. but you do not specialize in Genetic Medicine and Endocrinology with an emphasis on Pulmonology and nutrition then again, you are also under qualified to have much, if any discussion with me about my weight. Should you do so, I will now assume since you’ve interrupted my life and taken such a great deal of concern in my health, that you are now my Doctor and will provide all treatment, foods, gym memberships and medications free of charge. After all, why else would you give away your services to begin with if you hadn’t planned on seeing this through?

If you simply continue to insist on being wilfully ignorant and rude with your assumptions then I reserve the right to assume that even though society has deemed you fit to serve on a jury and operate heavy machinery, you are lazy, wasting your potential, and wasting your time as well as mine.

You are fully capable of knowing the truth but choose not to.

Way back in the day…

When my mother first started working at Southwestern Bell as a telephone operator around the beginning of the 1960’s they were trained in some seriously strange s#!t.

They were first told of the heroic women that stayed with their posts to the death. They were killed by fire, flood, and just about every act of God you can think of all while trying to alert not just the authorities but the public as well. Many saved countless lives.

Then, in small towns at least, they were given a protocol for disaster alerts. In the event of a serious emergency they were to get the usual first responders in the field then phone medical doctors, and lastly they called veterinarians. Apparently, back then in a pinch anyone with a basic understanding of somethings anatomy was better than no one at all. I have no clue if this was ever implemented but in a way I suppose it doesn’t surprise me. In a time when kids weren’t allowed to use the phone because it was supposed to be for emergencies but with shared party lines there were always old people gossiping and the operator knew all because she could listen in. Well I guess why make a distinction between Dr’s? Also and to be fair, if I lived in a town with nothing better to do and was expected to give up my life to connect calls, I think I would listen too. While it’s hard to imagine anything more boring, I suppose being a woman in the 60’s and treated as such would be enough to make anyone want the gossip going around town.

Age Difference 

Now that I’m considering dating again I’m stuck in the strange world that all children of older parents are in. What age range am I looking at? 

I was “allowed” to date at 14. By 16 I knew anyone I wanted to date or could hold a conversation with would go to jail if we dated, so I put my love life on hold until I was 18. It was then I discovered unless the guy 10 years my senior had age appropriate parents who spent time with him, well, we had little in common. So eventually I’m 23 they’re in their 40’s and it’s still a struggle to find common ground because they think their 20. 

I’m divorced now and all I really know is no matter how reprehensible my parents can be, at 73 and almost 69, they are the best conversationalist (when they choose to be) I’ve ever met. They are well versed with what’s going on in the world, what has gone on in the past, and rather up on pop culture. 

All of these things I would want in a partner because honestly, if you can’t just have fun talking about nothing, then everything else is pointless. 

Let’s get very real here. Sex is awesome or sometimes fine but why bother building a relationship on it when you know that it’s also boring, ill timed, flawed in 100 ways by human error or outside sources? While efficient for procreation, the occasional caloric burn, or relaxant, it’s not what really makes a relationship. This is where being able to connect mentally and emotionally comes in.

My problem is that it’s nearly impossible to connect mentally to someone who can’t fathom that my grandpa was born in 1902, that I both met and remember him, and when I use a tiny word like “demise” I am not using big word. 

Is this a geographical problem? Is this an age gap issue? Should I now consider dating men that are 60-90ish? If it’s location, how do big girls fair in other parts of the country? I’m right in the middle of this one and finding second date material is harder than panning for gold.

Any advice for a woman ready to give it another try? I still think dating sucks.

Paris.

I made my first and so far only trip to Europe six months after terrorists had shaken America to our core by attacking what ended up being three locations. Thankfully, and due to great heroics, the fourth plane never reached it’s target. 

Clearly, the world had shifted and now, six months out I was about to make my first transcontinental flight. There were armed military forces guarding the airport and it wasn’t lost on anyone exactly how much time had passed. Six months, half of a year ago the Twin Towers in NYC had fallen, THE Pentagon still hadn’t finished their repairs and it made my stomach turn. I soon found out how much the world hurt with us.

I spent my thirty days in Europe mostly explaining I was no where near NYC. I live in the middle of my country. Everyone I met in every country was legitimately concerned.  They were all afraid. If the U.S. could be attacked then no one was immune. 

“Could you see the planes/towers/smoke/debris?” I told them no. The next question never was “Were you afraid?” because I can only assume by their fear they already knew the answer. The next question was always “How do you cope?” To be honest I didn’t know what to say really. I knew that The President and the government would do their jobs but that’s not what they meant and I, along with my country were still braced for more. If control and safety are an illusion, the magic was broken and the hardest realization of nothing being within our control or that it only takes a moment to flip everything you thought you knew on its head; Well I gave the only answer I could, “I trust it will be handled, I know things will never be the same, and I keep going because overall, it’s the only thing you can do.” 

I had such a wonderful time in Paris. The city almost feels magical. More than a city for lovers. The artists, poets, chefs, and musicians fill every breath you take with creativity. It’s palpable. The fact that you’re walking paths so many amazing people have walked before. I very much hate that this happened to such an almost sacred place. A place much like NYC. A place with a heart beat and perhaps even a soul.

It’s not exactly an old notion or the first time anyone has said this but, when are we going to stop this? I want peace. I know too many people need to heal. 

Our hearts are with you Paris. I know you will heal albeit not without some scaring. I pray for peace and stability in the world. I pray for Paris, just as those I met years ago prayed for America. 

How to save a life.

1. Listen without judgement.

2. Be kind, have compassion.

3. You don’t know anything about it so shut up.

4. Really, I mean it. The last thing they need is an ultimatum or the fear that you too will abandon them.

5. Offer real help. Condolences and prayers only go so far when someone is going under for what might be the third time. Knowing what resources are in your area and the number of any warm lines IS helping.

6. Know these numbers:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-8255 (TALK)

Rainn.org (rape, abuse, & incest national network) 1-800-656-4673 (HOPE)

The Trevor Project for LBGTPQ youth  866-488-7386

unitedway.org Provides many services and resources for free. Call 211

7. Take as much time as it takes. It very well could be you feeling that low someday. Would you want the person you reached out for to be in a hurry?

8. If at any time your friend makes it clear they have immediate plans to end their life, take it seriously. Try to get them to voluntarily admit themselves to a hospital or dial 911. 

No one has to be alone. You are worth more than you could ever know. 

Take it from someone who is still fighting, had I punched my own ticket every time I didn’t think I would see the sun I would’ve missed SO many wonderful things.

The births of 7 kids between family and friends. Some I haven’t even gotten to meet yet because of distance but I hope to someday.

Yeah, there’s been bad and I’ve been neck deep in a ton of bad for the last four years BUT I have faith. I have faith in a lot of things. You don’t have to go for a big guy in the sky you just have to have faith that YOU can survive. You will, if you always reach for help.

The adult juice box and it’s importance in survival.

This, for those of you who still have dignity, self respect, and no children. This is an adult juice box. Aka, “Mommy’s sippy cup”, a safe way to drink on the patio without the fear of broken glass, and if present with some SERIOUS R. B. F. it’s a great way to to make sure to let the world know you are so far past caring and they shouldn’t dare test you. If they do? You’re gonna need a shovel! Also super handy on beaches or in the park!

More than this though it’s quickly becoming the survival tool of women aged 25-45 that are tired of hearing about how they need to get married and have kids. They are also REALLY tired of having to tell everyone their baby, puppy, and new hubby are adorable (but not in a creepy way) because, harsh truth, not EVERY baby is adorable and most husbands become lumps once kiddo arrives.

I have been BEYOND lucky that so far there hasn’t been a weird looking kid in the bunch and the husbands seem to be trying.

This isn’t a drunken life hack, it’s a survival skill. ;-p


Happy wines-day this coming week! Please juice box responsibly.

The adult juice box and it’s importance in survival.

This, for those of you who still have dignity, self respect, and no children. This is an adult juice box. Aka, “Mommy’s sippy cup”, a safe way to drink on the patio without the fear of broken glass, and if present with some SERIOUS R. B. F. it’s a great way to to make sure to let the world know you are so far past caring and they shouldn’t dare test you. If they do? You’re gonna need a shovel! Also super handy on beaches or in the park!  

More than this though it’s quickly becoming the survival tool of women aged 25-45 that are tired of hearing about how they need to get married and have kids. They are also REALLY tired of having to tell everyone their baby, puppy, and new hubby are adorable (but not in a creepy way) because, harsh truth, not EVERY baby is adorable and most husbands become lumps once kiddo arrives. 

I have been BEYOND lucky that so far there hasn’t been a weird looking kid in the bunch and the husbands seem to be trying. 

This isn’t a drunken life hack, it’s a survival skill. ;-p

 
Happy wines-day this coming week! Please juice box responsibly.

Being 36, childless, & asked for parenting advice.

Every woman who has yet to have kids or may not want them has been in this little scene: Your BFF since you could sit up in the sandbox is having a baby and you may not have to plan the whole ordeal but you bet your kneecaps your butt had better show up unless you are actually at death’s door. (You KNOW she is an emotional wreck and WILL NOT hesitate to kneecap you, don’t even lie to yourself!) Well as always “someone” (the grandma to be or friends that have gone before and want to show off their parenting knowledge.) just can’t resist breaking out a hand crafted, blessed by the Gods, soon to hold part of the child’s umbilical cord, advice for the mom to be book. (This is where every non parent would happily gut themselves with the cake knife.) 

The book is passed in a circle and each person, young and old is to give their best advice on rearing the child. After a few of these here is my stock answer. Go ahead and use it. I don’t mind. What else are women like us supposed to say? So here goes:

“Don’t worry about making mistakes or messing up your child because you will. If you didn’t that would mean that not only did you make a perfect person but everyone around your child is perfect. Since there are no perfect people in this world, aim for doing as little damage as possible, it makes the therapy cheaper, and always be there with an open heart and mind.” -Meredith Flenner 

If I feel generous I add my P.S. Always carry a small pocket knife. 

I swear after “momma” & “daddy” it’s “Can you open this?” Plus you can make apple slices on the go for WAY less than prepackaged.

A few words on wine.

After a little thought, a few medications, and no wine at all I’ve got a theory.

Wine is a lot like a person. At first it’s all innocent as a juice, then after some time has passed it grows stronger, able to overpower some people while soothing others. Once even more time goes by, one of two things happens. It either gets better with age or just turns bitter. Some are cheap others are priceless, and just like people in both cases, being one or the other doesn’t exactly make you good or bad. Wine can have a variety of homes. Some in lovely bottles and others in cardboard boxes, much like people it’s not so much the packaging but what’s on the inside that counts. 

So here is my advice to you. Don’t overlook that cardboard box. Always try to improve with age or risk becoming bitter. Lastly, everyone will become wine some day, try to raise a good vintage.