Fat Acceptance.

Although I have not and will never do the same, I don’t have a problem with people who have accepted their larger shapes and have decided not to beat themselves up over it. More power to you, but I don’t believe in the Fat Acceptance movement. I don’t believe that we should let our children believe that it’s fine to be overweight or obese. The obesity rate in children here in the states is ridiculously high. They learn that at home. It’s not okay – we are jeopardizing the lives of those we swear to love the most with the examples we set and the standards we’re attempting to lower.

Is it alright to teach a young girl that it’s okay to be comfortable in her own skin, no matter her shape or size? Of course, definitely so. It is not alright to teach a young girl that it’s okay to be comfortable being overweight or obese, be out of shape, eat nothing but McDonald’s, to put her health at risk for sake of being alright with who she is. There’s a fine line there, but I’d rather cross it than not approach it.

We teach them to strive to be the very best that they can with everything they do, right? School, social relationships, extra-curricular activities. That should also extend their outward appearance. Not solely for the sake of vanity, but for their quality of life as a whole. We should tell them to strive to be healthy, not thin or skinny, but to be healthy. It they are healthy at an above average weight, fine. If they are not, we should not coddle them. It does them no good, and much harm.

My younger sister is fat. She’s 13 years old and weighs a significant amount. She’s at high risk for diabetes, and her pediatrician has suggested to her and my mom that she lose weight. Neither of them take heed. She eats nothing that doesn’t come from a microwave or a paper bag. The most walking she does is getting from class to class in school. She is growing, every day, width wise more so than in height, and my mother is so concerned with not making her feel self concious about it that she won’t address it.

That’s not what my sister needs – people tiptoeing around the topic of her weight. She shouldn’t like herself the way she is. She is unhealthy. She should be aware, if some rude child at school hasn’t already taken care of that for her, that she’s too big. How is she being taught to love herself if she’s not being taught to take care of herself? Those two things seem to go hand in hand, if we’re talking about teaching them to a child. I don’t want her to be huge and happy. She should be average, normal, healthy and happy. If that means that she can’t have anymore Hot Pockets and Toaster Strudels, and that she’s miserably riding her bike around the neighborhood, so be it.

She’s about to enter high school. High school is hard enough without being the fat girl. Soon, there will be boys. I’d hate to see her crushes crush her because of her size. Yeah, sure, that makes the boys assholes and shallow and all of that, but they’re teenage boys. That’s what they are. She’s going to be in the thick of it, and I don’t understand why my mom is willing to send her into that den of hyenas with a bullseye on her front. People don’t want to accept or acknowledge it, but the truth is that looks matter. They shouldn’t – sure – but they do.

Now, it’s time for me to practice what I preach. I’m not going on any weight loss journey, but I’ve got set a better examples for my girls. I know that I’m not going to sit idly by while they get fat. It’s never going to happen. We have some serious genes in this family to combat, and when they’re old enough to know/do better, I’m going to encourage them to be their best, both inside and out. People may think that’s a bad thing, but I think it’s a wonderful thing. I think it’s bad to do the opposite, and I realize that if I’m pushing them to join the volleyball team or not eat a triple whopper with cheese while sitting here 80 pounds overweight, unable to resist that last donut, that they’re not going to take me seriously and they probably shouldn’t. How am I supposed to tell them to take care of themselves mind, body and soul if I don’t do the same? ‘Do as I say, not as I do‘? Yeah, no. I know my daughters, and that is not going to fly.

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Listening to: John Mayer – In Repair

My 2009.

I had my hair cut. I was tattooed by a super cute I think Irish guy with red hair. I got straight A’s. I stopped blogging so much and started twittering more. I kept reading everyone else, but quit trying to weasel out extra time in my days to comment.I found out that I’m not the only woman in the world that deduces exactly why celebrity men are hot. I discovered Supernatural. I battled an addiction to Chester’s Flaming Hot Fries. I saw Death Cab For Cutie live and it made me respect and like them so much more. I struggled with some demons and conquered them.

*

I met the most awesome-st, sweetest, best guy in the whole world who thinks I hung the moon (his words, not mine) and happens to be so cute I can barely stand it (WIN.). In less than a month it’ll be a whole year we’ve been together. We had some ups and downs, and they were all my fault (no like seriously, every single issue we’ve had, big or small, was my fault). He’s not really done one thing wrong the entire time I’ve known him and I’m pretty confident that he’ll never hurt me. It feels really good to feel like that. When you’re in a bad relationship for so long, you start to expect bullshit and harsh treatment, from everyone all of the time. It makes you bitter and defensive and just an overall pain in the ass.Well, it made me like that. In the back of my head, I knew that Joey and I would end or that it would turn ugly, and I went on my usual self destructing path and tried to sabotage it, even though I knew I didn’t want to lose it. I broke up with him at one point, pretty much convinced that I didn’t love him. Know why? Because I believed that if I loved him, I’d have the passion for him that I had for my ex. Where passion equals hatred.

I was in this…mindset. I needed sporadic friction. I needed to push and be pushed to breaking points and then build things back up (to tear them down again later). That’s how I expressed love and that’s how it was expressed to me. “Hey, let me really fuck with you, say and do some hurtful, unforgivable shit. Let me make you feel like complete crap and then let’s be okay again, because no matter how mad we make each other, we can always kiss and makeup.” What the fuck? … J. and I were really messed up. It took moving on to see that. Joey stuck by me while I worked all of that out. He believed in us, even when I didn’t, and it has made all the difference.

Anyway, yeah, I’m not like that anymore. I’m not having those inner struggles, I’m totally happy with this boy that I love and my girls love and who loves us back. But enough about Joey, I don’t want him to get a big head.

*

One of the true highlights of the year was BlogHer ‘09, and not the conference. I mean the conference was wonderful, as usual, and I got to hang out with some really awesome people but the real joy was traversing all over Chicago with my makeshift band of sisters. They’re all amazing, and I can’t wait to see them again in 6 8 months.

These two are physical proof that the internet is the best place to make friends. That the relationships we form through blogging are real and just as valid and marvelous as those nurtured in person. They’re not just beautiful, but they have hearts made of gold and primrose. They helped me get through tough times with sound advice and open arms and I love them. Also, all three of us went from competing for BIGGEST DOUCHEBAG EX to BEST BOYFRIEND IN THE UNIVERSE. Happily? There’s really been no clear cut winner in the latter category and probably never will be. I’m jealous that they live much closer to each other than they probably ever will to me, but you know. It’s ok. Makes me more special since I’m seen so much less. Heh.

*

My baby started school ohmygod and she’s doing wonderfully. She loves it. My other baby stopped sucking her thumb, simply because I told her to which I hear is pretty awesome. They grew and  flourished and turned 6 and 4 years old. They challenged me and made me a better person, again and again. They showed how resilient they are, how smart and calculated they can be. They made strides towards becoming the young women I hope they will be, tough and beautiful and intelligent and loving. For the first time we celebrated holidays and birthdays a new family, and they didn’t miss a beat.

They also have like THE best fashion sense in the world – especially The Bella. That girl can throw together an outfit. Did you know she wants to be a dentist that moonlights as a clothing or interior designer? She’s currently drawing designs for her new t-shirt collection as I type. Seems like a unique aspiration for a Kindergartner, and I completely support it. Goobie wants to be a Dr. Princess, which is totally average,  but still totally awesome.

*

So yeah, my year was wonderful. Except I gained 15 pounds. Small price to pay for bliss, I guess. How was yours?

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Listening to: James Morrison – If The Rain Must Fall

And here’s why you should shut up about Tiger Woods…

All of the news I’ve gotten about this entire debacle has been via Twitter and good Lord EVERYONE has had something to say about it. Which is cool, whatever, but some of what I’ve seen has really annoyed me.

He’s cheated on his wife. With a lot of women, apparently. Okay. That is awful of him, assuming that his marriage was a happy one and he’s just an insatiable horn dog. He decided that the hot piece of ass he married wasn’t enough hot ass. Bad, bad Tiger. Honestly though? You guys don’t know what happened. Their relationship is private, and you don’t know what their marriage has been like. Just like when they were first married and everyone made that grand assumption that because she was a nanny she’d hit the jackpot and married him for his money. You have absolutely no idea. About anything going on their life, besides what TMZ says. I mean of course we will all form opinions on it, and he should have been prepared for that, because he’s in the public eye – it’s what happens when you’re famous and rich – but it’s the finality of everyone’s opinions that bugs me. She should leave him, he should lose his endorsement deals, he’s a dog, she’s a saint, I hope he burns in hell and she takes all of his money – those sorts of things. Wow, I could have sworn that we’ve all made mistakes, we’ve all placed ourselves in situations that would make another person’s stomach turn. You wouldn’t think that by looking at some of the tweets I’ve seen.

BUT WHAT REALLY PISSES MY FUCKING GUTS are those that are laughing at what Elin Woods did, but if it was reversed would be boycotting golf itself until Tiger was banned. Those  same people that are counting off his women and wondering if he has an STD.  Or saying “whoa, that’s awesome of his wife,! I would have done the same thing! If my husband had cheated on me I would have gone after him with golf clubs too! I love it! Don’t lay down and take that, girl!” You are all some ridiculous fucking hypocrites. Seriously, so, like I don’t understand you AT ALL.

What if the situation had been reversed and Elin had cheated on Tiger, and then Tiger chased her out of their house, beating her with golf clubs, beating her car as she tried to escape him, even half passed out of pain pills for an injury, causing her to crash? Or what if he’d gotten out of his car after the crash to defend himself and hit her? With his fists or the golf club or a tree branch or a puppy or whatever? I doubt if ANY of you that are making light of what she did would be on his side.

Let’s put this in comparison with another high profile domestic incident of this year: Chris Brown and Rihanna. Chris Brown was boycotted, he was determined to be unworthy of any adulation, he was shunned by everyone, everywhere. He was a monster, a villain, there was no possible excuse for what he did, there was no reason, and even now many feel that there is no coming back from what he did. That he should lose it all.

Do you see the problem with that? I do. It was my issue all along. Now, if you keep up with black gossip sites, which most of you probably don’t, you’ll know that Chris Brown and Rihanna were rumored to have a really volatile relationship – before he whooped her ass. It was noted that she had jumped on him before, unable to control her temper, during public events, to which Chris responded by trying to escape or pushing her away from him. Which is why it never sat well with me that she never did anything at all to provoke his attack back in February, whether it was giving him herpes or hitting him first or whatever. I thought it must have been something, but that’s speculation on my part, just as it is everyone else’s. None of that mattered though: once it was revealed that he hit her, he was fucking lynched.

Why isn’t the same thing happening to Elin Woods? Why is no one saying SHE’S a monster? I mean, there’s something hilariously ironic about her going after the most famous golf player in the world with golf clubs, but other than that? There’s nothing funny about this. Can I see myself doing exactly what she did in that situation? OF COURSE. If you’ve been reading me for a while, you’ll know that I’ve done the same (fists not golf clubs) for a lot less reason. But do I think I deserved preferential treatment because I don’t have a dick or because I felt that I had good reason? NO.

If violence is always wrong, if it’s never justified, that should remain true no matter if it’s a woman scorned or just a guy with a temper doing the assaulting. You need to decide how you feel about domestic violence and fucking stick with it.

Six.

Bella,

I’ve written to and about you quite a bit over the past year. I want to write to you again, right now, but words are escaping me. My thoughts are all jumbled up and confused, clouded by all the billions of i love yous floating around in my head that I haven’t yet said. They are all I can focus on. I love you. I love you I love you I love you I love you. I don’t think I’ll ever make any lee way towards getting them all out, but I’ll continue to try and for this post, I think I’ll just run down the past year. How you’ve changed and grown, and stayed the same and blossomed.

You and I, we get along beautifully, as we always have. You’re becoming more and more defiant, but I believe that’s just you growing up. It’s odd, watching you develop into this little person, this real little person with serious thoughts and intense feelings and steadfast opinions. You’re still silly, you still can’t make up your mind whether you love or hate when I tickle you, you still tell knock knock jokes that make absolutely no sense but on top of that, you talk to me about children who misbehave in your class, you remind me of papers that must be signed and things that must be done before school the next day, you question my logic and reasoning in your own quiet way.

You love school, just as much today, three and one half months later, as you did on your first day. You love learning, you love practicing what you’ve been taught. You pride yourself on your perfect behavior chart and on how many words you can sound out and spell now. You adore your teacher, your classmates. You bring lunch some days, and some days you prefer the cafeteria. A couple of weeks ago you started riding the bus, which you’ve wanted to do all along. Every day when you get off the bus, you run across the street as quickly as you can and smack dab into me, throwing you arms around me. You enjoy it, although you’re ready to be solely a car rider again. You miss me coming to your class every morning, and waiting for you in the hallway every afternoon. I miss it too.

I flat ironed your hair on a very low setting one morning before school and I swear you walked so stiffly that you could have balanced a book on your head the entire day. You’re very much still that girly girl, the one who likes to look and smell nice, that chooses her outfit from hairstyle to shoes the night before. You have more clothes and pairs of shoes than most adults I know. You’ll probably always be a little prima donna, and I don’t mind. You’re you.

You work your ass off in physical therapy every week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. You stretch and lift and catch and pull and do everything your therapists want, as many times as they want. Your range of motion is much better. It’s hard for me to watch, still. You want to play guitar, but you’ll never be able to. You’ll never be able to do a bicep curl correctly and I have this horrible vision of Freddie Rodriguez in Lady In The Water when I picture you working out when you’re older. You don’t care though, nothing will stop you or bring you down. You know that your arm has issues, but you’re working to make it better, as good as it can get, and I’m proud of you. Every week your therapist comment on how strong and resilient you are. And it’s true.

You and your sister still get along better than any other pair of siblings I’ve come across. Of course there’s the rivalry and competition and you annoy the shit out of each other for no reason a lot of the time, but you’re madly in love with each other. You’ve become more mature, and you’re taking your role as an older sister much more seriously. You teach, you boss around, you care for her with ferocity. The simple things stand out to me, like when she falls asleep watching television, I find her on the floor with a blanket draped over her, and her dog under her arm: your doing. I sit and listen when you don’t think I am, to you two discussing your futures, our lives together, what ways you’ll torture Joey with the next time he comes over. You’re the leader, and I don’t mind her following you. I hope she always will a little, you set a pretty fine example.

Last year, on your birthday, I told you I was proud of you were. Today, on your birthday, that still rings true. So fucking proud. Happy Birthday Bella Bella Fo Fella. Here’s your survey for the year:

Name: Isabella Noel
Nickname: The Bella, Bella, Bella Fo Fella
Age: 6 years.
Birthplace: North Carolina
Heritage: German/Irish & Black/Mexican
Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius
Shoe Size: 2 – Youth
Clothing Size: 6/7
Rightie or Leftie: Right Handed
Innie or Outie: Innie.
Fears: Waterbugs.
Bedtime: 7pm

Favorite Song: “Hey Jude” – The Beatles
Favorite Movie: Spirited Away, The Spongebob Squarepants Movie, UP
Favorite TV Show: Spongebob Squarepants, iCarly, Tru Jackson, VP
Favorite Toy: Your sister’s easel, your Barbie dolls
Favorite Place: Monkey Joe’s
Favorite Person: Mommy, Goobie
Favorite Saying: ‘Classic’, ‘awesome’.
Favorite Book: David Gets in Trouble
Favorite Food: Fried chicken, pepperoni pizza
Favorite Animal: Kittens.
Favorite Store: Target
Salad Dressing: Ranch
Toothpaste Flavor: Cherry

Dislikes: cold weather, being too hot, cleaning up alone, not being able to wear what you want,
Likes: school, coloring, writing, watching tv, playing outside, going to the movies and eating nachos, shopping

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Listening to: Zero 7 – Home

My tendency to become overly invested…

in television shows has become a problem.
I mean, not really – it’s a beautiful thing – but it drives me mad. Last week, Criminal Minds almost gave me a heart attack, and I was soaked in my own tears by the end of the episode. That’s not uncommon for me when it comes to that show, but this week was especially hard. I was actually really sad for the rest of the night, like something bad had actually happened. It was weird.

In a few days Monk will end, for good. I have had to wipe my eyes after every commercial for the s the finale that I’ve seen. It’s going to be hard. I feel like I’m losing a family member. I’ll be the same way if and when USA take Michael Westen (Burn Notice) and Shawn and Gus (Psych) from me.This shit is ridiculous.

I get sincerely invested in these characters and I either am strung along for years because I can’t let go as with some shows like Heroes and Nip/Tuck that needed to end a while ago but I can’t stop watching, or I get my heart ripped to shred when they are taken away from me, usually prematurely. The latter always kills me the most though, so I’d much rather have a show go on for so long that it pisses me off every time I watch it than be axed for low ratings when I’m still absolutely smitten.

Most recently, it was Eastwick that was canceled too soon.

I happened upon Eastwick by chance; I saw it in an ad on Hulu and decided to give it a chance, having heard that it was the new place to find the hotness of Matt Dallas after the cancellation of Kyle XY (a show that I was also heavily invested in for two seasons until the suckiness of the third was just unbearable and I lost track of what was going on). I was in love with it after one episode, but I knew it was going to be a problem.

Eastwick obviously had very little financial backing: you could tell in everything from the set to the unable-to-act-even-nonchalantly extras, and the advertising budget was even more flimsy. I knew it’d be getting canceled, there was no doubt in mind. But I kept coming back for more, I couldn’t help myself, and by the third episode I was hooked.

I was in love with the women that story revolved around It’s three main characters were all wonderful and endearing in their own rights. Roxie, the hippie widow and single mom who realized she could see the future and whom the town believed was a curse. Kat, the nurse newly separated mother of 5 children with an asshole ex she’s been with since she was a teenager, who can control the forces of nature, and also heal. And then there’s Joanna, my personal favorite the clumsy, stuttery, understated in the beginning but absolutely blatant in the end sexy ambitious reporter from the newspaper that discovers an ability to hypnotize men with her eyes and later telekinesis.

And the supporting characters, Daryl and Penny and Will and Mia and Raymond…all of them had something about them that drew you in and made you give a shit when you really didn’t want to.

It was a show that took, in my heart, the place of my gone too soon favorite, that I’m still bitter over and may never forgive television for – Pushing Daisies – even though I knew Eastwick was headed no where and Pushing Daisies caught me and everyone else I know off guard. Eastwick, like Pushing Daisies, made you feel good. No matter how dark and dreary the subject matter was, you got up off of your couch and felt good. You were smiling, you were happy. It was just a feel good show. And after the final two episodes ABC airs in the coming weeks, it’ll be done. And without an ending.

This is just too much fore me. Fall premiere time is my favorite part of the year.  I pay close attention to all the shows and blogs and sites and lists, and I make lists of my own detailing my schedule and what shows I’m most interested in. But every year, I have to worry that I show that I love won’t be loved by everyone else and therefore get shut down. That was what I scared of when it came to shows like Community and White Collar who (LUCKILY) are big hits and I don’t have to worry ab(yet).

My obsession doesn’t happen with every show. For instance, I really enjoy Flash Forward and (after a few episodes) V. But if they get canceled, it really wouldn’t bother me. I feel very distant from everyone on them, so it’s not that serious. I would prefer that they not get canceled and that the stories are able to grow and change, but if they do, as long as I get an ending, I’d be fine. They aren’t really character based shows though: they are plot based. I’s the character shows that get me. Sucks that it’s usually the character shows that get canceled too.

Now, my fingers are crossed for Chuck.

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Listening to: Whitesnake – Is This Love