Making The Jump: One Foot Outta the Closet

Classes at the University begin this month and I finally did what I've been mulling about for the last two months: I requested to join the United Student Pride club, an LGBT club for lesbians, gays, bisexuals, transgendered, and transsexuals.

I knew eventually I'd have to own up to my physical and emotional attraction to females, I just postponed it by, oh, about 15 years. I've known since I was 13, when I was sleeping over at my best friend's house and I woke up aroused beside her. I looked at her and realized I wanted to caress her face and run my hand up her thigh and cradle her breasts in my hand. It was such a strong impulse I leaped out of bed and run around the house like a hyper cat. I suddenly felt free, real, sincere, eager, and scared. That was the first time I fell in love. Nothing came of it, we got into fights and we stopped talking. Then, men began to show a pushy interest in me and I let myself get pushed into relationship after relationship with men I was not attracted to. I had always watched the gay pride movement out of the corner of my eye, letting others do the hard work, while I hid in my bedroom masturbating to the pretty busty women of Swank films, and wishing I had the nerve to admit what I was.

I think if I had come out sooner I would have found a female lover by now, somebody that I really mesh well with. I also think I would have a greater sense of self and self-respect, since I would have been fighting for equality alongside my peers. I will always regret not coming out sooner, but the years flew by and I can't do anything about those years anymore.

Last month I attended the funeral of my 24 year old cousin who committed suicide June 25th. I miss him terribly but I vow not to let his life go out in vain. I will do what I must to prove that life is worth living. I will be true to myself and to others and not live a life of secrets, regrets, and shame.

Coming out to my University is just the first step. I also have to be honest about being a shizo-affective, a person who suffers from the biological disease of paranoid schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. Previously, I hid it from everybody but the people I already knew had a similar diagnosis. I can no longer pretend to be what I wanted to be: a straight girl with a"normal" mind. I have to be honest with others, even if that means losing some of them in the process.

And no, being crazy doesn't have anything to do with being a bisexual. I just got a colorful combination of genes when I was conceived.

Now I fit into nearly every minority out there: a Mexican-East Indian American mixed race, bisexual, schizo-affective, female from a low socio-economic area. The US consensus takers must be really frustrated with me, trying to pin down all the labels that apply!

Just writing this makes me feel less remorseful for my life of secrets.

Abuse of Fat People By Strangers

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3o5gdDWZFU&feature=related

This is a link for a youtube video about abuse against fat people by society. I guess it makes sense, as the poet Charles Bukowski put it, people who have no talent become really skilled at hating others, it becomes their only talent, and that's the way it is right now in America. No longer allowed to publicly hate minorities, these haters are focusing their attention on plus size women. They're really good at promoting their hatred.

For example, on a youtube video of an obese woman dancing and enjoying herself 100% of the first page of comments were horrible, cruel, and devastating to read. Some told her she shouldn't post videos that 'promote obesity and disease' that's funny, considering she was dancing, which is an exercise. Others told her they wanted to puke. This is truly the last socially acceptable form of discrimination and hate crimes (verbally harassing somebody on the street is technically illegal).

It's not enough that fat people are forced to put up with discrimination from clothing manufacturers, bra manufacturers, and whoever makes those desks at the University, but now fat people must also tolerate hatred, demeaning comments, stereotypes, and prejudice everywhere they go by total strangers. If you're one of these people, you should know: a fat person can lose weight, but you can't lose that attitude problem you have.

Why do we tolerate assholes, bigots, and slanderers over a person who just wants to shop for clothes or buy groceries without unwanted comments, sneers, or laughs? From now on I vow to say a loud F$$% you asshole to anybody who comments on the size of my thighs, butt, or boobs.

And for the record, reading these ugly, hateful comments all over the internet makes me want to STOP losing weight, and GAIN weight so that at least I know I won't attract any of these callous, superficial brain-dead assholes that like to belittle innocent people. So, if your point is to get fat people to lose weight, you f--- up, I don't want to be like you. I want to know who you are so I can avoid you, not attract people like you. You're really hindering my weight loss by having major attitude problems and there should really be a clinic for assholes. Like asshole rehab or something.

~Thick Bitch

weight loss: 20 pounds in 4 months

Being bombarded with Carl's Jr. commercials and billboards promoting the latest beer brand makes weight loss an exercise in self-discipline. Everywhere I go, drink Coke, eat meat, buy Bud light, and always, always, it's being advertised by a size 0 model with huge breast implants and a winning smile. As if! There is no way that pretty model ate that burger in her hand, or drank that calorie-laden beer she holds. She probably is underweight, according to the BMI chart, and in no position to tell me how to eat healthy, let alone tell me to eat at a fast food joint or to buy beer.

To make things worse, there is no salad bar at my University, meaning that my choices are extremely limited. After shying away from the campus Taco Bell, I went into the snack bar, passing the Panda Express and Subway along the way. Once inside the snack bar, I could choose between a chicken microwavable burrito, a brownie, a sugary muffin, or a bag of chips. I could have one of their many sodas, energy drinks, or a coffee. I settled on a bag of chips and a large coffee, trying to reason with my gurgling stomach that the coffee would sooth the hunger pangs.

Despite eating only an egg at midday and getting lots of exercise through rowing and walking, I felt guilty ripping open the bag of chips. I'm way overweight. I'm 168 right now at 5'1-5'2. Every tiny choice I make inflates my fat cells and increases my risk of diabetes and fat-clogged arteries. No, I don't have any health problems. I just had a blood test and physical last week, and to my surprise, my thyroid hormone levels have raised into the normal range. My blood pressure was fine, my pulse fine. Yet I'm fat, so fat. Only part of it is the psychotropic medications my psychiatrist has me on, and only part of it is the poor decisions I made several years ago, yo-yo dieting, starvation dieting, and eating junk food. I've been a mostly healthy vegetarian for the last 4 months now, and yet I've only lost about 15-20 pounds. That's only five pounds a month. So what gives?

Unfortunately, the decision to lose weight at any cost has left severe consequences now. Starvation diets slows the metabolism, something not easily remedied, even years later. Plus, you either give in to hunger or you die, and I'm not dead. Once you start eating regularly, your body stockpiles every precious calorie on the chance that a Victoria Secret model will send you on another starvation diet sometime in the future. It's not easy to lose weight now. A non-yo-yo dieter would have lost much more than I have in the same time frame and on the same diet. But enough whining, I have lost weight, I will continue to lose weight, and I will do so eating brain and body healthy foods every day.

One trick I've learned the past four months is to use Indian spices on all my vegetables, with double the cayenne pepper. Coriander, cumin, garam masala, turmeric, and cayenne pepper are all ways to make a vegetable delicious and these spices also raise your metabolism and make you feel fuller than you really are. My favorite meal has got to be a zucchini drenched in lemon juice, sauteed in olive oil with the above spices simmering, and with a dash of black pepper ground onto the zucchini in the last stages of cooking. It's so good I have to immediately stick all but a small portion into the fridge lest I return for seconds.

Another trick I've learned is to refrain from snacking after 7:30 pm, and instead drink green tea with no sugar and just a little bit of fat-free creamer. I know, half and half is terrible for a dieter, fat-free or not. But seriously, you will have to pry that carton of half and half out of my cold dead hands. I cannot stand tea or coffee without it. And if I don't get my coffee or chai, I will start rummaging through the fridge for something to snack on. So instead I drink chai and don't snack on anything.

I watched this documentary, on fat and it was a very eye-opening experience. In this documentary, we follow several people who have either lost weight or are trying to lose weight. We also get to hear from a specialist who studies the digestive tract. The data was surprising. The specialist says there are transmitters in the gut, like neuro-transmitters in the brain, except they're gut-transmitters. He claimed that the gut was like a second brain, I am not joking or exaggerating!

Here is the title. It is available on amazon dot com. FAT: What No One Is Telling You. (2007). PBS Home video.

So anyways, what really caught my eye was the plight of a formerly morbidly obese female comedian. Over the course of a number of years, she lost all her weight, except for some extra pounds that refuse to leave. She went from being mega morbidly obese to moderately overweight! How did she do it? She began to eat small portions of healthy food with little snacking. More incredibly, she exercises for hours each day, without fail! The video showed her slipping into one of those full body work-out suits that make you sweat a lot, and using multiple exercise machines, plus cardio and weight exercises.
'All this so I can be chubby,' she dead-pans.

What is this point of my relating all this to you? Regardless of how you got to weigh what you weigh: life circumstance, medications, metabolism, poor decisions, whatever, you know have a problem you have to deal with. No, it's not fair that people laugh and harass you, make you feel unworthy of love and respect, or that clothes are hard to come by because discrimination is so rampant, but a problem is still a problem that needs to be addressed. This film made me realize that like my homework, I must work harder than the rest just to get an A.

Wish me luck, with some hard work, I can drop another 20 pounds in the following months: then I'll just be a little plump!

ShopAholic

Among other things, such as being a schizo-affective and overweight, I'm also a compulsive shopper. I gave up smoking marijuana not just because it was a cop-out from dealing with my issues, but also because quitting pot freed up my small income. I soon replaced my marijuana habit with a shopping habit.

Since the time that I quit marijuana my weekly visits to the corner thrift store became daily visits. My internet use patterns became more and more focused on amazon dot com and ebay, and my wishlist ballooned. The UPS driver became friendly to the point of joshing with me about my shopping habits every time he delivered another package from my online shopping sprees. I went through 2 thousand dollars from June until right now, leaving me with a pittance of 14 dollars in the bank, and no income until I get my next University grant. What did I buy for 2 thousand dollars? Here are some examples from my latest shopping spree:
~ a new windows 7 all-in-one desktop computer. Question: Did I really need it, having purchased a mac laptop last semester, with 200 GB still free? The answer was yes, because it came with a free XBOX 360. Have I played Dead Space 2 yet? Not once.
~ a rowing machine for 140 dollars. This purchase I can justify in that I need to lose weight and yes, I am actually using it at least 3 times a week for more than 15 minutes per session.
~ 300 dollars of bras. Question: Do I need more than 4 bras? Probably not. Question: Do they even fit? Nope, the cup size is too small.
~ 50-100 dollars worth of music. Question: Why do I need music? Yes, it's therapeutic, but I could just have bought some art supplies for the same amount that would have entertained me for longer. At least I'm not supporting piracy, though.
~ IPOD classic. I don't want to say how many GB's it holds, as you would question as to whether or not I needed to buy such a large storage amount. Question: what's wrong with a simple MP3? Nothing, I just got envious of people with IPOD's.
~ a cell phone: this I actually needed. Perhaps I didn't need to pay for 3 months of unlimited texting up front. Too late.
~ a pair of lace up boots and a pair of DKNY ballet-style shoes. Question: have I worn them out in public? Yes, I wore my DKNY shoes to school but had to walk home bare foot because they were so uncomfortable they left cuts on my feet. Since then I tossed them out (price: 50-60 bucks). Boots: Never worn them, maybe in December.

Those are the main, most expensive items I bought, not including the myriad of small purchases, sprees at the thrift store, and random book buying sprees.

I regret spending all my money because now I can't rent a movie or buy a haircut. I also regret not buying my mother and grandmother a little something, aside from purchasing their birthday cakes, and small presents. I feel selfish and guilty. The look on my mother's face when she walked into my room and saw the pile of packages waiting to be opened was enough to make me feel shame instantly. I could have donated to charity! Or saved up for rent money so I could go to grad school outside of my hometown! I was thinking these things and yet I couldn't stop clicking the little button on amazon, that little "buy with one click" button. It's like having a materialistic addiction.

The funny thing is, I'm not particularly materialistic. I've never had money to spend, I've always worked minimum wage jobs or gone to school with limited financial aid assistance. I even worked 2 minimum wage jobs to pay for a year of study at the community college after my financial aid money was capped at the community college.

What happened? Stressors, new environment, sudden expectations by professors and family, deaths in the family, break-ups, old debts sending me new bills, loneliness, insecurity, loss of friends, pressure to be tidy, quiet, and a good girl at home, and homework deadlines.

I have another lump sum coming in September and I'm nervous about it. On the one hand, I'd like a music creation software program so I can make my own music, a hobby that soothes me and carried me through hard times, on the other hand, I need to save my money for grad school.

Ah, challenges.

Confessions of a Closet Bisexual

What do I have to lose, I did state I was a confessional writer.

She was a size 2, taller than me, with a deep voice, and a model's open, blank face. We were in British literature together and when she approached me to ask what we did the day she missed class, I felt something flutter out of her, like a question mark hanging in the air.

I told her what we did, glancing away, feeling sheepishly uncomfortable. I couldn't gauge why she was asking me, of all people, I wasn't part of her clique, those girls who sit clustered together, their skinny bodies, their effortless hair, the brand name jeans, and their sparkling cell phone covers that glittered in their hands while they texted. They were like upper class posh girls, barely 20, and there I was, age 28, a size 14 and only five feet tall, dressed in thrift store khakis and a low cut thrift store tank top, with ratty blue walking shoes, and the only thing to my name the A grade I got on my exam.

I looked around, we were alone in the room. She began to talk to me, telling me about her modeling shoot. At first I was a little put off, I am sort of anti-fashion, as you might guess, but I didn't want to brush her off or appear too jealous so I asked her how it went and who was she modeling for. We chatted, I let her go on and on about her shoot, the exact position of the male model, the cost of the jewelry they posed her in (40,000 dollars worth of jewelry), and how much money she made.

This girl caught me totally off guard, one minute I was analyzing Mary Shelley's Frankenstein in my journal, the next I'm sitting next to a real-life model queen describing her glamorous life. I figured she wanted to brag to somebody, but there was a weird undercurrent I was getting. She walked over to my desk and stood behind me, peering at my class notes. She was standing close enough for me to smell her shower freshness. She asked me to tell her what she'd missed and she kept tiptoeing closer, until her black designer t-shirt caressed my shoulder. I was suddenly turned on. OHhhhh, I realized, you're a tomboy. Then students entered the classroom, glanced at us, me sitting with the model leaning over my shoulder, and the model girl fled back to her seat. The moment was ruined. At the time, I didn't get what exactly that moment was, but I felt a deep conviction that the model girl had been enjoying her time alone with me, and vice versa.

For the rest of the class we kept throwing discrete looks at each other. I glanced at her skinny arms to make sure she didn't have a severe eating disorder, she glanced at my wrist tattoos. She didn't speak to anybody else when everybody else took their seats, and whatever energy she had displayed with me had become muted into a silent, brooding stare aimed mostly at her desk.

I might have approached the model girl on my own the next day, except my friend, a busty linguistics major like myself, was curious about how my Arabic class was going, and I had turned my attention to my friend, as I had a secret crush on her with her blue eyes and long dirty blonde hair, and those oversized t-shirts that minimized her assets. Then class ended last week, and I can still feel that vibe the model girl gave off when it was just the two of us, so close.

I know what you're thinking, why would a pretty model want me? It's just attraction, sometimes to a body, sometimes to a face, sometimes to a mind. You can't control who you become attracted to, and I felt her being drawn to me for whatever reason (I'm guessing my mind, as I am too plump).

Now that I'm waiting for my British literature grade to be posted, my thoughts keep turning back to her, to her deep, guttural voice and clear skin. Will I ever see her again? If I do, would I have the courage to spark a friendship? Maybe exchange email addresses?

Being a closet bisexual is difficult. The only time I came on to a girl I was soundly rejected. She was not into me, at all. I felt that sting for years to the point where it prevented me from coming out. It seemed like a lot of hassle just to get rejected by the girl I liked.

I still haven't had sex with a female. I'd like to, it's the only thought that excites me, men barely excite me, and they usually ruin my arousal by acting like assholes, but I'm too shy. I'm only an exhibitionist online. In real life, I'm studious, introverted, and afraid of rejection.

I tried to come out to my ex-boyfriend, not the one I just broke up with, but one from a long time ago who I've kept in contact with for many years, but he wouldn't have it. He kept changing the subject.  I love him dearly, but it's this model girl who invades my thoughts all the time. Wherever she is, I want her back.

New Bra Hunt

Well, I don't fit into any of these expensive bras anymore. What a shame, I didn't mind being a 36H/36FF (UK measurement is FF for US H), but I am bursting out of these cups and the under-wire is hitting the side of my breast rather than the resting naturally on my torso. So, sorry Panache bra, you don't fit me anymore. Another 40 bucks down the drain...maybe there is a bra charity that will give my non-fitting bras to needy, big busted babes.

I like my Cacique bras sooo much, but the cups are also too small and my boobs look like helium balloons about to fly off into outer-space. Those bras were 38DDD, and I have about 4 or 5 of them, having purchased them a couple of months ago when they were buy 2 get 2 free. Alas, it looks like I'll have spend my next check on a bigger sized bra. The question is, which one? The 36 band fits snug, but I prefer 38 because 38 bands tend to be more elastic, why, I don't know, maybe it's the manufacturer, but whatever it is, the band is always wider, with more hooks, and more flexible than a 36 band. If DDD cups don't fit, what comes next? 38G (or 38F in the UK) is the next size up, according to yahoo answers.

So confusing! AND I've spent lots of my free time watching youtube videos on how to fit yourself for a bra, searching websites for tips, and measuring, re-measuring, and re-re-measuring my torso and breasts with measuring tape. I also used calculators, which state I should start by trying on a 40E (US), but a 40 band sounds too loose for me. This 38 DDD bra is snug but I can tug the back band about 2-3 inches away from my body with no real effort. Darn bra math. I need a math major to figure this out for me! Measure circumference of torso beneath the breasts....round up by 3 inches, measure the breasts, don't round up, subtract the difference....between what and what? Gee, it's a miracle I passed trigonometry with a B!

If I Eat Chicken Today Am I Traitor To the Vegetarian Cause?

I ate chicken and I feel a little guilty. Well, I feel pretty guilty. It doesn't taste good to me anymore, not after 4 months of going cold turkey off of turkey, chicken, and beef. I wasn't keeping up with my protein subs though, and I was feeling weak, physically and emotionally weak, and I made shredded chicken quesadillas with salsa. 

I got started as a vegetarian when a young woman approached me on a campus with a smile on her face. I assumed she must be handing me some Christian propaganda and I refused it. She offered it again. I took it, mostly out of pity than anything, and I was surprised to find it was a pamphlet for an anti-animal cruelty, pro-vegetarian group. Later that day, I flipped through it, reading the text and gawking at horrible photographs of pigs with their cute tails chopped off, each pig crammed in so tight they couldn't move, and a cow with a skinned face, it's eyes open in horror and pain. It startled me. It went against my belief that animals should be killed humanely. So I quit meat. I tossed out my hamburger patties and frozen chicken breasts and I began to refuse to eat eggs as well as flesh meat.

Morally, I felt better about myself because I wasn't condoning the cruelty of typical warehouse style slaughterhouses. I also asked my uncle if this treatment was common, as he used to work at a slaughterhouse, and it turned out it is a lot more common than the industry lets on. I won't repeat what happened to the animals whose deaths he witnessed, it's graphic and I don't want to repeat what wicked things go on behind closed warehouse doors. Suffice it to say, it was enough to over-ride my taste buds (my taste buds love meat) and it kept me from eating meat or eggs for about 4 months, up until my cousin's death last week. Then, during that stressful period, I began to eat chicken. It didn't taste as good knowing how the animal had died, but chicken is a comfort food for me, and I really needed comfort food. 

So here I am, 2 corn tortilla chicken quesadillas later, feeling remorseful. I apologize to the chicken I just ate. 

When I eat chicken I feel like I just binge ate. I feel remorse, guilt, weakness, gluttony, and full on meat. I don't like feeling full at all, it means I haven't made progress eating or standing for a cause. Again, don't follow my lead; chicken is easily replaced by non-meaty tofu and tofu saves a chicken from unspeakable cruelty.

"Gaining", a book on life after eating disorders

http://www.amazon.com/Gaining-Truth-About-Eating-Disorders/dp/B002IT5OXO/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_1

This book is available on amazon dot com. Written by a Aimee Liu, a former model who wrote one of the first memoirs about living with anorexia in the 60's and 70's, this new book focuses on her life afterwards; the triumphs, the relapses, and all the steps in between. She catches up with her old friends from high school, the same clique from her first book, "Solitaire", and writes about their lifestyles and eating habits.

This memoir surprised me in that there is quite a bit of scientific research in her book on statistics and the typical profile of anorectics/bulimics. She goes to a University and discusses the personality types with a pioneer in the field of eating disorders. It was very interesting to read the characteristics that are commonplace among those with an eating disorder.

What I didn't like was the hidden message anorectics give off: if you're overweight, you have more issues than I do, and you should do something about it. A reviewer on amazon dot com mentioned the same thing, that there is an undercurrent of disdain for normal sized and plump women. Compare this with books on  binge eating disorders, where you do not typically find comments that imply slender women are freakish or socially brainwashed. I think this may have to do with the profile type that the author describes at length: a perfectionist and critical person who needs to feel she stands out in a crowd. The question begs: what is perfect and who are you to make that call?

My best friend was anorexic the entire time I knew her and she was that way: highly critical of ME (for the record, I weighed 113-115 pounds and was a size 5 mostly, back then anyways). I was there to support her through her hospitalization after a car accident where it was revealed that she ate even less than I had assumed (and I already assumed she was an anorexic who refused to state it). It was painful to watch her try to pawn off her meal to me in the hospital, or when she spat out "I don't want to get FAT [like you]," to a gentle, overweight nurse who had the unfortunate role of caretaker.

Having read lots of memoirs what strikes me is the amount of hatred anorectics have for overweight people and in particular, nurses at hospitals, whose task it is to make sure their electrolytes are within range, and their heart rate remains normal. Yes, some nurses tend to be overweight, but this is not some conspiracy where fat people love to change the power dynamics in modern society (thin women rule, fat women serve or get out of sight): this is due to the fact that a lot of women who have the capability of care-taking a total stranger have an exaggerated selfless personality (perhaps not healthy). This means they care about strangers more than they care about their own well-being. Also, a lot of nurses had to play the care-taker role at home, and often times their childhood homes were turbulent. Turbulent childhoods often play a major role in over-eating, bulimia, and other disordered eating habits.

Anyways, I had to write that because the campus library has a limited amount of books on BED (binge eating disorders) and yo-yo dieters and a ton of memoirs by anorectics, so if I want to read a book on the plight of women and food, I have to read another anorectic's memoir. I don't mind, I just sometimes need to step back, out of this woman's mentality, and re-evaluate myself and society, so I don't find myself mimicking another disordered eating person.

After note: don't let my influential personality type stop you from discussing your issues. If you're suffering from anorexia, bulimia, or BED, please talk about it, as part of the illness revolves around a secret obsession with food and/or starvation. Secrecy breeds stigma, which is bad for everyone. I just wrote that above paragraph because I spent a lot of time around anorexics, one was my best friend for about 5 years, and the other was my boss, or rather, the wife of my boss who herself was a boss. I spent 3 years watching her pick at a salad every shift, and I eventually started doing the same due to my desire to fit in and what not. Then the salad became my sole meal, then I lost a lot of weight, went mad, got asylumed, and wound up gaining all that lost weight within 6 months of my release. My point: I'm easily influenced by the behavior of others, not their fault, it's mine. So if you have this illness, speak up!

White Roses Pointing To Heaven

I'm going to be posting up photographs I take around town to liven up this blog, as I don't want it to be purely grief-ridden scribbles your eyes are bombarded by.

This photo is dedicated to my cousin who committed suicide last month, 2011. He was 24, 4 years younger than myself.

Dear R--

Hopefully, you're in heaven, or maybe you're an Aztec hummingbird fluttering around. Either way, you're always in my heart and mind. Nothing can replace you, wish you knew that when you were alive.

Family and friends of suicide don't get the usual sympathy from people. I told a couple, some friends of mine, who I've known closely for a little less than a year, and they never responded to my email. We were supposed to hang out at their house last week but they didn't send me an email, so I guess we're not friends anymore. I don't understand; apprehension and confusion is one thing, but totally alienating me is another. They had offered condolences up until I mentioned it was a suicide. Perhaps it was too much for them, I'll never know.

On a lighter note, my college summer courses are going very well. Learning a foreign alphabet is a challenge, but it's worth the hard work.

Also, on a more superficial note, I've lost enough weight to fit into a size 14. My size 16 pants, which I was wearing up until this month, were all hanging off of my hips and I thought, nah, can't be that I need a smaller size...but I did! They fit snug but not too tight. On the plus side, I'm a size 14, which is down by a dress size. On the bad side, I have to go buy a new wardrobe so I can go to college without my pants slipping of me while I walk. Clothes=money. Me=no money.

I'm In Love Graffiti

This wasn't me that tagged 'I'm in love' on the freeway overpass, but I loved it so much I snapped a photograph. I imagine it was a passionate teenage boy who decided to proclaim his love for his new girlfriend to all the pedestrians crossing over the freeway by foot.

Things like this help keep my mood up. It's so touching, isn't it?

Light Through A Fern

A Few Books On Body Image

"Women, Advertising, and Representation: Beyond Familiar Paradigms"; edited by Sue Abel, Marjan deBruin, and Anita Nowak.
I checked out this book this week and my favorite chapter so far is "Lara Croft in Ads", which deals with Lara Croft the video game heroine and her symbolic representation of the ideal woman.

http://www.amazon.com/Women-Advertising-Representation-Paradigms-Communication/dp/1572739274/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1311089242&sr=1-1

"The Body Myth: Adult Women and the Pressure To Be Perfect", by Margo Maine and Joe Kelly
http://www.amazon.com/Body-Myth-Adult-Pressure-Perfect/dp/0471691585/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1311089315&sr=1-1

Another excellent book, "The Body Myth" deals with the scientific truth behind diets, obesity, and health. This is highly important, as all the doctors I have seen are not keeping up with the current research and studies done on health and weight issues. Instead, they spout the usual doctor rhetoric: if you eat well and exercise you will fall into a healthy BMI range. Not true, especially for a former yo-yo dieter, and a disordered eating person with an abnormal glandular problem (thyroid and pituitary glands). The more you diet, the more likely you will become obese in the future. Sound scary? It's been documented in numerous studies.

"Hungry", by Crystal Renn
http://www.amazon.com/Hungry-Appetite-Ambition-Ultimate-Embrace/dp/1439101248/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1311089374&sr=1-1

I am buying this book when I get some cash! Crystal Renn is my favorite model, along with Ashley Graham (the top heavy Lane Bryant model), and I recommend watching her NightLine interview on youtube.

Laying Tulips On Plath's Grave

Isn't it astounding to know that when "The Colossus" came out, Plath was admonished for being a hack, a wannabe, and a never-will-be? We know now that she is one of the titans of the poetry world, but back then her womanizing husband, Ted Hughes, got all the attention and awards.

What's really tragic is that she killed herself shortly after penning her opus, Ariel. You've all heard the story, tape along the door jams, head in the oven, children safe and sound asleep. But I think what's really telling is the poem, "Tulips."
"The tulips are too excitable,it is winter here." --first line of "Tulips" by Sylvia Plath.
Just the first line has layers of meaning. The juxtaposition of excited tulips with winter time is startling. The rhythm of the first line is intense. Imagery is prevalent. Of course, this was written about her experience with electroshock therapy, but it's written in such a symbolic way that it challenges our minds to grasp her mental landscape. She leads us into jungles of images, the white walls of the hospital, the excited tulips, the ever-seeing eye that must "take it all in," her body as a "pebble", and the red, red tulips that hurt her eyes; nowhere in literature or poetry has such anguish come across so vividly. Indeed, there is no melodrama in this poem, in fact, she's rather jaded, a rarity amongst modern, nostalgia-ridden poets, and her neat lines will stand for centuries to come. You can feel her life-force bleed through the ink. Maybe that was the problem, she saved none of herself for herself. Or maybe she had a serotonin imbalance.

I would be so lucky as to write a single poem that would be published in a respectable journal; Sylvia Plath had a whole book published. It hurts me to know that she had had enough with life, with her small failures, with her marital pain, as to remove herself entirely from this world. At least she left us a suicide note: the stanzas in Ariel.

This entry is a symbolic tulip I leave  on Sylvia Plath's grave; a token of devotion, a coin into a wishing well, wishing her peace wherever she is, that she might spark a moment of consciousness again and know that in 2011 people are deeply moved by her words and her life. A life can die, but not a legacy.

Reason to Live

As stated in previous blog entries, my cousin killed himself June 25th. He left the rest of the family disillusioned, heart-broken, and shattered. Having my own psychological problems, I faced certain questions, like why should I live? What point is there? I'm so insignificant, why bother to live?
Frankly, I'm still searching for concrete answers.
I talked to my ex-boyfriend today for several hours and he asked the same question: what is the point of living if there is no point in living? This made me sad. I answered: Go buy a kitten and take care of it. Was that lame? Probably. But there is nothing more powerful than reciprocated love, even if it's just the adoration of a pet.

Having split from my boyfriend this week, I feel unloved. So I fill the void with you.You who are reading this. You got this far in the blog entry, you  must either be curious, morbidly curious, or seeking for the same thing I am: love, acceptance, happiness, understanding, and hope.

They say, 'take it one day at a time, one step at a time' and I hate that. There is nothing like a cliche to take the meaning out of perfectly sage advice. For me, I  have to set small goals for myself and wake up every day asking myself how I can achieve that small goal. For tomorrow it's revise a paper on British literature, eat less, exercise for 20 minutes, study the next chapter in my Arabic language textbook, and start looking into graduate programs for Fall 2012.
There are two ways I could look at this: either I'm a failure for not having a BA at the age of 28, or I can take this as an opportunity to earn around three thousand dollars each semester, tax free. To compare, at my last crappy job delivering pizzas, I earned minimum wage, plus tips, as a part-time worker. That came to about five thousand dollars a year, waaaay below the poverty level. Half way through the year, I've already earned about six thousand dollars, with another check coming next semester in September. In one sense, I'm a total failure. In another sense, I've come up in the world. Since I like to spend money, I am going to see this as a positive step.
Perhaps I'm way behind the rest of the flock. Perhaps I'm fooling myself with the illusion of job prospects. Perhaps I should just give up....but then how would I afford expensive computer software like Ableton Live music mixing software? I could either give up here and now and refuse to get out of bed, or I can wake up early tomorrow, brew some coffee, and start my homework, knowing that there is a check waiting to be deposited into my bank account if I successfully complete my work. AND if I raise my GPA by .1 (cumulative GPA is a measly 2.9 right now, due to  mental illness requiring in-patient treatment, but my University GPA is 3.6), I qualify for even MORE money. No, money isn't a reason to live, but it sure makes you feel better in the short run. Along with the money there is also my bachelor's degree, which I should obtain by the end of next spring. There's also the allure of a graduate program. At the moment, my GPA is the minimum for entry into the program of my choice at the State University, but with some hard work I can boost it up with the two classes I'm taking now, plus the next two semesters.

A friend of mine from high school gave me the best advice on coping with loss: distract yourself. Study, read, do whatever you need to so that you don't start wallowing in pain. I have found this to be true. That's actually the reason I started this blog; to distract myself, to vent, to heal, to accept what I cannot change and change what I cannot accept. Oops, I wrote an oxymoron, well, you get what I mean.

My aim for these blog is to bare my soul to people who empathize or relate to my situation in life, thereby making it easier for them to feel like they are not alone. I want to create a safe spot where I can grow to accept myself and to strive to better myself, and hopefully, by showing my struggles, other people will find ways in which to cope and grow. Does that make sense? I'm not doing this for profit. I haven't monetized this blog, though there is a little button that allows me to do so, nor am I hoping for a lucrative writing contract (I actually penned an erotic e-book through a publisher already and I know all to well that it's next to impossible to make a living off writing). What do I want from this? Attention? Maybe, if you're that cynical, maybe, but I was hoping for change. Not drastic, go-on-Oprah-show-and-be-an-inspiration-to-millions change, but to bring change to a couple of people would make me happy. It would be another reason to live. Yeah, you are the reason I choose to live. Well, you and that three grand I get every five months, and my mother, and my grandmother, and my cat who would be very hungry without me, but you get the idea.

On weight, anti-psychotics, suicide, and metabolism

I have found an interesting and entertaining documentary concerning the existence of obesity. I hope that you already know why so many people are obese: the obesity gene began as a way of our early ancestors to survive through periods of famine without dying. A thin person would simply die, but an obese person would be able to live off all of their stored-up fat and still be able to bear children. This kept the human species alive for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Then, with the advent of food and medical technology, being obese was no longer an evolutionary advantage. Being thin became an advantage, especially a social advantage.

This documentary is available for free streaming on top documentary films dot com, and you can also find it on youtube. It's called "Why are thin people not fat?" Here is the link:
http://topdocumentaryfilms.com/why-are-thin-people-not-fat/
In this film the audience follows a group of naturally below-average-weight individuals who are put onto a daily caloric diet more than twice their previous diet. You may have heard of a previous experiment like this one. Prior to this film, there was a 1960's prison experiment where prisoners were allowed to leave prison early if they could get fat--some ate up to 10,000 calories a day (versus the 2,000 recommended caloric intake for males), and to the researchers' surprise, some failed to get fat.
The researchers in this documentary are looking into why some people can get fat and others can't. It's a very interesting watch, and I, as a thick woman, feel a little vindicated to finally see media that says people are genetically different, not just their genes but their metabolic rates as well (metabolism=how fast you burn calories, be it through exercise or transformation of calories into heat).

For myself I know what makes me fat: 1) hypothyroidism, which is a slowing down of my metabolic rate combined with low body temperature. This means that I can't burn off fat by converting it into heat because my body remains at a cool temperature. Also, the ability to burn off those calories through exercise is difficult, due to my slow metabolism.
At the moment, I'm not on synthroid, though I was in the past, due to the fact that health care in America is a murky swamp of paperwork and employment through which one must wade into to get the health care you need. Being unemployed, this makes health care impossible. Free clinics get booked so quickly that there is a 6 month wait period to see a doctor in the Central Valley of California where I live, with no guarantee that you're getting adequate health care. Now that I'm a student, I plan on making a trip to the campus physician to get my long-postponed prescription to treat my hypothyroidism.
2) Anti-psychotic medications, which I need to treat my schizo-affective disorder . Yes, I'm mentally ill, but you wouldn't be able to tell unless I'm acutely psychotic, which isn't that often off medication and doesn't happen at all on medication, so don't stigmatize me---I'm not a psychopath who goes berserk on innocent people. I also don't wander around town shouting obscenities; that's a different disorder. Nor do I accost random people to spout conspiracy theories, curse at them, or whatever preconception you have of mentally ill people. I just have different perceptions which scare me. But back to the topic: zyprexa pills are much like snicker's bars in that you will pack on weight if you eat one every day. I was on zyprexa for about a year, so imagine that. Hence, how I went from a moderate size 5 to a size 16 in less than five years. There is still research being done on why anti-psychotics cause extreme weight gain, some of which I believe (my opinion here) that some of the findings are being kept in the dark due to pressure and financing from major pharmaceutical companies. If you think that sounds like a paranoid talking (and, well, I am) then you should google Zoloft  and suicide risk and read the studies that were withheld until the relatives of suicides came forward and sued the pharmaceutical company for not disclosing that Zoloft increases the risk of suicidal behavior, especially in the initial period when medication is first taken.

Having just lost a cousin to suicide, I was not surprised to hear he was starting medication for depression. Frankly, I think the doctor and pharmaceutical company are liable for my cousin's death, but it's not my call at the moment. Plus, I'm still in mourning and I don't feel like thinking about who is to blame for the suicide of a 24 year old male with no history of suicide attempts (most suicides have a history of botched attempted suicide, they usually don't just kill themselves out of the blue). But now

I'm getting angry, so I'll change the subject: anti-psychotic medications made me gain weight. No, it wasn't lack of self-discipline or lack of exercise. I ate what I ate before. I admit, I liked pizza before and after my new medication, but I had never packed on more than 5 pounds for this indulgence. So I ate what I ate before, did my usual running before work, walked for miles during the day, and boom! 50 pounds settled on my short frame rapidly. Suspiciously rapidly. I had never had a problem with my weight before Zyprexa and all the other drugs I've been on (Geodon, Zoloft, Seroquel, Paxil, Zyprexa, Risperdal, Abilify, Zoloft-generics, and a host of others whose names I've forgotten). The moment I started taking the pills I began to plump up so quickly I began to think of myself as a puffer fish, you know, that one fish that expands into a balloon when you frighten it. ( image:http://www.google.com/search?q=puffer+fish&hl=en&biw=1280&bih=576&prmd=ivns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=BLEjTq-NPIHkiALCuLzOAw&sqi=2&ved=0CCsQsAQ)

Now, having been on heavy anti-psychotics off and on from the age of 23-24 to my current age of 28, I have found that every time I get OFF my medication I immediately begin to slim down. Several years ago I went off my medication, lost 15-20 pounds in a matter of months, got a little zealous, began a starvation diet, lost another 15 pounds, then, unsurprisingly, went mad, got quarantined in a psychiatric facility,  was forced to take weight-gaining anti-psychotic medications, along with having my diet monitored to the point where I was not allowed to leave the cafeteria without eating a certain percentage of my plate, and gained all my weight back again. I was so close to weighing 125! So close. But then I would have been a slim nutcase and the county psychiatrist thought that would be a liability.

So I learned that I must have some sort of borderline diet crazed mentality in order to reduce my pudgy body to a moderately overweight frame if I plan on being compliant with psychiatric treatment. Being both hypothyroid and on a steady diet of multiple psychotropic medications, I am competing with a natural propensity towards obesity, so the best I can do without developing a severe eating disorder is to be slightly overweight---and even that requires a minimalist, sugar-free diet mixed with excessive exercise and the high-end anti-psychotics that claim to have less side effects.

Here's an example of a typical diet day:
no breakfast.
If I eat breakfast it's always half a cup of yogurt. I then drink about 3-4 cups of coffee to keep me energized until lunch.
Lunch=small plate of zucchini with lots of spices to trick my taste buds into believing I'm eating something delicious, + 1-2 cups of chai (tea with milk). Snack=nothing.
Dinner=small portion of whatever I want. This can be more zucchini, but usually it's something a little greasier like a handful of home-made cumin fries with a salad or veggie burger with a piece of buttery garlic bread. I then drink 3 cups of tea to trick my body into feeling totally stuffed, and into bed I go. I wake up, weigh myself, and spend the rest of the day going to class, caring for my grandmother, doing my homework, and hunting down either a salad or a cup of coffee to chase away the hunger.

If you're wondering why I eat fries, the answer is simple: they taste good, they're everywhere, and I will cave in and binge eat if I abstain from eating comfort foods for more than a month. Sugar I don't like, and I rarely eat cake or ice cream unless it's my birthday or my relative's birthday, but butter---that's my achille's heel. So I eat it in moderation and not every day, or week for that matter. But when I do eat it, I feel guilty. Right now, there's a box of garlic bread in the freezer that is singing siren songs to me, but I already ate dinner so I must boil 4 cups of tea and drink until I feel full. Yes, this vegetarian, chai diet actually works: I've lost somewhere between 12-20 pounds since I started it this April. I can't be exactly sure since I didn't buy a new weighing scale until May something, and the initial weight loss occurs very quickly at the beginning (and then slows down...), but I do know that a month ago I weighed 179 and my weight this morning read 169. I can now fit into a size 14, but just barely. Oh yeah, on top of the diet, I walk to and from the bus stop (30 minutes each way) all week long, plus one hour of continuous power walking every day, plus 20 minutes on a rowing machine three times a week, plus 10-15 minutes of using a 10 pound weight one to two times a week. All this...and still on the borderline between overweight and obese. On the plus size, my internal organs will be in great shape in time for the beginning of my new judo class this fall semester, even though I can't wear a bathing suit because I'll still be too fat.

Crystal Renn, Plus Size Super Model

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=to-1voUiqL0&feature=related

Here is a youtube snippet of the famous supermodel Crystal Renn talking about her life and her new book, Hungry, on Nightline. The stunning brunette was a size 0 model for some time, all the while miserable, her skin sallow and gray, her face placid and dulled from constant hunger, until something inside of her changed. She stopped destroying her health and her happiness and decided to be healthy, not just skinny.

It's women like these who amaze me. I used to be a size 2 at age 19, now a size 16 at age 28. I still have issues showing my present thick body to people from my past. I know they'll judge me as falling off some wagon or losing all control, but it was just a combination of life circumstance and weight gaining medications that caused me to increase in size. I am glad for it, as I can tell who believes the hype and who can think critically just by the way they size me up at first glance.

Watching Crystal Renn gives me confidence to wear a skirt. Yes, I have issues wearing skirts because of my thick thighs. I wore one today. Several men stopped their cars to ask me out. Another just wanted to know my name. Isn't it funny how I let myself be put into a box just because of people's ugly comments? For heaven's sake, it's 100 degrees in the Central Valley, I can't keep wearing jeans because I'm afraid of the way my thighs may look in a skirt!

This is me, changing. This is me, healing, one psychic wound at a time. Thank you, Crystal Renn!

Plus Size YouTube Links

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cVRVj4wLxNw

Yes. Lingerie for a woman who lives life not under the mind control of the warped and woman-hating fashion industry.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMxyZQfMmM4&feature=related

The infamous Lane Bryant commercial that was banned from television. Why? Television uses fat people all the time, but I guess that's different since they are depicted as undesirable, disgusting, repulsive people who we should all avoid. Maybe it's different when all that flesh is actually an undeniable turn on. It's okay to show lap dancing Victoria Secret models in sheer bras, but a thick, stunning woman with a set of amazing breasts is discriminated against and banned? Is this America or some other repressed country?

Message From a Thick B$&* To Hate-Mongers Maligning My Body

Cruising on youtube for plus size models made me realize how far women need to go to get some basic respect for their thick sisters. On every video there were comments posted belittling the women, calling them fat, attempting to analyze their fat to muscle ratio, claiming they were going to die because of their extra 30 pounds....it just went on and on. What's worse, I know some of these people were women, angry and hate-mongering women who want to raise their self-esteem by destroying the confidence of other women they have deemed inferior.

The one thing that really drove me nuts was some comment where a person wrote that society shouldn't encourage plus-size women because it would just give "fat women the excuse to eat junk food." I've heard this argument all over the place: the fat-is-beautiful movement is mean to skinny women and you shouldn't encourage fat women because they'll think it's okay to eat whatever they want.

Here are some points to consider: $&@@! you.
Point 2: punishing someone who has not committed a crime is unethical and cruel.
Point 3: trying to control a person's life is cruel and violates their right to liberty
Point 4: the fat-is-beautiful movement is not cruel to skinny women. Nobody goes on national  television and talks about skinny women's unhealthy, potentially life-ending disease of anorexia and bulimia. Nobody calls anorexia an "epidemic", though it really is. On the other hand, fat women are constantly bombarded with messages on prime-time TV calling for an end to this "epidemic" of obesity. Furthermore, being fat doesn't doom a person to a quick death or serious heart problems, risks vary from person to person. Here is an article on msnbc that says that thin people are also at risk for heart disease, and that just because a person is thin it means nothing about the health of their internal organs. For example, Zena weighs 100 pounds and drinks shots every weekend, diets on a dangerously minimalist meal (one meal a day with a snack of a carrot with mustard) that is not purely vegetarian and fruits, and smokes cigarettes to keep her weight down. Tammy is 160 pounds, works out 3 times a week for 30 minutes, walks for an hour each day, is a strict vegetarian who gets lots of green vegetables, and is a moderate drinker and doesn't smoke at all. If you're going by the physical outer body, you're not only being a jackass you're also not thinking analytically.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/18594089/ns/health-fitness/t/thin-people-can-be-fat-inside/

Point 5: Demeaning, degrading, devaluing, and destroying women and their self-esteem is either a sign that you're a chauvinist or a brainwashed female with a streak of self-hatred.
Point 6: You have no right to tell another person what is and what isn't beautiful. If you don't agree you can click away, you don't have to make derogatory comments about an already marginalized population who experience discrimination on a daily basis.
To reiterate my main point, #$%** you!


~message from a thick bitch.

Following a New Path Down Unfamiliar Roads

Well, I just re-read that last blog entry and it is totally a downer.

A few days later I feel super great. I did well on an exam, I found some great bras that fit my bust (Panache, 36FF and Cacique 38DDD, though that last one has cups just a teeny bit too tight near the armpits), and I wrote some nostalgic stories about my cousin who committed suicide on the 25th of last month. Writing about my happy times hanging out with him helped because it made me realize what a good person he had always been to me. Even though he's gone I still have that feeling of happiness he brought me. Plus, my counselor is back in town so I have somebody to vent to aside from the hapless innocents who accidentally stumble onto this blog. LOL.

PS Sorry to Dawkins for that F-Word blog entry...you may be a jerk, but you're not over-rated. :)

Empty

Dear online, public diary,

today I feel empty. My cousin died last week and I still haven't gotten over the shock that he chose to leave his family and friends by committing suicide. I was close to that abyss once, but I chose life, family, friends, uncertainty, financial insecurity, unemployment, and this: a futile attempt at making a connection with random people on the internet. I wish I could have been there at the last moment of my cousin's life to bring him back from that horrible wasteland of despair. But I wasn't. I feel from the bottom of my being that I have to do something; there is a terrible urgency pushing me out to seek people, to seek change, to seek help. What helps, though? This helps--writing to nobody, posting it online for anybody to find. Baring my soul and telling my truths are the only things that give me the courage to take my psychotropic medications nightly and wake up in the morning still myself, still flawed, still aching from grief.

Today I feel blue. I've been surfing the internet in my spare time and I realized how insignificant I am and how my beliefs and values are not shared by the majority of people. I would like respect, progress, peace, joy, social integration, equality, fairness, and lots of money. I get none of these things. This makes me feel blue.

Today I must find one good thing to write about. I'll write about learning.
Being in summer school has saved me from a potentially lethal combination of intense mourning and isolation. I wake up, I shower, I go to class and I participate. It takes my mind off the horror of death, and the pain of life. Instead of weeping again I pick up a book and learn new words in a foreign language. I'm learning the Arabic alphabet right now at the University, and I have to say it brings me serenity to puzzle over each word. There is no greater joy in my life at the moment then trying to figure out what the letter "Baa" will look like in initial, medial, and final position in a word. I can practice my cursive for hours. In this learning mode, I am firing synapses, strengthening my concentration, progressing in life, and experimenting with another culture. I get little boosts of serotonin naturally after a 2 hour session of struggling to recall the alphabet. I lose myself in the language.  I study, I train, I memorize. I heal.

The F Word (feminism)

We have it all, we can work, vote, drive, marry, not marry, eat, not eat, we're free. We came a long way, kitten, you hung in there, now we're free. Liberated.

Yet something isn't right. Just ask Ms. Watson, an atheist blogger who bitched about being hit on in an elevator by a strange man after her feminist lecture. Richard Dawkins, an atheist I used to respect, than jumped in and told Watson she should be on her hands and knees thanking men in America for not slicing off her clitoris like they do in other countries....his point? She should just take it. Forever and ever. Take sexual come-ons, take insults, take "compliments" aimed at her sexuality, just take it! Take it!! He told her to stop moaning and take it---others have it much worse.
Well, being a female who has been raped multiple times, had my breasts physically punched by a guy who claimed it was all in the name of S&M, I guess that puts me in the position to judge. Or so says Dawkins, who spends his energy negating the painful feelings of objectified women. My final judgement is this: if it bothered her it bothered her so why is Richard Dawkins all hot and bothered around the collar? I'm sure he justified it all with "it's natural to want to have intercourse, therefore, men get to be as pushy as they want. It's for the sake of perpetuating the human species!"

Well, gee, that's true...but maybe Ms.Watson didn't want to conceive a child with a stranger in an elevator. Perhaps Dawkins thinks that Ms. Watson should want to conceive a child with a stranger in an elevator because it's her "function" as a human female, especially someone of her socio-economic class (tangent note: science has always run scary close to preaching eugenics, or that Nazi inspired genetic purity bull, so maybe a scientist isn't the best advocate for reproductive rights). Maybe Dawkins thinks Ms. Watson is hot and should get over being objectified because if it were him he'd be putting out to men left and right. Or maybe he's just a pompous, overrated, over-published, sexist jerk who only made it up through academia due to his social status, social connections, and the polished ego only a rich, white male could achieve. Or maybe he's right! Who knows, the world is nuts, anything can happen, maybe the guy is right to use clitoral mutilation to put Ms. Watson back into her place---back in the box, Ms. Watson! Stop trying to gain respect for women all over the globe!

Exercising While Top Heavy

I have found certain things are out of the question. For example, running while top heavy is not a good idea for me. It is painful to my breasts and back and I get comments. This would be a problem if I was a neanderthal who had to outrun a vicious sabertooth tiger, but I'm not so I am free to find other ways of exercise.

I found a great rowing machine on sale at amazon dot com and I have used it maybe 3 times the last two weeks. That's not that much, but if you consider that it's hitting over a hundred degrees in the Central Valley you'll understand why. Plus, I've been grieving over my cousin, but I can't just lie in bed all day and cry. I have to channel my emotions into something else. Like rowing.

Rowing is an excellent exercise if you're top heavy. There's no bouncing, no leaping, no jumping jacks. You just sit on a sliding seat, set the arm handles to the hardest level, and push off the foot rests for 20 to 30 minutes. I can feel the burn in my butt and thighs. Rowing is also good for strengthening the back muscles which will help to alleviate any back pain caused from large breasts. According to the internet, it's the second best all over exercise to do, second only to swimming. It also helps posture, which top heavy women often have a problem with. Myself, I often hunch over or lean to one side or the other and put my weight on my arms when sitting. Not good. Sometimes I just plop my chest onto the table when I'm using my laptop so that they can stop bothering me. I think I may need a chiropractor or a good masseuse.

Another thing to do is yoga. I took a yoga class my first year at the University, when I was thin, and I loved it. Due to my weight gain and sudden growth of breasts into a 36H cup (or 38DDD, depending on what bra I'm wearing), I can't do some of the trickier poses I used to do like that pose where you put your legs over your head until your feet touch the floor. Or anything that requires me to lift my upper torso. I still do some poses though, just to keep my body stretchy. I do sun salute and various other sitting poses where I look like a pretzel.

Sit-ups are out of the question. Each breast is like a weight that I have to lift every time I do a sit-up. I'm not being lazy. It hurts, especially my neck muscles, which get strained from all the tension. Then my back starts to get sore. Doing 100 is like crazy painful and I've never made it that high in one exercise session. There was this contraption at the community college I used to go to: a board with two arms rests. You step up and hang there, putting your weight on your arms, and you lift  your legs up. That was nice. I used that thing every class period. It not only toned my flabby tummy but it also made my arms a lot stronger.

Ellipticals are good, too. It's more like skiing than running. The University gym has a bunch except I hated the locker room experience and everybody else was thin or buff and I felt so out of place in my overweight frame that I quit going and went back to lifting a 10 pound weight at home. I'll give it a go next semester since I guess I'm being silly about feeling so out of place.

I've heard pilates is really, really amazing for everybody, regardless of size, but I haven't tried it yet. It looks like I'd need to buy a good DVD, invest in a mat and a giant inflatable ball, and find a place to exercise with lots of space (my room is little). So, maybe I'll try that later on. Another thing I'd like to try is resistance training but my mother banned any more exercise equipment after I spent about 2 hours in the living room trying to figure out how to put the rower together. My family complained about the giant pieces of rower they had to step over to get to the kitchen. I finally got it together and dragged it outside, but my mother was all, "was a rower something you HAD to have?" and "No more exercise equipment!"

What I really need is a good sports bra. But in my size that's pricey, around 40 bucks or even more! There's this woman who went on British television arguing that bra manufacturers should stop charging more for larger size bras. I agree. If you charged 30 bucks for a size 2 pair of pants and 40 bucks for a size 5, people would be howling. It's only because bustier women tend to be a little heavier (there are exceptions) that people feel it's right to overcharge them. It's fat discrimination. Not fair! People like to argue that it's because you use more fabric but it's not. Look at some of the 34AA bras out there. Sure, they're little, but they're always stuffed with expensive padding and dolled up in shiny fabric, lace, and other types of bling that isn't used on full figure bras. Full figure bras don't get the same flashy treatment, which should actually make them cheaper since manufacturers don't have to pay for all that padding, print designs, lace, and more padding. It's like they know we have no choice but to wear a bra since we're well-endowed and they feel free to charge whatever they feel like. A flat chested person can run around with no bra if she chooses and the manufacturers know this so they cater to them with pretty designs and padded cups. A busty woman is frowned upon if she steps out in public with no bra. The last time I went out bra-less (my ill-fitting bra had left a red welt on my torso and it hurt to wear it so I went without a bra) I was hooted at, leered at, and some jerk yelled, "Nice tits." I felt pissed off, powerless, and very conspicuous. As soon as that cut disappeared I wriggled back into a bra. Manufacturers know that large chested women have little alternative than to shell out a wad of cash. Considering that there are plenty of heavy busted women nowadays and not that many 30AA cups, you'd think the profits they make in a year would justify lowering the price just a little bit. But no, I have to shop at expensive places for custom bras. Or "specialty bras" as they're humorously called. What's so special about them? There's like a trillion overweight, large busted women running around and it's totally normal now. Why am I being segregated from department stores and fashion outlets? Anyways, I'm done griping.

I got 4 cute bras in the mail today through Cacique. 38DDD bras. They fit alright. Mostly, I like that they're not matronly or minimizing or plain. What is the deal with minimizing bras? It's like saying, "Sorry, you don't fit the acceptable range of boobs, please flatten those out so they don't distract my boyfriend." Plunge bras are way better than any minimizing bra. They're much more flattering. Especially if you're overweight like me and want to move attention away from your plump figure, a plunge bra with a low cut blouse works nicely. By the time men realize I'm fat they're already hooked! I was very insecure, being an older student at 28, going to the University my first semester with very slender and pretty sorority girls, so I started wearing cleavage-revealing tops. It might not have made me fit in with the thin sorority girls, but it didn't hurt my grades, either!

BRAS, bras, and BrAs

We covet them. We dismiss them as "nothing but bags of fat." We play with them. We admire them. We may hate them. But they're there (unless you see surgeon) no matter what. Breasts. Some are big, some are small, some hang down low, some are like rockets launching into outer space, some are natural, some are man-made, some point up, some point down.

Mostly I'll be writing from a full figure perspective, meaning that I wear a higher than average cup size, but I don't mean to exclude the petite frames. All breasts have a story to tell.

Here is a link to Oprah's bra revolution on her website. It's entertaining and there's nothing like seeing the bewildered expression of women who suddenly feel free in their bras which actually fit now.

http://www.oprah.com/oprahshow/The-Bra-Revolution

There are tips for every size, from petite to ginormous.

There are people who might say that bras are but a modern day man-imposed corset, a symbol of patriarchal manipulation of the female body, but they probably haven't had to exercise with no bra on. Bras are one of the best inventions ever!

Bras!

Aftermath of a Suicide

So I started off this blog on a sad note: my cousin died last week and he was only 24. The viewing was especially painful. Just seeing him so lifeless was overwhelming painful.

I'm sure you're probably wondering why I don't just talk to a psychologist instead of rambling on in front of complete strangers. If you must know, she went on vacation and won't be back until the end of July. So, until then, please put up with my random references to my cousin.

In the last blogs I wrote about bras and the book "Wasted." There was some comfort in relating totally trivial material. It lifted me out of this cloud of doom and anguish. Stay tuned, because I plan on writing more trivial blog entries on breasts, bras, food, and literature. The human mind can only take so much pain, so I have to take a breather now and then, as do you!

If you're the suicidal type, please rethink your actions, mostly for yourself but also for those around you. A suicide in the family can increase everybody's risk of suicide at least twofold. For myself, having backed out of an attempted suicide at age 19, I feel the shadow following me, the painful family legacy of self-murder.
Add to this my cousin who did not survive, and well, my chances are pretty high. I am not, nor do I plan on being, suicidal, but there is that chance that life will seem so bleak and painful that I can't stand it. I hope that if that happens I will find a therapist or a friend to confide in, along with a year supply of Zoloft, but until then, I'm living life for myself and for the cousin who I lost to a totally preventable death.

I ordered a book in the mail. It's by the famous psychiatrist and writer (who also happens to be bipolar), Kay Redfield Jamison. It's called "Night Falls Fast: Understanding Suicide." It received rave reviews by critics and readers alike. I'm a big fan of her other books, "Touched By Fire: Manic-Depression and the Artistic Temperament" and "An Unquiet Mind." Whenever I'm down I find a book on a subject, be it madness, depression, binge eating, or body image. I never thought I'd have to read this book. Now it has become important for me to read it. I don't know what I'm looking for. Closure, there will never be closure, but acceptance or hope or something like that might come out of it.

Also, read "The Savage God" by A. Alvarez. Or Durkheim, who was a sociologist that studied the social attachments (or lack thereof) of suicidal people.

I've been looking all over the place for support groups online for family members of someone who killed themselves and there is surprisingly little. Most of these forums are private and require a lengthy application process to join, or else they're for people who are at risk of suicide themselves. There is one group that seems reliable. It's called "Survivors of Suicide: or SOS" and they operate in many cities across the States.

I'll add a link to this site, just in case.
www.survivorsofsuicide.com

Here's one for the mayo clinic and their writings on coping with the grief of a suicide.

http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/suicide/MH00048

If you're the suicidal type, please click on the link below. There is much to live for, like playful kittens, Autumn breeze, romance, a new hobby like kayaking, a different environment like Amsterdam, and the people who love you. You might not realize that they love you, or worse, you think they'll be better off without you, but you are wrong. I've experienced my fair share of emotional, physical, and psychological pain and hearing my cousin killed himself has got to be up there at number one most painful experience.

www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

The first step is accepting that you're going to have to suck it up, plop down in a chair, and start talking to a complete stranger about your most private feelings. Trust me, it's like ripping off an old band-aid. Momentary pain followed by relief. Yes, they may put you on drugs. Yes, they may hospitalize you. Yes, life will never be the same, but if you were on the verge of suicide, who would want their life to be the same? I promise that if you seek help and that person you go to is at least half way decent, your life will improve over time and you can start building a new life for yourself of kitties, puppies, pizza, and love.

I don't mean to get all preachy and tell you what to do, but I was lucky enough to have somebody tell me what to do at the right moment and I'm still alive because of it. Besides, I'd feel like I'm part of the problem if I just minded my own and tended to only my personal grief.

Oh yeah, and art therapy really helps. I knew a schizophrenic who found hope through making bracelets with beads. He was kind of a manly man, so he often gave away his creations to females, but it was really amazing what he could do with some colored beads and string. I found painting to be helpful. Nothing fancy like oils, just regular poster paint, brushes, and some thick paper.

There's a whole world of positive experiences out there! I wish I could have made my cousin believe that. I knew he was troubled when we lived together, but I didn't peg him as the type to go through with it. I just assumed he was slightly autistic since he rarely spoke, stared into space, and would make cryptic comments to me out of nowhere. There was a point when he lost his job and I tried to convince him it was in his best interest to call a number for psychological services, but he resisted. He never threatened suicide in front of me. Legally, my options of having him committed weren't viable. The system demands that the suicidal person make explicit suicide threats. Then they can 5150 them. My cousin wasn't verbal enough or psychotic enough to give me cause to call the police. What would I have said, "He's more silent than before"? But here I go, trying to justify my lack of action, trying to defend myself when I had no contact information for him for 2 years and then out of the blue...death. My point is, don't do it. Please.

Well, that was a stark post. Next up: a blog on bras.

Wasted, Read it!

I read "Wasted" by Marya Hornbacher a while back but I only recently purchased it.

She is at the other end of the spectrum when it comes to food. I tend to cycle between binge eating and excessive dieting while she has struggled with anorexia and bulimia. "Wasted" chronicles her experiences with the two disorders. The book is poignant, interesting, and her style of writing flows freely and easily from her finger tips. She also wrote one on being bipolar that's titled, "Madness: a Memoir." My favorite part is when she is released from a treatment center for a few hours to attend college and she always has to run off quickly before anybody discovers that she's part of an in-patient program.

I empathize with her because I spent a lot of time in psychiatric hospitals for bouts of mania. I never told my teachers that I wasn't just ditching their class for two weeks...I was sick. Instead, I'd just sort of waltz in and take my old seat without so much as a hello. Of course, my grades suffered each time the paramedics would cart me off on a stretcher with leather wrist cuffs, but I guess that's the price you pay for denial of illness.

The writer does mention an incident where an overweight woman called her chunky, ("just like me," she said to Marya.) and I have to address that. Of course you're not chunky, Marya, and if you were you'd still be a great writer. That woman probably felt really lonely in her castle of flesh and wanted, perhaps irrationally, to be close to you. I doubt she was being cruel. She probably wanted to feel less alone in her pudgy life. Trust me, I should know (I've never called anybody chunky, but still).

The truth is, eating disorders have things in common. This might shock and offend and piss off anorectics everywhere, but it's true: binge eating, anorexia, bulimia, bulimirexia all have a common thread of food obsession, control issues, and emotional issues. All 3 disorders can be precipitated by traumatic life events and are aggravated by stress. Of course, one is more socially acceptable than the others.

Here some people would disagree. They would look around and see this "plus size movement" as proof that there has been a backlash against skinny. Well, tell the fashion editor, the majority of the population, women's clothing manufacturers, and the guy down the street THAT and you'll see how little truth there is to this "pro-fat" movement. Take a classroom of females, one extremely skinny and one extremely fat, and ask them to describe negative comments, looks, and experiences their weight has caused them. Yes, both will have some. But it's likely that the fat woman is more likely to get comments from strangers, doctors, and family more often than not.

Having starved myself to a size 2 and binge eaten to a size 16, I vividly recall many more cruel weight comments when I'm fat. Plus I  have to deal with knocking all kinds of things over with my huge butt. Once, I scrambled out of my classroom desk for a break and almost tipped the thing over with my butt! Desks were obviously not intended for the thick women in the world.

But back to the book, it was totally engrossing and I highly recommend it.

Wasted by Marya Hornbacher---read it!

Bra, Where Art Thou?

I was one of those women who wear a bra that doesn't fit. The band was too loose and it left a welt on the side of my back. The cups were too small and I was always bursting out in a rather vulgar way. I thought being a 38DD was pretty large already, what would I need with an even bigger bra? But when my mother bought me a 38DD bra from Target I realized I would have to find a seller who catered for large chests. The poor bra seemed about to snap on my first attempt to wriggle my breasts into the small DD cups. I finally squeezed my breasts inside the cups and I got that bubble effect, you know, when the breasts are just so cramped that they look like two fleshy bubbles popping out. As much I liked the nice "wow"'s I got on campus from random guys, I felt conspicuous. University is not the place to run around in class looking like an escort service reject.

I went on the hunt for that elusive bra: one that fit snugly in the band, improved my posture, lessened my back pain, and didn't cause my breasts to look like two helium balloons about to fly out of shirt and off into the blue sky. My hunt took me everywhere, Target, Kohl's, Ross, Cacique, and that's on foot! I also wound up spending all my hard-earned University grant money on buying bras through the internet that I hadn't tried on. It was an expensive guessing game, one that I hope you don't have to go through.

I am not there yet. I am still calling, "Bra, where art thou?" If you sew all my ill-fitting bras together you could probably build a nice sized tent to sleep inside of; that's how many I now own.

I've learned through trial and error where to go for a bra. That place is not a department store. It's not a discount store. It's not any store in America. If you want a bra that fits you'll have to have a credit or debit card or at least a paypal account, lots of cash,  a measuring tape, and a good sense of humor.

Here are tricks I've learned the past few months on my quest for the elusive Perfect Bra.

~The band size is probably one size smaller than you think you are. I made the mistake of assuming I was a 38 band size. My back pain should have told me otherwise. A scar on my back from an ill-fitting bra (38DD) should have told me otherwise. The bra depends on a tight band to keep your breasts up. It's not the straps, it's the band. I ordered a 36 band and voila my posture improved!

~The cup size is probably at least 1 cup larger than you think. Here, it gets tricky. Breast math isn't taught in college trig class, so I had to navigate on the internet through multiple techniques of finding the correct cup size. The general rule of thumb is that you measure tightly beneath the breasts and around the back to give you a band size. Mine is actually around 35, but being a 34 band size with my cup size is hard to believe.
Next, you measure loosely around the largest part of your breasts. Don't turn the measuring tape into a corset. Make sure the measuring tape is loose enough for your breasts to breathe.
Some people endorse measuring above the breasts. This technique means you take the 2 numbers, above and beneath the breasts, pick the biggest number, and compare it to the measurement of your bust line.

For example, I get topless and wrap the measuring tape below, at, and above my bust. I look at how many inches it reads. Below is 35. Across my breasts equals 45 inches. Above my breast is 37-38 inches. I would take 38, the largest number, and then compare it to my bust measurement (45). There is some magical chart on line that lets you look at the comparison number (7 inches from top to bust line) and it shows you the corresponding cup size. Mine, is in those foreign letters, H or HH or whatever DDDD equals.

BUT, yes, there is a but, BUT it doesn't always work. For me, the tops of my breast are rather plump, thus screwing up my band size. According to the guidelines, I would be a 38 band. But 38 is too loose. I need a nice, tight fit. The band should buckle on the tightest and the loosest bra without a significant amount of discomfort. So there goes that...

The best way to do this is to wager on a smaller band size and a larger cup size than you think you are.

The closest fit I  have right now is a 36H (36FF in UK measurements). And 36 D*2 squared is  not a size they carry in Kohl's, unless I don't mind being minimized into a C-looking, Playtex, hidden-boob syndrome bra (more on hidden-boob syndrome later). Where to go?

ONLINE!! The UK is notorious for having such voluptuous breasted women that BBC even devoted an hour long documentary to the topic of heavy chested women ("My Big Breasts And Me", check it out!!). Unlike the US, they don't ignore the new "epidemic" of heavy busted women, some of whom are obese. They actually will ORDER large cup sizes and OFFER them for sale!! This still amazes me. I thought I was going to have to go the ace-bandage route.

Here are some places for Americans to go. I've sorted through them by hard-to-find all the way to what-kind-of-letter-is-K-for-a-bra.

CACIQUE

If you have at least a 38 band try Cacique, which is under the Lane Bryant chain. Just type in "Cacique" into Google and you're set. The problem is, if you're a smaller band size than 38 or 40, Cacique will only carry cup sizes up to DDD. At the band size 40 and up, however, they do carry up to an H cup. They offer cute bras: t-shirt bras, plunge bras, lacy bras, minimizer bras, and so forth. Their prices range from twenty bucks to forty bucks.

http://cacique.lanebryant.com/

BARE NECESSITIES

This place is your one-stop booby shop. Are you a 28DD (I envy you)? What about a 56J (whoa, J?!)? Then come to bare necessities. They carry lots of brands, lots of styles, lots of sizes, and lots of sales. They sell the most popular brands for big breasted babes: wacoal, chantelle, la mystere, Goddess, and more! Sign up for their email notices and get first dibs on big sales.

www.barenecessities.com

Here are some more, but be prepared to dip into your piggy bank, as these designer bras can reach 150 US dollars!
www.figleaves.com

http://www.wacoal-america.com/ (Around 40 bucks for my size, not too bad, not too cheap)

Okay, but what if you want more variety? What if you don't mind mentally converting US dollars into UK currency? Then check out:

http://www.bravissimo.com/ Their prices start around 30 UK pounds, which converts to....well, you do the math. Okay, fine, I will. It comes to about 48 bucks in American dollars.



http://www.miodestino.co.uk/boutique/ is another great place to find bras! Prices range from 30 pounds to upwards of 130 pounds.



What if you don't want to convert currency or shop in a fancy boutique overseas? Well, luckily, there are importers who make these bras available to the US market on major sites.


www.amazon.com They accept credit cards and debit cards. Amazon is seen as safe to store your financial information. They have Freya bras, La Mystere bras, Elomi, Panache, Fantasie, Anita, and more!


www.ebay.com is another great place to shop. Just activate a paypal account, transfer money from your bank into paypal, and start shopping. You can either search for "buy now" merchandise or make a bid on an auction item. Just some tips, if you don't want to wear hand-me-downs, select the "new" feature on ebay that lets you weed out second-hand bras. If you don't mind wearing second-hand bras, make sure you handwash your bra and hang it out to dry before you put it on, just in case the person before you was a nursing mother. There is a huge variety of bras on ebay, just not in the KK range, but still, enough to get your bra collection started at a reasonable price. Also, they don't always convert US bra cup sizes into US sizes, so be aware that an American H cup equals a UK FF cup...and so forth.



So there it is, bras, bras, bras. If you need more advice, check youtube for bra fitting advice, or stop by Oprah's website and get some good info on her bra revolution.

Electra's Complex 102

Wow, reading that last entry was kind of sad for me.
I didn't mean to vent, I just, well, yeah, I needed to vent.
Anyways this isn't all a suicide survivor blog, it's more like an emotional eating blog, and my issues therein.

But for those of you who run around looking down your nose at obese people, please stop, you have no idea what they have/are going through.

Like I stated in the first blog entry, I whittled myself down from a size 5 to a size 2 at the age of 18 after my uncle's death.

Years later, after being put on Zyprexa, an anti-psychotic drug, I gained a whopping 50 pounds in a very short time span. You may have heard of Zyprexa, it was in the news because hundreds of patients were suing the pharmaceutical company for failing to mention that taking Zyprexa makes one gain upwards of 100 pounds and the drug even causes diabetes in some people. Everyone who was on Zyprexa that I know of had nothing kind to say about it: "It worked, yeah, but I got diabetes now!" It seems the rush to market a miracle sanity drug was a bad move on the part of pharmaceutical companies, a decision that cost lots of people their physical health. Myself, I suffered a huge weight gain from my pre-Zyprexa normal weight of 115 to 160 lbs.
I remember being chastised by an art teacher on my bad eating habits after I brought in a fast food breakfast. I just nodded and went along with it. She didn't know that the pills were making me feel super hungry, especially for foods high in fat, that the pills likely slowed my metabolism down, and that I normally didn't eat at Carl's Jr for breakfast. The rest of the class stared at my new flabby gut and then looked away. I could feel the disgust. I felt it myself. So from that point on, at the age of 22, I began to yo yo diet, binge eat, starve, exercise, and binge eat more. I went of my medication, then back on, then back off, then back on....

At one point, when I was feeling very disliked in my lowly post as a pizza delivery girl, I managed to drop my weight down to 134, slightly acceptable for my height (5'1), but just barely. Of course, I was eating nothing for breakfast, coffee and a small salad for lunch, and a slice of pizza for dinner.  On the outside I had done what society wanted me to do: lose weight. I was no longer a blemish on the face of American culture. No longer another statistic of fat women. I was acceptable. Behind the facade, I was a wreck. I was stuck in an abusive relationship with my high school science lab partner, skipping my medication, and beginning to hear voices telling me how horrible I was. My mother, thankfully, insisted I be admitted to the county psychiatric facility. I slowly improved with medication and distanced myself from that abusive person.
Unfortunately, my weight increased. There's a well known government study that proves if a person starves themselves the body will begin to hoard calories away like  a squirrel with nuts. Once you eat, it is nearly impossible to burn off those calories, as your body knows that you may starve at any time. It's natural. Can't outwit biology. I gained all my weight back, and then some.

I'm 28 now and I've returned to the University as a senior to complete my BA. By the time mid-terms hit, I was sitting around studying for hours, not getting enough exercise aside from daily long walks, and I reached 194. That's obese. I panicked. I began running and dieting. I stopped running because I had such large breasts that people would comment, or leer at me. I went down by about 30 pounds in a matter of months. I was suddenly more energetic and I felt good about myself because I wasn't eating animal meat anymore, which I always considered to be a cruel practice.

So anyways, here I am, medicated, grieving over my lost cousin, and eating a salad with spicy ranch. I weigh 173. That's up from last week, before I was told about my cousin's suicide, but my weight is significantly lower than my worst point.

Yes, I know, Ranch dressing has lots of calories. But I walk around in 100 degree heat for hours because I have no car, so I figure I am burning off those Ranch calories.

Anyways, now you know most of me. The rest of this blog will be on random topics. Mostly, I want to explore my health, both physical and mental. I will be posting lists of books I've read that helped me through difficult times, some good vegetarian recipes, places to buy bras that cater to big breasted women, and blog posts chronicling my struggle with life and death.

Mostly I started this blog because I couldn't find a forum that addressed the issues I find most pressing: how to cope with hardships without taking it out on your body. How to adjust to a highly stigmatized mental illness. How to lose weight without developing an eating disorder. How to exist happily with myself while acknowledging that I don't always make the best decisions for myself.

The next blog will be on a lighter note: how to find a bra that fits.

Electra's Complex 101

If you don't like confessional-style, soap opera lives please click "next blog." 

This blog is my way of coping with the loss of my cousin to suicide. We lived together for several years before he moved back with his mother and I hadn't seen him for 2 years when I got the news from his father that he had committed suicide. I don't mean to start off on a sad note, but it's important that anybody who reads this understands that I'm coming from a place of mourning and confusion.

In the aftermath last week, I binge ate and regained 6 pounds I had lost through a vegetarian diet and exercise.I couldn't help my cousin and it seemed like I couldn't help myself either. I stuffed BBQ chicken into my mouth at the park where our two families met to mourn. I gulped down bites of rice. The next day, we got pizza and I ate 3 slices for lunch and 3 slices for dinner. My new, healthy lifestyle went out the window for about 3 days.

I've always had issues with food; I'm an emotional eater, or dieter, it depends. When I lost one of my uncles to a tragic accident at the age of 18, I stopped eating. I sought counseling at the University psych services, and though the intern there flaked on me, he did give me some good advice: find something you can swallow and eat it someplace safe. That turned out to be chicken nuggets with me eating them in the very back of the fast food joint, out of sight. I went down to a size 2.

I came back to my home town after losing my housing accommodations and began to party like crazy. Sex was my new issue. I had lots of it. I ran around to various house parties, met up with random guys, and slept with them. My friend was disgusted. My mother was horrified (we're a traditional Mexican-American family).  I was on the verge of  a nervous breakdown from all the sex, drugs, and rock n roll.

Then I lost it and took a bunch of pills. That was my first experience with a psychiatric hospital. I was labeled bipolar, drugged up, and released. Later, a more specific diagnosis would be given to me: schizo-affective disorder, meaning when I get manic, I stop sleeping and I wind up psychotic. I'm not a bad person, I've never been in a fight and I'm not delinquent. I'm just nuts. Hence, the Electra Complex (Also, my father left before I was born so I figured this would be a good title.)



Please stay tuned for part 2. My mother is home and I have to go buy some Coriander powder and zucchini.
Thanks for reading, and I hope I haven't depressed you too too much!