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.

Fashion Regrets. I has them.

I was looking at faux leather leggings earlier and planning fall outfits in my head and I was taken over by the saddest nostalgia.

I was thinking about being a little baby fatty, in my midish twenties. I was a bit bigger than I am now and I remember I had some money for clothing.

If some of y’all are my age or older you may remember the leather pants Melissa Etheridge used to wear. Something like this, think jim Morrison with hips. I remember finding a pair of faux leather pants very similar to that and I tried them on.

At the time I almost started crying in the dressing room because I had a little belly and my big ass thighs and smallish butt.

So I was thinking about those pants and I wish I had bought them. Only because I would probably still have them and I want to wear them.

Right now at the size I am (small fat, round. Awesome belly) I want those pants. I want to wear them with a thin black tank top, with my little belly hanging over the low ass waistband. I want to wear them with my Docs or with the semi engineer style boots I have.

I feel like it would be perfect.

I am in mourning for all the clothes I didn’t think I could “pull off” because of my wee fat body. Because I believed that I would legitimately make people sick if they saw my belly and my muffin top (FUCK I loathe that term) or if it was clear that my stomach isn’t flat and my thighs not only touch they fucking cuddle while I walk.

I find it retroactively upsetting.

I am mourning the affordable underwire bikini tops, the booty shorts, the perfect fit sturdy twill zip front dresses, the pleated butt showing minis.

I am so sad that I was so ashamed of my fine ass chubby body I missed out on so much fashion awesome.

And now fast forward a bit more than a decade and I am seeing “vintage” (I think things should be older than a decade to be vintage but whatever) stuff that if it were in my size would be perfect and is just like stuff I had when it was all new.

I’m so sad.

And yet, I’m also scouring for these fashions and others because I’ve discovered that part of living in super health conscious Seattle means I have come to really enjoy traumatizing other people with my fatness.

For instance.

I was wearing one of my favorite things (this maxi skirt from Deb Shops in black of course) and a woman, maybe my age or a bit younger stopped me to let me know that someone had spanx on sale because she could see my “trouble” areas…you know my fat jiggling ass and was trying to do me a solid.

I smiled and told her politely that I like my jiggling trouble spot and I don’t need any Spanx.

I was really amused.

The thing is, I know that people tend to think I am way younger than I am but the fact is the older I get the fewer fucks I give.

The older I get the more amusement I get from the discomfort of other people in terms of my body. From the young ladies who were appalled at my furry armpits and unshaven legs to the friendly ladies offering advice about what’s flattering.

I just don’t care.

I want to spend my middle age looking precisely how I want to look.

Similarly I have been trying to refine my plans for body modification so I can start saving up.

Behold Maria Jose Cristerna.


I love her.

I love her.

If you don’t know who she is check her out on the internets.

I think she is one of the most beautiful human beings on the planet. She is honestly the epitome of looking however the fuck you want to me and I want grow up to give that few fucks.

I may not want her mods specifically but I want to reach my twilight years decorated and looking exactly how I please.

I wish someone could have told me way back then that I could in fact look how I want when i want. I wish someone would have told me that over and over again.

Sometimes I still have to tell myself. I still struggle on occasion with presenting myself the way I think I should versus how I want to.

Sometimes I lose faith in my own ability to support my need to look how the fuck I want to look.

Shit is hard but looking back at the young woman who so wanted to wear the things but was afraid to because OH NO FAT I think I can do it.

To that end I have my little stash of tattoo references, a list of a few more face holes I’d like punched in my dermis. I am learning that I can and should relearn how to sew in a more serious fashion.

This summer this is pretty much my look:

Dark lips and no fucks given.

Dark lips and no fucks given.

I’ve been experimenting with a few sheer items of clothing and trying to figure out layering when it is hot out. I haven’t been entirely successful but the evolution into an Evil Alien Nazgul Queen is happening.

And I will let it happen.

Even if it hurts sometimes.

Homo Out.

Musings on Using Thin Privilege and whatnot.

Right now my body is a size that means I have some degree of thin privilege.

Not a whole bunch but some.

This was my outfit from the other day.


I am not really as small as I look sometimes because of how I wear my clothes but I am not visually obviously still fat. It is quite a thing.

If you ask most medical professionals I am about to drop dead any minute.

Ask me and I’m borderline close to being too small to feel comfortable.

That aside, I am relearning how to use my degree of thin privilege to further my ideas about bodies and fatness.

For instance.

Not too long ago an indie designer I have admired for a very long time sent me a message on tumblr to tell me that something or other of theirs was back in stock, I had commented on a post about it months ago.

I went off to look and saw that their current sizing is bizarre. As in their size L had an upper measurement of a 30″ waist and 38″ hip.

So this person from looking at some photos of me assumes that I am relatively normatively sized and when I asked them privately about their jacked up sizing, they asked what I was worried for?

Well a.) the size L would be too small for me and b.) I am here for fat people.

Even though I am not currently sized out of a lot of clothes, I am still sized out of a lot of clothing I like. So I get my foot in because I have some thin privilege and then I start talking about fat folks and I still will not accept that making clothes for fat or really fucking fat people is impossible.

Size matters regardless of what size I am.

Said designer isn’t speaking to me anymore.

What irritates the shit out of me is the presumption that in order to care about a thing, in this case fatness you have to exemplify the thing.


Even if you didn’t know that I was fatter at one point, the thing to know is that my point is still valid.

Why isn’t this available in bigger sizes is a serious question.

What irritates me even more is that now that I look not fat, (not thin but not really fat) people want to listen to what I have to say. I don’t like it. You should have listened when I was fucking fat.

At least fat in the someone looks at me and knows I’m fat kind of way.

Given that I don’t wield a lot of privilege in other ways, I am kind of enjoying learning to use it as a weapon. For good that is.

I will say that while I do have this bit of thin privilege I can’t say that I identify with thinness or even average-ness on a personal level.

Being that my perspective on body politics is a fat shaped (both identity and physically) lens, I am finding it easier to reject the idea that I am supposed to be happy with my weight loss or talk about it positively. Emotionally that has actually made the change in my body way easier to deal with and talk about in a truthful manner.

The truth is I am still not thrilled about it. I am accepting it as something my body decided to do and trying to maintain my health without bullshit.

But I am not really happy about it and that is okay.

This is something I’ve settled on fairly recently. Trying to deal with my negative feelings about my weight coupled with being uncertain if I should keep talking fatness etc was rough on me.

And then of course I went back to some core FA things.

  1. The size of my ass doesn’t change who I actually am.
  2. Smaller ass does not miraculously  make life better.

Concepts that I have talked about for years and really needed to remind myself of in recent times.

It will never get old to have that core to fall back on when shit gets rough regardless of the actual size of my ass.

That said.

Let this be my perhaps monthly reminder that Fat Acceptance is good for everyone.


Homo Out.


Welcome to my new thing y’all.

Here we are y’all.

Here is what I am doing here.

Recently I’ve realized several things that are a running theme in my life the last couple of years.

  1. Being a maker of things (written things, crocheted things, other mystery crafty things) means a lot to me on many levels.
  2. The number of fucks I give about how I am culturally inculcated to feeling about aging, my body and my looks has dwindled to negative 45.
  3. I needed a fresh spot to explore things.
  4. I was real tired of bloggers shit.

Those things happening at a time when I was already feeling some type of way about my previous litterbox mean this is happening.

So I’m just gonna start talking.

I’ve been doing this series over at XOjane for the past few weeks, I’ve been using both my poor skills and my passion for self care to try and help some folks get through it.

As I’ve been writing this series I am kind of amazed at how many of the attitudes I’ve shed over the years regarding what I do and don’t deserve and what is and is not okay for me to do or be interested in.

Once upon a time some of the shitty commentary from people who don’t like how I write would have just broken my heart. I would have bought into the idea that “the author” is the asshole to be made fun of thing and probably told Marianne I quit.

At this point though, I’ve heard all that.

I don’t particularly care. What I do care about more is in my own mind I feel like I’m doing some good and that’s awesome.

Also seeing how far I’ve really come in terms of learning to treat myself better.

Some of y’all might remember how much I angsted and wept over buying my beloved Oxblood Docs because they were expensive and I loved them.

Just lately as I’ve been learning to balance my writing life with the day job, and balance the writing things with each other I’ve been feeling down. I felt like I was/am doing something terribly wrong.

I’ve also realized I did a shitload of work to unlearn the whole concept of me “deserving” good treatment from myself or from others.

And then I ran into a brick wall.

I mentioned my deep love of and desire to just be a maker. I crochet, I used to do a lot of sewing. And then (as I am thinking of my stash of finished crocheted shawls) I realized I have a problem.

Somewhere in my early 20s when finances were dire I absolutely could not afford to have a hobby that didn’t involve free. I didn’t crochet, I didn’t buy clothes to tear apart or buy fabric. I didn’t buy books. I was at survival level brokeness.

During that period I decided somewhere in my subconscious that even if I did better financially being a maker of things that I might sell or give as gifts was not going to happen.

The part that fucks me up today is that I do have a hobby budget. I have a partner and other loved ones who support my obsession with being a maker but when I try to take that next step of setting up shop for physical items or entering a craft fair I freeze up and freak out.

There are a lot of messages that go through my head about this. The idea that if I fail or don’t sell I’ve gone and wasted money on my stupid ideas.

That if I do said thing even if it does sell it won’t really pay the bills so why the fuck.

Funny how the shit we think we have solved comes up again like a goddamn jack in the box.

Much like my years long struggles with learning to self care, learning to care for my body, learning to care for my hair this is something else I feel like I have to get through.

I have to struggle and remind myself I deserve to do shit that makes me happy. If I want to try and sell some arty shit, that’s okay too.

I want to say that if I can struggle through the depths of shit body image and through poverty driven disordered everything,  I fucking survived that and I am deeply invested in not turning 40 with this particular baggage.

To that end, there are some things I will probably talk about trying and failing at. Or the occasional win.

My current goal is to get at least two of my shawls photographed and ready for sale next weekend. Outside of really just wanting to unfuck my attitude about myself as a potential maker (note I don’t say artist, that is for reasons) I need to get through it.

I also really need to get going on my side hustles. I need a newer/more beefy laptop, I need to pay for myself and partner to go to AWP next year. And you know, life stuff.

I am glad I got that off my chest.

Welcome to Shannon has issues and is real over it.

Next time I want to talk about my one beautiful white hair on my head and some things about aging I was not expecting.

And thanks for reading y’all.

Homo Out.