Fat Girl in a Two-Piece

June 12, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

It was a half-price sale that got my attention. I like the sound of things being half-price. It sounds like me spending money on things I wouldn’t ordinarily buy.

This half-price sale?

Swimwear.

I haven’t owned a bathing suit since high school. I think the last time I wore one was my freshman year during a band trip to Virginia Beach. At least that’s the last time I remember wearing one. After that, my swimwear was usually an old t-shirt and an old pair of shorts. This was mostly because I didn’t really go swimming enough to justify buying a new swimsuit. It was also because after my freshman year, my chest grew to such a size that finding a bathing suit that fit was incredibly difficult and even if I did find one, I wouldn’t want to be seen in it.

So here were are about twenty years later and I’m faced with a half-price sale on swimwear and I think to myself, “Man, I should really buy a swimsuit. I haven’t had one in years and Mom has a pool and this is just fate, really. I shouldn’t fight it.”

I looked through the offerings of fat girl one-pieces and wasn’t exactly thrilled with them. “Control panel” is a phrase I regard with some suspicion because I interpret it as “SQUISH!” and that doesn’t thrill me. All of the one-piece suits had this feature and it bummed me out because I didn’t want to smoosh my fat and internal organs just to possibly not offend some delicate snowflake that might faint at the glimpse of my pudge.

I thought I was out of luck, and then I thought, “Why can’t I just get a two-piece?”

Indeed, why couldn’t I? Sure, I’d been told by society at large, not to mention people I converse with directly under the guise of being friends and family, that fat girls weren’t allowed to wear two-piece bathing suits, that actually fat girls shouldn’t wear swimsuits at all, but if you insist, cover as much fat and skin as you can. But wouldn’t a two-piece be the answer to my “control panel” problems?

It would.

It would also be cheaper.

See, buying separates meant that I could buy the bottoms from the fat lady department and the tops from the non-fat lady department (thank you, breast reduction) and it’d be cheaper than two fat lady separates or a fat lady one-piece. Plus, more variety.

In looking through my choices of tankinis, another thought occurred to me.

“Why can’t I get a proper two-piece and just let my fat hang out?”

Again, the only thing I could come up with was society not wanting to see my rolls. But they wouldn’t. I’d be in my mom’s backyard. Only, she, my nieces, my roommate, and maybe my stepdad would see my rolls. And they’ve already seen them. Besides, the cottage cheese would already be on display in the dairy section that is my thighs, so who cares about some rolls in the bakery? Really, what’s the big whooop?

In the end, I got what you see in the picture. A pair of bottoms, a tankini, and a halter style top. I was pretty excited about getting them, more excited that they fit, and positively thrilled at the fact that I think I look pretty damn spiffy in both top styles. Yes, even the one with my fat belly exposed.

Twenty years ago, when I was actually much thinner, I NEVER would have worn a bikini. I wouldn’t have done it seven years ago after I’d lost forty pounds. But today, at age 34 and weighing around 240 pounds, I now own the first two-piece swimsuit I’ve had since I was probably a toddler and I’ll rock it like a badass.

My fat rolls thank me for the freedom.

I’m Not Child-Free…I Just Don’t Want Any Kids

May 27, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I don’t have kids, don’t particularly want kids (though I reserve the right to change my mind at any point because I’m not very comfortable with absolutes; I do know that if I acquire a kid, it won’t be me getting pregnant because that squicks me too much), but I bristle at the term “child-free”.

If you’ve never heard of the term, here’s my version of the definition: child-free people don’t want kids, don’t like kids, don’t like YOUR kids, and basically don’t think anyone should have kids, and if they do, they shouldn’t inflict their children on the general public until they are no longer children.

As much as I can’t stand parents who think their children are special little unicorns that would be ruined by discipline and here is 100 pictures a day to prove that and shouldn’t you be having kids because your life has no meaning if you don’t, these child-free people are just as bad.

Bitching incessantly about other people’s children, using quaint terms like “breeder” and “crotch dropping” to refer to every parent and child (I only use “crotch dropping” for special occasions to refer to either adult or child because, seriously, that is a pretty great insult), somehow thinking that the human race could continue to exist without reproduction. I get that people don’t like kids, but seriously, they need to pull it back a tick. The kid-hate/parent-hate is just a bit much. I’m not particularly fond of teenagers, but the mere sight of them doesn’t turn me into a raving, venom-spewing asshole. Most of the time.

I believe that there’s a huge distinction between child-free people and people without kids. First of all, not all people without kids are child-free. Some of them can’t have kids, but would like to and for whatever reason haven’t acquired any yet. Some people without kids are undecided about having kids. Or waiting to have kids.

And some people that don’t have kids and don’t want any kids aren’t child-free. They’re like me. They like kids, they just don’t necessarily want any. They get annoyed with other people’s kids, but they don’t want to lock them in a room away from society until they’ve come of age and are magically not annoying anymore. Judging by the child-free people I’ve encountered alone, annoying is not a trait you just grow out of at the age of 18 or 21.

And some people that don’t have kids and don’t want kids don’t think other people that do have kids are stupid breeders. Many people want kids. And that’s totally cool. Most of my friends are parents and they’re pretty good parents. Some of them even enjoy being parents, which is awesome. I don’t believe I’ve ever had the urge to tell someone that they’re dumb for having kids.

Do I sometimes gloat a little because I don’t have any impossible extra-curricular activity schedules to manage and I get to sleep in sometimes? Sure. I consider it a fair trade for all of the potty training updates I have to endure. But it’s not with malice. It’s all done in good fun. Because I know that those parents love their kids as much as I like not having any.

So please don’t call me child-free or think that I’m child-free. I’m not. I ain’t that kind of asshole.

I just don’t have, or want, any kids.

I Must Art!

May 14, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

The other day I was seized with a sudden need to art. It didn’t matter what the art was, but I needed to do something artistic and creative that wasn’t writing. I thought about borrowing my roommates colored pencils, but she was still asleep and I needed to art NOW.

I ended up giving my pink flamingo Floyd a paint job (of which he was in desperate need and which I was planning to do anyway) and started working on this year’s Grinchmas gift (which I won’t mention just in case someone on the receiving in might read this) which involves quite a bit of painting and will take me some time to finish completely.

That all scratched the itch, but I still have an urge to art.

When it comes to my creativity, it’s mostly confined to writing. I do sew, of course, but my skills there are limited. But when it comes to art, I’m the limited of the limited. I can’t draw a straight line. Thankfully, when I do find myself doing art things, I do my best to avoid straight lines.

I like to art. I like to attempt to draw and paint, even if I’m not very good at it. I find it to be enjoyable sometimes to just doodle and such. I’ve done really kicky psychedelic pictures in oil pastels that look great hanging on my walls, but they’re not going to be hanging in a gallery at any point in time. I’ll be honest, though, I prefer it when the art I do can be useful (like with Floyd and the Grinchmas projects, which is also the name of my next band).

There’s also a certain hesitancy that I normally have when doing things in the nature of art, not just because I’m not good at it, but because my roommate Carrie IS an artist. Like, she went to school for it and stuff. Typically any urge I get to art is squashed by self-consciousness, if not by laziness (which squashes so many things). It’s hard for me to loosen up and art when I have an actual artist in proximity who can and will tell me everything I’m doing wrong.

But my latest need to art was too strong to be brought down by laziness or self-consciousness. Criticism be damned! I felt the urge and had to give in to it. And I’m actually pretty happy with everything I’ve done thus far. I sort of hope the feeling lasts.

Oh, and I did finally get the colored pencils.

Fat Girl Fashion in a Small Town

May 7, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

Today (as in the day I’m writing this blog post, not necessarily the day I’m posting it) I was feeling a ’60s vibe. So I wore a coral shift dress, white flats, and tied a wavy-patterned, purple bandana around my head in a ’60s style, fluffing up my my hair at the crown of my head to really sell it. I even did my make-up in a more ’60s style, but not too overtly ’60s. I don’t have the skill with false eyelashes and eyeliner to do that.

I also don’t own any white lipstick.

Then I went out and ran errands.

While out and about among the people of my little town in the cornfield, it was pretty obvious that I was operating on a different fashion level than the people I was around. Not a better fashion level, just a different one. And when you operate outside of the normal levels, well, you tend to stand out a little more.

I fell into a fashion rut a few years ago. Part of it was because I was broke and couldn’t afford new clothes. Part of it was because, even though I wanted to rock some new, stylish duds, I felt like I needed a place to wear these things. Just going out around town to run errands or going to teach homeschool or ferry the kid to and from school didn’t seem like a good enough reason to deviate from my t-shirt and jeans. I’d stand out and I didn’t want to stand out.

Last year, this started to change. First, I was able to afford new clothes. Second, I decided to stop worrying about what other people might be thinking about me because I chose to wear fishnets and boots to the liquor store (for the record, the older ladies at the liquor store have always been very complimentary about my style). Just because people around here were used to seeing only t-shirts and jeans, and people who knew me were used to seeing me in t-shirts and jeans, didn’t mean that I had to continue in that rut.

I’ve been a little adventurous in my fashion choices as a result. Wearing my coral shift dress with an olive green military style jacket, bright purple scarf, flower fishnet tights, and black suede boots. Rocking black and white patterned pants with a black or white t-shirt and black or white flats, depending on the need. Wearing an olive green tie dress and bright purple scarf (that scarf became a favorite over the winter) with gray and black fishnets and black combat style boots. Pairing my black shift dress with a red plaid shirt, gray tights, and boots.

I got a million of them.

(Okay, not really, but I wish I did.)

I kidded on Twitter that if I had a full-length mirror, people would be getting daily tweets of my outfits. Only, I wasn’t really kidding. I really would do that just because I’m so pleased that I’ve broken out of my fashion rut in such a colorful, fun way.

It gives the folks in my small town something different to look at, too.

Change and a Haircut

April 16, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

Not to be too dramatic about it, but something significant happened after I got all of my hair cut off.

I changed the way I saw myself.

Okay, yeah, duh, of course I would. Having really short hair makes me look different than when I have semi-short hair that I can still pull back into a ponytail. It’s very different from the long hair I had years ago. But the difference I’m talking about goes deeper than just hair length.

The best way I can explain it is like this. I have two shelves that house some of my Cubs memorabilia. On one shelf is a picture of me taken with a friend and a player. Every time I look at that picture, I think to myself, “I’m not that person anymore.”

Of course not. That was two years ago. People change in two years. Hell, people can change in two days. But seeing myself in that picture with my old hairstyle, it’s a physical representation of how I have changed.

The person in that picture was kind of depressed, not very confident, constantly bombarded with negative thoughts. She was insecure, unsure, and feeling pretty weak.

I am not that person anymore.

Okay, I can still be somewhat negative because I’m pessimistic by nature, but I’m not focusing that negativity on me. I’m using it more as a tool of realism instead. I’m more confident about who I am now, more willing not to feel bad about not living up to society’s ideals.

The girl in that picture gave a lot of lip service to an idea that she was a worthwhile human being just as she was and people needed to accept it because it was their hang-up, not hers, and she really wanted to believe that idea, but couldn’t quite make it.

I’m not that girl anymore. Now I believe what I say. I believe that idea.

Sometimes when I think of myself, see myself in my head, I picture myself with my old hairstyle and I have to correct myself. That girl I used to be didn’t disappear; she lingers. This me grew out of that me and I have no doubt that another version of me will grow out of the me I am now. I am an always evolving thing.

Obviously, the haircut didn’t start that.

It just reminds me of it.

Those Pesky Shoulds

March 31, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

Whenever I get a little bit of free time, my mind is filled with things that I should be doing instead of not doing anything important or, laws forbid, relaxing.

I should work on that bag I started as a way to keep me occupied during afternoon kid minding.

I should do a few more lessons on Duolingo.

I should do more work on whatever writing project I’m doing even if I’ve already hit my daily To Do List demand.

This blog post is a should. I had some free time this afternoon. I did a few extra Duolingo lessons. Then I still had some time. So instead of enjoying the fact that I don’t have to make dinner this evening and resting up some before I go to work tonight, I’m writing this blog post. And after I’m done writing this, I’ll do my workout, and probably try to get a couple more chapters on A Tale of Two Lady Killers revised before I leave for floorset.

You see, so long as there are things I should be doing, then I’m always going to feel like a lazy bum if I’m not doing them when I have the time.

I already feel like a slacker, like I don’t work hard enough or have enough to do. I feel like I haven’t earned any downtime or free time or relaxation time. So I SHOULD be doing something productive. I should be working out or writing or sewing or working or SOMETHING.

Those shoulds are so pesky. They make me feel guilty every time I decide to take ten minutes to play a game or check Twitter. Because I SHOULD be doing something else. I’m wasting time.

I don’t relax. I waste time. At least that’s what the shoulds in my brain make me think. And so I go to bed feeling guilty often because I wasted time watching reruns of F Troop and The Rifleman instead of doing more exercises or writing more words or curing cancer or whatever else I should be doing.

It’s something I try to work on, but it isn’t easy for me. I envy people who can do nothing and not feel bad about it. I spent a day in bed with a really nasty headache last week and felt like a bum because I barely got one page written before I gave up on trying to be productive. Even a headache doesn’t quiet those shoulds in my brain.

Because I should have been doing something else.

For me, to not do anything is an act of rebellion because I don’t feel like I’ve earned it. Even when I complete my To Do list for the day, I didn’t earn it. I’ll never earn it and I know it. There’s always one more thing I should be doing before I can relax.

Ooh, that reminds me! I need to wrap up this post.

There’s something else I should be doing.

Esteem Problems

March 12, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

“I don’t have low self-esteem. I have low esteem for everyone else.”

If you are of the generation that was around for an MTV show called Daria and if you were one of those generation members that watched the cartoon, then that quote should sound familiar. It’s a quote that’s been stuck in my brain since I first heard it, so we’re talking a few years.

It stuck with me because it’s true. It is an accurate statement about myself.

Whenever I find myself feeling bad about myself, thinking I’m fat*/ugly/stupid/worthless/unsuccessful**, it’s not because I truly think I’m fat/ugly/stupid/worthless/unsuccessful. It’s because I’m thinking about other people thinking that I’m fat/ugly/stupid/worthless/unsuccessful.

Other people’s hang-ups bring me down. Thinking about what they’re thinking about me bruises my ego.

Of course, I don’t know for certain that everyone is thinking these bad things about me, but if I were to go by what I know about society, there’s a good chance I’m being dismissed as no good. It makes ME dismiss people as not worth my time pretty easily.

This sort of thing has plagued me for a pretty long while. Some days it weighs on my mind heavily, bottoming out my self-worth. Some days I can’t give a damn and don’t give anyone else’s firing synapses a second of my time. Either way, it’s impacted my behavior, my choices, and my own mind.

It’s a complicated sort of thing to deal with when you think you’re pretty great, at least there’s nothing seriously bad about yourself, and yet you know most people you encounter don’t agree. Like a black cloud on a sunny day, you keep your eye on it because you know that sucker is just gonna grow and downpour all over your laundry. It’s a confusing cognitive dissonance. How am I suppose to feel about myself when I have this consensus that’s so different from my own opinion?

Also how am I supposed to feel about other people? It’s really hard to like someone or even want to like someone or want to get to know someone that I’m sure has already judged me poorly because I don’t fit into society’s neat little box. I realize that it makes me the same kind of asshole that’s got me pissy in the first place. That little bit of reality isn’t lost on me.

I’ve lost out because of this way of thinking. I already know what the answer is so I don’t bother to ask the question.

However, I think there’s a change on the horizon.

Last month, during a week-long fit of esteem troubles, I was driving to one of my jobs when I had an epiphany, a thought so sudden I swear an actual beam of light came into my brain and chased all the dark thoughts right out.

It’s very easy for me to imagine folks judging me harshly. But it’s just as easy for them not to. It’s just as easy for them to take one look at me and think, “There is a cool cat and I’d like to know her.” And what kind of asshole am I not to even give them a chance? I should. Give them a chance, that is. Not be an asshole.

I like that way of thinking better. I’m kind of enjoying it.

I think I may have found a cure for my esteem problems.

*Fat meant as a bad thing. I am fat, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.

**Unsuccessful based on certain society standards such as being married, having kids, having a real job, having a college degree, that sort of thing. That normal road that we’re all expected to walk and considered losers if we don’t.

I Colored My Hair

February 24, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

Okay, I didn’t color my hair myself, but I had it colored by my stylist. Yes, I have a stylist. I’m hip.

I used to color my hair often, as I’ve posted about before. But once I got my hair back to its original color some ten plus years ago, laziness set in. Though I thought about coloring my hair again, I remembered the upkeep it took and quickly dismissed taking that trip back down the rabbit hole. I also remember the damage I did to it coloring it so often. I didn’t want to fall down that rabbit hole either.

Besides, my natural color is actually quite nice and once my hair recovered from all of the damage I did to it, it only got better. Sure it’s only brown, but I’ve got some spiffy natural coppery sort of highlights in there. Hell, even the gray hair I have scattered about gives it a little something extra.

But recently I decided I wanted to put something extra in the extra.

I decided to get some chunky red lowlights put in.

I know, hardly something to blog about, but when you’re as lazy as I am, any sort of change like this is noteworthy. Besides, I feel like this is actually related to something a little bigger in my world, but this isn’t the post for that.

This is just the vanity post. See my new hair! See how pretty! See what I’ve committed myself to!

Okay, not much of a commitment since it won’t take much to grow it out and get rid of it.

But it’s still pretty.

Fashion Advice From a Fat Girl

January 31, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

You may think that someone of my size couldn’t possibly know anything about fashion, let alone be in the position to give out advice, but let me assure you, I’m quite qualified.

Think about it.

I’m a person that society doesn’t want to even look at it. I’m not supposed to even leave the house and inflict my fat self upon them. But if I have to leave to do things, could I at least cover up in some sort of burka type ensemble so they can just see me as the shapeless blob we all know I am. (This is not a slight on those who wear burkas, by the way; just the only example of head-to-toe clothing I could think of at the moment.)

The fashion rules aren’t written for a person of my size.

But since the fashion “rules” are a made-up, bullshit concept to begin with, don’t you think you should be taking advice from someone who makes up her own? Damn skippy.

Lucky for you, I only have two rules to follow.

Rule #1-Dress for yourself

To head off any “buts” right at the beginning, I understand that sometimes you will want to dress for a partner or to attract the attention of a certain someone. Wearing your husband’s favorite outfit or wearing a shirt you look dynamite in to attract the attention of a cute girl is fine. So long as you are also dressing for yourself.

What I mean by that is wearing what you want to wear. That’s it. You feel more confident in clothes that you like, that you’re comfortable in, that you want to be sporting. And because you’re rocking out your way, you automatically look better than you would if you tried to wear stuff that society’s fashion rules tell you to wear.

When I was in my early twenties, I wore purple lipstick, pro-wrestling t-shirts over prom dresses, combat boots, had my eyebrows pierced, and colored my hair all sorts of colors. People said I did it to get attention and didn’t believe me when I said that I didn’t. No doubt I attracted attention. When you look like that, people notice. But I looked that way because that’s the way I wanted to look. I thought I looked good like that. It was the look I wanted to rock.

The picture at the top of the post? That’s what I look like today, right now, as I’m typing (okay, not as I’m typing as it is obviously a bathroom selfie, but you get the point). I’m wearing a bright red and orange flannel over a black cami, dark wash bootcut jeans, and combat boots (I love combat boots; it is a pure love). Yesterday I wore a blue cableknit poncho over a white longsleeved t-shirt (both of which my youngest niece picked out for me for Christmas).

I will wear skinny jeans. I will wear boots with my denim pencil skirt and tights. I will wear a bright purple scarf with my olive shirt dress. I will wear red owl socks with my gray owl sweater over a blue buttoned down shirt.

I wear it because I like it and that’s what I want to wear that day. I dress for myself.

Rule #2- Wear clothes that fit

I cannot stress this rule enough because it’s very important.

I’m not just talking about clothes that are too tight either. Honestly, I don’t know how that’s comfortable for anyone when their t-shirts are constricting movement and their pants are cutting off their circulation. This isn’t just for the big folks either. Just because you’re skinny doesn’t mean you get a free pass to look like you’ve swaddled yourself in a boa constrictor going in for the kill.

On the flip side, don’t wear clothes that are too big. I realize, particularly for big girls, people do this to hide their bodies because society has shamed them for their size. Well, let me put this in bold print and all caps: YOU ARE FOOLING NO ONE. You can throw a circus tent over an elephant, but baby, there’s still an elephant in that tent and everybody knows it.

Clothing should fit. Even if you’re just doing a t-shirt and jeans, they should FIT.

The ass of your jeans shouldn’t be sagging, they shouldn’t be dragging the ground, you shouldn’t be hiking them up all the time. They shouldn’t be so tight that you can’t sit down without unbuttoning them, that every ounce of fat from below the waist is spilling out over the top because it has no place else to go. You shouldn’t be in danger of your skirt falling down or hiking up.

Your shirt shouldn’t be so tight that it’s a twenty minute wrestling match to get it on and then you spend the rest of the day pulling it down. It shouldn’t be so big that a family of four could camp in it either.

Think skim. Your clothing should skim your body. Loose enough to be comfortable, but tight enough so you don’t look like a slob. Even if you’re slumming it in a ratty t-shirt and jeans that have more holes than a prairie dog village and stains from unidentified sources on them, you automatically look less like a lazy, dirty grub if they fit.

So if you weight 300 pounds and want to rock a belly shirt, by all means, do so, just make sure that shirt is the right size. Jeans, too. A good bra is also a must, but that’s another post (it’s a Holy Grail quest, fellas). All about the booty shorts? Terrific. Make sure that those booty shorts aren’t so tight that they’re squeezing the booty out of the top.

Remember the rules.

And don’t let anyone shame you for what you wear.

Those folks should be ashamed for being such assholes in the first place.

Sewing Back to the Beginning

January 27, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

When I first started my attempts at sewing by hand, I made pillows. They seemed like the easiest things to do. Sandwich two square pieces of fabric together, fold over the edges to hide the roughness, sew three sides, stuff it, sew the last side. Simple. It was actually a great way for me to hone my sewing skills.

The very first pillow I made was as a present for a friend. I’ve probably made at least fifteen or twenty since then. Most of them were white with a picture on the front (I used t-shirt transfers, printing out pictures on them and then ironing them on to the white fabric) with handkerchiefs as the backing. The way I folded them over made for a nice border. They were my thing for a long time.

As you may remember, my mother asked for kitty curtains and coasters made out of a particular fabric for Christmas. I fulfilled her request, but was left with a bunch of extra fabric. I asked her what she wanted me to do with it. She told me she’d like a pillow for the school room.

And so I went back to my sewing beginnings.

The pillow I made for the school room (it sits in my chair at the desk) was made basically like the ones I used to make back in the day. I sandwiched the two pieces of the leftover fabric together, folded the sides, sewed, stuffed, sewed.

Unlike my decorative pillows of yore, I didn’t want this one to be too stuffed. First of all, I didn’t have enough stuffing to stuff it that full anyway. Second of all, it was going to spend most of it’s time in a chair. It needed to me a little more squishy and malleable. Plus, it’s longer than any of the other pillows I did. I didn’t want a log.

It probably could have used a bit more stuffing, but I’m pretty pleased with it. Works well for my chair.

Not bad for my first pillow in years.