You Weren't Supposed To Notice

I'm fat. I'm not a girl with a few extra pounds. I'm not pleasingly plump. I'm not thicker than a snicker and I definitely am not one of those who just has a little extra weight in all the right places. I'm fat. There, I said it and though I don't like it, I can at least admit it. I mean, that's the first step to recovery, right? Having said that, I still seem to have a problem when other people realize I'm fat too. Sure, for years now I thought I was carefully camouflaging all my bulges, rolls, meats, and cheeses with some pretty cute clothes. I knew how high my pants needed to be in order to contain my stomach(s). I knew that fitted tops also helped to contain my middle mass. I had control top panties for those special occasions and I even mastered the art of showing off the smaller parts while covering up the not-so-small ones. I thought I was doing quite well there for a while. Things were looking pretty good until I received a My Space friend request from a man I found to be quite attractive. My immediate thought was, "Oh boy! Someone cute wants to be friends with me. He isn't trying to sell me anything. He isn't some rapper who wants me to listen to his crappy music and he isn't the usually creepy, ugly weirdo who wants to ask me out on a date as if." To say the least, I was excited. I quickly approved his request and went to his page to lustfully look at his pictures. When I opened his page, to my chagrin, I found that everyone of his top ten or so friends were women who were at least a size 16 and up....up....up. My ego and my size 14 body immediately felt deflated (which should have been a good thing, right?). Was this man a chubby chaser and was he now adding me to his list because I fit the bill? See, it was all good when I thought I was the only one who knew I was fat. It became a different situation when others started to notice. My feelings were soooooo hurt. My fitted top suddenly felt tight. My control top panties began to roll down and I suddenly felt the need to open the top button on my carefully chosen jeans. Not only did I know I was fat, but my secret had gotten out to the public. Granted, I know I'm nowhere near a size 18 and I'm certainly not knocking any woman who is. That just isn't what I want to be. I want to be back to my once comfortable size 8 or 10. Yes, I work out and I fret about what I eat but I haven't put in the real work I know I must in order to make at least five of my seven stomachs go away and that's my choice. It's usually not too much of a problem to manage until I find myself being compared with some women who have me by at least fifty pounds. I suppose there isn't too much I can do about the perception of others now that my house of mirrors made of big panties with lots of spandex in them has been destroyed. I'm going to spend more time on the treadmill and less time in the drive thru. Hell, maybe people will notice that I'm actually getting smaller.

Toxicity

Lately I've been wondering what it is that sometimes makes us hold on to relationships that somehow choke the life out of us. We see the signs. We know the person doesn't have our best interest at heart either because he doesn't know how or because she just doesn't care enough to try and yet, we sometimes cling to the relationship as if it possesses some semblance of normalcy when there really is nothing normal about it at all.

Maybe we do it because from childhood most of us are taught about being a good friend. We learn about sharing, respect for others who are different from us, and even compassion. Perhaps as a result of this early conditioning on loving others and treating them well, we miss the equally important message on protecting our hearts and treating ourselves as well as we treat others. I learned The Golden Rule when I was a little girl. And while it certainly provided me with an important message on how to treat everyone else, it totally missed the mark on how to treat myself. Going a bit against the grain, I have to say that if we were all to treat ourselves the way we want other people to treat us, we would see a major decline in the toxic relationship department. I believe that in our efforts to be a good person and friend, we forgo what we need in the way of nurturing and care. What good is a friendship if only one party reaps benefits and the other only reaps pain?

Unfortunately, once we recognize that a relationship is of the unhealthy variety, we have to let it go. That can be the hard part since we seem to be programmed to believe that a good friend is a friend forever. While I definitely believe this to be true, the "good friend" part must go both ways in order for the friendship to be viable. Just as we prune trees, we must prune our relationships with others in order to foster growth in our own lives. Some limbs are cut off because they are diseased while others are simply cut back so they can grow better and stronger. If only human relationships were as simple as the trees.

I believe this calls for a new Golden Rule: Demand that others treat you as well as you treat yourself and them. I'm still working out the kinks but I think you can catch my drift.

Get It Together

Reading something like this makes me angry, sad, disappointed, and even more aware that young girls and women these days just don't know how much they are worth. I know that the phrase, "No body is worth fighting over" is familiar to most and maybe even a little trite but that doesn't make it any less valid than it has always been. I keep wondering when women will see that once the fight is over and the damage has been done, he still has maintained control of the upper hand. He still cheated, he still disrespected both women, and he still has the option to choose either or both women. In the end all that exists are injured bodies and broken emotional states. In this case I wonder where the guidance that these girls so desperately needed was.

Where were the parents that were supposed to tell them that they were special and beautiful already and how neither of them needed some boy to validate that? Where were the teachers, tutors, administrators, clergymen, and again, the parents who should have been encouraging these girls to be into schoolbooks instead of being worried about some silly boy? Where were the role models for this boy to encourage him to do the same? Where was the person who should've told him that the real test of a man is not how many girls fight over him but instead the boundlessness of his integrity? As angry as I am at this situation and the probably thousands others like it, I know the blame falls on the adults. We failed these kids and we will continue to fail ourselves if we don't start finding ways to instill the things that really matter into our kids. These young girl's self-worth never should have been called into question nor should it have ever been tied into whether or not some boy liked them. They should have been feeling good about themselves and their choices based on positive feedback from their parents and communities. A well-rounded, well-raised girl doesn't need to define herself by what boy likes her. We should have told them that.

And We Have Oppasable Thumbs Too

I am so absolutely sick of hearing things about Barack Obama when it comes to his ability to string together words that make complete and coherent sentences. Right before a comment meant to disparage him or call into question his ability to lead the country, there is often an initial statement regarding his speaking abilities. "I know he is a very eloquent speaker but..." OR "Don't let his articulate speeches fool you because..." OR "I know he is capable of riling up a crowd with his fine speeches, however...". It's all so disgusting to me. When did it become better to be a presidential candidate who speaks Cro-Magnon than to be one who can actually complete a thought verbally? When was the bar lowered to the point that people are actually annoyed when a man who spent at least seven years in college can speak coherently? Well, after a little bit of consideration (I didn't really have to work that hard) I've come to the conclusion that the problem isn't that he speaks well. The problem is that he's black and he speaks well and we all know that black people don't talk like that, right?

I mean black people have cornered the market on split verbs and misplaced prepositions so where does this guy get off thinking it's okay to use proper English? Who the hell does he think he is and doesn't he know that he is destroying the reputation for which we have worked so hard? We have done all we can to convince others that we are illiterate and here he comes with his subjects and predicates ruining everything. Damn you, Barack.

The look of disgust on his opponent's faces when they mention his speech making prowess and communicative excellence says it all. They can't believe this man speaks like this in spite of being black. Well, newsflash folks, black people have been articulate for years. We also have jobs, fall in love, marry, make babies, vote, and own property now. While many have been standing around shocked that the organ grinder's monkey can not only take change and tip his hat but also SPEAK, we have been establishing languages, forming civilizations, making strides in the arts, math, and yes people, even science. We are involved in politics, civil rights movements, and commentating. And yes, we even now have opposable thumbs. I know it's shocking but there was no way to break it to you gently. I know what you're thinking though. You are wondering how I can possibly be stringing these sentences together when I am also black. The answer is easy. I had Sarah Palin help me.