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You Don’t Know a Damn Thing About a Book by its Cover

After I finally decided to leave the pointless fight about feminism on youtube, I get another freaking notification from someone else on the same video on the same comment. In the comment, I told the youtuber that I, as a fat woman, appreciated the video. This new person goes “you choose to be unhealthy, hahaha.”

Like, seriously?

Seriously.

I think the youtuber in the video even MENTIONS how you can’t tell a person’s health by looking at them.

Not that this person really gave a fuck about my health.

Just because someone is fat, doesn’t mean they’re unhealthy. Just because someone’s thin, doesn’t mean they’re healthy. You don’t know shit about a person by just looking at them.

Let’s say the fat person does happen to be unhealthy. Do you know why? You don’t know shit that’s going on in a person’s life. Personally, I have PCOS, which makes it 10x harder to lose weight right at the start. Then, I’m kinda really struggling with my mental health right now. I’d rather be certain I won’t kill or hurt myself before I even try to bother with my weight. Trust me, my mental unhealth will kill me sooner than my body’s will.

I hate exercise with a seething passion. Y’know that whole endorphin bullshit they talk about when you exercise? Idk about you, but for me, it’s bullshit. I don’t get happy when I exercise. I get exhausted, out of breath, sweaty and gross, and miserable. Even if I just walk the dog around the block. It’s still exercise, it’s still work, and I still come back exhausted, out of breath, sweaty and gross, and miserable.

Food is wonderful. I think my tastebuds are a little extra sensitive, which is possible because I may have Asperger’s. So when I love a food, I LOOOOOOOOOVE it. When I hate a food, I hate that shit and can’t eat it at all. Food is a comfort and a pastime. It’s for celebrations, comforting, anything. And I’m always hungry. I HATE being hungry. Hate, hate, hate. Can’t stand it. Used to be able to ignore it, but that was when I had stronger reasons not to eat. Now, I have food right in the kitchen. Or right down the street that I can bring home for now and later.

Why the Hell should I bother to try and lose weight when my body’s working against me from the beginning (PCOS), I hate exercising, and food brings me so much joy? Because my body will kill me if I keep going this way? What’s the point of living longer if the quality of my life is brought down like that?

I absolutely hate, hate, HATE trying to regulate myself. I don’t want to have to bother or worry. Nor do I want to be different from everyone else. Everyone else can do whatever the fuck they want. They don’t have to regulate themselves like I would have to.

Happiness is so hard for me to grasp these days. I hold on tight to the happiness I can get. And a lot of the time, that’s food.

I can’t make myself do things I don’t want to. I have no motivation. What’s the point? It’s not going to make me feel better. I’ve tried. So what’s the point?

Anyway, why the Hell did the fat-mocker think it was OK to laugh at me? Why is it EVER OK to laugh at someone who’s different from you? Who makes different choices from you? It’s NEVER OK.

Then the original asshole, the anti-feminism one, told the fat-mocker that I’m a stereotypical feminist that deletes things I don’t like. Listen here, fucker. I reported those comments because they were HARASSMENT. Why are you sticking around talking shit about me? Are you really in so much need of self-verification and ego-boosting? Pathetic.

Fuck Youtube. This is why I never leave comments on there.

 
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Posted by on September 29, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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I Love Myself cont

For those of you just tuning in, I had a huge realization last night. I realized that I actually do love myself. This is huge because I have spent my entire life in self-loathing and zero confidnece. When I started my journey to self-loving, I was kinda on my own. Which is how it’ll always be. You’ll have people to support you, maybe to tell you what to do, but you have to do all the work yourself. As a very lazy person by nature, this seemed like a very daunting task. Especially because I didn’t have a set of instructions of how to love yourself like I’m going to try to offer today. As an aspie with ADD, a set of instructions would have been awesome. Now, I’m still a work in progress for this loving yourself thing. I still hate my body, for example. But I’ve come so very far, and I’m sure I can help those of you that are not at my level yet.

At first, I wasn’t really sure if it was gonna work. I didn’t really think about that part. But I had learned that it was the only way I was going to be happy and have the kind of life I want for myself. And I was encouraged by seeing so very many people out there who had done so well. The steps I’m going to offer today are steps I think I took. I could be wrong, but it wouldn’t help to try them, right? I started near the end of high school, and I reached the point I’m at last night, at the age of 25. So if you try my steps, don’t worry if they’re taking a really long time to accomplish.

First of all, I had to be honest with myself about everything. As an aspie, this was very easy for me. It should also cause little trouble for you, because this first step doesn’t require any action. For example, I admitted to myself that I hold grudges. No, I didn’t like that about myself. But with the first step, I didn’t have to worry about doing anything about it. I merely had to be aware that that was something I did.

The second step is a million times more complicated it’s practice and/or acceptance. As a lazy person, I didn’t want to change my personality. Even though there was a lot about it that I didn’t like. This step took years upon years because it took a lot of observation and experience, instead of work, to do. See, luckily for me, I’m an inherently good person. That saved me a lot of work. Through this journey, I learned/accepted/decided that most of the things I didn’t like about myself–like my tendency to hold grudges–really weren’t that big a deal. For this specific example, I would tell myself and other people, “I am not God. I am not Jesus. I am not the Virgin Mary. I am a HUMAN, and as a human, it is ok to be imperfect.” choosing the road of acceptance, instead of change, seemed to make things easier on me, even though it took longer. As I matured, I learned how to treat people with respect and courtesy even when I was holding a grudge against them.

That leads into the longest, though not necessarily the hardest, step. Maturing. Growing up. Listening to people and reading blog posts like this. By nature, I have a tendency to turn down and invalidate people’s advice. “That won’t work for me because…”  While maturing, I taught myself to hold back those excuses. Then to think long and hard about the advice anyway. Eventually, I would begin to actually try the advice. Sometimes it was worth it. To grow up, you have to be open-minded. Yes, you are a unique individual. But that doesn’t mean that your self-loathing is so different from mine that it can’t be defeated like I’m slowly defeating mine.

Well, I guess I’ve explained it all as clearly as I can. I’m typing this on my phone as I think. I have no rough draft. So I’m going to say, now, that maturing is probably the most important part in this journey. You know how people older than you always tell you that they don’t care about other people anymore? If you continue to mature, you begin to realize why that’s so very true. You learn that other people don’t really matter. For example, my co-workers know I’m a ticking time bomb. It is impossible for them to tell if what they say or do will piss me off. But I’m a very hard worker. And after the anger subsides, I know how to treat them with respect and courtesy. So what if they think I’m psycho? That doesn’t affect me at all. Because I’m an adult and, as such, will still do my job. If they merely don’t like me just because of that, that’s their loss. Because this journey has taught what a beautiful person I really am. When I’m not being psycho :p.

Finally, I think you readers need to know what loving yourself really means. At first, I simply didn’t comprehend it. Was it love, like you love you significant other? Was it luv, like you luv your friends? Or maybe is it familial love? I’m pretty sure it’s quite different from all of those. But, at the level I’m at, it’s mostly like familial love. I am a member of my family, after all. Sometimes, it helps me to imagine myself as a little girl I am related to, and I just want to love her so very much. Because I know the ins and outs of that little girl. I know how she thinks, how she feels, and where she’s coming from. I know her needs, her wants, her aspirations. I know her heart.

 
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Posted by on September 21, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Why I’m Covering My Hair Tomorrow

Cover Your Locks for Love

I’m not Jewish. Nor am I married. But I asked my Jewish friend, and was assured that I could still do this for her father, Yakov Ezra ben Regina. Her family is Jewish, and her father has been in a coma for almost two years. As I lay in bed trying to sleep, and thinking about how to make work let me do this, the nay-saying part of my brain came up with some pretty good questions.

Do you believe this will help?
I don’t really know.

Do you believe in the religion?
I mean, I don’t know enough about it. But I respect it.

How can this help if you don’t believe in it?
I hope it does help. If not, it doesn’t hurt to do something this harmless when someone you care about believes it will. But I really, really hope it’ll help.

She didn’t ask YOU to do it. It’s for married, Jewish women. Besides, covering your hair is totally against what YOU believe in, isn’t it?
I don’t know if it’s against what I believe in as a feminist. BUT I’m doing it in honor and out of respect for her, her father, and the Jewish community. And I’m partly hoping that it’ll start a conversation and make people aware of, not only a man in need of prayers, but of acceptance and embrace-ment of other cultures, religions, beliefs, etc.

You never even met him.
I don’t have to. He’s M’s father. He raised a wonderful woman. And they both deserve to spend more time together and with her brother.

All in all, this is all about Yakov Ezra ben Regina. I want him to get well. And I will do all I can to honor and help that man. Readers, I ask you to pray for him. In whatever way you pray, whomever you pray to, please, include him in your prayers. Thank you.

 
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Posted by on June 19, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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My Scars

IMG_20141119_184452_kindlephoto-1212864

In this photo, I have explicitely pointed out three of my seven scars. I think it’s seven. Anyway. The ones on my forehead are from my bout of the chicken pox. No, I wasn’t a young child. I was sixteen. I spent a good deal of my life without them before they decided to invade my face. And I didn’t even scratch at them or anything! I TOUCHED them and they popped off with a lot of pain and deep, deep scars.

Then there’s the one by my eye. Now, it really just looks like a crease. But if you look really closely to your own eyes, you’ll notice that it doesn’t look quite like mine. I got bit by my dog. But it was all my own fault! I was really little and I was teasing my old dog Cinnamon out in the backyard. He got really mad or something and bit me by the eye No blood or anything. My parents said that if he did it again we would have to take him to the pound. I cried and was all “No! I was teasing him! Please don’t take him to the pound!”

Shows you how well my parents raised me, right? :).

 
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Posted by on November 19, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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