Soul Work: Letter to my body

 It's been a while since I have blogged.  The downtime has been a time of learning, healing and accepting.  

Through the Ambassador program with Jezebel Vonzepher Photograpy, I have done a lot of soul work and here is one of my homework assignments that I am sharing with you in hopes that it brings you inspiration if you are struggling yourself.  I may do some more blogging, but for today, this is my share,.

October 7, 2023

Soul Work #12

I came into this world a 10lb baby girl delivered to parents that were lost and struggling with adulting and their relationship.  The life for baby Cassondra would not be an easy one.

As I grew up, I was always “off the charts” the doctors would say.  I didn’t really understand that I was bigger than most kids until I entered school, and the kids were cruel.  Looking back, I don’t think I Iooked that big, but the taunts were relentless. I would come home crying and I knew it broke my parents’ hearts.  My Dad would say, “Babycakes, you’re going to have to get thicker skin.  I can’t go to school and beat up all those kids because they are mean.  I would stop them if I could.” I was 5 years old.

And so began the relationship of hate for my body.  I didn’t understand why my body was bad, just that being bigger/fatter was the worst thing I could be.  It meant I was ugly.  It meant I was not as smart. It meant I couldn’t wear cute clothes; I couldn’t eat without ridicule, and I was sometimes too big for your desk at school. I weighed 180lbs by 4^th grade.

But at home I had my horses (I grew up on a farm) and I’m a Gen Xer so I was basically raised feral. I was outside all day in the summer and on weekends during the school year. Whatever I wanted to do, I did it.  Mom was busy, so I found a way to catch my horse, get the saddle on and ride.  My body was strong and capable despite being overweight.

By the time I got to 6^th grade, the kids taunts were crueler than ever. I found the best way to exist was to make fun of myself and make people laugh before they could make fun of me, or joined in as they made fun of me. Defense mechanism created. You can’t hurt me if I hurt myself first. If I don’t love myself, it won’t matter.

My mom would take me to the doctor to see what we could do about my weight.  She was trying to help; she wasn’t doing it in a mean way.  She just wanted me to be healthy and happy. I did so many diets and nothing really worked.  We had no idea about nutrition, and we were a farm family that struggled, so I ate the things that were cheaper and not the healthiest.  I forgive my parents and myself for this. We did not know any different.

Meanwhile, my home life was not good as I grew up.  My Dad was an alcoholic and had a very nasty temper. He would destroy our house in a rage and get rough with my brother and me. I had no safe space. Not at home, not at school. I was living in a constant state of anxiety and my coping mechanism was to try and fix everything so my dad wouldn’t get mad. I would anticipate his mood, watch him closely and act accordingly. My life as a people pleasing empath began.

Ironically, through all of this, my parents always told me I could do anything I wanted, that weight didn’t define me.  I rode horses, learned how to train them, showed them, etc.  I was in band and learned to play the flute and several other instruments and was really good at it. I got decent grades. I was determined to live the life my dad never could because my mom got pregnant with me, and he had to abandon his hopes of going to college.  I fell in line and tried to make him proud. 

So, did I have some self-worth about my abilities? Yes.  I was overweight, but I was strong, and I worked hard.  But did I feel beautiful and valued by society? No.  The boys in school never liked me.  One even told me if I lost weight I’d be really pretty.  My goal was ALWAYS to lose weight, to try and dress to hide my weight and fit in.  If I lost weight, then I would be attractive, loveable, good enough.

In high school, I would not eat breakfast, I’d drink a Slim Fast shake and eat an apple for lunch while hiding in the library during lunch time.  I didn’t want anyone to see me eat anything. The shame I had about who I was eating me alive.

I cleaned stalls at a stable every Sunday (there were 54 stalls that myself and one other person cleaned) and then cleaned the 12 stalls we had at home on the other days and helped care for the 35 horses we had.  The lowest weight I ever was while living that way was 225 lbs and a size 18.  Not good enough.

I was depressed, lonely, sad, angry and I would lash out at others. I disliked most of the people at school. Again, self-preservation. I had to protect myself at all costs.  In my mind I was doing what had to be done to survive.

I never had a boyfriend in school, never was kissed or went to dances or did things that “normal” girls did.  I went to college and did not attempt to make many friends and I isolated myself because I was so certain no one would accept me as is.  I would walk a mile every morning before school and then drive to school and had to walk the campus. I was exercising, but it was still not enough, I weighed 250 by graduation.

After college I lived at home and was basically scared of the world.  I felt like I wasn’t capable, that people would not accept me, and I was so lonely.  I just wanted a guy to like me.  My worth, my ability and my heart were completely locked up.

I spent my 20’s in angst but made friends at the job I eventually got.  I started seeing a therapist and eventually met my husband.  I thought finding my soul mate would make me feel enough.  It did not. The hole in my soul still remained even though I was loved for who I was by a man, I still did not love myself.

Fast forward to today. Today as I write this, I see that little girl.  She was so strong and capable. She took on the world without realizing she was functioning as an adult far before she was ready. How did she do it? I owe her gratitude and thanks. She took me through hell, and she never stopped fighting. She didn’t get to be a kid or feel unconditionally loved and safe.  She deserves a hug and a fucking medal of honor.

That girl did not succumb to alcoholism, like the textbooks said she would.  That girl did not marry an abusive man, quite the opposite.  So, while she was adulting as a kid, she was already setting the groundwork to protect herself in the future. She was so smart.  I’m lucky to have had her running the show.

I was enough then, regardless of what everyone thought of me.  I was a big girl, but I was toned and strong and I was a fighter. I deserved this self-love at 180lbs, 225lbs, 250lbs and even today at 320lbs.  I see that now. I wish I could have that 225lb body back now! I wish I had those knees that made it possible to do all those things I did daily and achieve goals I set for myself.  But, what I can do is take care of them and my body today because it is worthy of love and care.

That girl was a badass and now this woman is unstoppable. She deserves nothing but the best in life, regardless of the skin she’s in.

After going through this JVZ Journey, I find myself realizing the thing that I have robbed myself of all these years is self-love. The stories I believed all those years ago about needing to lose weight to experience love and happiness are such bullshit.  I am thankful I have found this new ground to stand on and I can look at myself in pictures and in the mirror with love now.  Maybe not every day, but more days I love her than not.

Now I find myself in a new phase.  Now I know my worth, my value and my power.  I want to stand in all of that and I don’t want to settle for anything less.  I know I deserve more.  The way people have learned to love me is going to have to change. As Julia Robert’s character, Vivian, said in Pretty Woman, “Now everything is different, and you changed that, and you can’t change back. I need more.”   

That’s where I am now and its unfamiliar territory. Some days I will be tempted to fall back into depression and sadness but on every other day, I will show up, straighten my crown and move forward knowing I am enough. 

And I will do all of those things wearing all the clothes, some of the clothes or none of the clothes because fuck body standards.  This is my platform and I’m telling all the people out there; you are good enough and worthy enough as is…because you exist.

Photo courtesy of Jezebel VonZepher Photograpy. #jezebelvonzepherphotography

Angry Pony Double Dog Dare: Part Two

In my last blog entry, I shared that I had been double dog dared (DDD) to do a boudoir photo shoot.  I promised a multi-part mini blog series about it. Well, that didn't happen.  This blog today will be part two about the DDD and that will be it.

You see, I started to write a blog all about selecting the outfits I was going to take with me to the boudoir shoot and it was going to be about how ridiculous my body is.  I was going to talk about the lingerie and how I looked like a pig dressed in lacey curtains. I was going to talk about these boobs of mine and how they disappear into my armpits when I lay down on the bed.  I would do my normal fat mocking and I would paint a picture you'd never be able to get out of your mind, but it would likely make you laugh because I'm ridiculous. I learned a long time ago that if I make people laugh first, then it doesn't hurt as much if someone makes a comment about my weight, or it distracts them from making a comment. I learned that in kindergarten.

But as I started to write it, something happened that I was not prepared for.  For the first time, I didn't want to shame this body.  For the first time, I didn't want to make fun of it and I didn't want to feel bad about it.  I sat there unable to type anything. I had no humor in my heart, just a white flag in my head and a sense of surrender in my soul.  Without even realizing it, I apparently had come to some sort of peace that I was not yet even aware of.  I don't know when or how it happened, but I think between my years with the Rug Doctor and then recently my counseling with the Paleo Princess, something has finally stuck. I think I have finally succumbed to their teachings! I think the last few months of being more respectful of my way of eating and allowing myself to be proud of my journey has made all the difference.  Honestly, I'm not even completely sure how it happened.  I haven't unpacked all that yet.

Fast-forward to the day of my photo shoot as I walked down the streets of Snohomish wearing a mask with a dabbing unicorn on it, packing a rifle and a pink bag full of sexy bra's and panties. I thought the rifle would be a nice touch in some of the shots for Shark Bait.  Seemed like a sexy thing to do.  Anyway, that experience alone was enough to tear down the walls of what is or is not socially acceptable.  I got some confused looks. Meh, whatever.

Alas, I arrived safely, and without incident, to Jezebel VonZephyr Photography to do my photos.  I had heard they were a very body positive group of women that ran the studio and that they made it very empowering and safe.  Sara, the photographer, and Tiffany, the hair and make-up stylist, put me at ease and made the whole experience during my shoot amazing.  They put together my outfits and we spent a couple of hours making me feel comfortable, powerful and sexy. It's hard to explain how it makes you feel, but it is a feeling of confidence that lasted for days to follow.  That feeling might still be with me and it's been two weeks now since the shoot. 

During the shoot, I had a feeling of power, but I also had a nagging feeling of "what if the feeling and image I have in my head right now doesn't match the photo's when I see them? Then what?"  This is where the DDD really comes into play because this is what I am afraid of.  Looking at these pictures and hating what I see. Finding all the flaws and focusing on the fat.  What if I go through all of this and that is the end result?  How do I come to terms with that?  

I got my answer to those questions on this past Thursday. I had a Zoom call with Sara and one of her team members, Kaitlyn, and we went though all my photos. I was sick to my stomach as the pictures started to come up on the screen.  It was a slideshow set to music and I just sat there and two things happened.  First, I had to mourn the loss of what I thought I should have looked like.  The pictures did not match the image in my head.  This wasn't a selfie where I controlled the angle, this was my body through someone else's lens, which meant, that is me.  No filter. No hiding in black pants or a long sweater.  There I was.  It wasn't like I'd never seen myself naked in the mirror.  I don't know why I thought I would look different than I did.  I just wanted the fantasy of me to be there in those images.  Like maybe if I looked beautiful in those photos, I really was beautiful and the proof would be right there.  I don't know why I need proof, because my husband tells me I'm beautiful and my friends are always kind to me about my appearance.  Why am I the only hold-out? Why do I refuse to see it or accept it?  Is it years of shaming in grade school? Was it years of not feeling good enough to have a boyfriend or have guys be interested?  Was it the expectation of society? Hollywood? What? I think it's all of those things, but also a sense of personal shame that I have never been able to get the weight off. I feel cheated out of life experiences that "normal" people have. I have a strong sense of failure that I cannot shake.

So, as I was rapidly processing all of that, I had to pick the pictures I wanted to keep.  Sara and Kaitlyn were great about encouraging me to be kind and to remember this was about me and not keeping pictures because of how I thought someone else might appreciate them.  They encouraged me to keep a couple that maybe made me feel a little uncomfortable or that were not perfect in my eyes so that moving forward, I could become comfortable with what I saw.  And so, I narrowed it down to a handful that represented who I am right now, today.  I'm going to share some of those pictures with the world because I am not ashamed of my imperfections.  I am going to continue to work on making this body better, but I'm going to love it enough to take are of it.  

I don't think any of these pictures are scandalous and frankly, you can see more skin by going to the beach, so ZERO SHAME IN MY GAME.  If you don't want to see them, now is your time to close this blog.  These pictures are the originals from Jezebel VonZephyr and I'm not allowed to edit or filter them, so you are going to see some skin. Sorry, not sorry.

I picked this picture because I smiled and it was genuine.  I don't really like my teeth or my smile in general because I feel like it makes my eyes disappear when my cheeks go up. This picture makes me happy.

I chose the picture (above) because I felt SEXY AF.  I don't hate my body in this pose.

I was disappointed in all my gun wielding poses.  I didn't love them and I didn't think there would ever be a day when I did.  I could not come to terms with the majority of them.  This shot (above) however, I made peace with.

This picture (above) I initially cringed. All I could see was my big 'ol belly. But, if I change my focus and look at the expression in that woman's face, I'm in there and I'm kind of a badass.

I chose this picture (above) because it shows the woman I am, complete with scars on her belly from multiple weight-loss surgeries. I've done the work, I've fought the war. I'm still here. And, I'm still "in progress."

Naked and unafraid (above). Here I am. The world's expectations will not shame me into a flannel floor-length nightie. 

This picture (above) made me laugh.  Such a bitchy, mob-boss wife expression.  I don't love my legs or how big I look, but that woman behind that face has gotten me through every hardship that has brought me to today and...I love her.

And finally, this picture below is the fierce woman I carry around every day.  She is strong, sometimes insecure, scared, depressed, over-whelmed or angry.  She's a loyal friend, an empath, a clown, dramatic and outspoken.  She deserves love. She deserves happiness. 

Yesterday, I showed my pictures to a couple of my friends at work.  One of those friends is one of the fittest people I know.  She eats well, exercises and takes really good care of herself.  She's beautiful.  I would give anything to trade her bodies.  She said she didn't think she could ever do a photo shoot like this.  I looked at her in disbelief.  I said, "Holy cow, if I can do this with THIS body, why in the world wouldn't you do it in YOURS?"  She immediately started talking about all the places on her body that are not good enough or are undesirable to her.  I just stared at her and was instantly so sad for her.  I wanted her to feel free, too.  I wanted her to feel as beautiful as I think she is.  And then I realized, that is how all the people that care about me feel. They want me to see what they see, which is not the weight, but the person. 

This is some deep shit I'm going through here.  

 

I'm going to send this to Paleo Princess for her review, but I think this Double Dog Dare is complete...and a success.

Thank you, Sara, Tiffany and Kaitlyn at Jezebel VonZephyr Photography.  The work you do with the camera and the soul is amazing and appreciated.  

Angry Pony Double Dog Dare: Part One

I had mentioned on Facebook about a month ago that my nutritionist had asked me some tough questions about why I'm still struggling to make things happen in my weight loss journey.  The long and short of the conversation was that she felt I may be afraid of success.  I mean, afraid of spiders, yeah, but success? Why would I be afraid of that? Doesn't everyone want to be successful? Why would I be scared? And, while that seems like a ridiculous question, I had to consider it to be a possibility. 

I'm going to stop here for a moment and give the nutritionist a blog name. I think I'll call her, Princess Paleo.  I don't know about calling her PP for short, but I might.  Be ready for it.  When I'm talking about my PP, it's Princess Paleo.  Potentially creepy, but also efficient in key strokes. (don't make that dirty)

Anyway, Princess Paleo challenged me to try something out of my comfort zone. To try something that I've always wanted to do, but have never been brave enough, or to overcome a fear.  Something to push myself to show myself that yeah, it's uncomfortable, but I can and I'm strong and it's not so scary. She flat-out Double Dog Dared me to this challenge. She just took this nutrition shit next level. I can't back down from a DDD and she knew it. She's like an evil genius.

I agreed to the DDD challenge and went home to consider what I could do. I thought about what fear I had or bucket list thing I could do.  I honestly was at a loss.  I have myself so conditioned on what is possible or what is realistic, I wasn't able to think about the possibilities of what I could challenge myself to do. What I could hope to do.  Drawing a blank, I took my challenge situation to a higher power...I went where I knew people full of ideas and advice live...Facebook.  I knew they would have the answers I was seeking.

Sure enough, my peeps did not disappoint.  I did go ahead and rule out things like holding spiders and jumping into the ocean right off the bat. I want to challenge myself, not die. I continued wading through the suggestions and noticed a couple of my peeps suggested doing a boudoir photo shoot.  To be honest, I had thought about doing one in the past, but always felt strongly that if I ever did it, it would be after I lost the weight, maybe had some sort of surgery or when I grew my hair out...or whatever.  Someday, when I felt beautiful and proud, I would do it.  It just hasn't been time yet. I'm not ready. You know, someday I will be ready when I lose the weight, get in shape and become happy...that is the perfect time for that type of thing.  The perfect time is not now because...naked cellulite, gross.

And even though I have allowed my mind to dictate this debilitating message to my psyche, I do truly believe, in my heart, that I need to just be happy in the now and accept where I am in my journey today.  I know that is what leads to happy moments and enjoying life. Happiness is not a place or destination and it's not a constant. It's a feeling and a moment in time.  So, for this DDD, what better way to be happy in the moment and accept where I am than to raise the white flag and say, "Today is the day I celebrate where I am, regardless of body mass or progress on my journey."  I'm going to be brave and bold and proud in this squishy body that has successfully lead me to this 48th year of life.  Maybe, just maybe, I can make peace with this body and accept that it is good enough today.  It's good enough to be worth the effort to make it better. It's good enough because I love it, instead of hating every inch of it.  That sounds like a pretty big freaking DDD right there. 

I sealed my fate and sent Princess Paleo an email advising her that I had chosen the boudoir photo shoot as the DDD. Not only that, I'd researched photographers and found a studio that specializes in this type of thing and had booked an appointment.  There.  It's happening. I'm committed. 

That happened about a month ago.

That appointment is actually this Friday. 

I'm completely freaking out. 

I have been agonizing on what to wear and trying to decide how revealing I want to go.  I am so scared I'm going to look at these photo's and want to stab my eyes out.  So scared that I'm going to look like the Star Wars Illustrated Jabba the Butt swim suit edition centerfold model of 2020.  Fer serious.  I'm so scared that during this photo shoot I will be thinking in my mind, "look at me, I'm sexy, I'm beautiful, blah, blah, blah..." but that when I see the pictures on screen, all I will see is Miss Piggy in lingerie. A legit, Walmart, tube-top wearing, back-boob sporting Fatty Mcfatterson.  <-- How do I jump the hurdle of hearing that self-talk and seeing anything different on the screen? 

I don't know.  I've been working on that for a lifetime.

I guess this DDD is a good way to push myself to see if success looks as good as it feels. <-- I don't care who you are, that just got real right there. Did you see what I just did there? 

Anyhoosle, in the spirit of my usual over-sharing, I'm taking you on my journey of me over-exposing myself. This time, fer serious, in the flesh.  Tonight is Part One of this mini series. Part Two is all about the wardrobe selection...specifically lingerie.  Stay tuned, if you dare. Crisis in progress...

Progress Report - Paleo Life

Today's originally scheduled blog, titled, WTF are my #$%& neighbors doing now and why don't they STFU, has been postponed to bring you this kinder, gentler blog...

Progress Report: Paleo Life and the Path to Mental Wellness

Thought I'd check in today and share how life is going.  To those of you that are my Facebook friends, which is probably the majority of anyone reading this blog, you've seen that I've been posting my dinner meals and an occasional low-carb treat.  Doing so has created a sense of accountability for me and I was hoping it wasn't making everyone on FB roll their eyes.  Like, who cares what you're eating and what it looks like? We all know what food looks like! However, I was surprised at how many private messages I received, as well as post comments from people thanking me for posting and inspiring them to eat better.  Who knew I would EVER be a food influencer???  Sarcasm influencer, yes.  Anger management ally, yes.  But food influencer? Who'd have guessed?  I guess this is why I share my journey.  So many people are struggling, so many people are giving up because it's hard. Giving up leads to pain and depression and it's a horrible cycle. And, if you don't have a good support system, the difficulty level goes up from there. 

The struggle is part of the process, unfortunately.  I would not be true to myself if I didn't offer full transparency into my journey.  I may be posting some great dinners and living clean-ish most of the time, but I fall, too. I still struggle each day.  Weekends are the hardest when Shark Bait and I are together all the time and out running to the store or whatever Covid-approved adventure we may be having.  I have gotten better in my "cheat" choices when we are out, I will give myself snaps for that.  I don't stray now to the degree that I used to.  For example, we'll go to Panda Express and I'll get the grilled teriyaki chicken, no sauce, and veggies (broccoli, cabbage, etc.), or maybe we'll go to Chipoltle and I'll get a salad bowl. There are options out there.  So, they aren't organic, but they are better than a cheeseburger, fries, Coke, ice cream, grease, fat, etc.  I honestly feel a change in my desire to make healthy choices.  I will give myself praise for that.

I was able to shed a few more pounds after stopping the program at Symmetria and was excited I was able to do so on my own.  However, as no one's journey is a straight line, I have lost and re-gained and re-lost the same 5 pounds several times now.  I am finding myself getting frustrated.  I don't want to return to old patterns and I feel like I'm getting bogged down.  This has lead to some emotional stuff coming out that has complicated life all the more.  Being off my anti-depressants is helping me access my inner warrior, but it also allows me to access all the anger, doubt, fear, anxiety and frustration that have plagued me for a lifetime.  I start to doubt that maybe I can't be off my meds?  I feel a little lost, if I am being honest.

It doesn't help that the world is so crazy right now. It's hard for me to think about the future.  The happiness that I feel like I finally have within my reach is being jeopardized by this constant fear of contracting a disease, having our lives turned upside down by current events and the hatred and violence connected to them.  Change is often a tumultuous process, but I feel like maybe I wasted too much time in my life and now my true hopes of being happy are not obtainable.  It makes me feel defeated, like why bother?  I know I am not the only one that feels that way.  Sometimes I just cry because I hurt so much. I'm exhausted from the daily fight to keep strong and push forward.  

At any rate, without taking this any deeper than that, I'll stop there.  I'm going to keep soldiering on because honestly, that is the only option that makes sense, even if tomorrow is not promised.  My knees are still sore and working out is a slow process.  I'm so scared to hurt them any worse, so I continue to focus on my food choices and doing my 16/8 fasting (fast 16 hours, eat 8 hours).  I keep looking for new ways to make the same 'ol stuff more appetizing.  I thought about starting a FB page that is just for my wellness journey, but then thought, there are a bazillion sites and groups out there that do that.  I don't know that I have the energy to keep a food blog up and again there are a bazillion of those out there, too.  That's where I find my stuff. LOL.  I'm just a girl standing in front of a pizza asking it to be low-carb.  I'm just a random girl that hates to cook but that is good enough at it to not go hungry, clearly.  If I can find the ability to do this, anyone can.

I will share some of my recent meals and recipes that I found in case anyone is looking for something new to try.  I try and keep it super-simple, because I'm not looking to win any awards for cooking using someone else's recipes.

Today, I even tried a new one, which I'll post first.  It is Delicious and would be a great thing to make for summer picnics or BBQ's, you know, if you get one of those masks that has a hole in it so you can shove food through...cuz, safety first. 

Low Carb Potato Salad (Cauliflower instead of potatoes)

*** I added sliced black olives, it didn't call for it, but that is just how wild and crazy I am...

https://www.skinnytaste.com/low-carb-potato-salad/?fbclid=IwAR0PTHxpXkU5UhHTczIzHdXBash6cGvMvDaygL9toDWExsohuY8tCVEchBI

Other recent things I've made lately...I have a Paleo Cookbook and I use the Google.  It's how I do. No science involved.  Sadly, I'm not a huge veggie fan, so I'm struggling with veggie creativity.  Working on it though.  We have tried turnips in place of potatoes.  Result? Meh.

https://gimmedelicious.com/keto-garlic-chicken/

https://lowcarbyum.com/chocolate-chip-coconut-bars/

#kneegap

Three Months...BAM! #kneegap

Today I am feeling pretty accomplished and I wanted to document that here in my blog for myself, but   also to share with those that follow me though my trials and tribulations in this crazy life. 

Back in March, I took a leap of faith and decided to get stem cell therapy on my knee and signed up for a nutrition  & wellness program the clinic has that fits in with the rehab. I was all-in. Last resort. Last chance.  Well, today I graduated from that program. They have cut me loose to continue the journey of healing on my own.  They are pretty sure I am ready and I think they might be right.

Prior to March, I was in a pretty dark place.  I was in constant chronic pain.  I cried every day.  I couldn't sleep at night.  I was consuming special brownies at night just so I could numb my mind from the unrelenting pain. The brownies caused my appetite to increase and my body was just completely toxic and miserable. My digestive system was a wreck of Titanic proportions. I told Shark Bait that since no doctor was willing to help me and there was nothing I could do, I pretty much was just giving up at life.  At 48 years old, I was just throwing in the towel.  I mentally and physically could not take the beating anymore.  I could barely navigate around my house and to work, let alone to do anything recreational beyond those two activities.  

In March I met the doctors and people at Symmetria Integrative Medicine.  They told a pretty story of how they could help me.  They all seemed really nice, but I was honestly scared to believe them.  Every other doctor I had been to had treated me like a waste of time and a lost cause.  I had no reason to trust these new people, other than that I literally had no where else to go.  It was not covered by insurance and was money we didn't have, but the clinic was willing to work with me.  I said, "What if it doesn't work?"  Shark Bait said, "But what if it does?"  

On March 16th, I received the stem cell treatment in my right knee. Both Dr. Gill and Dr. Bill were confident I would find relief in this procedure, but I was so afraid to be hopeful.  This was also the same time every other place was shutting down due to the pandemic.  Great timing, Cassondra.  This was not a good sign.  I needed to come in three times a week for my rehabilitation and nutrition program.  How was this going to work? Alas, it just seemed to.  They stayed open and I made my appointments. We set goals, I detoxed, I did the laser treatments, the invisi-red treatments, the rehab exercises, the chiropractic. We worked on my whole body. Everyone there was nothing short of amazing, kind, supportive, dedicated and real.  

I got to know each of them a little and some of them probably got to know a lot more about me than they bargained for, because, well, I'm me.  When you go through that sort of program for a little over two months three times per week (my time was extended a little longer because I had a "failure to launch" at 6 weeks), you get to feel almost like family.  ** I'm sorry to whomever had to hear my voicemail message that day I was in the midst of a detox poopocalypse and had to cancel my appointment for fear of bio-explosion, needing a hose down and an adult diaper. 

These people watched me limp in and cry in those first visits. They watched me struggle as I gradually weaned off of my medications and anti-depressants. They never waivered in their support or belief I would get better.  Weaning off the anti-depressants alone was a living hell I would never wish on anyone. These people were all wearing masks, due to the Covid-19, but you could still see the compassion and understanding in their eyes.  I can't  compare it to any other experience I've ever had anywhere else before in healthcare.  Even when I had done my weight loss surgery, the people at that clinic were supportive in the beginning, but I could tell over time, once I had recovered from surgery, I was a burden. And when I eventually was not a success story, they lost interest in helping me.  I expected that to happen here, but it didn't.  When I hit the six week mark and finished the detox and returned to working at the Glass Palace, it didn't go well. My Nutritional Fairy Godmother, Dr. Samra-Gill, said, "we're not letting you go, you're not ready."

Who does that? I sat there with tears in my eyes, assuming this is the part where I fail. Again, like I always do. Well, plot twist, didn't happen. Not on their watch.

Fast-forward to today.  I walked in, feeling kind of like a bad-ass, actually. No limp in my game. I checked in with Amber, the Front Desk Master (not her actual title). She's chipper as always, but I know a sassy smartass lies beneath, and I respect her all the more for that fact alone.  Captain Corrie the Invisi-red Queen comes to get me.  I wasn't sure about her the first day. She was quiet and I was so insecure that this fit and healthy woman would be taking my measurements. No judgement ever came of it, instead she was so understanding and supportive. I appreciate her kindness to me when I was not kind to myself.  Anyway, we started towards the room for what would be the last invisi-red session in my program. As we are walking through the rehab workout area, I hear from across the room, "Cassondra, I love your outfit today!"  I can't be sure, (because masks and I have old-people eyes), but I think it was Abi...or Emily, both of them are adorable, sweet and always seem to find something nice to say in an effortless way.

I got into the room and Corrie let me know it was "graduation day." Crap, I wasn't prepared for that, so was not appropriately dressed for weigh-in, measurements and pictures, but whatev's.  I'm a chill chick now, even unmedicated. It is what it is. Still pissed I wasn't wearing  my Toy Story underwear with Mr Potato Head and Slinky Dog for my permanent file.  Maybe I  can get re-takes? I continued through my invisi-red appointment and my final counseling session. My Nutritional Fairy Godmother, Dr. S-G, said I was ready for the training wheels to be taken off and for me to try this on my own for a while.  A test-run. She thinks I'm ready.  I think I am, too.

I'm down 30 pounds.  I'm totally off my heartburn medication (I was on 80mg per day of omeprazole), I'm finally weaned off my anti-depressant (300mg Effexor), replaced that with a natural supplement for depression, and will hopefully be able to be off my blood pressure medicine next.  My right knee is SO MUCH BETTER!!! Which was the initial reason for this journey.  I don't have to take any pain meds, no more special brownies, no more limping, no more sleepless nights.  It isn't at 100% yet and maybe it won't ever be, I don't know.  But it is at a level that is allowing me to LIVE again.  I have a brace I wear that was custom made for me that allows me to keep my leg in a good position for continued healing, but I don't have to wear it.  It's just better if I do.   

Dr. S-G said we needed to take pictures before I left tonight.  I said, "do I have to strip down? Like, we can't just leave the clothes on? I don't have my shorts and tank top..."  She said, "I mean this in the most professional way possible, but yes, I need you to strip down to bra and underwear. It'll be fun."  Well, I don't know about all of that, but at this point, why not?  Pictures were taken and then I was asked to look at the before and after shots.  Dr. S-G pointed out all the places where there was a noticeable difference.  First of all, in my before picture, I looked tired, sad and lifeless in addition to being obese. In my second picture, you could see where the weight had come off. I was smiling in the picture?  Why?  I don't smile in pictures. Dr. S-G said, "Look, you have a space here between your knees that didn't exist before.  You might not have thigh-gap yet, but you definitely have knee-gap."  We laughed about my knee-gap and how I'm going to hashtag everything #kneegap and we are going to make it trend.  As hard as it was to admit, there was change and it was visible.  We did that.  Life changes did that. I did that.

I want to write a letter to every doctor that treated me poorly, that denied me help, that stole my hope, that lead me to believe there was nothing that could be done and that my failures had put me in this position.  I want them all to know I found a place that cares.  That I found a place that helped me.  Frankly, I don't know if I have that kind of time, since there are so many.  And frankly, that's not the energy I'm putting out into the universe right now.  Only good things to come. No more looking back.  Just moving forward.  How is it possible I'm in such a different place emotionally and physically in just such a short time?  Positivity? No way.  That can't be it...can it?

I walked out of there tonight, not a limp in my step, not a tear in my eye.  Just living my life. Like a bad-ass.  Like I didn't think was possible just three months ago.

As I look at the website for Symmetria, I see all the doctors and the entire team of people that helped me rehab.  I think I have interacted with every one of them at some point.  Each of them played a role, no matter how big or small.  I have Dad-jokes for days from Dr. Pacheco, as well as a nicely aligned spine!  I'll always have a warm spot in my heart for Spray Girl, aka Amanda (she's also Shot Girl now, too..the non-alcoholic kind). Bayley I only interacted with a few times, but just as nice and genuine as everyone else.  Arlene, the Laser Legend, and I spent 20 minute segments of time lasering and chatting it up. Carrie is so genuinely kind and shared her personal story and gave me hope that this would be a success. Katie was one of the first people I met there and is so positive and welcoming.  Dr. Kantor, Dr. Faulkner, Dr. Bill, each of you equally supportive, kind and friendly, even though our visits were brief.  And, I may have not included all the names as some of the team members have changed over the past few months. My omission is not intentional. If I don't know your name, I at least know your friendly face and that DOES NOT go unnoticed.

And Dr. Gill, you opened the door and invited me in to the world you and your team created. You made me a believer again. 

Thank you.

P.S. I can't quit you, Symmetria.

 #stalkerstatus #kneegap #youalmostLOSTMEatNOCHEESE

#thankful 

PPSS...that thing I signed, that was just for the testimonial, right? You're not marketing my hawt pics of me in my bra and underwear to the masses, right?  What did I sign anyway...?

Additional notes...

Things I never expected to say over the past three months:

• I'm too young to have the walking farts.
• My thighs look like melted lava
• Am I going to have time to get to the bathroom when this breaks loose?
•  "even though I’ve been struggling with a low grade migraine and some sketchy vision today, I did bake the following two things so that I would be distracted from taking to the roof with a weiner dog under one arm and one of my sister’s cats raised above my head with my other arm as a sacrifice to the eagles."
•  I cried because I just wanted toast.
• What if these stem cells decide to identify as fat cells and my knees blow up to the size of the Stay Puffed marshmallow man?
  

To "My People" I See You

Note from the author: This is not a "pity party, party of one" blog.  This is simply insight, not excuses or blame. It's the reality of what happens in my mind, and other's minds, too. Everyone's journey is different and there are many success stories out there as well as failures.  This is me, sharing my internal journey. If you aren't obese, it may not make sense to you and that's okay. If you are obese and are part of the body acceptance movement, you may not find value here and that's okay, too. This blog will speak to the people that need it. 


I was talking to a friend the other day that I've known since childhood, let's call her Nurse Ponyheart (NP). We were discussing how much we have in common when it comes to this whole lifetime of being overweight thing. She reached out to me because she knows that I "get it."  Like, I truly understand where she is. I know how she feels, I know her struggle, I know where her motivation level and struggle is.  I get it. I see her. I feel her feels.

We also discussed how sometimes (or, if you're me, all the time) we put our feelings on Facebook because sometimes we just need to express how we are feeling.  We aren't looking for anyone to tell us, "no, that's not true, you're beautiful!" or "it doesn't matter because you are beautiful on the inside and out and you have a man that loves you." or, "you are strong, you can do this!"  We aren't looking for that kind of validation, but that is what happens.  And you know what?  Those people mean it. They love us, no matter what.  They know we are struggling, but they really don't know what else to say or do because they've never known the life of struggle as we have, where weight is concerned.  Or maybe, they gained weight over time, like after a baby, and then found a plan for themselves and lost the weight.  They now want us to try that, because that saved their life.  At any rate, what I'm saying is, these people care and they are being supportive the only way they know how.  I mean no disrespect to these people as I write this.

After talking to her I wanted to blog about what is in our heads and what we really feel and how supporting us can be difficult for friends and family.  Kind of an insight, if you will. Because at the end of the day, neither of us really know what we want or expect people to say when we are struggling.  We really just wish we knew how to get through this, because nothing up to this point has worked.  Both of us have had weight loss surgery and both of us have gained it back, perhaps for different reasons, but none the less, the parallels in our life are uncanny.  I can't speak for NP, but I can speak for what I go through on any given day, so that is what I want to share with you.

First moment of my day, the alarm goes off.  I roll over and hit snooze, because I'm tired.  I'm always tired. I'm not excited about my day.  Like, I don't even care if it is Christmas morning and I know Santa was here, I'm still not excited for anything.  I know as soon as I start to move, something is going to hurt. My knees will be first. I dangle my legs over the side of the bed and twist my feet then stretch my legs out in hopes that will send the blood to circulating so that my first step will not be excruciating.  I go get in the shower and as I do, I try very hard not to catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror.  There is nothing for me to see there that I will like, from my hair down to my toes. Not one part of my body will I look at and say, "I like that about me."  I get in the shower and do all the things one does in the shower. Maybe not ALL the things, because frankly, I can't reach everything the way someone with bendable legs and no belly obstruction can.  I do my best and spend the appropriate amount of time making sure that anything that folds over or holds moisture is clean, because you have to make sure all the rolls and muffin tops are cared for.

After the shower, I put on my make-up and do my hair.  While I am a total girly-girl and love to wear make-up, it is also a necessity for me.  I feel like I need to work extra hard to look as pleasant as I can so that people will not focus on how large I am.  Some people tease me for always wearing make-up and doing my hair, but honestly, it seriously is a necessity for me to feel any sense of confidence.  Sometimes I will go out in public without it, it isn't like I can't, but my preference is to be seen fully put together.

Now, it is time to get dressed.  This is a whole other process that the average person will not understand or does not need to go through.  I can't say what NP goes through, as her job requires a certain uniform, but what I go through is a lot of self-loathing.  I want to look nice and appear as small as possible.  I just want to fit in and not stick out as the fat girl.  I know that isn't a reality, but I try to make it so.  This involves a variety of shape wear like Spanx, tights, tummy control, thigh control, back fat control, etc. I check, is the shape wear making a dent in my back?  Is it obvious?  I can't wear certain shape wear with certain outfits because it doesn't look right, so different outfits have different undergarment requirements.  In the summer, I may look like I'm wearing a flowy summer dress, but guess what is holding that body together underneath? An entire fortress of shape wear that makes me way more uncomfortable than I appear.  Will my legs rub together and make a swishy noise when I walk in this? Will my thighs erupt in flames from Spanx friction?  Will my stomach stick out too much?  Will this dress or pants cling to my thighs?  Will this belt create a bigger muffin top?

Clothes that may have looked fine on any other day may not work today, because today I looked in the mirror and I HATED it.  How did I wear it last time and it seemed fine?  My thighs are so heavy, I can't wear all the leggings and short skirts that everyone else wears.  The extra fat around my knees is humiliating.  I know there are probably not many people, if any, that stop and consider that about my legs, but it is all I can think about all day.

By the time I am ready for work, I'm in a sweat because putting all this together is not easy, plus, menopause! I hate getting dressed in the morning. I hate dressing this body and yet I spend hours online looking at clothes that I hope will fit me that I can purchase to disguise the rolls, bumps and globs of cellulite. Going into stores and shopping is not a thing, unless we just go to our usual haunts that have a plus-size section or is a store dedicated to "our people."

One last thing before I go to work, I have to take my meds.  My anti-depressant, my heartburn pills and a slew of vitamins that I pray will bring up my vitamin D and B levels.  I'll take my blood pressure pills tonight before bed. I'm not diabetic yet, but it is a worry in the back of my mind everyday.  I say to myself, "I've got to turn this around."

I leave for work and as I drive along, I wonder how big I look to other people passing by.  My short hair leaves my entire face out there and my double chin for everyone to see. I arrive at work, I park in the parking lot and walk into the office.  I wonder if the people in the smoking area watch me walk by and think, "What is she wearing? Wow, I wouldn't wear that..."  What are the chances they are doing that?  Probably pretty small, but my head is convinced otherwise.  I watch other people walk in ahead of me.  Maybe it is some woman in cute leggings, high heels and a thigh gap.  I hate her.  I hate her for having the body I can only dream of and I wonder what it is like for her to get dressed in the morning.  Her hair is up in a sloppy bun and she's casually sloppy. She looks perfect. I will acknowledge that anyone, including thin, seemingly healthy people have body image issues. Fat people don't get to own that.  Body image is brutal for everyone.

Food. I'm at work and everyone is ordering breakfast or lunch and they order whatever they want.  I am agonizing about what I am going to eat.  Every decision I make will affect whether I lose a pound or gain a pound.  I have to consider if I will be "strong" today, if I will eat "healthy" today, if I will have the will power to eat only a very little of what I need and avoid all the things I don't need. Will I drink enough water?  I need to drink lots of water.  Oh, look, it's donut day.  I obsess about the donut. I beat myself up if I eat it.  If I do, my day is clearly ruined.  And I assume that anyone seeing me eat the donut will see I am weak and I deserve to be fat.

I have a gym downstairs at my work.  I'm a member. Do I go after work?  Do I go on my lunch?  Every day I don't go, I am a failure.  Every day I can't make myself go, obesity has won and there is no hope for me.  I want to go to the gym.  I want to be healthy, but I'm tired and my body hurts and I'm exhausted from the mental fight in my head that never stops. One day I'm giving up, the next day I'm starting a new plan or setting a new goal, but something is stopping me from succeeding.  It's my head. I'm sad. I'm depressed and I see no way out.  I've already failed at weight loss surgery, what on earth could I possibly do to fix this?  What is it going to take?  I'll tell you what it is going to take, it's going to take EVERYTHING. It's going to take everything I have to push through the body aches, the stigma of being fat and finding the time and the support to do this.  But you know what? Life doesn't always make that possible.  How can you give everything when the rest of your life, your husband, your child, your finances, your job, your home life, your everything else is still there? It's overwhelming and sometimes when you are in the space of being overwhelmed, you just give up and survive.  There should be no shame in surviving, but it sure isn't living and we blame ourselves for that, too.

And living is what we want the most.  We want to do all the things, with no limitations but our bodies feel like our biggest limitation. Some might say, no, it's your head, that's your biggest limitation and I guess I'd have to agree with that as well. But, you know what else is a limitation? The size of an airplane seat, the weight limit on a carnival ride or to zip-line.  Shopping for a wedding dress, trying to find one your size and then visualizing yourself in it and knowing that you will look at those pictures for the rest of your life and know you were not at your best. We will compare that to everyone else who has "magical" wedding photo's.

I make my way home after work and I'm tired. I come home, fix dinner and enjoy a couple hours with my husband and my dogs and then it's time for bed. I beat myself up again for not working out, or for making poor food choices and I get ready for bed.  As I lay in bed, I wonder, how does Shark Bait love me?  I'm depressed and I'm in this body I hate.  He loves me for who I am, I know that, but does he look at me clothed or naked and think, "that is hot!" Is he truly attracted to me, or is he just used to me? Or is it his less than 20/20 vision?  How can he run his hands over this fat belly, fat thighs and look at my chubby face and be turned on? I want and need to feel attractive and sexy, but no matter how much Shark Bait says he's attracted to me, how could he be? He's lying to make me feel better is the only plausible explanation.

All of this and SO MUCH MORE is in the head of an obese woman (and maybe men, too, I can't say, I've never been one) every day.  NP and I wonder, what did we do in a past life, or in this life, to deserve this struggle? Were we skinny prostitutes at a Saloon? We know there are people with bigger struggles out there, but this isn't about those people, this is about us and it's okay to feel our feelings about us. Our feelings matter.  We matter.

Also, just so everyone understands, not all people that are overweight have that "ah-ha" moment where life changes and they are suddenly able to commit and lose the weight.  That's great on The Biggest Loser or whatever other reality show you're watching, but that's not how it works for everyone. There are a whole bunch of us out there struggling to find the strength every day to manage this. To get out of bed and do the best we can. And on other days, we don't get out of bed. We give up, but we survive.  So, yes, thank you for saying we are beautiful.  Thank you for seeing who we are on the inside of this body.  Thank you for saying you even think we are aesthetically beautiful.  That is very sweet of you, but we want more for ourselves. We expect more for ourselves. We don't want to be heart attack victims, stroke victims, diabetic, and a myriad of other complications. We don't want pity. We want to live for our husbands, our kids, our family and friends...for ourselves.  We have things we want to do. We're just so tired of fighting. It's been a lifetime and we're tired. We've run out of hope.

To "my people," the people of the cellulite and the struggle, I see you.  I feel you. I understand what you are going through.  I know you're tired.  I have no advice for you. I think what gets me through each day is knowing that you are all there fighting the fight with me. I honestly don't know if I will ever achieve what I want or if you will either, but we'll keep trying, because there is no other choice that leads to living. 

And one final note. Don't let all that Pinterest or motivational bullshit get in your head like, "If it is important enough, you'll find a way.  If it's not, you'll find an excuse." To the person that wrote that, Fuck You.


I'll continue to look for this girl, who had successes in 2013.  She's buried in here somewhere.  I need to find her.

Megaquake, Preppers & Hula Girl

It's the time of year I have a tendency to get a little "dark," which is actually different from my normal darkness in the Spring and Summer months.  I start thinking about all the stuffs and it gives me a little bit of anxiety.  It really doesn't take much to bring it on, either.  I'll share an example of how easily it is to push my mind into hyper-drive.

Last Thursday, I was at work and I could hear Camo Boy talking to a customer.  They were discussing earthquakes and how if we got one in our area, what would happen.  Then the conversation moved into what would happen if Yellowstone blew up.  "I yelled over the wall, "no more earthquake talk!"  I can't deal with that, because I don't want to die in that building.  I'm on the third floor (out of five floors, plus a basement), let's be honest, if there is a mega-quake like some are predicting, I'm going to be the Oreo filling in a building sammich.  You know what I mean?  Guts coming out of my nose and I'm buried under my desk.  Camo Boy assured me that if there was an earthquake and that we didn't die, he knew where to get a boat and that I should just stick with him and I'd be okay.  Well, whew!  I totally feel better now.  <-- sarcasm, FYI

Next thing I know, a crowd assembled and a conversation was had about who would be affected by Yellowstone, if it blows.  Turns out, it's EVERYONE. I Googled it for verification purposes. All of us are GOING DOWN.  We will slowly die when all the ash takes over the globe and blocks the sun and makes it so we can't breathe, our water supply is polluted, the plants and animals all die and then we die of starvation because there is not enough Twinkies and Red Bull left in the world to sustain us all.  And, what are vegans going to eat when all plant life is dead? I guarantee you one of those vegans is eventually going to look at their partner, just like in the cartoons, and see them looking like a hotdog and eat the hell out of them.  It's bound to happen.

I was reminded that all of the people with the guns will totally get to shoot it out and get the last of the Twinkies. Well, you'd better believe that's true, so they will live a little longer than the average person.  I guess that means Shark Bait is all set, so we'll be able to sustain life for a while and I'll totally finally get that skinny bod I've always wanted. In the meantime, I have the fat reserves, so I'll just be walking around stepping over dead Barbie bodies.  The good part is, I'll get whatever I want at the Black Friday sales after Thanksgiving and no lines.

I was sure to add to the conversation that, from a long-term perspective, you know who is going to survive all this, right? All those Doomsday Preppers.  They are gonna be fine because they can live for the next several years like Brendan Fraser in that movie Blast From The Past where he lives in a fallout shelter for most of his life.  Preppers will be walking around like, "who's crazy now, bitches?!"  The consensus from the group discussion is that we'd have to ride it out for at least two years.  Once it's safe to come out and the ash clears, the Preppers  can slowly re-populate the earth.  I likely won't be around to see it, which I'm okay with, because I'm not popping out any kids, unless Jesus comes back and is like, "Sorry about Yellowstone, we're going back to biblical times and I'ma need you to pop out some kids, I'll even let you live to like 2-300 years old!" If Jesus does ask, I mean, I'll have to comply, but he's going to have to give me my uterus back, which could be awkward, but hey, he's Jesus, if he can't do it, who can? Jesus also needs to create the horse again and give me a new pony.  Look, if I'm going to be populating and stuff, like a gumball machine after someone puts a quarter in, I think it's okay if I have a list of demands.   (#jkjesus #keeptheuterus #dontneeditback #sorryaboutgumballreference )

As if the conversation wasn't absurd enough at this point, it continued and took an unexpected turn when Vaseline-Loving Barbie asked how long ago we had even discovered the moon and then suggested we could go to the moon and live and drill for minerals.  This train of thought then created a whole new set of problems.  First of all, kind of hard to sustain mankind on the moon where there really isn't anything growing, I mean, how would being on the moon help us?  This conversation then lead to that movie called The Martian starring Matt Damon who lived off of potatoes grown from his own shit when he was left for dead on Mars. I don't know if we are ready for that kind of living, nor do we have the training.  I have concerns.  I said, "well, what if we are trying to get to the moon and the ship can't make it, or malfunctions and then we just end up floating around space like Sandra Bullock in that one movie?" (Because, correct me if I'm wrong, movies teach us most of life's lessons.)

I continued, "Then what? We just float around until we finally starve to death? We live in a suit with our own feces and piss?"  Bronco Billy chimes in and says that when you are in space, because of the gravity situation, you don't know when you have to go to the bathroom. So, you don't know you're shitting yourself, but at some point you feel something squishy in your suit? Or, maybe all the feces travels around in your suit because it's space shit and space shit does what it wants?  I don't know, but it seems like a hell of a way to go just floating around with your arms sticking out just waiting for a meteor or an alien to come take you out.  And, what do we really know about aliens, aside from the ones that burst out of Sigourney Weaver's guts?  The testing they would do on humans might be awful, even torture.  So, die in your excrement or be an alien pin cushion? Either way, not glamorous.

After that, we discussed how most of us probably won't live to see one of these catastrophic events, anyway. The primary reason being the medical field is trying to kill us with drugs that allegedly help us.  Like, Omeprazole (Prilosec, for heart burn).  Turns out this stuff is just going to eat our bones, give us heart problems and pretty much kill us. On the upside, no evidence of explosive diarrhea in the warnings as a side-effect.  I have to take 80 mgs of Omeprazole per day, so I guess I'll get to that finish line before everyone else.  Also, blood pressure medicine, another silent killer.  Bronco Billy has Googled the side-effects and is pretty positive anyone taking those meds are walking time bombs.  Never mind he drinks two to three energy drinks a day, plus his iced coffee.  Hardly makes him a freaking naturopathic genius, but he's read things, so how do you battle that?

So, I'm not saying that my day to day anxiety is driven by what Yellowstone does, but I'm not saying it isn't, either.  It just takes that one event to get the ball rolling and then next thing you know, you're living under ground or floating around in space with high blood pressure, heart burn and shitty pants.

In the meantime, while we try and outlive natural, as well as unnatural disaster, we've got whales with blowholes full of straws, turtles wrapped up in those plastic six-pack pop holder things, we've got garbage and bacteria growing in the ocean, the whales are dying, the salmon aren't coming back as strong, we are cutting down all the trees for houses for people that keep over-populating the earth, we pollute the atmosphere and the ozone layer with smog and cow's methane farts, we are killing each other, homeless people are making their homes wherever they want and are shitting in the street, we are setting up meth stations for people to "safely" take drugs, we are one of the biggest political shit shows right now in the world and I don't know when the McRib will be back at McDonalds. Rumor has it, there is legislation being put together to take away drive-thru's for fast food places because that's how we are going to fight obesity.  Don't take any real responsibility for the food we produce and the chemicals and preservatives in it, we'll just make fat people park their cars and walk into Burger King.  That should fix the problem.  Also, is global warming a thing or not a thing?

It's crazy times.  I didn't even bring up about diseases like cancer and whatever it is that killer mosquitoes give us. Not to mention texting or being intoxicated while driving trying to maneuver through the asshats of America out there on the road.  And poor smokers, now smokers can't even safely quit smoking and transition to vaping without the chance of being sold toxic vaping flavors. Oh and that bitch, Alexa, monitoring our every move. And what about the Kardashians, David Hasselhoff, Lori Loughlin and Richard Simmons, are they even okay?  What's going to become of them? What has become of us as a society? Do I glue extra eyelashes to my eyebrows and then grow out my armpit hair and dye it rainbow colors?  Do I glue my upper lip up under my nose so I look pouty and irresistible? Do I buy a pair of socks with my husbands face on it simply because I can? Facebook and Instagram suggest a life that I don't know if I can keep up with!

So, yeah, I worry too much.  Why, just last night I spent quite a bit of time wondering about the song Jimmy Cracked Corn and how that came to be, what it all meant, and whatever happened to Jimmy or that cracked corn? I have to work these things out, you know?

And finally, in conclusion, I'm worried about one more thing.  Why is it, I have four of these solar toys in the window, and only the Hula girl stopped moving.  She's like, "Bitch please, I am from Hawaii and this Washington rain is bullshit! I'm already depressed and it's only freaking October." I know she's just a solar toy, but she gets it. She really seems to have a grasp for what's going on and she's coping.  She took a stance.  She's like, I'm not shaking this booty for any of you losers, I'm going to mentally transport my ass back to Hawaii. 

I need that kind of clarity in my life. It seems I may have just learned more from Hula girl saying nothing, than I did from Thursday's conversations about destruction, death and gravity.

And that's how overhearing a conversation about earthquakes get's me going.

Disclaimer: Please take this blog in the manner in which it was intended, humor. I'm okay, you're okay, please don't call my mom or message Shark Bait to see if I need "help."