Bi Bi, Baby, Bi Bi

October 15, 2012September 15, 2021 ~ Kiki Writes ~ 2 Comments

I’m bisexual.

I’ll allow you all a minute to process what that means to you before I get into what it ACTUALLY means.

Being bisexual means that I am sexually and romantically attracted to men and women. I was once challenged in high school that I couldn’t be bisexual because I’d never slept with a woman. If that were how it works, then I couldn’t have been a heterosexual at the time because I’d never had sex with a man at that point either. But that’s not how it works.

Being bisexual brings up some interesting stereotypes.

One is that I don’t exist. People who claim to be bisexual are just confused. In a society so obsessed with labels and the concept of either/or, all or nothing, bisexuality is a mind-boggle. I have to be attracted to either men or women. I can’t be attracted to both. And in this world, adherence to convention would be preferred. But if I were a lesbian that would be okay because at least then I would make a COMMITMENT to a choice. For some reason the idea that I could be attracted to both sexes is considered impossible.

Speaking of commitment, therein lies another stereotype. That because I’m bisexual (if you believe in that sort of thing), I can’t be in a committed relationship. I am somehow unsatisfied if I were to pick one partner because I’d always be yearning for the opposite. The problem with this idea is that it has nothing to do with sexuality and everything to do with monogamy. I know some perfectly straight people and some perfectly gay people who couldn’t be in a committed relationship if you tied them to someone. I’ve personally gotten to the age and experience that commitment to ONE person is my ideal.

You may be wondering why I’ve never brought up my sexuality before. I’ve talked about my dealings with men before, but not women.

Well, first of all, it’s none of your damn business and I’ll mete out information about myself as I see fit. Second of all, my dealings with women have been fewer, but no less confusing, awkward, and difficult than my go-rounds with men. While I’m more trusting of a woman flirting with me than I am a man (in other words, if I realize they’re hitting on me, I don’t automatically chalk it up to them looking for an easy score, they’re joking, or it’s because I’m the only single girl in the room), I’m as clueless as a man when dealing with them in relationships. I’ve also been witness to a few sour women break-ups. That alone has been enough to make me tread extra carefully.

Lastly, I’m not exactly in the closet, but I’m not sure everyone knows. In fact, when I did let my parents in on the fact that I was bisexual, they were actually both shocked that I wasn’t a lesbian. So there ya go. But still, there are certain friends and family members that might not be too thrilled with my sexuality.

Which raises another fun point.

If I date a man, I’m okay. If I date a woman, I’m a lesser human being. Isn’t that strange? Nothing else about me changes. Not my personality, not my weight, not my eye color, not my job. Just my relationship. And that one little thing determines if I can go about life peacefully or if I get people coming up to me in the mall to tell me I’m an abomination (it’s happened!).

Think about that, kids. How would you like the value of your existence, whether or not you’re entitled to the same benefits as everyone else, whether or not your family LOVES you, whether or not your friends will associate with you dependent upon who you’re fucking? Nothing else about you changes. Everything about you is the same. But making that one relationship choice, dating that one person, changes everything about how people feel about your and treat you. Just that one little thing.

Amazingly fucked up, isn’t it? Not very fair, huh?

Welcome to my world.

Fat Telling

October 8, 2012January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ 2 Comments

So a viewer emailed a news anchor in LaCrosse, WI to let her know that she was fat and as a someone on TV it was her responsibility to not be fat in order to set an example to the young people.

That’s my snarky summary. You can read the whole thing (and see video) here.

The whole incident brought up the topic of bullying, but that’s not why I’m bringing it up. That topic is best left discussed by people who are not me.

I’m bringing it up because this is actually a common occurrence for fat people. You don’t even have to be on TV to have it happen. For whatever reason, people feel it is not only acceptable but also their DUTY to tell fat people that they are fat.

I’m not talking about the assholes that scream “FAT ASS!” across crowded malls and streets. I’m talking about the people like this gentleman who sent in the email. There’s nothing overtly offensive in his email. He just felt that perhaps this news anchor COMPLETELY MISSED THAT SHE’S OVERWEIGHT AND SOMEONE SHOULD POINT IT OUT TO HER. She addresses that in fact.

You might think it’s stupid (and you’d be right), but there are people out there that think I don’t know I’m fat unless they point it out to me. Seriously. They think I might have been trucking right along in my life thinking I was normal or average or worth a shit and it totally escaped my attention that I was FAT. And if that person didn’t tell me, I’d just continue living my life in some sort of oblivion.

Well, allow me to put a lot of minds at ease. Fat people know they’re fat. And there’s also a good chance that fat people understand the health implications of being fat, the HUGE societal implications of being fat, and every diet in existence. You don’t have to tell us. We know.

But see, that’s not REALLY what it’s about. It’s not that fat people live in some sort of ignorance that they don’t realize they’re fat. It’s that people think that if they don’t remind fat people that it’s WRONG to be fat, we might forget and continue being fat.

That’s what this guy was doing when he emailed the news anchor. He was reminding her that it’s wrong to be fat and because she’s on TV it’s EXTRA wrong because she’s now displaying her fatness to more people. And somehow, because she hasn’t changed her fatness, it’s poisoning the minds of the young girls by letting them know it’s OKAY to be fat and, as society is quick to point out, BEING FAT IS WRONG.

Thin people might have to deal with strangers telling them to “eat a sandwich”, but it’s not implied that their existence is in violation of the Universe. Mine is.

I don’t need you to tell me I’m fat. I know. And I’m not going to change just so you’ll feel more comfortable. Changing my appearance might make me visually less offensive to the rest of society, but I’m afraid my personality will remain just as revolting and vile to you. I could lose 150 pounds, but I’d still be a “fat bitch”. Like the lovely news anchor said, there’s more to me than a number on the scale.

I know I’m fat. Do you know you’re an asshole? Tell me I’m fat and I’ll return the favor.

Memories of Apple and Pork

October 1, 2012January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I went to the 44th annual Apple and Pork Festival on Saturday. I went alone and when I go to the Festival alone, it’s a very business-like trip. I don’t bother looking around much. I walk uptown to the Square, take the tram to the Homestead, follow the flow through the covered bridge to the flea market, head to the last row and walk up to the last stall on the left, buy a ring from the same lady that’s always there, walk back through the gauntlet of browsers and strollers and people that think stopping in the middle of the flow to chat or gawk is acceptable, back through the covered bridge, up to the place that sells ham sandwiches so I can get an apple doughnut, then off the grounds and across the street to grab a lemon shake-up before I catch the tram back to the Square and walk home.

Straight business.

Now, if go with someone, there’s a lot more walking. Walking from the house to the Square. From the Square to the Save-A-Lot parking lot and the old Junior High grounds. From there to the Homestead (five or six blocks), checking out the booths set up in yards along the way. Then at the grounds, the flea market is taken row by row and all of the buildings gone through. The we walk home on the opposite side of the street to catch all of the booths we missed on the walk up.

But when I go alone, it’s all business.

I think it’s because I don’t like to dwell around up there when I’m alone. Because I’m not really alone. I’ve got a lot of memories there.

My grandma loved going to the Apple and Pork Festival. It was a thing every year. Before there was a tram, before there was a bus, my grandparents would drive up to our house and then we’d walk up to the festival together. Back then there wasn’t much on the Square. It didn’t really start until the Junior High (which still existed). Sometimes Mom would go with us, sometimes Aunt Jo would be in town. Sometimes it was just my grandparents and my sister and me. Dad was almost always working the event.

We’d walk up together and the walk would take forever. When you’re a kind those kinds of walks were long anyway, but the constant stopping because Grandma wanted to look at something made it longer.

Same with the flea market and such at the Homestead. When you’re a kid, these things hardly hold much in the way of appeal. We’d get our face painted and look at shiny things, but to us the Apple and Pork was boring because there were no rides like the county fair. Papa was usually good for one toy if we were good. Foam lizards on leashes were always popular when I was a kid, but I remember one year I got a blow up crayon and another a blow up shark.

I can remember being so tired by the end of the Homestead walk around that walking home was utter torture.

I think about those things every year that I go.

And every year I go, as I’m getting ready to make my walk up to the Square, alone or not, I feel like I’m waiting on my grandma. I keep expecting the car to pull in the driveway and Grandma and Papa to walk in the house, both of them wearing their good clothes, Grandma decorated with her jewelry (most of which was bought at flea markets and auctions), her glasses perched on top of her head. I expect to be kept waiting ten or fifteen minutes during the small talk before we start our walk up there.

My grandma has been dead for eight years now. It was probably several years before she died that I last went to an Apple and Pork with her and Papa (once I started working, I rarely got a weekend off to go). It’s a silly thing to expect that after all of these years, but I do. I guess it’s just an ingrained expectation, like the ring and the apple doughnut and the lemon shake-up. Going with Grandma and Papa is all part of the Festival for me, even if they’re both gone now.

So, when I go alone, it’s all business. Grandma’s not around anymore. I don’t feel like looking.

Freelancing Through Life

September 24, 2012January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

There’s been a lot of talk of jobs in my little part of the world lately and I was trying to think of how to explain my current job situation.

I say I’ve got three jobs right now. I teach basic Spanish to my homeschooled nieces three days a week. I get the neighbor boy up and ready and take him to school two/three days a week. And I work floorset a couple times a month at a clothing store at the mall.

However, if you count writing (which, in my head, I always do because it’s my constant, full-time job even if to doesn’t pay for shit most of the time), I’ve got four. And if you count jewelry making, I’ve got five. And if you count…

Of course, there are people that look at that and say I only have one job because I only work for one “real” employer. The rest is just garbage, under the table work that doesn’t count. Which is fine, but I respectfully disagree because I think anything I do to make money is a job.

But it’s getting rather crowded trying to explain my jobs.

So I’ve decided to just to say I’m a writer freelancing through life. And if anyone presses, I can fill them in on the jobs that I’m working on at that time. Since not many people would ask for clarification, it would save so much time.

What does that mean exactly?

I’m a writer. First and foremost. But I’m not in the position to support myself solely through writing (yet), so I have to have a day job. But since I technically have three day jobs right now, two of which are subject to change at any given moment (meaning the second my services are no longer required, I get the boot), and I’ve been making and selling jewelry and doing various other things to earn money to pay my bills, well, let’s face it…I’m a freelancer. A freelance writer takes on assignments and jobs. Well, that’s pretty much what I’m doing, just not with writing. I’m using my other skills to take on jobs.

I’d call it prostitution, but I feel like that would project the wrong image and get too many hopes up.

In the end, it doesn’t change the mind of the people that think I’m lazy and worthless because I don’t have a “real” job, but it does make it easier for me to explain how I make a living.

I’ll stop short of putting it on a business card, though. Writer will do just fine for that.

“I’m judging you all. Harshly.”

September 17, 2012January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I posted that on my Facebook the other day. This was after just about everyone had to run their mouths about the sad events in Libya. And it was true. I was judging everyone harshly. And I posted it because it was just easier to get right to the point rather than try to construct a witty few sentences that inoffensively said the same thing. I didn’t want that point to be missed.

I am judging you all harshly. I do it every day. I judge your decisions. I judge your morals. I judge your actions. I judge your words. I judge your clothing choices. I judge everything about you. Harshly.

Now, here’s the twist.

When most people think about judging other people or other people judging them, they tend to think about it terms of good and bad. People are judging you to be good or bad. You’re a good person or a bad person. You’re a success or a failure. You’re right or wrong.

When most people think about judging other people or other people judging them, they also tend to judge in relation to themselves. Is this person better or worse than me?

When I judge people…I just judge people.

I don’t think much in terms of good or bad. Are you someone I want to know or not? That’s basically what it boils down to. I’ve known some totally worthless people in my time. Drunk. Never had a pot to piss in. Constantly fucking up in life. But I liked them. They were funny, caring, interesting people. I wouldn’t ask them to do anything for me, wouldn’t trust them to take a dollar and not spend it on booze, but they were all right.

And then there are those with the spit and polished life of perfection that have the successful career and the college education and the spouse and the children and the church commitments and the everything and I wouldn’t want to spend one minute with them.

No one is exempt from this. I judge EVERYONE. Constantly. Harshly. Family, friends, former classmates, Twitter followers, strangers, whatever. Everybody gets run through the judgmental filter in my brain. Repeatedly.

For me, this constant judgement keeps me conscious of who people are. It’s more of an objective thing in the sense that my opinion of a person only changes in the sense of “do I want to be around this person” rather than “this is a good/bad person”. I can’t judge that. I’m a horrible person when you boil it all down. Far be it from me to make that call.

But I can make the call on how much you get on my nerves. How pleasant do I find you right now? What are you saying? What are you doing? How are you affecting me whether you know it or not?

That’s really why I’m so judgmental. I’m selfish. We’ve already established that in previous blog posts. It’s all about me. How are you affecting me? How is your behavior and your words affecting me? I don’t care what anyone else thinks of you. It’s all about me.

There was a guy I went to school with that everyone liked. He was funny, a good Christian, nice guy, all around good person. Except he didn’t like cats. He didn’t just not like cats. He HATED cats. He once wished that a cat would get killed on the freeway.

He recently passed away very unexpectedly. Many people were eulogizing him on Facebook, talking about what a great guy he was and while I paid my respects as is proper, I don’t think he was that great of a guy. He wished death on an animal because he didn’t like it. That speaks so loudly to me it practically screams. I can’t think of someone as a “good person” when they do stuff like that.

I judged him harshly. I’m still judging him harshly and he’s dead. Anytime someone brings him up all I can think is, “but he once wished death on a cat”.

I’m sure there are going to be a few of my classmates that read this post and take exception to this and no doubt want to tell me that I’m a horrible person. And that’s fine. That’s been established. But, I would like to point out that at no point did I say that I’m happy he’s dead. I’m not. I reserve that sort of thing for a very select group of people and he was most definitely not in that group. What I am saying is that one comment from him, whether he meant it or not (and if he didn’t mean it that doesn’t make him look any better in my eyes), influenced how I judged him from that point on.

That’s just one example. This has happened dozens of times with dozens of people. I judge you on your past and your present. I judge and I judge and I judge.

In fact, I’m judging you right now.

Harshly.

Tales of Money-less Woes

September 10, 2012January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I’m having trouble making my ends meet this month. It’s not a good feeling. It’s not something I’m proud of. But it is a fact of my current existence.

There are two very good reasons why I’m having trouble this month. One, this bill period saw 3 1/2 extra bills (car sticker renewal, website renewal, a domain fee for a domain I thought I’d completely deleted but apparently I didn’t and of course that sort of thing isn’t refunded, and a little extra added onto my cell bill because I had to change plans mid-billing cycle). Two, I’ve only started one of my three new day jobs.

Had I not had one or two of the extra bills, I would have been fine. Had I started one or both of my other day jobs, I would have been fine. The combination of the two has me scrambling. If I had a couch, I’d be raiding the cushions for change.

It doesn’t help that sales have been slow the past couple of months. Books sales, jewelry sales, eBay sales, nobody is spending their money on the stuff I’m hocking. That money would have been both welcome and necessary.

Here’s the thing…I know I’ll land on my feet. The bills will get paid. They always do. I’ll find a way. I’m clever and resourceful and I know I’ll find the money I’m missing. Maybe I’ll borrow it. Maybe someone will come through in the clutch and buy something. Maybe I’ll luck out and get a quick odd job. Whatever happens, the bills will get paid.

When I was 22, this was a challenge. I didn’t like it back then, but back then I was 22. I was young. Now I’m 32. I shouldn’t be running into these problems at 32. I shouldn’t be scrounging to pay bills or borrowing money. I should be in a much better place financially and I’m not.

There are a lot of reasons why I’m not and I take responsibility for all of them that are mine. Not holding a regular 9-5 job like other grown-ups is one. My life would be so much easier if I could just be normal and work a 40 hour a week job and get that steady paycheck. But the older I get, the worse I get about submitting to that life. A flexible part-time gig is more my speed. As soon as I get all three of my jobs going, my bills will be paid and I won’t be working more than twenty hours a week.

Being very optimistic about selling myself is another reason I’m broke. I have this stupid idea in my head that people want what I sell. That friends and family know people that want what I sell and will pass my info to those people. The reality is that those people are probably out there, but they aren’t getting word about me. And if they are, they don’t have the money to indulge themselves with my goods. My inherent awkwardness about promoting myself doesn’t help this cause.

I could go on, but I won’t. Nobody needs to see my list of money failures.

And that’s what this is. The culmination of many failures. We’ve already discussed how much of my self-esteem is tied to my bank account. Being called an ugly fat cow can’t even come close to doing the damage to my ego that borrowing money can.

Particularly now. I’m too old for this. I shouldn’t be here. Yet here I am.

With no one to blame but myself.

I’ll get through this month. I’ll get rolling on all of my jobs. I’ll sell a few more things. My bills will return to normal.

And slowly but surely I’ll find some self-worth once again.

Fat Health

September 3, 2012January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ 2 Comments

In the course of the past week I saw two good articles about fat people and health.

The first pertains to a doctor denying to take a woman on as a patient because she’s fat.

The second is about the “thin paradox”: how thin people get diseases that only fat people are supposed to get.

Now, in regards to the first article, I’ve never been told by a doctor that they can’t treat me because I’m fat. But I know that it happens and I’m not surprised by it. The disdain for fat people is palpable beyond the mall and fast food joints. I’m taking up too much space with my rolls and it disgusts people no matter where I go. I’m not surprised that it disgusts doctors, too. After all, they are people. Worse, they’re people with years of medical training that has educated them to believe that fat, any and all fat, is bad.

Which leads me to the second article. If you’re fat and you do find a doctor willing to see you, then the automatic cure for whatever it is that ails you is to lose weight. High cholesterol? Lose weight. High blood pressure? Lose weight. Painful menstrual cramps? Lose weight. Sinus trouble? Lose weight.

If you’re thin and you have these problems…I guess you get actual treatment? Because if you’re thin then you must be really sick. If you’re fat…well…you’re just fat and that’s the cause of all your trouble.

So, let’s review…

If you’re fat, you don’t necessarily deserve a doctor’s care because if you’re fat then you clearly don’t care about your health and would just be wasting the doctor’s time. But if you want a doctor to see you then you should lose weight first, then you’ll be worth the appointment. If you can find a doctor with reinforced tables and whale scales and Paul Bunyon blood pressure cuffs and whatever else it is that doctors think they need to treat fat people, then whatever your complaint is can be cured if you lose weight.

Gee, fat people. I guess we can save a whole lot of money and cut out the middle man if we just lose weight.

Reasonable, right? Sure.

I know of someone who is a size zero, doesn’t exercise, and makes mention of eating once or twice a day and that consumption might be a candy bar or a cupcake or a diet Coke and some pretzels. Meanwhile, I’m a size 20/22, exercise five days a week (most weeks), and make a conscious effort to make my meals somewhat healthy in both content and portion size and number. However, based on the two articles I linked to a doctor would be more likely to see her and more likely to treat her better because she’s thin.

Doctor’s perpetuating the myth that thin=healthy is a huge disservice to the masses (pun intended). Fat people are being led to believe that weight loss will cure everything and thin people are being led to believe that they can’t possibly be unhealthy. It’s criminal bullshit, really.

With all of that said, I’ve never had any of this happen to me. I’ve never had a doctor refuse me because I was fat. The only doctor I’ve had that discussed weight loss with me was the plastic surgeon that did my breast reduction surgery. He asked if I tried to lose weight to reduce my breast size. I wasn’t insulted by it. He wanted to make sure I’d explored other options before surgery. (FYI: I did try to lose weight to reduce my breast size. I lost twenty pounds. None of it came off of my chest. When I gained it back, it went to the boobs.)

Granted, I don’t have a lot of doctor experiences in my adult life. Not because my fat keeps me from going, though. For me it’s usually lack of insurance/short on money/I don’t go unless something is hanging off by a thread because I’m pretty sure it’ll be fine in a day or two even if it is the plague that keeps me from going to the doctor.

But that’s another story.

The point is I’ve never personally been doomed to ill-health by a doctor that refused to treat me because I’m fat or by a doctor that thinks weight-loss will cure whatever ails me, and I don’t think anyone else should be either.

Fat doesn’t make people unhealthy. Doctors that don’t take fat people seriously do.

Remember High School?

August 27, 2012January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ 2 Comments

It’s back-to-school time again and that seems to provoke adults, even ones without children, to remember their school days.

I remember high school. Somewhat. Sort of. It’s been a while. I can remember a few things about freshman year, a few more about sophomore year. Junior year has it’s blurry moments. Senior year has a few more clear memories. For me it wasn’t the hell hole some make it out to be. It also wasn’t the glorious, best-time-of-my-life experience either. I walked the line, I suppose. I had some good times, I had some crap times. I wasn’t bullied. I wasn’t popular. I had my friends and my insecurities just like everyone else.

It wasn’t my best period in life, but if it was, that’d be a real downer. Who the hell wants their life to peak at 16?

I didn’t go to my ten year class reunion. Not because I couldn’t, but because I didn’t want to. I still live in the same town I went to school all my life in. Many of the people in my class still live in town. Working at Wal-Mart I saw a lot of them. To me it didn’t feel like ten years was long enough to get together and pretend life was a strawberry picking festival back then. Especially, since some of the people I’d be seeing at the reunion acted like they didn’t know me when they saw me around town (and maybe they didn’t recognize me, maybe I’m that easily forgotten; but I know that’s not the case for all of them).

And there’s some people that even after all this time, I just do not like and I’m not going to like. Period. Not even for an evening of good times.

Sorry. No amount of booze makes me want to play nicey-nice with you.

Now, this isn’t to say that everyone I went to school with was a jerk. Some of them were. Some of them still are. Time doesn’t change everyone and the ones that time does change don’t necessarily change for the better. Through the magic of Facebook, I’ve found that several people that I got along with and hung out with in high school have become people I don’t care for very much. (It should be noted that this doesn’t necessarily mean they’re bad people. It also means that I’m not excluded in that whole change thing. Personalities that once worked together mature, grow, change and end up no longer meshing. That kind of thing happens. What I’m saying is that this sort of judgment is subjectivity at its finest.)

However, there were some people I went to school with that hold a special place in my timeline. They were truly lovely people that made an impression during a turbulent time in my existence and I’m happy to have known them. I’m friends with some of them on Facebook and I’ll be honest when I say that they still give me warm fuzzies when they pop up on my timeline.

Oddly enough, those are the people I haven’t seen in person very much since graduation.

Apparently, there are plans to attempt a 15 year reunion next year. I’m not sure if I’d go if it happens.

On one hand, I don’t feel like 15 years has been long enough either, though I got out of retail and don’t see a lot of my old classmates around town as much as I used to. Now I see them on Facebook and that’s kind of good enough for me.

On the other hand, there’s this theory that when you get people together in a class reunion situation, the old cliques and social hierarchies come back, like an instinct, and I’m half curious to see in person if that would happen. I suspect that it would, despite the time passed and the changes everyone has gone through.

There’s something that hasn’t changed since high school.

I’m still the weird girl that thinks about things from a totally different angle.

A Boobies Birthday Story

August 13, 2012January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ 8 Comments

Today is the 10th anniversary of my breast reduction surgery and I’m going to celebrate by telling the one boobs story that my friends love best.

As detailed in a previous post (because I often talk about my breasts), my breast reduction surgery involved a free nipple graft. In short, this means my nipples were removed and at one point during that day, laying on the table next to me. They were then reattached.

Now, a couple of years prior to this surgery, I had my left nipple pierced. When your breasts were as big as mine were, you tend to get less shy about certain things. Flopping my tit out to have someone ram a needle and then some jewelry through my nipple seemed like a good idea. If I went back, I’d do it again. To me, there was nothing embarrassing about it, though I’m sure that piercing guy probably still tells the story of my massive boob. He was pretty impressed.

Anyway, as is a risk with piercings and despite my best care (and maybe because I have terrible luck with any piercing not in my ears), my nipple ring grew out. Basically, my body rejected it and forced it out. It got to the point where there was only a thin layer of skin keeping the jewelry in. So I took it out and the piercing healed, leaving a scar (as most things do on me). Nothing major, just two little indentions on either side of my nipple.

Which brings us back to my breast reduction and my nipples being taken off.

After the complication of having the skin on my left nipple die, slough off, and heal, I was able to really see the handiwork of my plastic surgeon.

And I realized, by the position of the old nipple piercing scar, that my nipple was on cockeyed. It’s in the right position, but the scar points more to 4 and 10, rather than 3 and 9, if you take my meaning.

It’s probably something that happens a lot with free nipple graft surgeries, but most people probably don’t have the means to recognize it.

So, what did I do when I discovered it? I burst out laughing and then told all of my friends that I’d been keeping up-to-date on my boobs.

The consensus? They thought it was the funniest thing ever. To the point, that if a related conversational topic comes up (you’d be surprised how many there are), they will call upon me to tell the tale. Because it’s funny and bizarre and unlike anything anyone else has ever experienced.

I don’t have many one-of-a-kind experiences in my life, but that one is definitely everyone’s favorite.

Fat Acceptance

August 6, 2012January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

A link to this tumblr post came across my Twitter timeline last night. I’m still not sure what tumblr is or how it works, but thankfully I have friends that have mastered it so they can pass along things like this. And thankfully I’m literate so I can read what they pass along.

If you’re too lazy to click the link and read, I’ll sum it up for you. Researchers have discovered evidence that fat acceptance blogs and sites actually can actually have a positive affect on some people’s health.

Go ahead and read the link. I’ll wait.

I didn’t lie, now did I?

The misconception of fat acceptance is true. Accepting fat is a bad thing because nobody wants to be fat and you’re not supposed to be fat. Being fat is bad. No one wants to be bad. By accepting fat, you’re accepting bad.

Except that’s not what’s happening.

Fat acceptance means that you accept that your fat and that the number on the scale is not an indicator of your worth as a human being.

Being fat doesn’t mean that you’re not caring, intelligent, funny, generous, sympathetic, passionate, beautiful, and/or supportive. Being fat doesn’t mean that you can’t be active, sexy, fashionable, confident, desirable, healthy, successful, and/or loved. Being fat doesn’t mean you can’t have a life. And it definitely doesn’t mean that your life is worth less than someone who weighs less than you.

Fat acceptance promotes a healthy self-esteem. And that in turn promotes a healthier view on life, which leads to healthier choices.

Shocking! Who knew that making someone feel good about themselves instead of running them down and making them feel like a worthless piece of shit could have a positive effect?

I’m sure to the guys that like to moo at women in the mall and the girls that give fat girls a dirty look while they eat their Cold Stone, this is of no consequence and won’t change their minds in the least. We’re still all disgusting fat pigs that don’t deserve anything good in life and certainly shouldn’t waddle our fat selves out in public where we inflict our gross body mass on society.

But to the people who need the support, it’s a life-saver. It means not being shamed into not doing things that you want to do just because you’re fat. It means not being afraid to live just because you’re fat.

It means knowing that you have value no matter what the number on the scale says.

You know the old saying, “worth their weight in gold”?

It applies to fat people, too.