CONFESSIONS OF A FAT GIRL

Father Tiger

A very old friend from high school, who may not even remember our precious time together in math class, has released a single I find rather catchy so I am sharing it with you, my ever-so-close friends and family.

Here is their site: http://www.fathertiger.com

Here is their recent plea to help make them famous (and you should totally help cause then when they're famous, you can say you knew about them FIRST): http://www.reverbnation.com/c/fr5/artist_1017303?eid=A1017303_5890488

And HERE, ladies and gents, is their song "Shell" which I find pretty fun and fabulous, sort of a 1980s dance throwback for me. I see leg warmers, jelly bracelets and high pony tails - and I'm not minding it:

FATHER_TIGER-Shell

Enjoy it. I've never posted music before -- hope that works. 

 

I Gotta Get Out!

Too. Much. Stress.

I have to confess - when I feel this way I get remarkably antsy. I start doing ridiculous things like dye my hair (black "level 2," check!) and/or treat myself to something random (so far, only a Chai Latte from Aroma). 

I've also gotten my grubby hands on some tickets. Tickets to Artisinal LA, tickets to a Halloween spectacular at the El Capitan... I'm going to a screening on Friday...

I'm in the kind of mood where I wanna drive around for a while, just to see what I can see. Maybe something new would catch my attention. Maybe something would interest me.

Alas, I have nothing more profound to offer you - there's not a whole lot going on worth sharing. I feel ambitious, lost, found, bored, lazy and motivated all at the same time. 

I'm the friggin' Magic Mountain of emotions. 

Shopping in the UK from the USA

If you wanna spend the approx. $13 for oversees S&H, looks like this site has a lot of great plus size fashion. Also, added bonus, some pretty edgy pieces from indy icon, Beth Ditto...

Ok, so here is what happened....

So last night, a group of us rented a little party bus to trek on down to the Oktoberfest at Torrance' s Alpine Village. We rented the bus so that we could all be free to drink without worry. Surely, on a bus, we would be safer.

WRONG!

It first went awry when the bus driver got a little turned around getting off the 110 freeway. We went a bit past the where we needed to be. And then at the intersection of Normandie and Torrance Blvd. - a not-so-great neighborhood, might I add - there was a car accident. One small car had rear ended another. Our bus driver, totally oblivious, SLAMMED into the rear car. 

I didn't even know what had happened at first. I just heard the sound. I thought we'd just stopped short. And me, sitting on the rear bench of the bus, right in the middle, with nothing in front of me to stop me -- I flew (I mean, I really flew) right off the seat and out into the aisle, where I landed SPLAT! on my whole body. 

Much thanks to all of my friends who reacted quickly and to whomever helped me up (I don't even remember now). 

No thanks at all to the EMTs who couldn't even treat my skinned elbow and knee because they claimed they did not carry anything that could clean a wound or bandages in their truck. I'm still not buying that story. And on that note, no thanks at all to the bus driver who didn't have a proper first aid kit on board. 

Luckily, all the PD and CHP officers who came to the scene were nice guys. 

My brother was the true saint of the evening, driving all the way down there to get me so I could go home. I could not get myself to go down to Oktoberfest after that. I wanted my bed. And like a gallon of Bactine. 

Mentally, I was much better this morning but I'm sore as all get out. The bruises are all starting to show - on the tops of my legs, my knee, elbow, my left arm, and on the right side of my chest so far. 

{{sigh}}

I'll say this, after my accident in 2005, I am aware of how much worse this could have been. And I am thankful that on a bus of over a dozen friends, only one of us was really injured (though I'm sure we will all have jacked up backs and necks now) and that only one other passenger (in the middle car) was hurt (and I hope she is okay - she was hysterical and clutching her chest). 

Thanks to everyone who's been asking -- I'm okay. Much love to fellow bus passengers. Hope everyone else is getting some rest, too.

IT. GETS. BETTER. (No, really - it does.)

Tyler Clementi, 18. Justin Aaberg, 15. Billy Lucas, 15. Asher Brown, 13. Seth Walsh, 13.

They are the names of five boys who committed suicide during the month of September. They were boys being harassed because of their sexual orientation and things were so dire, they felt they had no other choice. Nowhere else to go.

I want you to recall the saddest you ever felt and then quadruple it. What would YOU do? If you can answer that question pretty quickly, I am happy for you. It is as it should be. And if you can't answer that question at all, I welcome you to the internet. Use Google. There is a LOT of help out there, I promise. Teens, I urge you to take advantage of The Trevor Project.

The issue of bullying really resonates with me. At its core is the issue of equal rights and as I've said, I find the idea that anyone should be treated like a sub-human completely divisive and absurd. Personally, it quickly - and with pain - reminds me the times I was bullied, made fun of, taunted... I was a strong teenager but there were plenty of those moments where I crumbled on the inside. Plenty of times I sat in my room, furiously writing in my diary about some pretty strong emotions.

Specifically, I recall a time I arrived at the bench where my neighbor and I met to walk home from school together. One day the bench was painted with several swastikas. It was unreal. I mean, it was REALLY unreal. It was the first - and maybe even the only - time I considered being Jewish was "different." Until then, I was just me and I was the same as any other kid.

But we get over those things. In fact, I'm over most of the haunts of my adolescence save a few. In eighth grade, as I got up from a lunch table, one of the more popular boys beeped at me. You know the sound I mean -- it's the one a truck makes when it's backing up... I snapped around and called him something biting like "pencil dick" and spent the afternoon sending death glares in his direction, trying to act like it hadn't bothered me. Clearly, as I am 31 years old now, and this is one of the things I did not get over, it bothered me.  

I will not continue to relive the traumas of my overweight youth. You get the point. Bullying is bad. It is cruel. Let's not fool ourselves - we all have a little devil inside of us, we all talk about people behind their backs or poke fun at people in hideous outfits across the street - but you know what I mean. I won't pretend I'm perfect but I'm still going to preach. 

I volunteer with teenagers and the ones I work with most directly will tell you that I am FIERCELY protective of them. When I find out they are hurting, I hurt. And I try to do everything I can to make the hurt stop. When I read about teenagers who did not have someone to help them with their hurt, my heart aches. 

Once again, please check out the It Gets Better Project on Facebook and YouTube. It's a great line. IT. GETS. BETTER. No one is denying it will hurt, they are just trying to help you know it won't hurt forever. It's a light at the end of the tunnel. 

Check out Ellen's thoughts on the matter - she is so remarkable. 

And watch this most heartfelt video from Zachary Quinto (warning: it made me cry):

 

 

I am an EXCELLENT liar... BUT WAIT!

BUT WAIT! It's true - I am an excellent liar. 

Yet there remains one person I cannot lie to: MYSELF. (Who saw that coming? I know you did because we all know how predictable I am by now, don't we?)

Oh, also, I cannot lie to my best friend. Mostly because I have no reason to. Her opinion of me is pretty rock solid and I'm pretty sold on that. I don't worry about lying to her. 

Point being, I've tried to tell myself some whoppers lately. And it ain't working. 

For example, I have to finally admit to myself, and to all of you nice people, that I think "Glee" is a pretty lousy show.... and at the same time, I'm totally gonna keep watching it. The writing is totally mediocre, not to mention void of any semblance of reality (yes, it's television but it's still gotta be based in some reality for me). Too many of the characters have become unlikeable (Am I still supposed to like Rachel? Really?) and it's come to my attention that the best singers and dancers aren't even the stars of the show (read: MORE BRITTANY AND SANTANA, PLEASE). There is way too much stunt casting and the plots are now becoming far too contrived just so they will cooperate with the songs the writers wanna use that week. 

Gwyneth Paltrow is gonna be on the show? Bruce Springsteen wants in? Liza? ... Ok, wait, I'd like to see Liza. I'll give you that one, Ryan Murphy. 

Way too much analysis there? Don't worry. I'm a Broadway Baby and I still plan to Tivo that show every week just to enjoy the musical numbers. (But let's stay away from rapping, kiddies. It's not a strength.)

Oh, I also hope to see Mark Salling without his shirt on. Please and thanks. 

Self Statements

In lieu of actual, organized blogging, I draw inspiration from my old friend Karoline's blog. I used to do self statements in my old blog all the time --

And holy shit, on a whim, I just found my old blog, it still exists and I am SO EMBARRASSED of that thing. I must find out how to remove it immediately lest someone I don't know and may wanna know some day finds it.... LOL. (And no, I'm not telling you where it is. I worked very hard at the time to hide it and back then, circa 2002-2004, I was still quite the little amateur hacker.)

-- ANYWAY, before that shocking realization (yikes!), as I was saying: self statements. I find them kind of cathartic. You never know what will come out and because you have to write about yourself. For as many bullet points as you can. Once I got up to 100 of them. And as self-serving as blogs are, it's actually a good way to AVOID yourself sometimes. Self statements are blunt, quick, true facts about me. 

01. I am between sizes right now and it, literally, makes me cry. My clothes are all too big and it's more uncomfortable than you'd think. And the next size down is too tight. Frustration is actually the #1 thing that brings me to tears.

02. I don't read enough. I'm in a book club and it requires about a book a month, but I am capable of reading more than that and there's so much I want to read. I don't know how to better motivate myself.

03. A couple months ago, I decided to write a book. No joke. I got a prologue and a chapter out and every now and then jot down a few thoughts. It comes to me sporadically and when it does, I get excited and feel sort of liberated by it. 

04. I have the highest regard and respect for teachers. I can name every teacher in my past that made an impact on me - positive or negative. Like my fourth grade teacher who hit me across the face with my blue notebook for mouthing off and my twelfth grade English teacher (who I am friends with on Facebook!) that taught me everything I ever needed to know about writing. 

05. The fact that gay people cannot get married in every state in this country is completely absurd to me. And that people think homosexuals are lesser citizens is patently ridiculous to me. And I HATE when people tell me I'm not allowed to get that upset because I'm not gay. I mean, I can get REALLY passionate about this. I've donated money to the cause (I'm broke and I NEVER donate to political causes) and I've marched for it and dressed for it. I've made myself sick just thinking about it too much. And I'll shutup about this now -- oh, but first I'll tell you to check out the #ItGetsBetter project, which is amazing: click here and/or here.

06. This song is currently making me smile (even though I am one of the "crazy girls") and this song is a close second. I'm all about the cheesy feel-good music right now. 

07. I don't care who you are. The Harry Potter series kicks the Twilight series' ASS. Books AND movies. You cannot argue with me on this. It's fact. Also, just FYI, I am still really enjoying the Percy Jackson series.

08. When the "Hawaii 5-0" theme song comes on (like it did a couple minutes ago), I bounce my head and sort of shimmy my shoulders. It's an involuntary reaction. Don't judge me. 

09. I'm 31 years old. I never make my bed, I sleep with like five pillows and a large stuffed animal, and I'm totally afraid of the dark. You should totally judge me. 

10. I hate my hair. It's true. I've suffered from dry scalp for years and years. The color, which I used to love, is now turning gray ((sigh)) and it's basically a frizzy mess unless I spend an hour or more styling it. It's hours and hours of my lie, not to mention countless dollars, I'll never get back in the name of good hair. I shake my fist at you, hair. (P.S. I really need to have it done. Am thinking of getting it cut, colored and blown out Saturday. In case you were curious.)

 

This entry is is dedicated to Judy.