The Slob Who Reads a Lot

I am alive.  (Obviously.)  I am in Emporia.  I am about to go to bed.  Apparently, the best I can do is declarative statements at the moment.  I have a library card, a job (which I haven't attended orientation for, which makes me nervous), and I have other big news that I hope I'll remember to post about later.  It deserves its own post, both so I can shit my pants over it and squee incessantly.  I am currently reading (or rereading): Angels & Demons by Dan Brown, The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne, A Change in Altitude by Anita Shreve, and The Stand (expanded edition) by Stephen King.  I've already read Angels & Demons, but I haven't seen the movie yet, so I wanted a refresher on how disappointed I'm going to be.  I read 9 pages of Pride & Prejudice before I gave up a few days ago, further cementing my need to just own the book so I can read it like I read 1984 - pick it up every few months and read a chapter or two.  Of course, I haven't touched 1984 since 2006, but it worked for The Hobbit - it took 6 months to read, but damned if I didn't do it.

Things are looking up.  I'm terrified.  I'm on the edge of some (more) huge changes.  I don't know how I feel about this and how many I'm ready to accept, but I'm working toward something different.  I don't know if it's better, but it's different.

I miss everyone like crazy. 

My belongings are everywhere because I never pick anything up.  I have two binders, a blanket, two canvas bags, a bathrobe, various purse innards, a newspaper, a notepad, a sweater, and mail on the floor near my feet right now.  Oh, and four library books, and that doesn't even count the books I seem to have misplaced.  (I was attempting to read Mrs. Dalloway again.  I got as far as I did last time.  I just can't seem to follow it.  It's somewhere around here.)

Things I seem to be good at accumulating, now that all my stuff is in one place:

• Pens with varying levels of ink.
• Odd batteries.
• Shoes.
• Books.
• Purses.

I am odd.  I am tired.  Good night.

Fat Chicks Only Wear Muu-muus in Fashion Land

Today, I found a link to a blog about finding fashionable, pretty clothing for the fuller-figured girl with very large breasts, and some of the things she wrote really struck a chord with me, so it's essay time.

I wear a size 20. Sometimes I'm an 18, or a 22, or a 24, depending on where I'm shopping, but for the most part, I am a size 20. However, if I follow the sizing chart at Lane Bryant (which is where I bought the only pair of jeans I have that fit), I wear a size 26. Funnily enough, it even has the measurements that would be accurate to my size listed as what a size 26 dress would be, but if I tried on a size 26, I would be swimming in it. Except for my boobs, probably.

Most dresses I've tried on have only fit at the chest, because I have to size up for my breasts. I am already not a thin woman. I struggle to find clothing that actually flatters my body and makes me feel good without being painful to wear or uncomfortable. It is incredibly frustrating to have to buy tents for my body because they do not make dresses for my shape. Large breasts aren't even close to being accomodated by the fashion industry, at least not if they are paired with proportionately large waists. I am never going to have a 30 inch waist again, especially not with my chest, which ranges from a 42G to a 36HH, depending on the cut and style of the bra, and the individual manufacturer. I am not going to be a size 10 ever again. I think I'll be lucky if I manage a size 12 or 14, which is my goal for when I eventually lose weight.

Even though I want to lose weight, I am still a size 20 right now, with very large boobs. I believe I deserve to feel pretty, I deserve to look nice when I want to look nice, and I am sick and tired to death of wearing nothing but enormous t-shirts because none of my clothes fit and I can't find anything in the womens' department that does. Pepperberry, Bravissimo's clothing line, doesn't even go up to my waist size. In fact, the largest size they carry is a full 10 inches smaller than my waist.

This is incredibly frustrating for me. I feel like I am being told that I do not deserve to look or feel beautiful because I am a larger girl. I am told this everywhere I go. The last guy I went on a date with basically told me that while I was good for a quick fuck, I was not good enough to be a girlfriend because I am too fat. I am tired of this. I am tired of being laughed at, I am tired of being used, and I am tired of my size and weight being a "problem". It is not a problem, or at least it is not my problem. My only real problem with my body is that I can't find anything to fit it and that my weight is causing me some health problems. This is the primary reason I want to lose weight. Not so I can feel beautiful again, not so I can get honked at while walking down the street, but so I can run again, so my tendons stop hurting, so the weight of my chest doesn't cut off my ability to breathe. I didn't even start having health problems related to my weight until I got larger than a size 16.

I want to be able to look in the mirror and think I am beautiful without worry about whether I am "too fat". I want people to stop telling me there's something wrong with me. I want people to stop telling me that I should get a breast reduction. I want the opportunity to learn to love my body, my whole body. I deserve that. Every woman deserves to love herself for what she is and not what everyone thinks she should be.

(Next post will have a link round up and maybe a little bit of stuff about life, since I haven't posted anything in over a week.)

Self-Worth

I really want a gym membership.  I want to get toned and lose some weight and be able to wear my cute clothes again.  I want to have the energy to do everything I want to in a day again.  My weight is starting to get out of hand, especially since I'm barely five feet tall.  I miss the body I used to have when I was active, before the car accident in 2008.  I miss feeling beautiful.  I miss everything about that, especially being healthy.  I used to be ridiculously healthy, I never got sick, ever, except when I got sick epically, which only happened about once a year, sometimes once every couple of years.

I miss how my hair was before I started dyeing it in 2008.  (That just seems to be the year of everything being fucked.)  It's a lot thinner now, though it's coming back and starting to feel healthy again, but I'm starting to think it'll never be as thick or as beautiful as it was.  I don't know what I was thinking.

I miss having a job and feeling like I was doing something.  It doesn't matter if it's retail or not, at least it's not being useless all the time, which is how I feel so often now.  I'll probably even feel useless if I manage to get the whole of the house cleaned up and organized, and I still feel useless even though I'm helping out with the Toddler and the cooking.  I don't think these feelings will change unless I have a job, I don't feel like I'm contributing in a tangible way unless I am also earning money in addition to everything else I'm attempting to accomplish.  I want to be Superwoman, I want to do it all so I feel that I am worth having here.

I'm so different from how I was a few years ago.  I would have taken this life, these people, for granted, completely, just a few years ago.  I can't believe how much I have changed.  I don't like who I was and I am glad of the change, but I'm not sure I like who I am now.  I imagine I'd be fine with myself if I had a job.  It all seems to come down to my employment status.

I want to work on getting my driver's license this summer.  I want to actually work on it, actually practice enough that I will be able to drive in any condition, and that I won't be a road hazard to everyone around me.  I want my driver's license.  I want to be able to own a car and drive it.  I want to be independent.  (This does not mean I want to live alone.  I would go slowly insane if I lived alone, I don't think I'm equipped to be alone, but that kind of independence, especially if it came coupled with a job, would mean I would also be in the house less and drive S a lot less crazy.)

I want to be able to go somewhere outside of the house under my own power, alone, to go grocery shopping or run errands or whatever.  I want to be an adult.

I need to grow up.  It's time.  I'm not sure what that will mean, I'm not sure it's something I truly want, but I want to make some changes.  I want to eat better, join a gym and lose some fucking weight, get a job and a driver's license and a car, and get my debt paid off.  I want to feel worthy of the friendship and love that I have been offered in this house.