To preserve my own sanity, I take two days off every week. As a small business owner, this is no small feat. Other business owners look at me like a lunatic, but I insist that I prefer to not die young. As it is this business thing is sucking my soul or will to live at times. I have big panic attacks, but somehow always muddle through. I had one of those panic attacks on Friday of last week. Luckily my friend Steph was there for me, through text, and helped me through it. I managed to get through the day without crying. That is nothing short of a miracle. Saturday was pretty cool. My monthly meet up group ended up only having two ladies show up, but I have to say, they may just be my two favorite ladies. Nothing against anyone else, but they are more than just meet up peeps. I consider them friends. I know that I can talk about and tell them anything. And while I do write about almost everything here, there are some things I don’t know how to articulate properly for this specific format. And they made me feel good. They made me feel cared about. And they pretty much understood what I was going through and even asked how other things were going in my life. So I went home pretty much fine and dandy (and rare combo for me) and was ready for a fab day off with my husband the next day.

Sunday started off somewhat good, I slept in and B had my coffee waiting for me when I got up. We went to the craft store and I found this lovely flower I’m going to turn into a broach. The topic of my bra situation came up, I’d been putting off trying to find an alternative to my long-beloved LB bras that are all worn out. I explained that I’d checked just about every online possibility but that size and price will consistently be an obstacle. I half-mentioned that Wal Mart has been successful for some ladies and that perhaps I’ll check that out on my solo day off (Tuesday). He insisted we go together and right away. He hates Wal Mart and generally speaking so do I, but some things you just can’t get anywhere else or at a price we can afford. So we headed out to our closest location.

What started out as a simple shopping trip turned into a triggering nightmare for me and left my poor husband completely helpless and bewildered. I found one bra at first, but then began digging through the Playtex boxed bra section and found six more. At this sudden discovery I was filled with the excitement of new possibilities (comfy bras without under wires). My research gave me a range to work with for size (48D/DD – 50C) and all were within this range. So I headed into the fitting rooms, my husband headed for the fishing department. As I tried on each bra I felt that something just wasn’t right. None of them fit properly. The cups were all somehow too big. The bands, too. I also noticed that my once full and juicy looking boobs now seemed slightly withered and sagging. I’m 33, no surprise I suppose, but I usually only see my breasts from one viewpoint: looking down from above. But I was not ready to give up.

I headed back out in search of more options and found about 3 or 4 more bras of varying size and shape and features. I went back into the fitting room and gave it another go. This time, I don’t know what specifically triggered me, but I was suddenly unable to cope. My breath caught in my throat. I quickly put my own bra and top back on and gathered the re-hung bras to put away. I didn’t feel attached to my body suddenly, but floating above or behind it. I put the bras back where I’d found them and began to wander towards the plus size clothing section. There was a top that was super cute and only $16, but I didn’t even take it off of the rack as that was not what I came for and we don’t have the money to burn at this point. But I still had this feeling of heaviness and disconnection. I realized that I didn’t know where my husband went and so I headed back to the bras in case he was looking for me. You never wanna get lost in a Wal Mart, folks. It’s huge and crowded! No fun!

He soon found me and I ended up getting a pair of black earrings for $2.88 which I’d been wanting for ages to go with half my necklaces. when I chose the right pair and placed them in the basket he looked at me and said, “So what’s up with those bras?” and it hurt me deeply for some reason. I just snapped out, “I don’t know. I didn’t fucking make them.” and turned away. We made our way to the check out and waited in line. I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe again. So I asked him if he wouldn’t mind if I grabbed a drink. He was fine with it though what he said I can’t recall now but I took it awfully harsh for no reason at all. Once everything was rung up by the cashier I snagged my drink and took a huge gulp of it, hoping that would be the end of whatever I was feeling. It was not.

We walked to the car in silence. He asked what was up and I just couldn’t really explain it. I’m sure I said something about self-esteem/body image or whatever, but it wasn’t a coherent thought since I hadn’t had one to share. As we drove home I suddenly felt the need to cry. I tried not to because he never has tissue in his car, but the tears came without my control and I just gave up and fucking let them. He asked if I was okay and I said I was fine and wiped my tears away (gotta love dark sunglasses, eh?). It was while we were on the freeway that I realized why this was so hard for me. There were about two or three times growing up where I’d had a growth spurt or gained weight and a relative took me shopping in a large department store, sent me into the fitting rooms, only to have me come up empty handed. Each time there was confusing and then some type of talking to/lecturing. I distinctly remember one time I needed jeans and none fit and my dad just looked at me and said, “I don’t understand. None of them fit. What am I supposed to do with you?” Another time that I regret to this day (and I say I don’t have any, ha-ha!) was when my grandma took me to get a dress or I don’t know what, but she wanted me to try things on and I dug in my heels and said no. She was confused and annoyed and pleaded with me and I wouldn’t budge. It came up several times over the years and hurts me now more than ever, but it was because I knew nothing would fit. Also, I don’t handle getting lectured well. At all. By anyone. Ugh!

So, when my husband asked about the bras and I snapped at him, I think possibly that it sent me straight back to those times all over again. I spent the entire rest of the day in complete and utter misery. I tried to explain it to him, but it was so hard for me to talk and to even try to get across what I was feeling. I finally said to him that while I can rationalize it in my head, it doesn’t make it feel any different. So he let it be. But I could barely talk the rest of the day/night and while I tried to distract myself with a video game we could play together, it never left my mind. I was crushed from the inside out. I could barely eat dinner. I just felt like shit and suddenly, also, felt that I deserved to. And that is some heavy bullshit, folks. I haven’t felt that way in so many years. I hadn’t bought a ticket to the self-hating pity train in so long that I can’t even remember my last trip! So it was all the harder for me last night.

I couldn’t sleep. I dreaded coming in to work the next day. I couldn’t find the chemise I wanted to wear to bed. I began to dwell on my financial problems. Just a big old hate spiral, ya know? This isn’t the real me. This isn’t what I want from life at all. I finally managed a couple of hours of sporadic sleep and woke up with a big chip on my shoulder. I am angry with myself, but hoping to distance myself from that pain I was in, too. I think I am better today. I feel the weight of my other problems, but I’ve  resolved to stick with the damned LB ones I have and slowly try to get new ones on sale or the outlet or ebay or whatever I can manage. My husband was so beside himself that he wanted to take me to the nearest LB last night and buy all new ones. But we can’t afford it and when I told him that they are $35-$40 a piece, I think he understood that I was right.

I don’t know that I could have prevented being triggered by the experience, but damn, that was hard to go through. I feel awful for ruining yet another Sunday. I am trying so hard to keep my head in the right place. This time I was blind sided though and I need to forgive myself for that. 2011 has just been so tough on me. I know it has been tough for everyone, we’re all just fighting to keep surviving every damned day. I just keep hoping it will somehow get easier. That I’ll find a plateau or something. I need to breathe you know! Ha-ha! I will find my way, I always do. I have to have more faith in myself. I need to stay focused. Well, I need to do a lot of things, but when I’m miserable I do nothing but wallow. It’s always been that way. Today (Monday) will test me for sure, but I will push through and find a way to enjoy my day off tomorrow (Tuesday).

Thank you for sticking with me through this. I know it can’t be fun to read about my troubles so much lately. I will have a guest blogger coming soon and have some other fun-ish posts in the works, too. Thank you for being so supportive and kind. I am grateful for you all. You amaze me. <3

Today’s Tank Top Tuesday pictures are from Nikki. Here is her fat philosophy:

“On a steaming hot day in July in 2000, I decided that I would not die of heat exhaustion because I’m fat.  I decided….TO GO SLEEVELESS!  It was sheer madness!  I went out and bought tank tops and spaghetti straps.  I even bough a halter top!  GASP! 

My family refers to my arms as “tharms” = thigh+arm.  Sometimes they call them turkey wings.  Yeah.  Nice people.  But ya know what, my wings are flapping in a cool breeze and I LOOK AWESOME! 

Yesterday I read a great line from “The Help” by Kathryn Stockett: “Ever morning, until you dead in the ground, you gone have to make this decision….You gone have to ask yourself, Am I gone believe what them fools say about me today?”

Today, and every day, I make a decision not to believe that my lovableness is determined by my size.  I decide not to believe that I am less than.  I decide not to hate myself.  I decide that I am beautiful. I decide that I am brilliant.  I decide that I am more than even I can recognize in this moment.  I decide to live into just how good I am.  I decide to act in my best interest, to move forward and not backwards, to embrace the fullness of my self – body, mind and spirit. 
That’s my fat philosophy.  It’s not easy to do everyday, but what is? 

I recently started a meetup group for fat folks and our friends.  It’s called “Philly Plus.” http://www.meetup.com/Philly-BBW/

 Thank you for the lovely submission, Nikki! You are fabulous!!!

I am taking submissions from anyone who wants to exercise their right to Bare Arms! Email your pics here: notblueatall@notblueatall.com, please include the name you’d like included in the post, a blog or etsy shop you wanna plug, your thoughts on bare arms or other fatty philosophies. It does not have to be in a tank top, so long as your arms are bare. Have fun with it!

Also, feel free to still treat comments as TMI topic/discussion area! Feel free to ask TMI questions or just vent/rant about your own stuff. I love it! We all do! =0)

The First and Second parts of this three part series.

I left off when I met my husband, B. We’ve been together for over thirteen years. Seven of those years we’ve been married. Yeah, we took our time. We moved in together after a year and a half of dating (though we never went on “dates”) and were happy with that for awhile. I think I started to talk marriage first, but left it as a no-pressure option. Then he proposed on our 3 year anniversary. And then I freaked out! So we waited another three years and got married on our 6 year anniversary. It was a small affair, twenty people total in attendance, including the wedding party itself. It was a mostly non-traditional wedding, too. I mean, I wore a white dress (my only regret was that damned dress, not the color so much, but that’s another story), had a flower girl and bridesmaids and all of that jazz, but my maid of honor also officiated the ceremony and since we’re not religious it was simply based on love and commitment.

I had just started a new job that soon became an actual career path and finally a career. I felt like a fish out of water at first, but soon found my niche in the mortgage industry (I was in the appraisal department, thank goodness). I focused on providing excellent service above all else and quickly got recognized for that (and even a few awards). When the corporate trainer for my position was getting ready to leave I voice my desire to take over for her. It was a huge risk and a leap, but I am so glad that I did it! My managers were so supportive and it seemed everyone loved me! I didn’t even have to try! So there I was, rapidly climbing the proverbial corporate ladder and finding my footing in this new environment. I struggled to put together an appropriate wardrobe and to fall in line with all of the acronyms, jargon and expectations my new position held.

And then something happened, I did things I never could have imagined doing. I pushed myself outside of my comfort zone…waaaay outside! And I got fucking brave. And then? It got easier! And people wanted me in their offices to teach them my mad service skills! It was like a high I’d never known before. To be in demand, to be the go-to gal for all things customer service and efficiency in this department, it was magical! I put so much of myself into everyday that first year and a half in my corporate training position. I worked my behind off! I loved every second. Until I got a new boss. The company was sold to another and things started to fall apart. I kept on, but the strain was there. The tension. The awkwardness of hating a boss that doesn’t even know what you do exactly and is such an ass-kissing jackass that you begin to wonder how in the fuck they even got their job. But I loved the people I worked with and had two fabulous people in my department to confide in and rant with and just be with. They were real friends at the time, too. Sadly, I’ve lost touch with both and only consider one a true friend now, but that’s another story.

When I completed this huge project that I personally created, put together and implemented with rave reviews and super success, I was suddenly being asked to travel the country (I’d only ever handled the west coast until this point) I thought, “This is it! This is the big time!” And a month later my department was eliminated, we were laid off along with a thousand other people in California that day. I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me, again! (The first time being when I was laid off from the music store, forgot to write about that, my bad.) I had to figure out where I fit in the world again and it sucked.

I spent the next two years unemployed, but going on enough job interviews that that felt like my full time job. I then got three of the worst jobs I’d ever had (and I hated working for the Gap but even that was better than these) and the absolute worst managers/supervisors I’d ever encountered (though only one tops the jackass from my old career)! I quit two of those jobs willingly (one rapidly as I couldn’t take the bullshit and crying on my lunches anymore) and the last one I was laid off. That was a bit of a shocker. I’d turned around a department that was failing. I hired people committed to the service we provided. I even hired my best friend because I knew that he would keep them all motivated, too. I was told the department was being eliminated (lie) and that everyone was being laid off (lie). I was so angry. I waited in my car for twenty minutes for my BFF, but he never came down. So I called Steph, as I usually do when I need emotional support (love ya, babe!) and she talked me down and scolded me for stress-smoking. I found out later that night that J got to keep his job and so did the other gal we worked with. So only a few from our department got let go. J ended up taking over my position on top of the one he already had. Poor fella. <3

After a couple of weeks of interviews, I applied to one I knew I could do with my eyes closed. The interview was x-mas eve at 9 am. I showed up on time, dressed to the 9’s, only to find an entire office of 18-30 year old men wearing jeans and t-shirts. When I walked into the manager’s office for the interview he gave me the up-down. He then explained that I wasn’t qualified for the job, but that he hadn’t actually seen my resume. The person I would have been taking over for loved my resume and told me he thought I was a great fit. This jerk-store then answered a personal phone call on his cell phone and spoke in another language for five minutes while I sat there like a turd. He could see that I was growing impatient and finally ended the call only to tell me that he’d filled the position thirty minutes before the interview. I had never been so angry in my life! I wanted to punch the bastard in his face! I couldn’t take it anymore! I stormed out and went home and screamed for awhile. I told my husband that I just couldn’t do it anymore. This bullshit emotional roller coaster that is being unemployed.

I had recently gotten back in touch with my old friend Marc from Jr. High/High School and he had told me about his dream of opening a drive-thru coffee place in Portland, Oregon. While his life took a very different path, a seed was planted. When I passed by an old abandoned Wolf Camera (with a  drive-thru window no less) I had an epiphany: Why don’t I open my own cafe?! I was too scared at first to tell anyone, but then began to slowly let slip the idea and was shocked at the support my friends (and B of course) gave me. Not that they were ever jerks, but I can be a bit obsessive and compulsive about big ideas I get only to drop them a week or a month or a year later. But I did a shit ton of research and mapped out my path. I went to coffee school (yes, there is such a thing and I chose the best one in the nation in my opinion) and felt I was doing everything the right way. I knew I didn’t want to go into debt and instead cashed out what was left of my 401K (about $9k after the market crash) and some of our savings and just did it. It was so exciting and terrifying and fun all at once. It took so much work and no one seemed to have answers for me, ever. So I DIY’d my way to my own business (opened in Sept. ’09) and while it gave me so much purpose and meaning for awhile? I am pretty much done with her.

If you read this blog you know that B & I have been having some problems lately, but I think for the most part we’ve got a handle on it and things are improving. I know now that I wouldn’t die if we broke up, but I am comforted by the fact that I know this won’t happen anytime soon. We do enjoy each others’ company and are finding ways to compromise when that isn’t the case. He goes fishing, I do fatty things, it works for now. We are communicating a bit more and I think he is starting to realize just how much we’ve both changed in the last two years. We have sacrificed so much for each other (his massage school tuition and my cafe) and still find a way to get by, even if it is a struggle. Yes, we are one tiny disaster away from being on the street, but I don’t worry about it too much these days. I have amazing friends that support me and always know what I need somehow. B, too, always seems to know what I need when I need it most. We may not always agree, but what fun would that be anyway? I’m still madly in love with that man. As much of an old grouch as he can be, he is still all I want. He is such a great pug-papa and tabby-daddy that I know if we do have a kid one day, we’ll be just fine.

Now, the next chapter in my life? That is a big mystery. What I do know is that I will continue to attend and support as many fat events and activist things as I can and write this blog-a-ma-thing until I have nothing left to write. I would love to write a book (and Steph keeps pushing me, thank you!) but am not sure what about or even how to do it. I would love more than anything to sell the cafe right now, it would solve all of my problems!!! If you pray or believe in putting your intentions and hopes out into the universe, if you could please give me a little thought in this regard? I am focusing all of my hopes and wishes and thoughts on selling it right now. It would literally change my life. I’m selling it crazy-cheap (mostly just the cost of the equipment and improvements I’ve made), but don’t want to advertise so as not to lose customers. I rarely ask such things of people, but it would mean the world to me right now. So thank you if you do decide to help in this. I have another business idea that would be so much easier and cheaper and healthier for me to do (and it’s fat related), but until my commitment to the cafe is over, I can’t even think about that.

B wants us to buy a house in the mountains and I have agreed once I leave the cafe behind. This is huge as I had no intention of moving out of the south bay, but I feel I should at least give it a shot if it works out in this way. And then who knows? We may have a baby. I may find work helping abuse survivors. We may start new and totally different careers. I may be a rock star…the possibilities are endless. I don’t wanna think about what will happen if I can’t sell the cafe, but I keep pushing that out of my mind to prevent full-meltdown panic attacks. *breathe in…breathe out* I’m okay though. I’m healthy. I’m grateful. I’m happy for the most part. I am loved. And best of all I am still passionate as hell about the social injustices and inequality in the world today. So I will keep on fighting! No worries there.

Thank you for reading this blog and supporting me and my writing. Your comments always brighten my day! <3

If you ever would like me to write about something specific (or not) do let me know! A commenter had asked me to write about my separate lives and that is what inspired this series of posts. If you’d like to talk but don’t want the world to see, drop me a line: notblueatall@notblueatall.com

A few days ago I mentioned that I often feel as though I have lived, and currently live, many different or separate lives. Today I want to talk about my current thoughts and experiences with this concept and I’ll talk about the other side of that another day. Cool?

I’ll start by over simplifying what I’m talking about here. Basically I have four seemingly very separate parts or aspects of my life that I’m very passionate about. I’m a partner and friend to my husband, friend and confidant to my small circle of bad asses (often referred to here at the BFFs), my business and the community it’s in (which is an hour away from my home) and finally the fabulous fat community both online and locally for me in real life. While I am at once the same person regardless of location or company, in some ways these aspects are so separate that it actually feels, at times, like alternate realities or universes or just lives.

At home I’m my truest self, I think. I am just me. I can wear ratty pajama bottoms and let my hair do its frizz-thang and never have to worry about being judged or ridiculed or shamed because I’m surrounded by love. My husband is such a unique soul and is always challenging and supporting me. I wouldn’t trade him for Ewan McGregor (despite what you may hear from me after a few drinks, ha-ha!). He cares for me and our little family. We have our diva-tabby and our little puggy man and some fish in a freshwater tank and our small garden out on our balcony. He tends to most of these things and I try to stay in-synch with their respective schedules, too. And oh how they’ve all  grown! I love succulents (cactus, etc) and have many small ones, well, now they’re all getting so big it’s awe inspiring! While I do rant or complain here often about my marriage, I do it to share my life, to seek advice, but to hopefully help someone else who may be going through the same things. I just feel that we all think we’re freaks who have such dissimilar experiences, but only because we don’t talk about these “private” or “taboo” matters with each other.

My bad asses are a small group, but mix of  friends I’ve known for decades or a decade and very new people in my life. They support and drive me. They help push me out of my comfort zone and only allow me a breif  luxury of self pity from time to time. They inspire me and amaze me with their own talents and ambitions. I feel like the luckiest gal in the world when I am in their company. I feel invincible and safe with them in a way I never knew I could. While I continue to work on my own trust issues, I am truly enjoying the opportunity to meet new people and get to know some radical individuals.

At work, my cafe, I am everyone’s cheery hostess with the sassy mostess. I’m so not as sassy as I would like to be, but I’m a customer service nerd and I just can’t be rude ever. I have met so many wonderful people in the small community that my cafe does business in. I have made friends and seen babies grow into talking and walking toddlers, I have offered advice and comfort and even health tips for those who seek it and shared great political discourse when the right combination of personalities are in attendance. I feel so much a part of this community that I am also, often, it’s biggest critic. I don’t even live there, but I feel like I do. I feel like I belong there in a strange way I’ve never considered until typing it just now. But it’s also become such a painful and stressful endeavor that it no longer holds the same refuge or meaning for me anymore.

Finally, the fat community! I hardly have the words to express my deep love for this community that gave me my confidence back. That made me feel sexy again and helped me help others who struggle with my same issues and experiences. I have been touched so deeply by so many incredible people I just don’t know how to put my gratitude into words. Let me just say this, I have always felt like I was an outsider. I always felt like the proverbial sore thumb. The fat community made me feel like a radical and effervescent and worthy person. I have met people who have become so meaningful in my life that I cannot imagine a life without them. I have been lucky enough to have been invited to and participated in some amazing shit with some awesome bad asses in the fat community that my life will never be the same again! I have fulfilled dreams! I have also inspired others and helped others cope and deal with the burden that is abuse survival, too. I never could have done this or even felt I had a worthy or unique voice without the fat acceptance community.

These different aspects of my life pull me in different directions both geographically as well as philosophically. I do my best to maintain and be as true to my authentic self as I can. I am on a journey though. This journey allows me to learn and grow and decide what’s right for me as I go. Part of the learning is figuring out how to navigate these sections of my personality and turning them into a meaningful life for myself. I think I’m doing a helluva job lately! And I hope to keep on keepin’ on. I guess I had thought that once you’re in your thirties that you pretty much “get” what you want out of life. Perhaps in some ways this is true for me, but I think it’s like you’re eye sight gets better or you grow a new lens to see the world through. It’s just different. I feel so much more at peace with certain things about myself and the world, but I’m also discovering all of these new things and people everywhere like they were there all along but I didn’t know how to see them. And there’s my hippie self coming out! Ha-ha!