Fat Business

~ Kiki Writes ~ 4 Comments

Someone I follow on Twitter retweeted the following tweet:

Am I the only one that gets angry and wants to yell when I see fat people eating junk food?

Well, I can definitely say that no, you’re not and yes, people actually do.

I also invite you to come up and yell at me while I’m noshing on a corn dog and see if it’s not one of the more ill-advised decisions you make in your life.

Because the first words out of my mouth are going to be, “WHAT FUCKING BUSINESS IS IT OF YOURS, SKIPPY?”

It seems that in this society being fat is everyone’s business should you venture out in public. Like a pregnant lady constantly getting her belly felt up by strangers, it seems to be no breech of etiquette to confront, insult, and/or shame a fat person for being fat.

Now, I can’t go up to a thin person and tell them that they should be eating chocolate or tell them they need a burger. I can’t tell a thin woman that she has the body of a pre-pubescent girl with implants. I can’t tell a thin man how unattractive he is because he’s thin. That’s rude.

But for someone to come up to me and tell me to put down the Ho Ho, that’s fine. It’s perfectly fine for a thin woman to call me a fat bitch. It’s completely acceptable for a thin man to moo at me. I deserve it because I don’t fit society’s ideal standards.

Well, ya know what? Fuck off. It’s none of your business.

No, really, it’s not.

You cannot possibly think that I don’t know that I’m fat. Believe me. I know.

You cannot possibly think that I don’t know the implications of being fat. Believe me. I do. I’m shunned for my size and treated badly because of it. I’m disrespected for it. It’s more socially acceptable to be a heroin addict than a fat person because, hey, at least the junkie is skinny.

And I know the health implications, too. Actually, I probably know MORE about that health implications than a thin person because they’ve been shouted right at me. I’ve also learned to read between the lines and take my health into my own hands because people are so quick to say that I’m unhealthy because of a number on a scale.

Did you know it’s possible to weight over 200 pounds and have good cholesterol, blood pressure, and sugars? It’s true. It’s been done. Hell, I’ve done it. And so have other fat people. Those are actually better measures of health than weight. Why? Well, because thin people can have shitty cholesterol, high blood pressure, and be diabetic. Wild, huh?

Yeah, you don’t know my medical charts. You also don’t know my life. You have no idea why I’m fat, how fat I’ve been, or how fat I’m gonna be.

You don’t know my diet and can’t judge it by one cheeseburger. Maybe that’s my weekly treat and for the rest of the week I live off of salads and water. Maybe I was in a hurry, like you, thin person, and had to grab something quick on the go when I’d rather have eaten a balanced meal. Maybe all I eat is McDonald’s. How do you know? That’s right. You don’t.

Did you know you can be fat without eating all of the time and eating a lot? It’s true. There’s no telling how much I eat. I might graze all day. Or I might go back for seconds. Or thirds. I might only eat one big meal a day. I might eat three balanced ones. Again, how can you possibly know?

Did you know you can be fat but still work out? It’s true. You have no idea how much I work out. I may sit around the house all day. Or I might run 5K’s. I might walk every day after dinner. I might do yoga every morning. Maybe the only exercise I get is lifting that cookie to my mouth. But you don’t know, do you?

Heaven forbid I insinuate that all thin people are workout anorexics that puke after every meal. That’s rude! It’s generalization! It’s not fair! But, it’s perfectly fine to think all fat people are unhealthy, lazy, gorging slobs. That’s not a generalization! It’s a truth!

Well, fuck your truth. Stick your truth straight up your ass. Replace it with this truth:

I don’t hate you for being thin. I hate you for disrespecting me for being fat.

And if you have such an issue with me smashing a DQ Blizzard, then please, come up and say something. We’ll discuss it.

I’ll set you straight.

Writing–Finding Stories

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

Trash bin

My roommate Carrie and I were sitting on the patio by the side door which faces our neighbors’ yard. On their patio, next to their garbage cans, was a large box, probably for a television. Carrie speculated on why they might need a new one. I really didn’t care.

She told me that I wasn’t curious enough to be a writer. That I should look at that box and wonder what story is behind it. Maybe the neighbors are aliens and the new TV is a communication device (which made me think of This Island Earth) or maybe they had a poltergeist in the old TV and they had to get a new one (which made me think of, you know, Poltergeist).

I shook my head at both of those ideas (which she considered an insult) and told her that for me a TV box by the garbage wasn’t a story. The recurring personal ad in the paper that just said “Please Forgive Me. Barbara Smith” was a story.

The conversation ended with Carrie basically telling me I was wrong, but it did get me to thinking.

Stephen King has said that stories are found things. I believe that. I find stories anywhere and everywhere. That night I found my story in a newspaper, not next to a trashbin. I’ve found stories doing laundry, taking a shower, watching TV, driving past cornfields, doing all sorts of mundane, every day life things.

I don’t find stories everywhere I go. I don’t expect to. Not every story is meant for me to find. I’ve been known to find stories that aren’t for me. I’ve tried to write them, but they never turned out well. So I try to be smarter about that. I leave those stories for other people and only pick the stories I know are meant for me. I’m developing my sense for that now and I’m getting better at it.  The idea notebook has been a great asset in that respect.

So in the end, the stories Carrie found might be valid, great stories. They might take the nation by storm and inspire a bunch of people. And that’s terrific. Unfortunately, I didn’t find them. They weren’t there for me to find. Maybe someone else will.

But when I looked across the driveway at the neighbors’ back patio all I saw was an empty TV box sitting next to a trashcan.

The story was nowhere to be seen.

The Many Faces of Kiki

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

Kiki (1931 film)

I have this weird single-minded aspect to my personality.

I like to think that what other people think about me doesn’t matter, but in a way it does. Not so much the harsh criticism and insults often hurled my way, sometimes verbally, sometimes only mentally. I mean if you bother to think that I’m a fat, ugly, stupid bitch of a human being, I’m pretty sure I’m not associating with you much for that to be a really big issue.

I guess I’m more concerned with what people think about me in terms of how people think of me in relation to the way I present myself.

If you ask me what I am, I’ll tell you that I’m a writer first and foremost. That’s me. That’s my career (as unsuccessful as it currently is). It’s a big part of my identity. But it’s not my ENTIRE identity. I know that. I’m sure other people know that. And I don’t think that way about other people. But for some ridiculous reason I’ve got it in my head that if I present any other aspect of my identity, then people won’t take me seriously as a writer.

Crazy, right?

It’s like this. I know that most people don’t consider writing a real job. I don’t get a regular paycheck. I don’t go to an office. Hell, I don’t even have to put on real pants. Because I can’t support myself, it’s not real work. It’s hard enough already to be taken seriously as a writer because I’ve yet to publish a book and/or I’m not a best-selling author (yet).

Now, you take that insecurity and couple it with my other interests and I’ve created a great dilemma for myself. For example, I make and sell jewelry. I like jewelry. I like to make jewelry. It’s another creative outlet for me. Selling it gives me a little more money towards making the ends meet every month. But I’m afraid that by promoting the jewelry I make and sell people will think I’m not serious about my writing.

And thus a big part of my identity is negated.

I hate that.

Now, I realize that most of this is all in my head. Not everyone makes their work such a big part of themselves. Most people don’t think of themselves as one thing, so they don’t think of other people as one thing. They probably don’t even bother to break it all down. They don’t think of me as a writer and a jewelry maker and a fat girl belly dancing and a rerun junkie and a baseball floozy and a t-shirt enthusiast and a lover of horrible things. They look at the sum total instead of the parts and it either makes up someone they like or someone they don’t.

It’s my paranoia at play. I know that and I do my best to shove that squirmy thing back into it’s aquarium and lock the top and just let it go and be all of those things. But it’s not always easy. I’m not always able to do it.

Ah, the joys and pains of being a constant work in progress.

Writing–Writing Retreat Results

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

Lincoln Log Cabin State Historic Site, near Ch...

The week in solitude with only two dogs and three cats to demand my attention and limited Internet access did me some good. Not only did I get several chapters of the Ivy novel written and revised, but I also found a new creative spark for revisions on The World (Saving) Series.

The first two days there I admit that I kept the same slow, slightly distracted pace. But by Saturday night I realized that I was getting bored and needed to do more work to better fill up my time. That was good enough to light the fire under my butt.  I found myself doing twice as much work as I usually did when I was home.

The exceptions were Tuesday and Thursday. Tuesday I had a job interview and was gone a good chunk of the day, so I only did some outlining. Thursday I got a chapter written and one revised, but didn’t have the attention span to push it past that. I was looking forward to my aunt coming back that night so I could go home. It was nice to get away, but I was ready to get back to my bed and my fridge and my animals.

I’m pleased with the productivity I had that week and I hope at least a little of it carries over back at home. The Ivy novel is going to continue to take its dear sweet time and I’m going to get frustrated with my lack of progress on it and I’m going to deal with my bad habit of procrastinating, but I think this burst of productivity will help propel me through the hard parts. And I’m really glad that I had a chance to tinker with The World (Saving) Series again. It’s gotten me excited to get back to the project and I think I can hammer out the revisions on the first third of the novel before the month ends.

In the end, it’s all about discipline and focus. I need to carry the writer’s retreat mindset of getting my work done in my mind all the time.

A saying has floated on my Twitter timeline repeatedly and it’s so very true:

Writing is 90% not getting distracted by the Internet.

Adventures in Housesitting

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment
Simba, Fritz, and Bootsie.

I spent a week at my great-aunt’s house while she and my cousins were on vacation. The task was simple enough. All I had to do was take care of the dogs and cats, get the mail, and water the garden. After that, my time was my own to do what I pleased.

Now I live in a small town in the middle of a cornfield, but it’s definitely a town. My aunt lives on the outskirts of a village. She’s got neighbors and a highway runs behind her house, but it still feels very much more isolated than my little house in my little town. I’ve never spent the night at her house before, but I did sleep over at my grandparents’ house all the time growing up and they lived a couple of miles away in the same scenario (except for the highway part). In short, I’m no stranger to being in the country.

However, I’ve never been in the country alone overnight.

I’ve also never been alone in my aunt’s house, so it was a weird feeling walking in with all of my stuff and no one was there. It felt like I was intruding.

I admit that for the first couple of days I felt like a stranger in a strange land (silly since I’d spent so much time in the house previously, but it’s different being there alone). It was all about getting comfortable being in my aunt’s house alone. I live by a routine when I’m at home. It’s an important part of keeping the flow of my day. Once I was able to establish a routine that involved feeding and playing with the dogs, minding the cats, getting the mail, and watering the garden, I settled in pretty well.

Emma and Zoey.

Staying overnight in a new place, particularly one out in the middle of nowhere, it can be easy to spook yourself. I think I locked the door at my aunt’s house more than I locked it at mine. Of course I locked it when I went to sleep, but I also locked it when I took a shower, too. I’d also shut and lock the bathroom door. Maybe that’s just logical. Maybe it’s paranoia. Maybe it’s the effect of watching Psycho.

On the other hand, after the first day I was like, “Why am I shutting the door every time I go to the bathroom? I’m the only one here!”

In a way it was a little taste of living on my own in theory. It wasn’t my house, it wasn’t my ideal choices of food, it wasn’t my animals. But it was me cooking for myself. It was me solely responsible for the animals in the house.  It was me being solely responsible for the house.

It was a week of being some kind of grown-up that I haven’t been yet.

I kind of liked it.

Of course, it was only a week. And I wasn’t financially responsible for anything.

I’m sure that makes all the difference.

Writing–Writing Retreat

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

Arkansas River Valley

Starting Saturday, I’ll be house sitting for my great-aunt and cousins while they go to Arkansas on vacation. Their house is only about 20 minutes away from mine, but I’ll be staying there all week to take care of the animals (and a garden, which I hope I don’t kill).

So, in a way, I’ll be getting a vacation, too.

For a week I’ll be on my own (if you don’t count the two dogs and three cats). My distractions and disruptions will be reduced by two people (sorry, Dad and Carrie). I’m pretty sure my aunt doesn’t have Wi-Fi, so my Internet access will be limited. In conclusion, it will be a prefect time for me to get some serious writing work done.

The plan is to continue working on the unnamed Ivy novel as well start the new revisions on The World (Saving) Series. I’m afraid I might get frustrated working on just the Ivy project full-time, particularly with the slow way I’m doing it, so the revisions are an easy way to keep mentally happy and from getting discouraged.

I’m calling this a my writing retreat. I’ve never been on one before and I know from what I’ve read there are usually other people involved, critiquing everything everyone’s written for the day after the sun sets, but I don’t really need that last bit. I just need the time away, the time to focus.

You see, I’ve often told myself that without the distractions of my daily life, I’d be more productive. I could write more if only people would leave me alone or if I didn’t have to make dinner or if I didn’t have to do this, that, or the other. Well, now I’ve got the opportunity to put that hypothesis to the test. Will I be more productive away from it all? Or will I find new distractions and not be any more (or worse, less) productive.

There’s only one way to find out, I suppose. And to be fair, I’m looking forward to both the change of pace and change of scenery. And the challenge.

I just hope I live up to it.

 

It should also be noted that since I am doing this writer’s retreat, expect no blog posts from me next week.

First CornBelters Game of 2012

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

On Sunday my friend Haley and I, along with her two kids, attended our first CornBelters game of the year. The season opened last Friday against the Windy City Thunderbolts and our game was a rubber match between the two teams. Unfortunately, the Thunderbolts weren’t the only storm in town. The game was stopped due to lightening after 3 1/2 innings and after a lengthy delay (most of which we waited out in the stands with only our freebie blankets to keep us dry!) the game was suspended.

The game will be finished when the CornBelters meet up with the Thunderbolts again in at the Windy City home field. However, for us damp fans, our tickets are comped for another game at the CornCrib because the CornBelters always take very good care of their fans.

Even though the game ended much earlier than we wanted and not the way we wanted, I still got a few pictures.

Home sweet home at the CornCrib.
2012 CornBelters warming up.
Justin Albert and Pat Trettle getting ready to get the game started.
Our favorite ex-Belter Mike Mobbs, now playing for Windy City.
The guys hanging out by the clubhouse while the Dancing Taco keeps the crowd entertained during the delay.
Sweet freebie CornBelters blanket.
New CornBelters souvenir cups advertising the All Star Game.

Writing–Of Yard Sales and Self-Publishing

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

Yard sale on Green Street in .

I had a yard sale last Saturday. I spent a week getting everything together, cleaning it off, pricing it, and getting the word out. Come Saturday, I put everything out and put up the signs.

I sold exactly one thing, made 50 cents (which wasn’t even mine because the sole thing I sold was something of my dad’s), and got a sunburn.

As I was packing everything away feeling like a failure, I realized that this yard sale attempt was a lot like my self-publishing venture.

I put a lot of work into my little book of short stories. I edited them, formatted them (several different times depending on the requirements of the place I was publishing it at), designed the cover. I did my best to make it look as professional as possible. I put the word out.

And I’ve made about 10 bucks all told.

My biggest failure in both of these ventures was promotion. I didn’t have the money to take out an ad in the paper or  pay for the marketing services offered by Lulu. Instead, I relied on word of mouth and social networking. Which is fine. My reach is a bit limited, but it’s still a reach. I have to hope that the people I tell then tell other people who tell other people and the people being told come to my sale or check out my little book.

And that’s the problem with a limited reach. The people I tell don’t necessarily tell anyone else. They don’t always look at the book or even care about the sale. And the same can be said of the people they tell if they do bother to tell them.

Relying so much on other people when dealing with something as subjective as books or yard sales seems to be a recipe for failure on my part. I’m not a natural salesman and I don’t have a huge fanbase. I’m putting my success into the hands of people that don’t have anything invested in it. In fact, a few of those people probably would prefer that I fail.

It’s a frustrating thing for me as there are times when I’d really like to be in total control of everything to put so much in the hands of other people. But then, I’m also very good at sabotaging myself for various reasons and in various ways, too.

I tend to work myself into no-win situations. Like the yard sale, my self-publishing excursion was pretty much doomed as soon as I got the idea.

When you’re only as good as your reach, I’ve got short arms.

Goodbye, Kerry

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

After a few days of thinking about it, I feel like I can put my feelings and thoughts into a coherent form without it sounding like nothing but sappy, saccharine drivel. Nothing screws up my Friday like finding out one of my boys is retiring.

A few weeks after Kerry Wood threw his twenty strikeout game against the Astros, I graduated high school. That was 14 years ago and in that time, the two of us have changed quite a bit. He went from starter to closer to setup man. He went from young phenom to a guy that fans called broken down and useless. He went from a chubby teenager to a grown man, a husband and daddy at that. I went from college student to dropout to student to dropout to student to dropout. I worked in retail, banking, and professional wrestling. I went from only seeing one game ever at Wrigley Field to making a point of going to the opening and closing homestands. I went from fat, single girl to…well, still fat and single, but a little more of a woman.

Really, the only thing Kerry Wood and I have in common is the number of times we’ve ended up on the DL.

But it still feels like we’ve grown up together in a sense, which is a stupid thought, but the only way I can explain it without mucking up the works. So his retirement strikes a chord with me. Just a couple of weeks before, at Casino Night, I told Harry that Kerry Wood was my guy. That so long as he played, then I wasn’t old. That night, just a couple of day or two after he chucked his glove into the stands after a frustrating outing, he was one of the last players to leave Casino Night, talking and taking pictures, a smile on his face. It was encouraging to me that despite the struggles he was having this season, he was still smiling.

Now maybe I know why.

As much as it saddens me to see Kerry Wood retire, his final appearance on the mound couldn’t have been happened any better. Ending his career as it began, with a strikeout, was beautiful. His son Justin running from the dugout to hug him as he left the mound brought tears to my eyes. His press conference the next day, all of his thank you’s, was another example of class (I got the tears again when he thanked Lester Strode because Lester is so often overlooked). I’d always hoped that when Kerry Wood left (and therefore left me to be officially old in baseball years) that it would be on a high note.

Really, I don’t think this note could have been any higher.

I wrote last week that Kerry Wood was veteran and a pro and that he would find a way to help his team. When I wrote that, I wasn’t thinking about retirement. But I guess he was. I guess this was the way he felt he could help them best.

I’ll miss you in pinstripes, Kerry. But I’m glad you’re a Cubs lifer.

I guess that’s one more thing we’ve got in common.

Venting Explosions Safely

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

Gas emissie uit de slapende vulkaan op de Fleg...

When I had a bout of major depression about 10 years ago, the therapist explained to me a line that I heard on an episode of M*A*S*H, but didn’t give much thought to. Depression is anger turned inward. And I was really good at holding all of my anger, stress, and frustration inside. The key to my recovery (if I didn’t want to go on medication and I didn’t), was to vent my anger, stress, and frustration in a safe, constructive way.

It was long after this, my mother gave me a journal for the now defunct Aunt Kiki Day. That journal became my outlet and it kept my anger, frustration, and stress from building up inside and poisoning me. It was a life saver really and it’s still my go-to way of relieving that kind of tension.

But there are times when I want to vent to an actual person. Like screaming into the void, sometimes I’d rather hear the words of my frustrations rather than just see them written down. Sometimes I’d rather let people know where I’m at and what my deal is.

Sometimes I would like a little support, even if it’s just someone listening.

The problem with this is that I don’t always have someone to vent to. The people in my life don’t always have time for such bullshit. They don’t care, don’t want to listen, and I don’t blame them. They have productive lives of their own. Why take time out to listen to me?

Not to mention that it’s such an established trope that I’m self-sustaining and I don’t NEED any support (that’s a post for a different day) that they don’t really think about me needing that sort of outlet. I’m the one THEY got to when THEY need to vent.

I used to vent on the Internet. Shouting into the void. The problem with that is now with social networking it’s getting harder and harder to vent without the people I’m venting about reading it and then getting offended.

Why not talk to them directly? In a perfect world, that sort of open communication would be nice. However, the reality is that people get offended by that sort of thing. I know from experience. I get pissed at people and the shit they do. I get annoyed with people and the shit they do. I’ve talked to people about the shit they do. And the reality is…nothing changes. In the end, it’s my fault for getting pissed or getting annoyed, they don’t change a damn thing, and the whole argument isn’t productive.

Venting is what I do because I can’t change them. And sometimes (getting more frequent), I can’t vent the way I want to so I can avoid opening a whole can of worms.

Which just adds to my frustration.

It’s a vicious cycle, one that I’m having a tough time escaping, partially because it’s one that’s partially of my own creation. And making the changes I need to make on my end doesn’t completely stop it.

It’s a bitch for sure.

It’s time for me to be a bigger one if things are going to change.