You don't have to go home but you can't stay here

Well, as was made perfectly obvious in my last post, I've indulged myself in a bit of a pity party over the past few days.  Call it reality catching up to me or PMS or whatever the hell you want, it's been rough.  I don't like getting stuck in The Bad Place, but I certainly have no intention of punishing myself for going there and getting it out of my system.  After so many days of pain and exhaustion, it's really pretty normal.

And I try not to take my own bad moods and feelings too seriously.  I've been posting statuses on facebook like "Quick, somebody call the wahhhmbulance, I need a trip to the bawwwwspital." and "Oh my god. If these inconsiderate assbutts don't stop playing the bass in their car so low that it's rattling my BRICK house and making my head hurt worse, I will simply lose my shit and go out there with a spatula and an egg beater and whomp them like their mamas should have."  If anything's going to make the rest of my life bearable, it's retaining my sense of humor.  


I didn't make it to my brother and sis-in-law's this weekend.  My Chronic Fatigue decided to show its ass.  Boo.  I went on an 18-out of-24 hours sleeping jag, and I think today might be the first time I've really woken up since.  I really wanted to see everybody, especially my aunt Linda, but between how shitty I felt mentally AND physically, I would have been a total drag anyway.  

I did get to go see my therapist on Friday, which was definitely a good thing.  It was very cathartic, at least.  I think the most important thing I got out of it was that I need to take my friends and family at face value when they say they aren't angry and that they do understand when I have to flake.  I think I'm just so accustomed to thinking of myself as a slacker and a flake that I can't possibly see how folks wouldn't be mad, or at the very least, hella irritated with me when I can't do the things I want to do or say I'm going to do.  I set up some pretty destructive thought patterns during the years that I kept my pain to myself.  I have to break them or I'll be a miserable old coot well before my time.  He also says I'm not allowed to hole up by myself for extended periods of time until the mental ship rights itself.  Hissss.


There's some definite bright spots, though.  I did go get a massage like I threatened to in Tuesday's post.  I found a really amazing therapist.  I got there and filled out all the paperwork, then told Ari I was on day 8 of a come-and-go migraine.  He did some sort of wizardry with peppermint oil and face/scalp/neck massage, and I was out of pain in the first 5 minutes.  I wish I could say I got to just relax for the other 55 minutes, but he gave me the most thorough neck and shoulder massage I've ever had, some serious deep tissue shit.  It hurt like hell, especially when he'd hit trigger points (which he then attacked vigorously), but HOLY CRAP, that man is magic, and I felt well enough afterwards to go to Jeff's birthday dinner.  Two hours late, but I wouldn't have been able to show up at all had I not gotten some substantial relief.  I stuffed my face on Eggplant Parmesan and Lemon Buttercream cupcakes.  Jenny, Jenny, is there nothing you can't do?  It was a really chill gathering with awesome people.  I hissed a bit at the fact that I couldn't try the sexy-looking sangria, but them's the breaks.  I'd rather have the level of pain control I have now than revert to alcohol as self-medication, that's for damn sure.


Today's agenda?  THE SPRINGS.  And Fatkini Alchemy.  Mix two way-too-small triangle tops, some thread and ribbon, and maybe come out of it with a triangle top that will make sure I retain what dignity I have remaining.  XD  Can't wait.


Before I go put on my wizard's hat, I want to thank everyone for all the kind words and encouragement recently.  I do know that I'm loved and that people think I'm awesome, I just tend to lose sight of that when I get my head stuck up my own ass, because it's awfully dark up there.  I also want to say that we have our first reader submission on Fatkini Riot!  Go check out the hotness!!!

Last stop, this town

I am most definitely in a state of transit.

Since I no longer have a stylist, I've taken my hair care into my own hands.  He always said I wouldn't look good with blunt, thick bangs, especially if they extend past the corner of my eye.  Guess what I have now?  I cut 'em myself a few days ago.  They're definitely...challenging when they get unruly, but I love them.

He also told me that he hated the way my hair looks when I dye it blue, so I did that today.  Krystal took some pictures for me on our way to go run errands this afternoon.

So yeah.  New hair.  Major love.

So, since I started rockin' and posting pictures of my fatkini, I've had many people ask questions about the source of my confidence, so I decided randomly to start The Fatkini Mafia on facebook , then got sparky and started Fatkini Riot..  I'm not sure if it's activism or sheer hubris, but both projects sound like tons of fun (hurr hurr) and I hope I can get some co-conspirators to submit photos, guest posts, and engage in discussion.  

If you're interested in the least, join the group, check out the blog, and hit me up and let me know what tickles your pickle.  And yes, I would be more than happy to do some Q&A/advice posts, so hit me up with questions, too.  Anon commenting is enabled, but at least give me a pseudonym and enough details to work with without revealing who you are if you'd rather keep your privacy.  Also, if you can think of questions you would have liked to have answered during your early days of Body Acceptance, I'll take a stab at those, too.  Where to shop, relationship advice, tarot readings--I'll hook it up as long as you're willing for it to go public without your name attached.  I've always had a secret daydream of being an advice columnist, so indulge me, k?

In other news, I about climbed through the drive-thru window at the CVS to choke a bitch.  Here's the story, if you care to read it.  It happened about a week ago, so I'm mostly over it, but damn, y'all, you are RUDE.

Also, I got a new fatkini.  But y'all know where to find that.

Through all the crazyness, the busyness, the pain, the loss, and the scary new symptoms, I'm still alive and kicking, shooting my mouth off, and blistering the eyeballs of fatophobes everywhere.  I'd say I'm doing pretty damn good, yes?

On yelling.

Contrary to popular belief, I hate yelling.  More specifically, I hate being the one that has to do the yelling.  I used to be a big fan of yelling, back when I drank like a fish and couldn't see what a fucking train wreck I was turning into.  But now, thanks to quitting drinking, therapy, and medication, I just...don't yell.

But goddammit if two people haven't pushed me to the point of yelling this month.  And not even a shouted sentence or two, a full-on, lung-bending, blood-boiling, black-out RANT.  I don't even know what the fuck is going on with the universe right now.  This month alone, I've had to cut four people out of my life.  I'm not as into astrology as I used to be.  Are we under the star of douchebaggery or something right now?

Only one of these losses truly makes me sad.  That would be my surrogate mother-in-law, who reacted to my olive branch by alienating me in cliche form.  Yeah, the same one I wrote a love letter about a couple weeks ago.  Chosen family is only family until you're under the influence of a lie, then they're disposable family.  Oh well.  A new alpha fag has been chosen, and a new surrogate mother-in-law will come in time.

I hate that I feel such a strong need to have that sort of a relationship with someone in my life at all times.  At 30, I still don't feel like much of a grown-up.  Adult matters make me feel like Bambi on wobbly legs.  I don't need someone to baby me or to do things for me, I just want someone who's been doing this grown-up thing for awhile to be my friend and well...I guess a mentor, of sorts.

But back to yelling.  It sucks.  It makes my head hurt.  The adrenaline rush usually renders me useless for 5-10 minutes, then once it dies down, thus begins the withdrawal migraine.  I yelled last night and actually woke up with a sore throat today.  WTF?  But physical shit aside, it's just so unseemly.  It shouldn't be necessary, ever, but sadly, it is. 

I guess I should just be grateful that I've ceased being a doormat, and that I'll actually stand up for myself now.  That's major progress.  I suppose this is the inevitable backlash, though--after spending so many years of running from conflict or just trying to smooth things over, I suppose it's only natural that upon waking up, I come out roaring.



p.s.  I have a new fatkini!  Springs trip tomorrow--hopefully I'll have some pics then!

FATKINI.

I've had a really rough, busy few weeks. Sorry about the lack of updates. There's so much that's happened/is still happening. Mostly good things. One really viciously bad thing. But I don't want to talk about it.

So what do I want to talk about?

MY NEW FATKINI.

Yep. I bought a bikini from loveyourpeaches.com. I've been considering it forever and decided to go ahead and take the leap. $90 is a lot to spend on a swimsuit of any sort, but my husband said it was totally fine with him as long as I wore it more than once.

Ha.

I've been living in that thing. So far, it's seen three trips to the springs, one trip to Reed Bingham state park, and a trip to Jenny's pool. After all these years of "hiding my shame" in a one-piece or tankini, I could never, ever go back. First and foremost, a bikini is infinitely more comfortable than any of the other options currently available for plus-size women. Easy access when you have to pee. No carrying heavy layers of wet lycra/spandex around with you when you get out of the water. No standing there, wringing your suit out, looking like you're peeing, before you can walk from one place to another. Cool breezes on the tummy.

I know it's not everyone's cup of tea. Honestly, I don't think I ever would have gone through with it were it not for my fibromyalgia diagnosis. I've finally hit the "anger" stage. I'm not mad at "god", because that's pointless. "Why me" makes no sense to me. Why not me? What makes me so damn special that I'm supposed to be immune from life's slings and arrows? And I'm certainly not mad at my body. It's doing the best it can. I'm just...angry. Angry that I'm going to hurt for the rest of my life, and that it's likely going to get worse. I know that the longer I keep my big ass in motion, the better my chances of retaining my mobility are. I just received my first cane in the mail yesterday, and while it's all pretty and blue and happy-looking, ordering it certainly drove home the point that I've got to start really living and enjoying my two working human legs right now.

I'm sort of...throwing myself at life. Yeah, that's a difficult proposition for an agoraphobic, but it's gradually getting easier to get out and do things. I want to do as much as I can, while I can. And if I never lose my mobility, well, good for me...I've led a full life.

So that brings me back to the bikini. My awesome friend Brandy let me borrow one of hers for a summer when I was 15, but I only wore it when we'd go swimming in my neighbor's pool. I bought one on clearance when I was 18, but only wore it to the beach when I was going with 1-2 good girlfriends. I've never just put on a bikini and strutted my ass down to the nearest large puddle. Age 15? I was a size 16. Age 18? Size 18. At 30, I'm a size 24, and have infinitely more confidence than I did as a teenager. I think I'm more attractive now because of it. Oddly enough, other people seem to feel the same way about it. Every single time I've been to the springs in my bikini (with my pink hair and tattoos and piercings), people have felt the need to talk to me. Complimenting my hair/tats/etc., asking random questions, commiserating about the icy-cold water...and sometimes, I happen to lock eyes with someone and get the biggest grin, which is contagious and leaves me grinning, too. Something about being so purposely visible draws positive attention. I haven't seen or heard any heckling, pointing and laughing, or any negativity directed towards me. Either nobody's hating, or the haters have the good sense to closet themselves. I mean, you all know I'm a kitten in wolves' clothing, but they don't know that. I look like I could do some damage.

I'm on the right.  Age 15.  Thought I was too hideously fat to have anyone but Brandy see me like this.  WTF, Julie.

It feels really amazing to go to my favorite place and swim and paddle around completely unfettered. Madison Blue Springs is a vital part of my therapy, mental and physical. It's beautiful, it's peaceful, and I've always been a water baby. Water is calm and comfort to me. The river is swimming and floating, warm and cold currents, rocks and slime, a constant game of paddling or balancing or finding new and creative ways to anchor myself to a foam pool noodle. And yep, it's actual exercise too. Twice a week of all that has got to be good for me. My skin is golden. The spring itself is bravery in the face of icy water, floating and looking at the perfect circle of trees above my head while the cold water reduces the inflammation in my back. Putting on goggles to stare at the fish and letting my imagination wander through everything that could be down in the cave below.

It really is complete and total freedom to do all these things that I love and that heal my mind and body in ultimate comfort and without an ounce of shame. It's one of the things that's going very, very right in my life right now.

Want your own fatkini? Hit up Janelle at www.loveyourpeaches.com. There's several styles of tops and bottoms available. I chose the bandeau top with the bow in the skulls print with red trim, and the high-waisted boy shorts, also in skull print with a red waistband. Both pieces fit perfectly, and are incredibly well-made. I'm a 42DD, and the top is actually supportive enough to not need an underwire! Janelle provides awesome customer service, too. I highly recommend Love Your Peaches, and when I wear this fatkini out, I'll be back for another.