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.