grammardog

I'm snowed in at the parents' tonight. Some old neighbours of ours have dropped in to visit, and I'm trying to lie low in the basement doing my laundry. I just know that if I go up there, the woman will be telling everyone she knows how much weight I've gained since she saw me ten years ago. She's just the type, and I don't feel like standing in front of her smiling while calls me "girlfriend" and silently tries to figure poundage. Oh, I JUST heard her comment on a photo she and my mother are looking at - she's discussing everybody's weight changes since the photo was taken. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that my mother doesn't force me up to say hello. Why am I fourteen right now?

Oh, I was supposed to be doing that 8 Days Happy thing, wasn't I? I think I missed three days, so here are three happy things:

1) I got to hang out with ALL of my camp ladies, together, for probably the first time in 8 or 9 years? It was so wonderful. Our lives have changed so much, and we've each had our struggles, but when it comes down to it, we've still got the camp love.



Aren't they lovely?

2) My amazing friend Janet is home from California with her husband, and they took Dodie and I out for dinner last night. It was so much fun hanging out with them... I just love her so much.

3) My bedroom was a balmy 13.5 degrees Celsuis this morning (that's 56.3 Fahrenheit, American friends). That is NOT good, but staying snuggled under a million blankets until noon with Dodie was so good.

I just went to the gym for the first time in months. YESSSSSS! I won't lie; it was rough. The Biggest Loser was on more than one television. I tried to just close my eyes and focus on my music, but then my mp3 player batteries conked out and I was left with screens full of people trying to run around a track while being tempted with giant platters of pancakes and french fries and I wanted to murder everyone. So I went over to the desk and asked the lady there to please switch the channel to anything that didn't bank on me hating my body. She was mystified.

I finished up three little baby quilts this morning that I made from scraps leftover from Sally's quilt. They used all the scraps up perfectly!





I went to an old camp friend's wedding on Saturday. We had a fantastic time. Here I am with four of my best gals, enjoying the king sized bed in the executive suite:



Also, somehow I ended up with a shovelful of popcorn between my breasts and flashed my bra for a nearby camera. Pretty standard fare.

This video makes me wants to do many joyous high kicks in such a way that haters will accidentally be knocked to the ground!

Love it.

Here is what I looked like the day I turned ten. It was my first time in a photo booth, and I was obviously not sure what was going to happen after I put those quarters in. Hmmmm. I came around for the second one.



This was taken a year later, with my friend Christine. I was in my first pair of glasses, which I thought were gorgeous. Also, please note that the bangs and sides of my hair were permed, and the hair behind my ears was pin straight. I WANTED it that way. I got my mom to spiral-perm half of my head. On PURPOSE.



Here is what I looked like in grade seven. My hair was naturally this colour and texture, obviously styled after Ms. Rose Nylund. I thought these 45 year-old DMV employee glasses looked totally hot on me. I also would like to point out that I wore that ACID RAIN sweatshirt on purpose because I knew it was photo day. I bought it at Bargain Harold's. It had a decal of acid rain falling on a horrified moose, and into water where the fish were all floating belly-up. I was being an activist.



This is me in grade ten, with my friend Cindy. My hair was all of a sudden naturally curly, and red...? I am rocking yet ANOTHER unsavoury pair of glasses that I thought were amazing at the time. I was more horrified by my body than by acid rain, and wore everything in the largest size I could find to tent over my body and hit as few skin surfaces as possible. I spent most of my time in this brown dress and my mother's cardigans from Northern Reflections. I guarantee I was wearing longjohns underneath this dress, and fake Birkenstock sandals.



God. My awkward stage lasted for 25 years.

I'm finding the personal ads thing really demoralizing. I'm not sure why it's hitting me really hard this time around... maybe because I feel like a big part of what has caused previous relationships to fail is the fact of this body.

There is no more common element among men on these dating sites than that they're not interested in dating fat women. Approximately 50% of the ads I look at contain that message in one form or another. They're tripping over themselves to say it in a thousand different ways:

- "ladies, please have a picture on your profile"
- "you must lead a healthy lifestyle"
- "no fat chicks"
- "i'm overweight but not attracted to overweight women, sorry"
- "if I can't pick her up, I don't pick her up"
- "must be active and into staying fit"
- "I work out regularly and you should, too"
- "if you jiggle when you cross the floor, you're more than 'a few extra pounds', ladies"
- "must have thin or athletic body types"

Men who only put two lines in their profiles have still managed to squeeze it in. Men who appear to weigh as much as two of me put together. Men who can barely speak English, even - it's like the universal language of online personals.

Frequently, the profiles contain absolutely no other criteria for the women they will consider getting to know. They name no other unsavoury qualities that just can't be tolerated. They require nothing else from their prospective dates than that they NOT be like me. Anything but that.

It's just a million teeny-tiny swords. Jab after teeny-tiny jab, over and over and over. Eventually, here I sit, looking at some asshole on the internet who's written "NO FAT CHICKS!!!!" right after "not look for hed gamez just chillin seein wher it goes", and like, finally, there it is... my FEELINGS are hurt. Inside my chest, I actually feel my heart ACHE with rejection, the rejection of this charmless half-wit to whom I already know I wouldn't even give the time of day.

That's it, that's the way much of the world sees me. Most people see what I AM as the least attractive feature they can imagine in a partner. I'm getting through life in a pretty happy way partly by trying not to think about that, but it can really gain on a person when the reminders are all around.

I'm not writing this in search of any validation, or for anyone to suggest that some awesome dude who loves my fat rolls SO MUCH is right around the corner. I really can't handle using platitudes as the foundation for my self-esteem. I don't know how to find something DEEPER in me, a stronger sense of self that isn't shaken by the external world constantly pecking away at it. I don't know that I have any kind of internal meter that regulates my sense of self-worth. While sometimes I DO feel really great about myself, I still feel like it's a result of what's outside of me affecting what's inside... it just so happens that I've surrounded myself with what feels good instead of bad. How does anyone ever really get that kind of strength? Did I just miss the boat?

From abilene: Leonard Nimoy is a photographer, apparently? And he apparently hates it that women are full of self-loathing about their bodies? And he takes nudes of fat ladies to counteract that? It's all sort of boggling and awesome.

I saw Persepolis last night. I didn't really know anything about it; I basically went because the movies that are playing that I haven't seen yet star Martin Lawrence and Katie Holmes. Anyway, it was REALLY amazing... I loved it, to my total surprise. It was visually striking, funny, and very moving. robotropolis, I don't think you're much of a moviegoer, but I thought of you while I was watching it... something tells me you'd like it a lot.

The worst thing about going to a women's gym is that most of the televisions are tuned into really shitty channels, such as the Women's Television Network, Country Music Television, something called Slice, and other atrocities. I generally listen to my mp3 player, but most of the televisions have the closed captioning on, so it's hard to escape without actually closing your eyes. Here's a little sample of what I've seen since I've started there:

- Dr. Phil, day in, day out
- a half-hour program called Bulging Brides, which seems to be entirely about women trying to fit into wedding dresses that are too small for them
- a commercial featuring a bunch of women eating cookies and being mean to each other, with the tagline "cookies so good for you you'll have to find other ways to be bad"
- an ad for Mitt Romney complaining about the foreigners taking the jobs of hard-working red-blooded Americans
- Beverly Hills 90210, including an episode where an intervention is staged to get Luke Perry off the junk
- a preview for the next season of The Biggest Loser showing the contestants in moments of clear distress, with thought bubbles superimposed above their heads containing pizza slices, ice cream sundaes, and fried chicken, which made me so angry while I ran on that fucking treadmill, sweating, aching, puffing, trying to nurture my body and not hate it as much as other people do, that I just started crying on the spot
- several seemingly different programs all about how terrible men are at child care, usually involving a wife watching her hapless husband manage her children by video and laughing knowingly

It's all very discouraging/enraging/boring. Faced with these choices, my eyes usually drift over to the country music video channel, which, when the sound is off and the closed captioning on, is far more entertaining than you'd ever guess. There's one video with a homely guitar player that comes on at the same time every day that absolutely kills me. The lyrics pop up like this on the screen:

7 to 3, 3 to 11, 11 to 7
talkin' 'bout a bunch of shift work
a big ol' pile of shift work

It is the only joy in my gym television watching experience, and I laugh so hard I can barely lift my feet to run, and pray every day that it'll come on again.

In other news, this makes me really sad.

In more other news, this makes me REALLY happy:



Mamma Mia is the kind of movie I feel comfortable saying I love before I see it. No haters.

- I am a brunette now!



- I love, love, LOVE living by myself. Every night I climb into bed chortling to myself because I am so happy to be there. I usually wake up on my own in the mornings, before my alarm goes off, and generally have time to take a bath and read a bit before heading to work. I love collecting my mail, I love coming home for lunch, I love grocery shopping, I love using all of my lovely things that have been packed away for so long, I love seeing things shape up. However,

- I had NO idea I would still be settling into my new place rounding the corner into October, but here I am. Painting has taken forever, especially since I've not really had much time at home, so everything is still mashed together in piles in the centre of the room. It does seem to be coming together, though, and I'm looking forward to eventually having everything settled in its place.

- Life without a computer or cable is, surprisingly, quite satisfying. I spend about 2 hours a day reading, and climb into bed every night with the sun barely dipping below the horizon. I've been getting 9 hours of sleep a night... ridiculous. That doesn't mean I wouldn't give my eye teeth for internet access at home, but it's probably good for me, for a while.

- I miss Moses SO MUCH. I befriend every cat I see, on every stoop I pass. My parents are going away next weekend and I'm wondering if he would totally freak out spending the weekend at my place with me. I've been thinking (all day every day) about getting a kitten, but I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to afford it, as there isn't a penny extra these days.

- I've been seeing a psychologist who specializes in diabetes and food issues, and he is awesome. When I talk about how I am messed up in a lot of ways, he says, "that is absolutely fascinating!" in a way that makes me feel reflective and insightful, instead of like e. coli on a microscope slide. I think it's been really helpful in that I am spending a fair bit of time reflecting on my behaviours and wondering about their true origins. For the first time, I'm realizing that a lot of my unhealthier eating habits probably originated in bad times, but have now become more habitual in nature. It feels like a really good time to confront these issues, since there is so much other positive change happening in my life right now.

- I am eyeing the end of my work term (December 31) with trembling knees. I feel like they would keep me if they could, and my chances of getting extended are probably pretty good, but it's quite scary not knowing for sure if I'll have a job in January. I'm applying for another position this week, but it's a bit above my head and there are lots of others applying who have seniority over me, so I don't expect to get it.

- I have been elected as a union shop steward at my job! I am really excited about getting trained in union business and standing up for the little guy (when required). At least for the next three months.

- Most things are pretty great.

I hate the expression "real women" so much, as in "the fashion industry does not represent the needs of real women". Well-intentioned people: ALL WOMEN ARE REAL WOMEN. Stop saying it as though thin people are not human beings, alright?

Friends, please, you've got to stop getting kittens. It makes me wish for a kitten, which, considering recent circumstances, makes me convinced that my wishing for a kitten is what's making my current beast ill. I know, it can't be right! Frigging Catholicism - what has it done to me?

I often wish I could have been my own parent, or older sister, maybe. Not that I think I could be a perfect parent, but honestly, between the ages of 10-25, it would have been awfully nice if someone had told me I was a pretty cool person, who was sometimes an asshole, but mostly developing into someone smart and caring. Or if someone had told me that weighing 136 pounds in grade 7 didn't nearly make me a hideous gargoyle. Christ, I loathed myself so much back in those days, more than I ever deserved. What do you wish you could go back to tell your kid self?

My interview went alright today. The interviewer caught me trying to get peanut butter off my shirt in the bathroom prior to the interview, and then the other interviewer came in and saw me with my craw hanging open flossing my teeth. AWESOME! Why don't we all just go get some beers, pick our noses with our drinking straws, and later we'll strip down to our birthday suits and mudwrestle? I was very nervous and felt that I wasn't expressing myself clearly, as usual. Also, once I found myself slumped onto the table with both of my fists tucked under my chin. Whoops! But other than those things, I think I did okay.

Even if I don't get the job, watching this bunny move his hind legs will make everything alright:

Oh, man... this video is AWESOME. Ready?

DOVE!

Nice effin' work.

I am creaming my panties over this Campaign For Real Beauty. Send that link to everyone you know, howbout!

I know I am late to react to this, but I have just seen for the first time the Dove ads with average-sized women that have been apparently revolting men the world over (see Lucio Guerrero's disgusting article here). This is one of the ads:



To Guerrero, who has called these billboards "disturbing", and anyone else who has reacted in a similar fashion: may you one day find yourself in a special division of hell filled with prostate- and nipple-loving woodpeckers.

Seriously. JUST. SHUT. UP.