Am I just too old?

If you’ve been with me for a while you know I love to dance.

I took formal lessons as a wee tiny preschool kid. I hated ballet and loved jazz and modern.

I am an avid bootyshaker. Put on music I like and my ass is moving.

I love bellydance. I’ve done a bit, I have instructional DVDs.

I just love all the dancing.

My relationship with my love of movement started when I was about 13 and my breasts grew to a size that was uncontrollable.  I did not have access to the most basic of bras and at one point was outgrowing them at a rate of two a month (yes going up at least one to two cup sizes a month) and everything hurt either physically (the weight of my actual breasts causing tissue damage etc) or emotionally (being bullied by everyone including teachers/adults) and I shut down any idea that I could move my body.

I remember watching the high school drill team practicing in the morning and yearning to do that as well.  I made myself give it up.

Along with my run away tits, I gained quite a bit of weight. I believed if I was fat my boobs would be less noticeable.

It was terrible.

I got a breast reduction at 14 and movement opened back up to me. I was a cheerleader (yeah for real tho), I tried playing volleyball, I was on the drill team. I tried a lot of things.

What I did not have back was that freedom and joy with dance. If you are a lover of dance you know the feeling I’m talking about. Soaring, flying, feeling like the most beautiful thing ever.

I was still deeply self conscious and battling budding eating disorders and trying to preserve the veneer of self esteem I had.

There was no joy.

I did a little exotic dancing (not really legal but that’s a whole other story) I went clubbing a lot in my early 20s. I loved it. Often out at clubs after hours I was there again, feeling that beat in my hips and floating in that joyful feelings.

So let’s fast forward.

I’m closing on 40.

I’m fat.

I have shitty knees.

Sometimes I find myself compulsively watching dance videos. I learn (ish) new steps. I twerk at home alone in my bathroom though not well.

I think about sexy dancing to music.

Sometimes I practice hip shimmies while I stand waiting for the bus.

And that asshole voice in my head starts in.

I’m too fat.

I’m too old.

The fuck am I doing.

Rinse repeat until my joy is pretty gone.

I vacillate between wanting to give it a shot and feeling like there are eleven million reasons why I shouldn’t. I hate that I have so much baggage with this.

If I start bellydancing at night at home, would I be okay?

What if adding dancing to my daily approximately 30-45 minutes of exercise would it change my body?

Could I handle that?

I get scared and then I sort of wilt.

I tuck the desire, no fuck desire it is beyond that.

I am YEARNING to dance again.

I want my legs to be big and hard as stone again. I miss almost kicking myself in the forehead, I miss feeling a slickness in the movement of my hips and having that communicating with the divine through the sway of my hips feeling.

I know it got a little woo at the end but I do feel something divine in moving my body.

And then there’s those fears.

I don’t know what to do really.

I don’t want to take “dance” classes that are basically a thin veneer for lose as much weight as possible.

I don’t want to spend money to be miserable.

I want to be a wee fat dancer.

I promised myself some time ago that I wouldn’t pass 40 without trying again. Letting go of the fears and doing the things I love to do.

I am going to try starting with a flexibility thing. Try to ease some of my joint problems with limbering up.

And then dance?


I hope so.

I want to try and there will probably be tears and angst.

I hope as I get more bendy there will be a release of some sort. An ascension.


Sorry. Got woo.

Here enjoy one of my favorite bootyshake songs. Bojangles by Pitbull ft Yin Yang twins.

Shake what you got how you can.

I’m gonna do the same.

Homo Out.


Fight Music.

First if you are a Prodigy fan or a Sepultura fan you HAVE TO HEAR THIS.

That is one of my favorite metal bands Sepultura covering the Prodigy.

Listening to this makes me want to destroy shit.

That is where I need to be in my head to finally crawl out of the last of this deep dark panic, anxiety and trauma feelings filled hole I’ve been rolling around in.

I have to get mad. I have to get so pissed off my knuckles are itching to be broken.

I have to get ragey and wanting to fight.

I don’t know why and no this isn’t the most healthy thing and sometimes shit goes way wrong but it is how I function and survive.

I have to get back to a place where I am seeing red and I want to protect myself at all costs. Historically I’ve had a problem protecting everyone but me.

While I have been busy trying to sort myself out, I let a lot of external shit pile on to my Shannon hate fest.

People who hate my writing, trolling, abusive trolls, shit from my past, the voices of doubt who I can hear telling me that maybe I should focus on working a “real” job etc.

I had to shut myself down and then let the angry flow.

I had to remind myself that regardless of how much anyone hates what I write, how much they hate my face, how much they hate me in general I do not deserve to be abused by anyone.

No matter what opinions I have or how loudly I express them, nobody gets to muzzle me.

I deserve to be fought for. I can fight for myself.

I am getting there.

My reponse to most what anyone has to say about me on a personal level is fuck you pay me. If someone really feels the need to make sure I’m hearing what they have to say about me, I feel like I should get paid for a humiliation scene.

This whole process is so internalized. The triggers then the spiral are all very inward. I’m working on not keeping it so internalized but I find it really difficult.

I don’t like feeling super vulnerable to people who might gleefully cause me harm. On the flipside of that I do have a desire to make sure I present myself like a whole real human.

I have the worst habit of trying to present a bullet proof strong front and it does not serve me well. It is not real and as I’ve been really trying to reinforce with myself is in fact harmful.

Unlearning these lessons is fucking brutal. I thought it would get easier as I get older but not really. I still fall down the hole. The difference is that I can get out and I can talk about it.

Shit is hard but I’m working on it.

Other stuff.

In terms of my writing life I have been doing a lot of things. I’m knocking shit off of my writing bucketlist.

For instance.

I am not totally comfortable writing purposeful satire. I sat on this piece for a while and then decided (while I was thinking of what my bestie would say about it) then I just published it. It is not super perfection (is anything I do perfect?) but it is exactly what I needed to say. It is on catcalling and you can read it here. TW for rape culture and racism and gross.  

I’ve also been doing some experimentation with genre work and I am excited about that.

Last thing, my publisher has started the process for signing up for our self care email list ahead of book prep.

Go here and sign up and await SURPRISES!!

Anything else? Not right now. Next week I will probably yammer about the seeming impossibility of accessible clothes I am interested in right now.

And some thinking about health that I’ve been doing lately.

That’s all for now.

Homo out.

Okay I See.

So hi y’all.

If you’ve been here for a while you know I like to keep stuff at least kind of transperent so let me tell you a few things that are going on.

In my time at XoJane  (the top one is the newest) a lot of people have come up in comments there, in my tumblr ask box etc to tell me how much they dislike what I’m doing there, my work, my face, how I wear my nails and pretty much every word I type.

That’s fine.

What is not fine is that every time I have something new published,  I wind up having to clear out dozens of these messages from my various inboxes.

So I’m probably going to shut down comments here and in other spots because frankly if you aren’t offering me money in a professional capacity I don’t have the time nor energy to deal with you.

Also let me tell the four or five folks (I’m assuming it’s more because a lot of shit incoming is anonymized) or whomever a few things.

I have said many times I use stats trackers and I know how to read them.

If you’re trying to bring me to your thread on that message board so I can see how much people there dislike my work, nah I’m good. I have no desire to interact with people who don’t like me if I’m not contractually obligated to do so.

Just like in meat space, people who say don’t like my hair of dark lipstick I’m not gonna sit around and keke with them. I honestly only give enough of a shit to be aware of what’s being said, consider some things and the rest is none of my business frankly.

While I am frequently open to critique, these things are not critique. How about a sampling of some of the shit I’ve had to clean out of my moderated comment queue tonight. First a sampling from what I posted on twitter earlier:


A few more gems of thoughtful critique of my work and self:

“I hope you get fired”

“You write the worst”

“You don’t deserve the attention you get”

“You are a hack and completely unprofessional. ”

Note not one of these people has actually spoken directly to me in a manner that indicates they have some critique and want a conversation.

Not one has left a name or valid email.

Some are coming in from that one forum thread (yes I’ve seen it before, yes I’m STILL that blogger y’all haven’t liked for years) I get it. I really do. A bunch of people don’t like me for a lot of reasons. As above, that’s fine.

What I don’t have to do is try to make friends or lick ass or change how I go about doing what I’ve been getting paid a little money to do.

I also need to reiterate a few other things.

I am a fat queer Black woman on the internet who has opinions about things. I have gotten death threats, rape threats, been doxxed, had people contact my various employers, try to contact my family blahblabhblah.

I have a fairly thick skin. I understand fully that my work is not for everyone and I am not to everybody’s taste.

What I don’t understand is why keep fucking with me about it? That’s what bothers me.

Why go through the trouble of searching, coming in from the forum whether you’re a member or not, finding my contact form or trying to comment with that shit in my private space?

If you hate me, hate my writing and feel passionately enough about that hate to seek out my personal spots where I talk about shit put your feelings to better use.

If you want to get me fired from XoJane there are ways to do that.

XoJane Pitch page. Pitch them a better series.

Send any and all feedback to

Here is an example mail for you,

To Whom it May concern,

Regarding the article on (pick a date) I find Shannon Barber’s writing atrocious and unprofessional. It is my opinion that she should not be writing for your magazine- you can continue from there.

That is how you go about dealing with media you don’t like.

What I am opposed to is coming into my inboxes to shit on my shoes and tell me to be a fucking professional.

Fuck you.

Now let me state again very clearly. This is not about me having hurt feelings. I do but that’s not the point. It’s not about how many people dislike my work, or how they talk about my work amongst themselves.

Knock yourselves out. Go for it.

It is about bringing that into my personal life. That is malicious and I won’t say trolling it is abusive.

Here’s the thing.

I won’t be abused into silence.

If your aim is silence, be an adult and take it to someone who can do something about your problem. It is not my problem.

I am who I am.

I like who I am. I am really enjoying doing my series at Xojane specifically. I really love having people tell me that they aren’t in the specific situation that I’m talking about but that they feel good. Regardless of how much anybody hates my style, I still love that I’ve given a few people a space to talk about stuff they don’t normally discuss.

Overall, it’s all to the good.

That said, I am going to make it more difficult to get a hold of me. I apologize to those who have legitimate projects or whatever but I just don’t have the spoons to deal with so much extra shit.

I have enough of my own.

Homo Out


Revisiting Intuitive eating and the Food Police

For the last few months I have been revisiting my use of intuitive eating.

I’ve had what I consider to be kind of a fraught relationship with the concept of intuitive eating because as I’ve figured out I thought my food intuition was broken.

I was finding flaws in almost every way or method I was eating. I was placing a lot of heavy judgements on myself because I did not believe I could/am good at feeding myself in a way that is fulfilling.

One of my issues going in is that when I have strong emotions (stress, joy, feelings) I tend to lose my appetite in a way that makes the idea of eating gross.

I kept feeling like, because I was having a hard time calming down with the judgements and just letting my body do the thing I know it knows how to do, I have been making a serious effort to take my own damn advice and not be so much of an asshole to myself.

As some of y’all might remember I am on a bit of a quest to run past turning 40 in a few years with some shit worked out.

This is part of me working my shit out.

Now I have finally figured out a few things about how my body broadcasts hunger and what I can eat/can’t eat often.

  1. When I am having a day where I have more general pain (I don’t really want to go into that too deep right now) I tend to want my plain room temp/tepid water in the morning while I get ready.
  2. I cannot force myself to do breakfast.
  3. I like something with my coffee. A cookie or pastry etc. Something a bit sweet for my first hour or so at work.
  4. Generally speaking I like an actual meal sized food between 5-6ish.
  5. Ideally I get some meat/fish protein in there.
  6. Snacks are essential.

I have the worst habit of treating myself like the upset parent trying to get a kid to eat a la my favorite Louis C K bit ever. NSFW/KID language.

I get frustrated with myself because I AM that kid that you want to go EAT MOTHER FUCKER YOU WILL DIE.

So, I dial it down and eat. Rather than trying so hard to “correct” my food issues I’m working with them and I ask myself, am I sated? Am I no longer hangry? Okay good. Just eat the food.

Generally speaking my natural inclination leans toward having veg to graze on (not too much because I will poop my brains out, another reason why being a vegan was miserable for me) and tea and water and stuff.

Sometimes if I want some, I eat some candy. Eat some fruit whatever.

Which brings me to food policing.

Actually instead as a little homage to Roxane Gay I want to show you how I make something that might not sate me plain churched up while I am at work.

I picked up an Annie Chun sweet n spicy noodle bowl. Plain these are just meh and are never satisfying to me. Here is how it looked, not pretty but so damn good.

This shit right here.

This shit right here.

So for my taste I need a bowl like this, a Mrs Dash type seasoning. I use some I got at the dollar store with chips of dehydrated garlic, onion, pepper, basil, celery seed and whatnot. I cook the noodles and drain them then add the sauce that comes with it, my faux Dash, Sriracha and stir. I let it sit.

Then I will buy or use leftovers for protein. Sometimes I grab a packet of tuna or if I’m feeling fancy like today a packet of salmon. Sometimes I use chicken, a few weeks ago I had left over tofu and used that.

I broke up the fish and added it along with some leftover sesame seeds and voila.

Not pictured are the sugar snap peas I’ve been snacking on all day.

While I was at the store, I mostly just grabbed what felt like it would be good and was happy until, some asshole I don’t even know decided to stop and “congratulate” me on my food choices. Except for my safeway brand sparkly water, that got a little bit of a chiding.

My first instinct was to tell this person to fuck off.

I let them finish and then asked if they were buying my food because that is the only way how I feed myself is any of their business.

Here’s the thing.

Regardless of how passionate you are about your food, your food politics, your food ethics, your food needs- you are not the boss of people who need to eat.

You don’t know what my or anyone else’s dietary needs or desires are so keep your shit mout shut.

If someone broaches the topic with you, go nuts.

Share recipes whatever but don’t just walk up to random people with that shit it’s rude.

It doesn’t matter if the person is the fattest fat person you have ever seen in public or if they are the thinnest.

I know that some people do this out of concern, or what they think is concern and interrupting the daily life of another person to let them know you don’t like how they eat/walk/dress is not concern. It is acting like an entitled jerk so don’t.

If what you care about is food justice, that means you’re down for people who eat junk food as well as those who eat other ways. It means you don’t get to tell them what to eat, but fight for their access to fresh food.

If you care about healthy food, the ethics of the food industry etc how you feel on a personal level in your lived life is one thing but you don’t really have the right to impose that on the personal lived lives of other people.

If you want to educate about your particular food issue, the onus of appropriate behavior is on you not the people you are trying to preach to.

I look at it this way.

Dialogue is awesome and can be really enjoyable.

Proselytizing? Not so much.

that’s all for right now.

Homo out.

Remembering my Fire.

I keep a small printed copy of this Audre Lorde quote in my bag:

“You cannot, you cannot use someone else’s fire. You can only use your own. And in order to do that, you must first be willing to believe that you have it.” — I Am Your Sister: Collected and Unpublished Writings of Audre Lorde

I don’t know how clear it is but I’ve loved Audre Lorde like a far away Mama since I first saw her writing as a kidlet.

There are so many areas of my day to day life where I am doing or feeling too many things and her voice is one of the ones in my head, chiding, explaining, telling me no.

In the last few years while I’ve been writing more nonfiction and whatnot, I’ve developed a bit of spidey sense when I start feeling like my Blackness is the root of a problem.

People assume I’ve done no research, that I’ve done no reading, that if I wrote something this year it is a brand new thought. I obviously am not X thing professionally so how I can I write about it.

After talking to some older and more experienced writers, I have had to redefine how I feel about these things and how I engage in them.

This is also part of why I kinda retired from fatty blogging. There came a point when I was getting on average 4-6 privately sent messages from people who fully believe that since I’m not as fat as I used to be, nothing I say has meaning.

I’ve noticed that when it comes to cherry picking anything I have to say, it only bothers me for a minute. Logically, I remind myself that if someone wants or needs to hang their entire dislike of me or my work on a phrase or sentence, I got nothin for em.

Emotionally shit has been rough. Learning new ways to deal with the idea that I am not enough has been good but hard.

Resuming blogging in my own wee space has helped.

What else?

I FINALLY picked my wig for Fall/Winter and it is on the way. I’m super excited because this dampness and humidity is making my hair difficult to deal with.

Uniballer and I are also working on making me a craft/beauty corner in our apartment. We’re looking at a set up where I can put my sewing machine, put my make up on and do youtube videos. Holy shit exciting.

I’ve finally started being able to get shawl sales going. It was way more difficult in terms of how I feel about letting myself be a maker than I anticipated.

Referring to the quote up there, I’ve long felt that I spend a lot of time giving myself good reasons not to believe I have fire. Thinking of it from a slightly different view, learning to allow myself fire about things that don’t make me money immediately or cost money to do, has been important.


I’m realizing just how much I’ve learned to punish myself (economically especially) for having pleasures that aren’t free or lucrative.

It has become pretty clear to me that part of me figuring shit out is that I have to ignore my first instinct in a lot of ways and that is fucking terrifying.

I will have some craft related pictures soonish. I have some finished items that aren’t shawls that I want to list as well.

Here’s to giving it a shot.

Homo Out.

Walkin the walk.

Fall is coming and I am getting ready for winter.

This year, I have set up a bank account where my etsy and freelance money goes. I have long had the goal of trying to move some of my self care/beauty/hair stuff off of the household budget and support it with writing.

The Uniballer (my partner for those who are new) has put zero pressure on me to do this and while not telling me I should or shouldn’t has supported my endevour.

This weekend I realized some of that goal and while I was lamenting spending some of my small savings on the other hand I felt like celebrating a milestone in my writing life.

Writing has paid for my hosting for both this blog and my official author site, some fancy new shoes, my monthly cell phone bill for the last few months, hair stuff and even this past weekend some household sundries.

I had a moment last night while I was showering where I realized how much it actually means to me.

What else is goin on?

In prep for winter and covering my hair through Spring I dyed it Black no1. Old Goth is gonna be Goth.

Here is the before, my stretched faded red hair with some serious root situation going on.

Old red. Goodbye fiery goodness.

Old red. Goodbye fiery goodness.

OH if my image description (I am trying really hard to be better about that) sucks please tell me how to make it better.

I picked up some Intense Black dye. I’ve found that since going natural, white folks dye and my hair just do not get along anymore so I picked up Softsheen Carson Dark and Lovely Go Intense Hair Color, Super Black from Amazon (yeah sorry affiliate link, still side hustling like hell). This dye was not quite enough, I can’t keep track of how long my hair has gotten and I should have gotten two boxes but it got the job done.

Behold my sopping wet newly Gothity Goth Goth Black. Once the color developed it is really deep blue black and gorgeous.

Ah the power of shrinkage. And yes that is how fluffy the Kraken is sopping wet.

Ah the power of shrinkage. And yes that is how fluffy the Kraken is sopping wet.

It could be a bit bluer but I’m not mad because i will be flat twisting my hair underneath my wigs all winter.

I also used writing dollars to pick up the best for my particular hair moisturizer even though it was expensive I had to talk myself into it.

I grabbed a jar of Oyin Handmade Whipped pudding because it is the moisturizer my hair responds the best to.

As I mentioned while I’ve been doing the Self Care series at Xojane. Here is the latest one.  And have been preparing for the epic rewrite for V2.1 properly published self care book, I have been having to re-engage with myself about a lot of self care related things.

Between some of the critiques and dealing with my own ever shifting feelings about treating myself the way I advise others to treat themselves I’ve had a couple of whoa moments.

For instance.

Today I’m wearing a dress that is probably four sizes too big and just doesn’t fit. It’s soft but at this point I should get a new dress. Since there is no longer a Fashion bug near my house I have a constant struggle with myself about replacing my clothing.

I started a bit, I recently picked up a few camisoles, tshirts and a skirt from Ebay and a pair of pants. The pants are kind of not what I wanted and I had a wee bit of a spiral thinking about what the 20$ (yay super clearance but boo not great pants) could have bought and how stupid it was to have two pairs of pants that fit properly.

It was a hard moment. I had to really stop myself and go back to what I talked about in the aforelinked self care article. Some days, reminding myself that yes it is okay for me to want and buy new pants is a struggle. I had to spend some time not panicking or immediately returning them for the 20$ for the possible emergency where we would need 20$.

Not that we’re dead broke right now but, that anxiety is one that I have yet to shed completely.

So I did the things. I took care of my hair, I enjoyed time with my partner and I ate some good food.

As I am getting ready to get things rolling with my publisher, and doing the XoJane thing it feels good if hard to work on this shit.

Fact is, shit is fucking hard and a constant work in progress.

Now my darlings I have writing to do. How are y’all doing?

I am really enjoying posting more photos and after I pick up a tripod there will be FASHION.

Homo Out.


You have until about midnightish (maybe a tad later) to pick up V2.0 over at etsy. Don’t stop get it get it.

Fall is Coming.

As much as I love heat and summer I am pretty ready for fall.

It is a terrible state of affairs to realize that you love the heat and not being cold but hate sweating for no good damn reason.

So fuck yes fall.

In the last few years I’ve started indulging my love of changing my appearance and using it as a reason to celebrate the season change and do some nice stuff for myself.

One of the things Fall means is that I am gearing up to do what’s called the Crown and Glory method with my hair.

Basically, I’m going to be doing what’s called protective styling (in my case I will flat twist my hair and wear wigs) to get a good handle on retaining length through the wet and cold weather.

My prep begins with picking a new wig. Last year it was a red on top black on bottom curly one. This year I’m going for a whole other look with this ombre black to grey wig.  We all know I don’t really care about realness I just wanna feel pretty and I LOVE this look.

Next thing is to dig out my Sock Dreams stash. Matter of fact right now I am wearing a pair of M Ribbed Stockings . At ten bucks they are really great. They fit me well and they are warm. I will probably pick up a few more pairs. See in the photo below I’ve paired them with a hi-low black and white striped summer dress layered with a sweater.


My fat hams with my high socks.

My fat hams with my high socks.

I also after a lot of hemming and hawing on my part bought myself a pair of shoes I’ve been lusting after since last season. I waited and waited, talked myself out of them and then I found a mega epic deal on them. This was one of those moments where I’d saved up and put aside some freelance and side hustle money for new boots and then this happened:

YRU Hercules boots.

YRU Hercules boots.

They are so cute. I had been wanting a pair of similar Jeffrey Campbell boots but I couldn’t really find a good deal on them and we know I hate paying retail for stuff. I wore them for the first time the other day and they are very comfy. They are veggie leather so I am going to have to treat them with mink oil because they are really squeaky and have that gross poly stink that veggie leather has.

Other than that, I am so into them. They fit right in with my fall winter plan of wearing a lot of lettings, skinny jeans and layers. I’m very excited.

I am feeling that huge beautiful feeling I have when I look just how I want to. Now that I am finally coming to terms with the changes in my body and accepting that there is just nothing I can do about it and denying myself pants that fit isn’t going to help my situation, I am really excited about walking around feeling good in my skin and how I’m decorating my ass.

Relearning to accept my body and treat it well even when it is doing stuff I’d rather it not do has been really hard. I’ve been at such a loss as to how to even talk about it or feel about it given my fatty leanings. I finally told myself to shut up because frankly my views haven’t changed just my ass.

What bothers me the most is that even after all these years of FA and body politics, it is still so easy to fall into the self loathing. Even with such deeply held beliefs, it is still so easy to buy the bullshit.

And then I have to remind myself that I’m human.

Humans fundamentally do a lot of things that are not awesome and often to ourselves.

Dear Self,

Calm down. You are okay.



Okay homies that is kind of all right now. OH no wait I have an official author facebook page now (did I even tell y’all that?) and you can keep up with my no blog writing there.

Also I want to let you know that you have until Monday the 22nd to pick up the current version of my self care book. I will be taking it down so my publisher and I can get going on rewrites and everything else. So get it here if you want this version because the next incarnation, is going to be epic.

Next time I will come back with some make up reviews and talk about some WOC led beauty channels I’ve found.

Homo out.



Sometimes, when the world sucks.

All I can do is fashion.

So much of the world is so terrible right now I can’t.

So let us fashion.

First, I have again had this entire need, terrible need to change my aesthetic again.

All because of these and these.

All I want to wear are leggings, shoes like those and big tops of varying sorts. Tights, layers.

Almost every Fall since I was about 30 I have sworn i will master layering but I fail ever time. I find myself entirely absurd in how bad I am at putting the right fabrics together so things don’t slide apart. That is usually my problem is that I pick fabrics that are too silky and things fall off.

The other problem is that if you’ve followed me from blogger to here you know the size of my ass changed. Now that I am emotionally pretty okay with it, I realize that I replaced basically none of my essential clothing. All my panties, pants and shirts are too big. I have two bras that are the proper size. Half of that problem has been money but the other half as I figured out recently has been fear.

What if my body changes again?

That is something I worry about. Doesn’t matter if it is weight gain or loss, I just can’t afford to be buying pants every time my body does a thing.

I forget my own advice a lot.

I keep trying to con myself into believing that my happiness when I look exactly how I wanna look is fleeting or unimportant.

And it’s just not.

Part of me realizing that it is in fact okay to be sad when I can’t look how I want to. I have a job where I can look however I want.

I’m almost 40.

I can look how the fuck I want.

Part of my very recent decision to start unfucking my wardrobe has been doing the series at Xojane. I have been reminding myself that if I am telling other folks they are worth doing the things they can afford and whatnot so am I right?

Because we really need to move I have been putting a huge amount of pressure on myself to try and bring in more money. My side hustles, freelancing. I’ve been slowly using some of my current freelance income to pay for things like my cell phone and coffee outside of teh household budget.

This has proven difficult and I have not been great at not being a total asshole about it to myself.

I’ll be touching on this in my next article.

But since this is my litterbox I can spill all my feelings here.

I’m feeling like I have fucked up royally by not being responsible and getting new drawers and pants before it starts getting cold. And on the other side of that coin I feel upset that I don’t have stuff to wear that fits and that I really like.

And then of course I feel like, well if I just do more X thing maybe I will deserve it.

But I deserve it now. Just because.

This shit is fucking hard y’all.

With the support of Uniballer after I get paid tomorrow I am going to buy some shirts and underwear that are the proper size, not faded or otherwise raggedy.

I am also going to buy one more pair of pants.

I have discovered that currently my ass and Dickie’s Girl brand pants are real good buddies. I’ve got a pair of teh skinny straight legs and am going to get the boot cut.

They aren’t quite the heavy twill fabric of the 90s that I used to wear all the time but they’ll do.

I am also going to buy my next wig. Y’all know I do what is part of the crown and glory method for my hair where I will be covering my hair through fall and winter. We’ll talk about it later.

I am ready.

I have a plan and I am going to try really hard not to screw myself out of or talk myself out of the style I want to cultivate for Fall and Winter. I know some people think this is incredibly stupid and I can say with confidence that, that in general doesn’t play into my feelings.

And to quote my dear friend Haddayr, I am feeling the fuck out of my feelings. I have even been expressing those feelings to people and that shit is also hard as fuck but I am doing it.

Next time we’ll talk about how feeling vulnerable and talking about it makes me want to headbutt a wall.

Homo Out.


Oh…oh hey y’all

Okay so my homies SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED.

I hardly even know where to start.

So how about some big deal holy shit writing news?

Through the wonderful turnings of the universe, my dear friend Milcah is going to make my self care book the very first from her new indie press.

That means, there is going to be a website, there are going to be tshirts, there are going to be special edition print books with new stuff and brand new special to this edition content.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Like y’all…Y’ALL.

I have long discarded the idea of mainstream publication a long time ago. Because racism, sexism and everything terrible I just don’t want to deal with it especially in terms of work that is so important to my soul.

And then I met Milcah and I had no idea about her press but I adore her a lot. She is my people.

And now this.

I’m honestly shitting my pants terrified that I will screw it up but I’m also super energized and ready because it feels right and good.

So that happened.

Writing things have been so intense and happening i’m overwhelmed and overjoyed. So for all the news about that, I now have an official author page on facebook and much as I have issues with the facebooks, that looks to be the way to follow my work around.  Check it out here.

What else?

I realized today that while I have emotionally dealth with that weightloss I had, I haven’t dealt with it in terms of replacing the staple items in my closet like underwear, the tee shirts I love to wear, tank tops. You know the basics.

Now it’s been what like two years? My weight and size has been stable for at least a year so 90% of the raggedy ass clothes I own are too big and raggedy.

Today I was feeling some type of way (my tank top is almost see through in spots, my hoody is sun faded) and while the concept of my outfit is cute as shit, I feel gross.

I did some digging and realized that I’m feeling those awkward poor kid I hate looking poor feelings.

I won’t lie I had a little bit of a mini meltdown about said bad feelings and my finances and everything. So I have been squirreling away money from my freelance projects so I can buy myself clothes that fit and that I like.

Apparently since my weight fluctuated so hard once, I’m kind of afraid to replace things in case shit happens again. It’s not happening but I’m nervous.

Um, I am itchy and sleepy so I am going to cut this short.

Suffice to say, holy shit y’all holy shit holy shit holy shit.

Now that I’m in a bit more of a groove with my other writing stuff and AND OMG I got a new real big girl lap top to work on. I pushed my poor little gifted Chromebook so hard, it was not made for that kind of abuse.

Also good news is that Uniballer can turn my Chromebook into a linuxbook, which means I can tote it around and work without any issues.

So my homies I salute you.

I also want to say that we need a new battle cry, and our battle cry shall be:


I’ll explain later.

But yes.

You, my friend.

Don’t stop, get it get it.

Homo out.

On Keeping track of myself and whatnot.

I am trying to teach myself to use technology, my smart phone and whatnot to keep better track of myself and I am learning some interesting things.

We know I am pro selfie. Take them, post them, talk about how hot you are.

Another thing I love about selfies is that they help me keep track of my face. Sometimes I feel like I am face blind to myself. Not that I literally forget what I look like but I get so wrapped up in everything else in life, I forget to look at my face.

My face today;



I took that after running around doing things and finally getting a second to sit down and sip my coffee and try to stop grinding my teeth.

A couple of months ago my Partner decided he was done hearing about/looking at my janky ass old phone. It was dying a slow terrible rage inducing death. So now I have a modern (as in is not 4 years old) phone that does a lot of things. One of the things it does is has multiple alarms and calenders, AND my favorite thing I’ve been using an app called Nexercise.

I’ve tried a few other exercise tracking apps and found them to be heavy on the weightloss and bullshit and we know I’m not into that.

It is not perfect but what I do like is that I can get points for rewards AND keep track of what I want to keep track of without messages telling me to lose weight or anything.

I’m also keeping track of my periods and how my skin looks.

What I’m finding out is that I am doing better than I thought I was.

What I mean by that is I have in the past year or so felt like I have not been good at taking care of my health and being a human. Not exercising enough, not eating well enough not being good enough at taking care of my body as it changes.

After a few months of consciously keeping track of myself this way I realized that holy shit, i am doing the thing.

I am doing Intuitive Eating as best I can. I eat when I’m hungry. If I can afford it I eat as I please. My digestive issues are way fewer and more far between, A while back I was feeling like I could not do intuitive eating “right”. I felt like i was failing at it really hard and the whole idea was stressing me out.

I spent some time re-reading about intuitive eating and reminding myself that while no the signals my body sends aren’t always the ones I expect but that I should listen.

It is working. I am pretty good at reading the signs that I need to eat, I’m realizing what foods I can and can’t tolerate and if I can’t tolerate them how much I can have before I feel like I’m going to poop my pants or be constipated.

I have regular good poops.

I exercise all together a lot. I average between 35-45 minutes a day all told. Not more than my body can handle but what feels like just enough to maintain my weight, feel good and shit.

I take my vitamins.

I got a water bottle that helps me track how much water I take in because too much and my kidneys hurt.

I am trying to work with myself on health problems that are lingering and that I’ve had for years and that I have a bad habit of exacerbating because of things like stress and whatnot.

I want to attribute my newfound dedication to preserving myself to the fact that I am racing toward 40 and I just cannot bull my way through health problems.

I still get frustrated when my knees hurt or my back starts knotting up so much I can’t sleep but it is getting easier for me to track the causes and ways I deal.

I really encourage those who also have some issues taking care of their health in a kind way, to try some of this stuff out. For me the real key was finding ways to aid in my care without it turning into disordered behaviors.

For those with serious disordered histories or other mental illnesses that can impact this sort of thing, it can be a fine line between things are okay and everything is terrible so proceed with caution. Try one thing at a time.

This whole process of relearning and learning new ways of caring for myself. I want to nurture myself to 40.

I want to arrive at 40 feeling myself and feeling enough confidence in my own ability to work myself out, that I don’t know.

I’m not saying I want to be better than whatever age or anythign like that but I want to make it to 40 with some things worked out. I want to strut into 40.

For so many years I thought 40 wasn’t going to be really attainable.

Now I’m so close, I’m fucking alive. I survived so much I’m ready.

I want my silver hairs, I want my little Crow’s feet, I want my 40 year old ass, I want all those years under my belt so I can rev up to 50.

Now what else?

OH I am wearing my favorite 5$ dress ever. I call it my Grandma’s Couch sundress and it is gaudier and more awesome up close. See it below.



LOOK at the print.

This dress is about two sizes too big and I wear it with an equally violently pink cami underneath and I feel adorable. It is loose and comfy. Probably the best cheap dress I’ve ever purchased.

Let this be your daily reminder that it is really fucking awesome to feel good in your clothes.

Homo Out

OH wait PS.

I am still working out my commenting. I do not like the onboard comment system so I may move to disquis.

Stay tuned.