Life is fucking messy! It just is. No matter what your beliefs, intentions, control measures, or income level, life will find a way to kick you in the ass or throw you for a loop! There’s nothing anyone can do to prevent things from happening, they simply do. What matters is how we react or respond (there is a difference) and how that creates an impact on our lives there after.

I have known many perfectionists in my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been one myself, more of a control freak I guess. I’m workin’ on that. Perfectionists are just in a constant struggle with themselves, it seems. I don’t think it’s any sort of personal failing on their part, I’m sure it’s more to do with societal pressures or how one is raised. It is often painful, at least for me, to watch or try to work on something with a perfectionist, though. It’s as if you can see the anguish they are dealing with manifest itself physically as they begin any new project. I feel for them.

I think we all fall into the perfectionism trap from time to time, though. For me it’s always gift wrapping! Grrr! My nemesis! Seriously, though, it feels as if the credibility of my woman-ness and existence is tied up in how “perfect” a gift looks after wrapping and adorning it. I do not know where this came from. Nothing in my childhood lead to this that I can see. But I’ll be damned if every time I am tasked with wrapping a gift that my heart doesn’t cease up at the very idea of it all! I now stick with gift bags! Ha-ha! (Though fussing with the tissue paper gives me a mild version of the usual anxiety around gifts).

This is where the self-image/self-esteem stuff gets tangled with the whole perfectionism thing. If you believe nothing you do is right, why keep upsetting yourself with the idea of perfection? I believe that perfection is a myth. It doesn’t actually exist. It is merely a concept or ideas that is ever-changing and a constantly moving target: impossible! By striving for this idea that it has to be perfect, when that in and of itself is unreachable and cannot be nailed down, you’re literally just making yourself stressed out. This is when the fear and guilt and shame come into play.

To live in fear of not measuring up is a very relatable human thing. To live in fear of not being perfect is the most absurd thing, but also very relatable. We’ve all been there, that dread and that anxiousness. Ugh! It’s exhausting! The thing is though, there is no perfect person. Not one personal of 8+Billion the world over is completely and entirely perfect. Go ahead and take a deep breath! It’s all going to be okay. Nobody’s perfect! Ha-ha! It’s kind of awesome if you think about it. Really takes the pressure off.

I love Brene Brown, though I’ve only read one of her books, she really has a way of writing that leaves me saying, “YES!” or “Ah-Ha!” with the turn of every other page. And she understands how these things happen and swirl around in our brains giving us all of the emotions at once leaving us tired and feeling crazed. You do not have to keep this up. Know that you are not alone. Perfection is a myth. You can let it go. When you feel it rising up in you again, take a pause. Take a deep breath. Do some power poses. Center/ground yourself in your human-ness. You are of the Earth, and that is a lovely thing!

I hope that we can all let go of any shame, guilt, or stresses that get tied up in feeling the need to be or attain perfection. Even those we hold up in the world as perfect people would laugh at the notion. Your flaws are beautiful. Your uniqueness is valuable! You are amazing and worthy of all of the goodness this world and this life has to offer you! I promise! 😉

This whole concept of being “oversensitive” really sticks in my craw! The people who have called me”oversensitive” have all been outright assholes! The same people who demonize political correctness. The same people are also racist, misogynistic, homophobic, and more. Truly. I have never in my life heard a calm, rational, critical thinker call someone “oversensitive”. And yeah I’m using quotes, I know it’s a real word, but I disagree entirely with it’s existence, let alone usage. Isn’t this just a way to police our behavior instead of theirs?!

Political correctness is often demonized, ridiculed, and tied into “oversensitivity”. The thing is, the people who feel this way simply do not want to a.) be uncomfortable for any reason at all ever, b.) have anyone tell them they are wrong for any reason at all ever, c.) are resistant as fuck to change anything about themselves outside of the superficial. So their response when faced with someone saying something they said or did is wrong/inappropriate/hateful/racist/sexist/hurtful/damaging is to lash out by saying the problem is ours alone. Yes, ours, most often but not always women, am I right?! UGH!

I know, I know, # NotAllMen…FUCK THAT! #ALL(cis)MEN! I think many may use the term “oversensitive” as a way of trying to calm the other person or minimize the situation, they may even have good intentions. The thing is, intent doesn’t mean shit, impact does! Every man that has ever told a woman to smile may have had the best of intentions. Perhaps they envision a world of smiling faces staring back at them (the horror!), but that is not up to them, the impact of their remarks are demeaning at best.

I do understand that we’re socialized differently. As children we are raised to act a certain way around others. If you’re a girl, this means using manners, playing hostess to any guests in your home, considering others feelings before our own, sometimes even not speaking unless spoken to, always there to help and serve others. Boys may be raised with some of the same, but expressing emotion/pain is definitely not one of them. This is treated as weakness or even offensive. Imagine, then, when faced with someone telling them something they said or did was wrong/hurtful/oppressive, that they cannot even compute this! “I just said something I’ve heard others say and not get shit for it!”

Many people (of any gender) are not always or even often aware of the impact of their words and behavior. I work with some interesting characters, lemme tell ya! Ha-ha! Seriously though, a colleague today mentioned how quiet it was now that someone had moved their desk to the other side of the office. I replied, “And they’re on vacation this week!” and they said, “Oh that must be it! Ha-ha!” because this person is well known for being loud and basically obnoxious (IMO Toxic AF!). They have very private phone calls very loudly while walking around the office, completely disrupting everyone else. Ugh! This person knows these things about themselves, they think it’s cute or makes them look more like a leader somehow (barf – as if), they simply do not care enough to change. That is the key!

You see, it’s never “just words”. Words have meaning, this is how we communicate, it’s called language. Words can hurt, cause harm, effect others even if they aren’t present, they can change how someone feels about you or others. We use our words to get our point across. When you call me “oversensitive” you’re telling me way the hell more about you than you’ll ever even get the chance to know about me!

I don’t believe that anyone is “oversensitive”. I’m an empath, I’m hella fucking sensitive, but to me there is no “over” part. If you’ve been called “oversensitive” take it as a compliment for not being a callous jackass! A friend recently posted about being called this and I wanted to shake them and hug them and tell them, “NO! You are not “oversensitive”! You are a finely tuned instrument of love!” It’s a skill, a sixth sense, if you will. It’s a wavelength not all get to tap into. Cherish that shit! I do.

This past weekend I dedicated myself to doing things that would be relaxing, calming, soothing, or otherwise get a load off my mind/body/soul. I have been headed towards burn out for awhile and after getting mega sick a few weeks ago I knew that I needed to be more mindful about these things on the regular. So, Friday after work I had an appointment with my ex-husband/CMT for a massage. I went home and completely chilled out after with a comforting meal (roast chicken, rice, broccoli, leftovers from a work lunch), and watched the last episode of season 2 of Harlots (Hulu) and then began Black Mirror (Netflix) and curled up on my lil’ loveseat with my puggo.

The following day I didn’t want to get out of bed, it was just so comfy! But I did and the notion coffee lead the way like an old cartoon. I put on music instead of the t.v. and sat with my thoughts before I plotted the day ahead. And that’s when I saw how bad my toenails looked! HAHAHA! True facts! I looked down at my feet, ever the shoe gazer, and saw the jagged edge of my big toenails and decided I needed to get a pedicure. It had been almost two months and in that time I was in a dance show while also discovering a new found love of wedges. My poor feet needed some love, so I called my favorite salon, 20 miles south of where I live, and made an appointment for that afternoon.

It was hot that day, which made leaving the house that much harder, but worth it once in the air conditioned salon. It was just me and about 6 nail technicians. I picked my color, OPI (always) and in a lovely light violet-shimmer, and had a seat. My technician was Wendy. She was sweet and seemed to genuinely care about me. I’m sure part of that is simple customer service, I mean props for that too, but when my nails were drying she and I started to really chat. Well, I should say, she started to talk at me at first and I immediately went from defensive to offensive. “My daughter, you know, she’s fat like you. She never goes out. She doesn’t want to, she just stays home and eats. So sad.” My knee-jerk response, “There are many reasons for being fat, eating is not why I’m fat. Have you considered that perhaps how she’s treated “out” in the world may be the bigger reason why she doesn’t want to go out? Maybe she’s depressed? Maybe she gets harassed? Maybe she just prefers to stay home.”

I could see right away that this was not the typical “OMZ OBEEESITY” conversation I was having as her eyes lit up when I said all of this to her. She then asked about my life and shared some factoids about her own. When I told her I was forty, healthy, and loved my body, and being single, she smiled so big! We talked about balance and how important that is over everything else we’re told to do in the name of health and she closed her eyes and looked quite serious for a second and then said, “Honey, I know you’re right. I need to stop worrying. Thank you.” I promised her that I would ask for her specifically the next time I had an appointment. It was kind of beautiful, that convo could have really soured my experience there had it not gone the way that it did.

I don’t have to talk about my life to strangers. I don’t have to talk about myself at all, anywhere. I don’t have to share my stories and life experiences here; my blog is a luxury, not a necessity. I gain no money or “exposure” from such things. It is these small moments of connection, enlightenment, and sharing that keep me doing it! Those smiles or eyes when they light up give me so much more than money can buy. It is a special privilege to touch the lives of others and to have my own touched right back. (Okay that sounds weird, but you get me.)  I cherish it far more now than ever before.

As a fat person living their life in the western world, I’m used to remarks and comments from strangers. I am often on guard because of this. You just never know when a simple comment or response can turn into harassment or assault. I tend to walk around with a “fuck you” vibe when I’m running errands, I suppose it’s my own defense mechanism. I’m not here to be anyone’s jolly fatty! I am a mostly jolly fatty, but I don’t need anyone telling me I need to be or any other ridiculous notion folks get in their heads about fat people in general. Sometimes I engage when comments fly, sometimes I aggressively roll my eyes or flip them off, it’s all in how I am feeling in the moment.

There is just too much stigma about fat bodies in the world, much of it absolute lies. I’m not here to be or prove myself as a “good fatty” in anyone’s eyes. I prove myself every fucking day by living it on my own terms! I don’t need anyone’s acceptance or validation. I don’t need to be liked or popular by any standard. I don’t fear much in this world as it all feels mostly predictable, but it is the unpredictable and unstable folks and their actions that I do fear. I am in no way suggesting anyone do what I do or say what I say to strangers in the wild. I have 25 years of honing my customer service and interpersonal skills, I can usually tell where things are headed and choose my own adventure from there. If ever I feel unsafe I have a plan in place to do what is needed to get to safety.

You don’t owe anyone your attention, time, response, apologies, explanations, or anything. You are allowed to exist in this world no matter what you or your body look like. People may act poorly, but that is on them! What anyone thinks of you is none of your business! Seriously! It’s so easy to get caught up in all of the bullshit around these things, but create that boundary for yourself, it helps so much! Or just laugh it off, in their faces! Ha-ha! I love that, too! Honestly, laughing at things has become a bit of a defense mechanism for me as of late. When some agro-dude cuts me off and we end up at the same light, I look over and LAUGH!!! (Picture me laughing wearing giant, heart-shaped, mirrored sunglasses.)

Self-care isn’t just having a pedicure or a spa day. For me getting a pedicure is only an occasional luxury. It was something that I felt I needed at the time, but self-care is SO many other things, too! Self-care is staying hydrated, taking your meds, being mindful of how you’re feeling, taking a shower, putting on makeup or a cute outfit, saying no to things, asking for help, masturbating, taking a mental health day, taking selfies, shutting off your phone for an hour…self-care is anything that helps you, in my opinion. Something that gives something to you, (calmness, relaxation, a moment of silence, a mental/physical breather) feeds you in a sense. A lot of times we think we’re doing ourselves a favor by engaging in things that often take from us or damage us in the long run.

What are some things that you do to give something back to yourself? I would love to hear about other folks’ self-care things!  Have you had a positive conversation about fatness with a stranger or service provider? Or perhaps it started negative but it ended up being better? Tell me!

I think I’m finally owning my goth-ness. I never really felt cool enough to be a goth. I’ve only been going to goth clubs since 1996! Ha-ha! I’m ridiculous! More and more though I keep coming back to fashions, accessories, music and more that all harkens back to those 90’s glory days at the “So What” at the Maritime Hall in SF. I discovered so much about myself there and so much fantastic music and fashions and just a safe space for weirdos of all sorts. I found my people, so to speak, but I certainly didn’t know it at the time. I was too awkward and extremely insecure, like in every possible way. At first I went, very reluctantly, with a group of friends. I didn’t even know what goth meant or was and just didn’t really care either. I think they bribed me in some way that first time, but not twenty minutes after walking through the door of the So What, I fell for the whole scene!

That first night they had a live band playing already as we entered the dance floor area. After two songs I walked right up to the merch table and bought their cassette (it was 1996!). The band was 16 Volt, whom I later met and hung out with at a different club in San Jose (RIP Cactus Club), but the album was Letdown Crush. All these years later and I still love that band and their music. You may have heard their stuff in various video games over the years, industrial. Anyway, it was kind of love at first listen. When the band was done with their set and the DJ started to spin I had no idea what was in store. Just the best music ever! I found out that I lean new wave/romantic, but enjoy some stompy industrial stuff, too. The Cure & Depeche Mode being my personal mainstays.

I didn’t know how to dress for this type of club. I basically just wore some kind of random lingerie top over a black bra and black jeans. Picture also my red glitter, L7 (all-women Punk Band), chain wallet, and as many chain and cross necklaces as I could get my hands on. Oh! And my beloved 1460 Doc Martens, obviously! I don’t think I did a damned thing with my hair because I never did back then. Makeup was just tons of black eyeliner and blood red lipstick outlined in black. No blush, no eyeshadow, no foundation…just my natural redheaded palor and youthful glow! I did not wear glasses then. I later wore a sub/dog collar with the loop in the middle.

This club was just so special and I had no idea. Once a month they would have a masquerade ball with a theme and a live bondage show. I learned so much there! Even if I was too shy/scared/etc to incorporate these things into my life then. I’m good with all of that now. Ha-ha! (Fat AF is my fat sex podcast with my bff!) I have so many good memories of that place. I eventually started going on my own. At age 19/20 I rarely did such things but felt badass and brazen going to the So What solo. I really thought all goth clubs would be the same, but little did I know that I would spend the next two decades trying to find that same vibe elsewhere. *Sigh*

Now I mostly stick to one or two clubs that lean more 80’s New Wave than anything else. Lately it’s been strictly Club Satori at The Ritz in Downtown San Jose and Stragelove or whatever other New Wave type of night they have at the Cat Club on Folsom in San Francisco.  I’ve never been to Bondage A Go-Go or Death Guild, though they are legendary, but have heard some of those DJ’s spin at other clubs. I’ve been to some woman-run goth nights, including the only BBW Goth Club in the U.S. Club Bodice at the White Horse in Oakland, and The Hanging Garden at The Uptown in Oakland. I’ll stick with my old ass stuff, to be honest. I don’t feel the warmth, respect, and general weirdo vibes at those last two that I do at others. It’s more younger peeps, acting cooler than cool, most people don’t even dance! Such a tragedy. And maybe I’m too fucking old for this new goth stuff. That’s possible!

My favorite of faves is at Club Satori when they do The Cure night once a year.  They do play other music, but there is such a hefty and healthy dose of songs by The Cure mixed in that I dance all night every time and it’s like my happy place! I think it was February 2017’s The Cure night when I peeped a hottie on the dance floor and told my bestie that I wanted to bite this humans luscious arms. This is not something I’d ever done or had the urge to do, mind you, and very much out of my character I can assure you. But soon it became a bet. Okay, my bff bet me a quarter just to see if I’d do it and so I could say it was for a bet. I was sweaty and slightly buzzing from the hard cider they have on tap (Nice!), so popped into the restroom to refresh and touch up my hot pink lipstick. When I came out and was walking up the ramp I saw this hottie getting ready to leave. I locked eyes with my bestie and determinedly headed for said hottie.

I asked them if I could bite their arm. They said, “Wait, mine or anyone’s?” and I said, “Oh no, just yours!” and gave that sorta sexy, sorta demanding, sorta flirty, because you know you wanna, look at them. They had already put on their leather motorcycle jacket and said, “So, through the leather?” and I just shook my head slowly and said, “No.” And so they walked over to a nearby stool, took off their jacket, hoodie, and placed their helmet on top. They held out the top of their forearm and said, “Not too hard, right?” and I just smiled, grabbed their arm and pulled them closer so I could get a big juicy bite of their bicep. After I smile and laughed, they laughed and hugged me. I thanked them and girlishly ran over to my bestie to giggle like children about the whole thing. Then said hottie came over to us after getting their gear back on and asked if they should get a rabies shot. When we looked confused they responded, “Sorry, I’m a vet, bad joke. You’re fine. Have a good night. Ha-ha!” If I wasn’t wearing tights that night I swear my panties would have hit the floor! Ha-ha! That night is legendary in my social circle and I love how so not-me this bit of fun was. I keep an eye our for that special veterinarian every time I go to that club, but especially on The Cure night. Never have seen them again though.

I have lots of goth club stories and memories, but I’ll instead show you some recent goth night looks, sadly outfit pics are impossible in my tiny house, so you’ll have to use your imagination…dream me up something fancy! Ha-ha!

I wore this to Club Radio in Oakland for a goth night that kinda sucked but I met some cool people, Dre especially,
who smoked me out and bought me a bottle of water when I ran out of cash.
My hair was two braids pinned on top, that I wrapped a length of lace around for fanciness. Ha!

This was from The Cure night in San Jose this past February, the Friday night before I started my new job.

I had also done something fancy with my hair that night. Gotta love YouTube tutorials!

I’m wearing the Boleyn dress from Chubby Cartwheels, and get tons of compliments each time I do!

I want you close to me, too, Robert Smith! <3

He just gets it! ^

These are from last week, just a workday, nothing special, but more goth than I usually go for. I love it!
At my desk, dorkin’ it up!

Aw this is a cute pic of me, if I do say so myself! Ha-ha!

Still in love with my Zenni Optical heart-shaped sunglasses! C’mon!

The following are from last Friday night which was Depeche Mode night and I did a fun thing with my hair!

I also recently gave chokers another shot (since the 90’s) with a 5 pack of ’em from Torrid.

The ring is a black stone with skulls and it’s my favorite amazon purchase, it was like $8.

The wrap is literally just a yard of mesh halloween fabric from Joanne’s with skulls on it, but I dig it.

No filters, no fucks to give, no need for anyone’s validation.
I’m a fucking forty-year-old goth, dammit!

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As a tried and true 90’s grunge-kid, and devout Gen-Xer, t-shirts were always just the obvious choice and a staple of my youthful wardrobe. When I started working in the music industry I switched from tie-dyes to band shirts. Never gave it a second thought. But as I grew older, and my body grew fatter, I could no longer find the cool band shirts in my size. I slowly got rid of most of them and incorporated actual blouses and tops meant for grown up lady persons, much to my shock! Ha-ha!

As I flung myself ass-first into fat fashion, and eventually fat liberation, I never thought about all of the t-shirts I longed for buy couldn’t get in my size. If you’re into bands or have worked in that industry, or even in tech, you know how t-shirts can kind of make you stand out or allow you to bond with others over a shared nerdery of that thing. It’s kind of beautiful! So imagine my dismay when that became increasingly impossible to find while I was working in music and later even more so working in tech.

As my love of pop culture expanded and I embraced my geeky-weirdness, I still couldn’t find the shirts I truly wanted. Until one day I found the holy grail: a classic logo for The Ramones on a black scoop neck tee at Torrid! I paid full retail for that thing because I was so over joyed! (Even bought a matching one for my puggo, but he hates it. The snob!) I kept checking but never found another in-store that I liked enough to get. They started to have a lot of old band revival sort of t-shirts for awhile, but none that I needed.

Until I randomly came across a used t-shirt on eBay from Torrid of the Ghostbusters logo, but with flowers instead of the red circle! The New Ghostbusters movie was about to be released in theaters and my younger brother and I are huge fans, so it was meant to be! I was ridiculously stoked, but more so when it arrived and fit like a dream! I paired it with a floral skirt I got at Cupcakes & Muffintops a few years ago, also from Torrid.

The dorkiest!

My bro is also wearing a Ghostbusters shirt with a quote from the classic,
“We came, we saw, we kicked its ass!” (I had bought for him the previous x-mas from 6DollarShirts.com)