Fat Friday #7: Our Society's Toxic Pretty Prejudice

There has always been such an onus on possessing a certain kind of beauty, which I never have, to be certain. I developed an eating disorder when I was 12 years old because I was so terrified of becoming fat. At this point I am fat, and so what? As J.K. Rowling said, “Is 'fat' really the worst thing a human being can be? Is 'fat' worse than 'vindictive', 'jealous', 'shallow', 'vain', 'boring' or 'cruel'? Not to me.”

I still struggle with my toxic relationship with ED, but at this point, it's not really by choice. I'm food insecure, so I tend to ration food and eat only one or two meals a day. ED starts praising me, and I tell him to fuck off. I would like to be able to eat three meals a day plus snacks. Starvation syndrome is for--well, nobody should have to experience it. It sucks. By the way, still fat, and if that matters to anybody, they really need to check themselves.

Why is such emphasis placed on being a pretty decoration with no real skills or personality? It's something I learned over the years, that if I wasn't pretty in a certain way, I was nothing. Having been molested at a young age, I already saw myself as monstrous. Most days it's a fight to even see myself as just ordinary rather than horrible. It shouldn't be that way.

~Cie~

Insecure Writers' Support Group July 2019

Image copyright Mary Gorobchenko

The question for this month's Insecure Writers' Support Group is what personal traits have you written into your characters?

Insecurity, mostly.

I guess there are a lot of people out there who are extremely self-assured, completely mentally stable, have no phobias, no PTSD, and are completely secure in the belief that their partner would surely never leave them because they are that extra swell.

I am not that person.

I don't write about those kinds of people, because I find it impossible to relate to them.

Anyway, such characters are called Mary Sue and Gary Stu, and they're boring.

I found out the hard way that people have a lot of misconceptions about those of us who are insecure and who may have a toy or two in the attic, a red under the bed, and a little yellow man in our head.

My story in the most recent WEP challenge featured a young vampire named Bernie. I'm not sure I ought to be saying the v-word because it might get me piled on again, but I'm feeling contrary, so I'll let my freak flag fly.

Bernie regains consciousness to find himself in a 5 x 5 windowless cell. Now, I guess nobody who read this story is claustrophobic, because many people wondered why Bernie was behaving as if his marbles had been taken away. The way Bernie was acting made perfect sense to me. I hate taking elevators because I'm always afraid the damn thing is going to get stuck, and I'm claustrophobic as anything.

So, Bernie behaved the way I would have behaved if I woke up to find myself in a 5 x 5 cell.

Now all you cool, calm and collected people know how a person who is claustrophobic behaves in a confined space. They freak the hell out.

Bernie's captors torment him psychologically, convincing him that his boyfriend, who is being held prisoner as well, sold him out for his own freedom and went off to be with a love interest from his past. 

The myriad of self-assured individuals who read the story didn't understand when Bernie's doubts overwhelmed him and he broke down, assuming the worst. They assumed that Bernie, who is a character in his mid-twenties, must be a teenager, because, apparently, between the ages of 12 and 19, one is a tightly-wound, neurotic ball of quivering self-doubt, but once a person hits twenty, boom, they are completely secure in themselves and know that no-one would ever betray someone as stellarly flawless as they are.

I guess I must have missed out on this step in my evolution, because I'm thirty-four years beyond twenty, and my insecurities screwed up any relationship I had where I wasn't betrayed first. So, there you have it.

I wrote Bernie as being insecure and naive, but a teenager he isn't. He thinks the world of his boyfriend, a fellow who is actually worthy of his trust, and he tends to find it difficult to believe that he could deserve someone so awesome. He does, in fact, deserve all the awesomeness that comes his way. You see, Bernie is much nicer than I am. I'm kind of a defensive asshole.

Bernie isn't the only character who embodies my insecurities. All of my characters are broken in one way or another. You will never find a Mary Sue or Gary Stu in any of my Universes.

~Cie~

Fat Friday #6: Shockingly, Concern Trolling and Size Shaming Fail To Make People Thin

Image by Dina Dee from Pixabay

This is my response to a post by This Fat Old Lady regarding the fact that children who are bullied for their size tend to gain rather than lose weight.

I surmise that part of the reason for this is because being bullied is stressful. Excess stress causes overproduction of cortisol. Excess cortisol contributes to weight gain. Cushing's syndrome is a condition which causes overproduction of cortisol. However, one need not have Cushing's syndrome to present with overproduction of cortisol.

Yes, I certainly appreciate everyone who was "concerned" over my weight and who praised me whenever I starved myself because the worst thing anyone can possibly be is fat. They did me a world of good, and I became svelte and beautiful with petite, delicate features and married a billionaire who treats me like a queen.

Oh, wait. None of that happened.

Here's what did happen.

I developed an eating disorder at twelve. I yo-yo dieted until I was 45 years old. I tried to hate myself thin for some 33 years. Shockingly, it didn't work.

At this point, I'm fat and food insecure. Even though I often eat nothing for most of the day, I'm still fat. This is probably partly due to my endocrine problems, but it's also due to the fact that eventually, the diets stop working altogether.
My hunger cues are pretty well gone. I don't feel hungry when I wake up. I start planning ways I can restrict my food intake instead.

You see, instead of the billionaire who treats me like a queen, I ended up marrying ED.

You may have guessed that ED stands for Eating Disorder.

ED praises me when I starve myself.

All ED's praise for my food restriction, whether intentional or unintentional, doesn't do doodly-squat towards making me the thin, conventionally attractive hottie that I'm supposed to be. My body refuses to lose weight at this point. I may be malnourished AF, but thin I am not. And unless what happened to my fat great-grandmother happens to me, I probably never will be.

My great grandmother was five feet tall and weighed 300 pounds. In her late 70's, she developed acute myelogenous leukemia. She dropped from 300 pounds to 95 pounds within the space of a year, and then she died. But hey, at least she cut a svelte figure in her casket, amirite? Because fat is the very worst thing a person can possibly be. Even worse than being dead.

~Cie~

Don't like my fat body?

Here's my fat finger instead.

Troiku Challenge 2019: Day 17: Breathing Silence

Image by Radoan Tanvir from Pixabay

alone on the beach

only the cries of seagulls -

breathing silence

alone on the beach

wondering what lies ahead

another sunrise

only the cries of seagulls

if I could understand them

what would they tell me?

breathing silence

trying to calm this feeling

that all is not well

~Chèvrefeuille & Cie~

Notes:

The "sleigh" of this Troiku was created by Chèvrefeuille. The Three Horses of the Apocalypse are my responsibility.

This poem is part of my Seacliffe Series, in reference to my WIP, The Legend of Seacliffe House. These poems focus on the thoughts of my protagonist, Randal Messana, as he finds himself in a strange new situation after rescuing his mother from the brutal Diamantina Lamb and fleeing the cursed Lambswood Manor. The story is primarily a homage to Edgar Allan Poe and it may or may not ever be published. Either way, I hope some of you enjoy the poetry inspired by the tale!

Come as You Are: Preaching to the Choir and Pissing Into the Wind

Probably what I’m doing with this post, but I’ve got something sticking in my craw, so here goes.

I don’t believe in lambasting another person’s physical appearance. Even if I really dislike that person. Their behavior, not their physical appearance, is what makes them a good or bad person. There are physically attractive people who are really awful people and people who are not conventionally physically attractive who are very nice people. I’d rather point out what’s wrong with a person’s actions than make derogatory statements about their looks. Attractiveness is subjective.

I also find scornful statements about people “aging badly” dismaying. We age at different rates for different reasons. Many times people who “age badly” have health issues that contribute to their haggard appearance, and making derogatory comments about a given person’s appearance is hurtful not only to that person but to other people who may not have “aged well” themselves, or who care about someone who hasn’t “aged well.”

My ex-husband, with whom I have remained friends, had a serious health scare earlier this year. He had cardiac problems, previously undiagnosed diabetes, a serious infection, and it turns out that he has a chronic condition called giant cell arteritis which is more common in people of Scandinavian ancestry than people of other backgrounds. (My ex-husband has Swedish ancestry.) He is 56 years old but looks much older due to all the health issues he has endured.

I was shocked when I saw this photo of the late Malcolm Young as he seemed to have aged twenty years in the space of five years. I watched the video from which this image was taken and thought that he might be developing Parkinson’s disease. His stance and facial expressions resembled those of Parkinson’s patients. 

I was correct that he wasn’t well but wrong about the reason. He had Alzheimer’s disease. His brain was literally being destroyed. He certainly didn’t deserve the cruel comments about his appearance or how he was “aging badly.” He was always a humble person who tried to treat others with common decency. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.

I watched my father age badly as vascular disease and congestive heart failure caused his body to retain fluid and caused him to have vascular dementia. At the end of his life, his legs were the color of dark purple grapes because of the lack of circulation. 

I’ve spent my life trying to see myself as simply ordinary rather than hideous. I shouldn’t have to fear the inevitable cruel comments that will accompany any image of myself that I share because I’m not conventionally attractive or young. On a good day, I don’t give a fuck about people’s shitty comments and small minds. On a bad day, it can make me suicidal.

Since I don’t want anyone making me feel bad about my physical appearance, which is one of those “luck of the draw” things and I drew the wrong lot, I have a policy of not dragging other people for their physical appearance, no matter how much I dislike them. Not Mishmash (who, to be honest, is ordinary looking as far as I’m concerned, but behaves like an utterly reprehensible asshole.) 

Not even tRump, whom I despise with a burning passion. I may sometimes ridicule his clothing choices because with the money he has you’d think he could afford someone to advise him on what to wear, but I will not ridicule his physique. His physique is not what’s causing derision and damage to the United States. His crap demeanor and rubbish policies are.

I will call them out on their behavior at any time, every time, all the time. Their looks? Pfft. Whatever. It has no bearing on anything.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

Carpe Diem Weekend Meditation #90: Crossroads: Summer Solstice Troiku Hineri

Image by yibg from Pixabay

This Short Night

this short night -

from a shallow well I scoop

a persimmon flower

Insomnia

this short night

like many others, sleepless

I dread the morning

this short night
my mind is filled with worry
rest cannot be found

like many others, sleepless
I try to find some comfort
in the quiet dark

I dread the morning
unwanted expectations
putting on my mask

From the Well

from a shallow well I scoop

water kept cool underground

safe from sun's harsh blaze

from a shallow well I scoop
another cup of water
binding me to earth

water kept cool underground
safe from the sun relentless
shaded from the heat

safe from the sun's harsh blaze
wish I was one with water
wish that I could hide

Persimmon Flower

a persimmon flower

holds the promise of autumn

solace from the heat

a persimmon flower
yellow petals and green leaves
floats on the surface

holds the promise of autumn
but what does autumn promise
but solace from heat

solace from the heat
the best that I can hope for
in this weary life

Yosa Buson & Cie

Image by Couleur from Pixabay

The Peach

solstice splits

between the peach halves

a red stone sun

Solstice Splits

solstice splits

lovely flowers everywhere

unrelenting sun

solstice splits

beautiful harvest promised

nothing guaranteed

lovely flowers everywhere

I wish I could be happy

but nothing changes

unrelenting sun

beats down on another year

desiccating hope

Between the Peach Halves

between the peach halves

the promise of a future

more peaches next year

between the peach halves

the promise of a new tree

providing its shade

the promise of a future

but there are no guarantees

some win and some lose

more peaches next year

a momentary sweetness

in life hard and dry

Red Stone Sun

a red stone sun

holding the promise of life

within its hard shell

a red stone sun

color without warmth or light

shining nonetheless

holding the promise of life

promises not always kept

dreams don't always thrive

within its hard shell

sits the seed of tomorrow

yet unrealized

Jane & Cie

Notes:

Why do one or the other when you can do both?

Why kill when you can overkill?

The "sleigh" for the first Troiku Hineri was created by Yosa Buson (1716-1784).

The "sleigh" for the second Troiku Hineri was created by Jane Reichhold (1937 -2016).

All Horses of the Apocalypse are my own undoing.

Fat Friday #5: Rad Fatties: Todd Angilly Burns

Todd Angilly Burns is a busy fellow. He works as a probation officer by day and is a bartender and the national anthem singer for the Boston Bruins games. He has a Master's Degree in music but, in spite of his talent, was never able to get a  break as a performer.

"Somehow the real world and the dream world kind of split. Nothing ever panned out." --Todd Angilly Burns

Todd seems to think that his life is pretty cool anyway. I agree!

~Cie~