My husband and I recently watched the documentary, “Pregnant In America” on our Netflix instant watch (gotta love it). I had wanted to see it for awhile. Having previously watched “The Business of Being Born” another birthing in the US related doc by Rikki Lake and, “At Your Cervix” where the truth behind pelvic exams was revealed. All great documentaries! I highly recommend them all if you are even remotely interested in having a child in the United States of America. Because a lot of what we’ve been told, taught or marketed to in regards to women’s bodies and reproductive health, is, well…BULLSHIT!!!

I was born in a hospital. No complications, just a typical 1977 birth. My younger brother and sister, however, were born at home with a midwife. They, too, had no complications in their births (or should I say our mom didn’t). Yet somewhere along the line I grew a nice big prejudice against home births. I am not entirely sure why, other than I typically will rebel against anything my mother is for (I have not seen her in over 15 years). But getting my info on and watching these incredible documentaries has completely changed my mind!

I had grown fearful, over the last couple of years, of having a kid because of a lot of things. Mostly passing on genetic stuff, but also because there’s a damned good chance that I’ll have a fat child (who may also end up with my hair color, not bad, but kids are merciless towards redheads). Would the government take my child away because it’s fat? I couldn’t bear the thought of living through that. Or would I even get a say in the birth of my child while also being seen as too fat for anything in the eyes of the medical world? I read the blog WellRoundedMama and have found some great articles/info/resources there, but that fear still lingers.

When I read this post on AmpleProportions I was quickly reminded of my fears and the real threat to our rights as women in America, let alone the rights of the fat! Watching “Pregnant in America” sort of snapped me back to my germaphobic self in a way: hospitals are for the very ill, not for the newly born! I mean, babies don’t belong there! They don’t have fully formed immune systems and who knows who is touching your baby and if they’re washing their hands appropriately?! My husband has long said that he doesn’t want to have our baby in a hospital because they snatch it away from you the moment it’s released from the birth canal and instantly inject, weigh, test, “clean”, etc… when the natural thing is to clutch the infant to the mother’s breast, leaving the placenta in-tact for awhile, so that the natural hormones kick in and do what they need to do: Bond, initiate natural breast feeding and so much more.

Is it possible that the rise in postpartum depression has something to do, directly, with the westernized pathology of handling birth? To inject drugs (epidural) into the spine of the mother (can lead to so many problems I don’t even wanna talk about right now) so that she cannot feel the baby moving and may even be temporarily paralyzed until after the baby is born? You see, we’re natural baby makers, women. We and our bodies know exactly what to do, if we are unaltered and uninhibited. We will find the right position for us while giving birth, naturally! While OB/GYN’s have been trained to find pathology and complications where none exist all in the name of efficiency and profit! Laying on your back, legs splayed in the air, is not only not natural, but damned uncomfortable while pushing out a baby! I have completely changed my mind and I have no intention of going anywhere near a sick house (hospital) unless it’s an absolute emergency. They don’t want me anyway, I’m fat and have no insurance. Fuck ’em!

I’m not pregnant and don’t have immediate plans to get there, but if and/or when  I am ready, I thank the stars above that these films and the experts and resources available today are there to inform and help me along the way. I cannot stand the thought of not being in control of my own body or infant. To interfere with a natural thing? Well, that’s bullshit! I won’t stand for it and I most certainly will not pay for it!

Sorry, that’s a lyric from Lykke Li’s “Get Some” and one of my most recent fave songs. But this post is about my arms. My big, fat, juicy, wobbly, strong, embracing, hugging, juggling, pale, freckled, occasionally sunburned or peeling from one, ARMS! While driving the other day, I was sitting at a stop light and felt the sun on my arm. I stroked my left arm from top to bottom and back again, unconsciously, to soothe the heat of the sun from it. This is when I looked down and it felt like I was looking at another person’s arm! It looked dry and sad and had lost it’s previously recognizable elasticity. *Whimper*

I vowed then and there that I would take better care of my arms! I even asked my husband to ask me when he gets home everyday if I’d moisturized my arms. So far he hasn’t asked me once, but I haven’t forgotten yet either, so we’re cool. My left upper arm was/is a bit flaky from a sunburn about two weeks ago. I knew this, lotion-ed it once, and went about my life. Why did I think that was enough? Why have I been ignoring my arms? Ugh!

Some history: Growing up my mother (who I have not seen since I was 16) was probably about the size I am now, give or take. She had large jiggly arms. But she also broke out on her upper arms a lot and would pick at them constantly. I always found this gross/disturbing/embarrassing, depending on my mood or where we were. It was an absent minded thing for her, if I recall. But I remember it and the way she would pull her arm flab towards her so that she could inspect and pick it. I swore to myself that I would never do that, that I would never be like or look like her. I lived much of my life living what I felt was the exact opposite lifestyle as her, only to have puberty kick me in the ass (hips, thighs, etc) and make me look so much like her. Only, my face looks just like my dad. Go figure!

Is this why I’ve neglected my arms so? If I was so passionate about not being anything like her, why let the arms that I rely on so much for every damned thing I do in the world go? Eh, actually, I’m done with the whole “letting it go” bullshit. I ignored these babies and I need to rectify that shit, pronto! And so I moisturize them everyday. I inspect them. I try to think loving and happy thoughts when I do this, too. I try to soothe my arms and let them know that I do care about them. This may sound so silly, but my arms ain’t what they used to be in terms of the skin itself. I would like more strength in my upper arms, but I struggle with keeping with anything I attempt to do to find or achieve that strength.

I preach self-care a lot on this blog. I try my best to practice what I preach, I really do. I am honest about my failings. And this is certainly one of them. I was surprised by this huge gap in my self-care routine. I was shocked at the visible changes in my arms that I’d somehow missed or ignored. I wonder what this means, if anything. Is it just simple neglect or taking them for granted? Or is this something more deeply seated within my subconscious due to the facts above about my mother? I don’t know, dude, I just don’t. But I do know that I willfully choose to change this. As I am staring age 34 down here real soon, I know a bit about skin elasticity and what I’ve got left I wanna take extra good  care of. Skin is so important, it keeps your insides, well, in! Ha! But seriously? I want to care for my whole self, all the bits and bobs, and maybe even help someone else discover what they’ve been neglecting, too.

Do you neglect (willfully or not) part of your body? Is there part of you that you purposefully ignore? Not just in looking, but in caring for, too? I would say that in America, a lot of people neglect their feet. They don’t care for them properly. I say this because my BFF P used to work in a shoe store for work shoes (constructions, nurses, etc) and he would tell me horror stories. People just ignore the hell outta their feet, man, and that makes me sad. I hope we can find a way to love our whole selves and not just the parts we prefer. Thanks for reading! <3

The other day I took my mother in law to the outlet mall nearby (she’d never been, lived here 30 years). I was desperately wanting to hit up the Lane Bryant (LB) outlet so I could get a steal on some bras or whatever! Funny thing, we walked into the entrance right next to the LB outlet! Woo! We were both pretty excited to see what deals were in store for us as we’re both pro bargain huntresses!

This particular LB outlet had one side entirely Cacique. Sweet! We dove right in…only it was more expensive than even their website! What?! We asked the sales person and she basically agreed that it was weird, but left it at that.  So we headed over to the LB outlet side and began our hunting. Only, the bargains were nil! Seriously! Everything was around $50 and their sales only gave you about $5 off of that.  I was surprised at some of the styles there, but it is an outlet so I let that go fairly quickly. But the prices? Let’s put it this way, I walked out empty handed. I went in fully intending to blow quite a wad of cash, but just wasn’t inspired and was downright offended at some of the pricing on that stuff ($30 for a cami?! In an outlet?!).

And I think this latest experience sealed the deal for me. I no longer want to give my money to Lane Bryant. They don’t understand their customers and don’t even try to! Their prices go up, quality goes way down (enough with the fucking polyester! WE DON’T WANT IT!!!) and their “sales” suck! And don’t get me started on their damned coupons and “real women” dollars. UGH!!! *HeadDesk5,000*

Look, Lane Bryant, I get it! You have a huge share of this “niche” market (pishaw!) and you wanna take advantage of that. Go for it! But don’t expect your longtime and formerly loyal customers to stick around while you screw ’em over at every turn! Why would you even consider keeping your normal pricing in an outlet with rejected goods/styles? Did you not know we were in some sort of apocalipto-economy right now? Oh you didn’t? You were too busy counting your millions? Oh, I’ll just leave you to that then…NOT!!! Your wares suck! The fit of your clothing is all wongo now. I used to be able to just walk in and buy whatever in a size 26/28 and know it would fit. Now? That is a joke! Now I have to try on every single damned thing and hope it fits because sometimes it does and more often it doesn’t and it’s never in the same ways!

So, Lane Bryant, as I am about to re-enter the workforce and have money to spend on clothing again, guess who isn’t going to spend it in your shops or on your websites? Moi! I will gladly seek out indie designers, thrift store options or even try my hand at sewing my own garments before setting foot inside one of your stores again! Got it?! Good! Now buck up or fuck off!

Thanks.

Hey! I didn’t receive any submissions for Tank Top Tuesday this week and I spaced on even attempting to take one of me, so, let’s just vent our shit out in comments! I know the last two weeks have been crazy-busy for most or at the very least stress inducing. Why not get some things off your chest?! Please feel free to engage in discussion in comments, too! I love when that happens. We have so much in common, you just don’t even know! Okay? Cool! Vent away!!!

Also, feel free to continue to use to comments section for your TMI questions and stories! Woo!

And please consider submitting a photo for next week’s Tank Top Tuesday. You can email them here: notblueatall@notblueatall.com Please include the name you’d like used, any blogs/sites you’d like to plug and what you think/feel about baring your arms!

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I’ll go first!

So, it’s been a week since I sold my cafe. It feels very strange to not have that weighty burden on my shoulders. I keep expecting something bad to occur because of it. I want to fully enjoy myself and this time I have with my husband, his mom and our niece, but his mom (and subsequently now our niece) won’t stop with the big butt and bubble butt comments even after my husband explained that it could be damaging to our niece. *HeadDesk* Then at dinner last night she was describing someone she works with, “Well, she has a huge butt, but that’s the only thing wrong with her…” UGH!!!WHAT?! REallY?! I don’t understand her incessant comments about her own body, food, calories, the word “fattening”, etc…when she turns around and orders things I couldn’t imagine eating (fried mostly, make me ill if I eat it). She is constantly trying to feed us snacks and “Life” waters and garbage. There is no way she eats like this at home, right?! Is she just vacation eating? Is she nuts? I am beginning to believe that by the time she and our niece leave, my husband and I will be cured of our indecision to have a child. Ha-ha! This has been a vent. Thanks.

Yesterday was my last true day at the cafe. And I had never received so many compliments in one day…ever! I didn’t dress up or wear make up, shit, I didn’t even brush my hair! Just slapped a big hot pink flower headband on that bitch and headed out the door! Ha-ha! I was told I was smiling bigger than ever before. Huh, hadn’t thought of that as an outfit accessory. But it was true, I was smiling and happy and so ready to walk away entirely. What I also hadn’t counted on was my own body issues becoming more apparent. Oops!

Night before last, we were suiting up to go swimming with out niece and my MIL. I thought I heard a bunch of kids in the pool and cringed. My husband asked what was up and I explained that I get anxiety from the thought of being in a pool full of kids. And he said that yes, he realized this as well (about me) and that my body issues aren’t entirely resolved. I said to him, “Well, yeah! Everyone has body issues.” and left it at that. Then later his mom mentioned the length of my swim suit after I called it a swim dress. It goes down to my knees, y’all! It’s one of those sporty Junonia numbers with the zipper in front (got it on clearance for a steal a year or two ago). It’s so comfortable and keeps my boobs in place (which I need) and I like it. It’s not terribly stylish, but I’m all about comfort, so fuck it!

But it’s true. I do still struggle. I am not a Fatkini Riot-er. It’s not that I didn’t want a new swim suit this year, it’s just that we are fucking poor and they cost so damned much! Even looking at the clearance ones at Torrid the other day, I either didn’t like them or they were too expensive. As I explained to my husband though, it’s not so much my body specifically, as my armpit cysts and other similar anomalies. My niece pointed to my armpit yesterday and said, “Oh you have mosquito bites, too?” and I had to explain that it was either heat rash or cysts. UGH!

And there is fuck all I can do about it. I cover them for my comfort, no one elses. When my pits aren’t inflamed, I’ll go sleeveless. I honestly don’t mind it now. But huge red blotchy sores? No thanks, not wanting the world to see ’em. Is that so wrong? That’s not the whole story though, is it? I don’t like how my waist line looks bare. I have a permanant pink/red line that goes along it and wouldn’t dream of showing it to anyone, ever…except my husband. I am getting used to showing more of my bare legs, but that is still and may always be a struggle for me. Part of me will always be a scruffy tom boy, no matter what frilly things I put on.

And so I reflect and ponder and consider these issues while also wondering what tomorrow will bring. I am so optimistic about the future now. I know that the universe chose to take mercy on me and nothing short of a (I hate to use the word, but) miracle took place so that I could sell my cafe. In this economy it is truly a wonder that we’ve been able to struggle along this long! But I am humbled and ever so grateful for all that has transpired these last 2-3 years. And I am trying my best to enjoy this in-between time. I slept in this morning (an hour), I am playing fetch with my puggyman, I am listenting to music instead of morning radio! *Sigh* So nice! Peace and space. This is what I needed all along!

Now, to sort through this paperwork and tax business?! Ha-ha! And dust off the old resume. They still use those, don’t they? Resumes? Ha-ha! It seems like everything has changed since I’ve been out of the workforce. But I suppose that is a post unto itself.

What body issues do you still struggle with? What one part of your body would you never show the world, why? What kind of bathing suit do you rock at the pool or beach? Are you a proud fatkini riot-er? I want to hear the good and the bad. The proud and the shy! Why? Because you ALL amaze the shit out of me! <3