Lifestyles of the (Faux) Rich and (Totally NOT) Famous

     Know what really sucks? Money. Money sucks. I know it's uncouth and maybe even vulgar to talk about money, but here are two realities: 1.) I really don't give a shit. 2.) Unless you are lucky enough to be in the 1%, money is a problem for almost everyone, so why not talk about it? In fact, I would say that next to making sure that I am the best parent I can possibly be for my kiddos, money, (or our lack-there-of), takes up a pretty large percentage of my thoughts and an even larger percentage of my worries. Can we give the kids a decent Christmas? Do I have the money for the car payment? Do we have rent on time this month, or at all this month? And I hate ALL of it.

     Right from the get-go though, I want to say this: It's not lost on me that we are very, very privileged to have the worries that we have. We have a roof over our heads. A super nice roof, in a super nice house, in a super nice neighborhood. It's all rented, but we still get to live here. We have plenty of food in our fridge. (Really too much food in our fridge is what started this blog in the first place, isn't it?) We've been on cruises and vacations in the past that some people only dream of. We have modes of transportation and we even get to spend a lot of time on Disney property. And to top it all off, we have several fantastic friends and family members who love and care about us. We are lucky, lucky bastards. But the truth is, we probably shouldn't be doing or having most of what we do. It's been a rough few years for us, financially. Job changes, lots of outputting of money for things for our kids, including services and our income is way down from where it was.

     Five years ago, The Hubs and I both had great paying jobs in sales. We worked hard and played hard. We got to vacation in France. We got to buy things we not only needed but also things we wanted. We didn't have to worry much about bills being paid because we could pretty much always cover it. We had great health insurance through work and out of cost fees weren't an issue. We also did not have kids.

     Yes, it was the best thing that could possibly ever happen to one human being to meet our kiddos and get to make them part of our family, but man, those suckers are expensive! Not only do kids cost a lot of money, but their needs put a huge limit on how much time we as parents can commit to work. It's no secret that our maternity and paternity leave in the US is a joke compared to the rest of the world, but we also struggle to be able to care for our kids on a day to day basis and still balance work, because our living wages are abysmal. I am so fortunate to have an incredibly flexible job, but when I have to take some extra time off because my kiddo with sensory processing disorder is having a meltdown, or because my daughter is having a panic attack, it costs me. And if you are the parent of a kiddo with a trauma history, you are so gonna feel me on this, but can we just talk about how expensive everyday life is for these kids? There are therapies, activities to keep them engaged and strengthen their social skills, tutors, IEP advocates, medications and treatments, tools like wobble cushions and weighted blankets... You just basically hemorrhage money. Again, best money ever spent, but it's overwhelming. And just one tiny event can send you into a hole that feels impossible to dig your way out of. Welcome to my life. We seem to find hole after hole. One step forward, two steps back. That kinda thing. It's exhausting.

     Our most recent 'step back' came in the form of a car accident for me back in late February. My already piece-of-crap of a car was totaled and my injuries have put me out of commission quite a bit. I can't really elaborate for legal reasons, but I am happy to report that I was not at fault and that myself and my passenger are on the road to recovery, but between the costs of having to get a new piece-of-crap car and time off of work, having to go to physical therapy and appointments multiple times a week, etc, it has sucked donkey balls. Not to mention.... it put me into a tailspin of depression, lack of motivation for anything, and even incapacitation at times, and as a result, I have regained HALF of my lost weight. Fuck. Me.

     So, here we are... faux rich, and so NOT famous. Why do I say "faux rich"? Because to the outside world, we probably look pretty comfortable: car, large (read: expensive to climate control but locked into a great school zone) house complete with pool (read: cash guzzler), occasional travel (read: flight benefits as an airline employee), and so much more. But the silent truth is that we struggle to make ends meet on a day to day basis. We have zero savings and no backup plans and that feels scary.

     My kids know it, too. I don't want them to know, but they are observant. They get that we never go out to eat anymore and that we've cut way back on the fun extras that they were used to when they first moved in and we had higher incomes. They get that Mamma had to fight with the doctor's office to get anxiety meds refilled without having health insurance and without paying a $200 office visit fee. They get that sometimes it's not worth the gas to go somewhere. They get that groceries have to be on sale to be purchased, no matter how yummy they look. They get all of it. I don't ever want them to have to take on any of my worries though. They have enough of their own. So we still try to make sure they have fun and that they get to feel special and amazing. We spend time with them, unplugged from technology and engaged. But they see the worry in our eyes. I am sure of it.

     We are genuinely doing the best we can. The Hubs works hard at his job, in the hopes to move up soon. I work whatever I can at my part-time job, and I also keep my gig facilitating post-adoption support groups, and blogging. Not huge money-makers, but every little bit helps.  We have cut waaaaay back on expenses, and have found small, happy surprises in doing so. We got rid of cable and satellite tv. We were super tv addicted and were really sad to cut the chord. Turns out, we don't need it and we spend a lot less time zoned out in front of the screen, which is awesome. Now, we are not complete animals... we do have Netflix. And Amazon. And Hulu. Oh man. We may have a problem.

     The point of all of this is just to say that money troubles blow and if you have them, you're not in it alone. In fact, this particular pool is overcrowded as hell and I think someone just peed.

It's The Most Wonderful Time Of the Year!!!

     It's almost the first weekend in March, and for me, that means it is about to be one of the happiest weekends of my entire year! Why, you ask? Because this weekend, a flock of over 100 women who are all parenting kiddos from hard places, who all GET me, who all SEE me, who don't judge me or my kids and who are as equally excited to connect with me as I am with them, are descending upon Orlando. I am a member of a non-profit group that supports parents who are raising kiddos with trauma backgrounds, and this retreat is the event that the whole year centers around for that group. The weekend provides much-needed rest, recovery, learning and recharging for me, and lots of other moms. This is my fourth year attending and by now I have many, many friends at this retreat and I'm excited to hug each of them, but I am the MOST excited, to see my Hippos. Not these:

Though they are SUPER cute!

My Hippos. See, last year, by some sort of magical happenstance, I ended up sharing a house at our retreat with 11 of the most amazing, beautiful, wonderful women I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. We had an awesome weekend together, bonding, relating and laughing... a LOT. When the weekend was over, I know that we all needed each other, or at least, I needed them, so I started a FaceBook group just for us, and the rest is history. We have spent the last year supporting one another, loving one another, and patching up one another's wounds. We have been through breakups, breakdowns, new kiddos, kiddos leaving home, milestones and momentous occasions of all kinds. We mostly talk through FaceBook, which may seem impersonal, but to us, it is deeply, deeply personal. Sometimes the only lifeline I have is these ladies. Sometimes I have a day where Jay is at work, one kid is melting down and destroying the house, and the other is angry at me and the world and cannot be consoled. I feel like an awful mother and yet there, on the other end of a post, or a chat, or a text.... there's a fellow mom... a ROCKSTAR mom... who thinks I'm doing a good job. She gets what I'm going through. She's supportive, but can also tenderly teach me how to be even better. She's one of 11 different women, each with different stories, but with all the same loving hearts. Some of us don't even really know each other very well, truth be told, yet there's a kinship about us that transcends acquaintanceship. It's sisterhood. And I am beyond lucky to have found it. 

     One thing I always felt like my life was lacking was strong female friendships. Perhaps it's because when we are younger, women are trained to NOT trust one another, to not even like one another really. Perhaps it's the younger version of me constantly needing to compare myself to other women and always feeling like I came up short. Either way, I didn't have many female friends in my 20's and early 30's. Yes, I have a few friends who have been in my life for a long time, but life has a way of pulling you away from one another with schedules and lifestyles. Add to that being the mom of kids that come from challenging backgrounds, and I'm on a WHOLE different level from most women I know. This life is hard to relate to. It's hard to tolerate. Most other women don't want to be around a friend who constantly has to cancel plans due to sensory meltdowns or behavioral issues, or whose kid can be difficult to be around sometimes due to their needs. I get that. Parenting kids with trauma is isolating and lonely, but somehow I am lucky enough to have these incredible women supporting and encouraging me. And not just them, I have been fortunate enough that I have found several female friends, outside of my Hippos, with whom I have bonded and found a deep connection in the past couple of years. Each of them accepts me and my family and loves us, even though they may not be able to relate, and I appreciate them just as much as I do my Hippos. 

     I cannot wait for this weekend! I need some Hippo hugs and some time with my ladies and ALL the ladies at the retreat. I need a recharge and a reset. Each year, I come back to The Hubs and my kiddos a better mom and a better wife. These women... these amazing women... make me the best version of me. And I wish for every woman on the planet to find their own Hippos, too. 

     Oh wait... I never explained why I am calling them "Hippos". Haha.... weird. Ok, well the actual reason is because last year's retreat had a Wonder Woman theme and our house was called the Hippolyta Heroines, but since none of us could remember that, we kept calling our house, "the Hippo house", and the name stuck. But it's a fitting name anyway, since hippos look sweet, slow and docile, but when it comes to protecting their home and their family, hippos are one of the most dangerous creatures on Earth. Mamma Hippo will cut a bitch if need be. I can relate.

I'm Coming Out...

     .....no, not THAT way. I mean, as far as I'm concerned, it's all a spectrum anyway, but that's not where I'm going with this. I'm coming out as the writer of this blog. I've decided that it's time to start sharing with other people out there in this strangely cyber-connected, yet isolating and disconnected world that we live in. Not because what I write is phenomenal, mind-blowing wisdom that the world will beg to have bestowed upon them, (I mean... it is...), but because 1.) I'm ready to increase some accountability on myself. Make myself more visible to my friends and family, and therefore, maybe hold myself to a higher standard of writing, sharing and committing. And 2.) I know for a fact that there are other women that go through things that I go through, who live similar lifestyles and have similar circumstances and can relate to and connect with what I'm saying. And that's really all each of us craves in life, isn't it? Connection. Acceptance. The affirmation that we are not the sole weirdo having our weird thoughts. So I figure, if I can bring that to just one person, it's worth sharing my life with the world.

     So, for those of you who are new here, welcome to my corner of the world and the underside of my random thoughts in my brain. If you know me personally, you know that I am a mom, a wife, a daughter, a friend, a Disney fanatic, an occasional writer, a sarcastic weirdo, and let's call it what it is, a chubby chick. But like all women, all people, I am much more than that. There are parts of me that even I have yet to discover and I'm really starting to like that about myself. This April, I will turn 40 and it seems like an appropriate time to reflect back on where I have been and to dream about where I am headed. I've been on a bit of a "life quest", if you will, for the past six months or so, which you are welcomed to go back and read about in my very first post, and I already feel like I am a much better person for it. Not because I am thinner, or healthier, or anything other than more accepting of myself and, to quote Ashlee Simpson's pre-recorded SNL track, all the "pieces of me".

     That being said, I am thinner. 40 lbs down in fact! Which is awesome, yet I managed to turn it into a disappointment in myself. If you've been reading along, you know that I lost the 40 pounds pretty quickly, within a couple of months of starting this blog. I had hoped that by now I would be down even more, BUT riiiiiight as I was getting angry at myself for not making much of an effort over the past few months to lose more weight, I said to myself, "Hey, Ding-Dong.... you maintained a 40-pound weight loss without much effort. THAT'S a friggin accomplishment!" So I'm trying to go with that, ya know? See? I'm learning!

     I do feel healthier. I do feel happier. I do feel better, overall, so there's no downside here. I took a hiatus from blogging because I was feeling bad about my lack of forward motion, but I need to keep learning the lesson that our progress and success in life isn't always a linear thing. Sometimes we make a big ol' loop back into shitty before we rocket forward. All I did was slow down a bit. But I'm still here, still sarcastic, and still trying to find my big ol' shiny Jenn-light that burns so bright.

Oh and I have a new dog who makes me SO happy! 

You Say You Want a Resolution?

Happy New Year, one and all!

     As I sit here, four hours away from 2019, I gotta say, I will be so frickin glad to slam the forking door on 2018. Man, this year SUUUUCKED. Between the abysmal state of our nation and the shit show of the year that we have been handling in our household, I am done with 2018. Bring on 2019.

     Now, I realize that nothing really changes when the new year rolls in. It's simply hours later than sucky 2018 was, but I think all of us like to see it as a fresh start. And as a result, we make ridiculous resolutions, promising ourselves that we are going to be better, healthier, stronger, smarter, skinnier, whatever-er. This year we are going to reach all of our goals. This year we are going to be the best versions of ourselves. Except we are really just setting ourselves up to be let down by ourselves, again. We set unattainable, silly goals for ourselves because we are so disgusted with what's "wrong" with us. We can't even take a moment to find what is "right" with us, and THAT is wrong.

     Well, this year, I'm not having it! My resolution is to NOT have any insane resolutions. I am going to be reasonable with myself, accept my faults, and realize that I am only human and prone to mood swings, mistakes, and general fuck-ups. I'm going to stop pressuring myself to be the perfect parent, the perfect friend or the perfect anything. This is me, in 2019, accepting and loving me as I am. And I have a feeling that all the other stuff I want for myself... more money, less pounds, more happiness... will come as a result of that acceptance.

     I hope you will make the same promise to yourself. You're worth it. You deserve it. Now, get out there and GET 2019, Girl! (Or Guy!) Happy New Year!

Trauma Vs. The No-Good, Very-Bad Holiday Season

Hey there, guys! Happy Frickin Holidays.

     As you can see, I have taken a long hiatus from bestowing my snarky humor and witty musings on weight loss with you. (Don't worry, I'm coming back to that in a bit.) That's because it's fucking December and this month wreaks complete and total havoc on my household. If you are a "normal" adult, parenting "neuro-typical" children, you're probably thinking, "Right? Between the shopping, wrapping, baking, cleaning, getting ready for school vacation, etc.? I totally feel ya, girl." And while I appreciate your empathy and agree that that stuff is stressful, my fellow "Trauma Mammas" out there, (or parents raising kids that come from hard places), you get what I mean on a whole different level.

     When you are parenting a child who has been through trauma, the holiday season is a veritable shit-show. Think of it like this: When you think of the holidays, those thoughts probably rouse all of your senses, right? You can smell the fresh Christmas tree and the cookies baking in the oven. You hear jingle bells and holiday music. You see blinking lights, holiday decorations and presents. You taste peppermint, eggnog and gingerbread. You feel the warmth of the flames in the fireplace and the chill of the wintry air. (Well, ok, maybe not that last one for us Floridians, but you get the picture.) And all of that probably makes your heart happy because it's conjuring up memories of family, togetherness, giving and receiving and all around joy. That's how I always felt about Christmas. I just loved everything about it. Christmas has always been magical to me.

     Now think of it from the perspective of my daughter. The holidays make you think of family... sure. But which family? The family that you live with now, who love and adore you, but who don't look like you, don't share any of your DNA and will never quite be the same as a biological family? Or the family that cast you aside, hurt you and disappeared? (As far as you're concerned.) The season reminds you of your birthday, which unfortunately falls right before Christmas, but not in a fun 'yay-its-my-birthday' kind of way. More like a traumaversary of horrible memories kind of way. And all that stuff that was so fun before.... the candy canes, the holiday music, the snow, the gifts.... they all become triggers, reigniting that primal fear in you, that sense of loss and grief. But you can't get away from those triggers, because they are everywhere. So you just have to learn to cope. At the age of 3.

     That sensory immersion that comes with the holiday season, from the Christmas music at the gas station, to the red and green sprinkles on the cookie in your lunch, is constantly bombarding children of trauma with all of those memories... the good, the bad, the painful and the terrifying... constantly. So it's no wonder that this time of year our kiddos get crazy-pants. They are dysregulated, hyperactive, and often times have mood-swings that look like mania. My kids can go from having the time of their lives to complete messes of tears and screams in an eye-blink this time of year. My 6-year-old has been a rage machine for weeks now, going from being perfectly happy, loving and content to throwing anything he can get his hands on, knocking furniture over, and screaming angry words at me, within a moment's notice. For him, it's not just the holidays. He has a lot going on in general, but yes, a child who was removed from his birth family's care at just a few days old is still suffering the effects of trauma. The holidays still make him think of family dynamics and for a kid who's just learning to navigate the terrain of being adopted... figuring out how to field questions from classmates that he shouldn't have to answer about why he's black but has white parents, coming to terms with not knowing his biological parents, etc.... that's a LOT. Way more than I could frickin handle, and I'm supposed to be an adult. I totally get why he melts down. I would too. I do, sometimes, in fact.

     Then you have my daughter who makes it her job to get everyone to believe that she is happy and well-adjusted at all times. She went through a lifetime's worth of trauma in a few short years of life, yet she refuses to acknowledge a negative emotion. She's only ever "happy", "excited" and "good". Sounds nice, huh? Sounds easy to parent. Nope. Not at all. She spends so much time performing and putting on a happy face that when the negative stuff reaches its boiling point, man, does she lose it. And it'll never be over her true feelings. It will be over difficult homework, or over frustration with her brother taking her toys. She'll get so angry and so upset that she will hyperventilate, yank at her hair, and hit herself in the head. It's heartbreaking to see, and equally as hard to deal with because while there is so much pain behind it, it's hard not to take her nasty attitude and angry glares personally. And forget getting help! She does such an incredible job of not allowing anyone at school to see her true self, her true fears and emotions, that everyone sees her for the happy, well-adjusted person that she portrays. Why wouldn't they? Except I need them to, in order for us to work together to cultivate an environment in which she does feel safe to be herself. It feels like an impossible task most days.

     So take the triggers of the holidays and throw into our household financial struggles, job changes, crazy schedules AND a dying, elderly dog who alternately makes me weep over how much I'll miss her when she's gone and then makes me curse at her leaky bladder and another stain on the rug, and I am about DONE with the holidays. The holidays can go fuck themselves.

     .....But realistically, what can I do? What do I do to make this better for my kids? Ok, so firstly, we let them take the lead when it comes to Christmas. They tell us if and when they want decorations up, if and when they want to listen to holiday music, if and when they want to bake cookies. My little guy is totally in love with Christmas lights and likes to spend just about every night in the backseat of the car, riding around from neighborhood to neighborhood, ooh-ing and aah-ing over elaborate holiday displays. He is heartbroken when January hits and people start taking them down.

     Also key, we lower our expectations. Yeah, maybe we always dreamed of having a big Christmas Eve open house and having friends gather in our home to celebrate the season. That's not realistic for our kids. That's not setting them up for success, so we don't do it.

     We are aware that new triggers can pop up anywhere, so we are on the lookout for them. Holiday memories are very strong because of all those sensory ties. A kid may be doing just fine, and then all of a sudden, that gift reminds them of something they had in foster care, or something they asked Santa for and never got, and we are off to the races. We are prepared for that and as understanding as we can be. And speaking of gifts...

     We try to keep it lowkey on presents. (Key word being "try".) Yes, the first year the kids lived with us we lost our minds and tried to spoil them with everything they asked for and more. You know what happened? The new stuff sat there, unopened, and they played with the older, more familiar stuff. We stick with a few things that they really want, some stuff that they need, and a couple of surprises. That way it's not overwhelming. And while we open presents, we let them set the pace. They often want to stop and play with each item they open. That's ok. We let them enjoy and wonder at each toy. Who cares that there's more to open? We'll get to it. Maybe not until tomorrow, but that's ok. No rush.

     It's also super important that we, as parents, set the expectations with friends and family. Our kids are NOT required to give hugs and kisses. They are also NOT required to open presents in front of the person who gave it to them, as they can find that embarrassing and uncomfortable. And when they do open presents in front of others, we forewarn that well-meaning family member that they shouldn't be hurt if our daughter acts disappointed in their present. She feels unworthy of any present to begin with and also doesn't know how to handle emotions properly. Prepping relatives with this info in advance helps ease a lot of burden for kiddos.

     Even more importantly, when it comes to dealing with family and friends, we don't allow anyone around who isn't a positive person for our kids. Friends who question parenting decisions? Nope. Family members who make vaguely racist or sexist remarks, or inappropriate comments (or ANY comments) about adopted kids? Not a chance. Family members who can't get onboard with what our kids need and end up triggering them? Lost your invite in the mail. It's not worth putting our kids, (OR OURSELVES), through dealing with any of that nonsense. Ever. Not just a Christmastime.

     When the meltdowns come, and they will, we do our very best to try and meet each one with love. We don't berate or name-call. We don't point out selfish or self-centered behavior, as the child is in "fight, flight or freeze" mode and therefore everything IS about them in that moment. The Hubs and I try to help give names to our kiddos emotions so they can better understand them, and we reassure them over and over again that there is no behavior, no word, no action that could make us love them any less, or cause them to leave our home. Trust me, I hate storming meltdowns. I hate having to stay calm and having to tolerate things that I would probably never tolerate from a neuro-typical child, but it's what my kids need, so I do it. Then, when they are regulated, I lock myself in the bathroom and scream into a towel. Or cry. Usually both.

     No matter what, though... no matter how out of control behavior becomes, Jay and I are careful to never, EVER threaten the kids with Christmas. I mean, we hear it all the time in public: "If you don't listen, Santa won't come!", "Santa is watching you right now." "You don't want to be on the naughty list.", "Have you been good or bad?" And don't even get me started with that fucking scary-ass big brother-esque always-watching elf! Our kids feel pretty unloveable and unworthy All. The. Time. They constantly feel like if they are "bad", someone is going to come take them away or that they will lose your love. It's awful that a kid would ever feel that way to begin with, so making them feel that even more at Christmas is just not fair. Neuro-typical or not, please don't let your kids think that the approval of Santa, or "God", or you, hinges on being "good", especially when a kid doesn't see themselves that way. Our two know that no matter what, Santa is going to come through for them, because they are kind-hearted, loving people, who make mistakes, just like everyone else.

     And lastly, we work to establish new traditions with our kids. Ones that they actively participate in, like visiting a favorite location, or attending a specific show that they enjoy. It doesn't even have to be holiday-themed! Who says my new Christmas Eve tradition can't be getting ice cream or going on a bike ride? We let the kids pick things that are special to them, and we include them in our holiday experience each year, so that they understand that they are making their imprint on this family too. (Ours usually turn out to be Disney-related but if you know us, there's nothing surprising about that!)

     So that's how I'm getting through. The Hubs and I are doing the best we can to navigate our amazing, brave, wonderful, hurt kiddos through this season, day by day. I'm getting through by reminding myself that it's only temporary and that even though this particular time of year makes me feel like we have taken a couple of steps back, overall my kids have taken enormous leaps forward this year. That gets me though. That and anxiety meds.

The Fat-Shaming Mile-High Club

     I work for an airline. The BEST airline. I love my job. I do NOT love phone calls like this:

Me: Greeting for the best airline, how can I help you tonight?

Customer: I just wanted you to know I had a great flight leaving Florida last week, but my flight back was awful.

Me: Oh, I am so sorry to hear that. What went wrong? What could we do better?

Customer: I got sat next to this lady and she was enormous. I mean, as she came down the aisle, everyone had to lean in to let her even walk by. It was ridiculous. I was praying she wasn't coming to sit next to me, and of course, she was. She was very polite and everything but she sat down and just lopped on over into my seat. Then she had to ask the stewardess for one of those extra seatbelts.

Me: (pretty disgusted, but staying matter-of-fact) A seatbelt extender.

Customer: I guess that's what you call it. To me, they shouldn't even offer those. If the seatbelt doesn't fit you, you shouldn't be able to fly.

Me: .... (Stunned silence. How do you respond to that? Especially when you've had to use one of those seatbelt extenders yourself, in the past.)

Customer: Anyway, she took up so much of my seat. I was just SO uncomfortable.

Me: (in my head) Imagine how she felt.

Me: (out loud) I am sorry to hear that your flight was less than enjoy-

Her: (interrupting) ... And THEN, get THIS.... she pulls out a bag of food from her backpack and starts eating pretzels and chips and all kinds of stuff!

Me: (knowing full well what she is implying): Yes, customers are welcome to bring aboard any food that they so choose.

Her: Yeah, well you'd think, given her size, she'd at least not eat like that in public.

Me: (in my head) Wait, what the FUCK, lady? Not only is her size offensive to you, but she's not supposed to EAT in front of you???? Like a goddamned human being???

Me: (out loud) ....... (There WAS no 'out loud'. More stunned silence.)

Now My Least Favorite Customer Ever: I was just disgusted. I mean, really, it's not right. If someone is that size, they should have to buy two seats, or buy first class or something. It's just not fair.

Me: (in my head) No, what's not fair is being told you have to pay double what everyone else does, when you're already in an uncomfortable and awkward situation, as it is. What's not fair is being judged by rude-ass bitches around you who think they know you, just by looking at you. THAT'S what's not fair, lady.

Me: (out loud) I am sorry you feel that way, but that would be discrimination, ma'am. We would never make someone pay more because they happen to weigh more, just like we wouldn't make my husband pay more because he's 6'5". I am certainly sorry to hear that you were uncomfortable, and I'd be happy to issue you-

Worst Customer Ever: (interrupting me again) I'm not looking for anything, but I really don't think I should have to have even been put in that situation. I mean, I ended up telling her that her belly was resting on my armrest and I couldn't get comfortable.

Me: ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!



     At this point, The Worst Customer Ever continues her tirade about fat people being the bain of her existence and how she understands because she once weighed almost 200 pounds, but she did something about it and got a nutritionist and dietician and lost weight because no one else should have to deal with someone else's weight issue. (She seriously said that! Seriously. AND how much more frickin privileged could you sound, lady? Like everyone has money laying around to pay a nutritionist and dietician.) Anyway, how the rest of the call went, you can just imagine. Needless to say, I was very glad to move on to another call, and my far more common, happy customer who just needed a receipt resent. He didn't even have a peep to make about his overweight fellow passengers! Go figure!

      I share this with you, not to bitch about my ugly, hateful customer, but to demonstrate to you how wildly open people feel about being judgemental and rude to overweight people. She TOLD the woman her belly was resting on her armrest. Like the woman was not painfully, and I bet shamefully, aware of this fact. Granted, hate seems to be growing stronger by the day lately on all fronts, but all along, fat-shaming has been a constant, acceptable way to communicate with overweight people.  Being overweight is looked at as a choice. One that a lazy, selfish person makes. I mean, obviously, because why would you NOT choose to not fit comfortably into a world that is literally not designed for you? Why would you NOT want to struggle to find affordable, stylish clothes that fit? Why would you NOT want to be stared at, laughed at and made fun of? Clearly, this is a choice that I have made, along with my fellow fatties. We like being like this. And we love being fat-shamed! Especially while on an uncomfortable, anxiety-raising airplane flight. Jesus, for all that lady knew, her overweight seatmate may have been flying to a parent's funeral, or to her own destination wedding, or to volunteer with hurricane relief in the Gulf. The point is, you don't know JACK about someone else's story. You know even less about their body. Keep your comments and judgments to yourself. I only wish I had a way to know who her seatmate was and how to contact her. Man would I love for her to know that I see her, and that I've got her back.

     Oh, and one more lesson, kids. Never put down a group of people over the phone to a total stranger, because you have no idea if the person you are speaking with fits neatly into the group you are marginalizing and hating on. You never know. Here's one thing that you can know for sure though: KINDNESS IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED. Use it, freely and plentifully. All the time. You'll never run out. I promise.

Seriously..... FUCK Halloween Candy.

     

Ok, it's not JUST Halloween candy. I have hit a wall. I have a giant elliptical machine looming behind me, calling my name, taunting me...... "Heeeeeey, Loser..... you gonna quit? Yeah, you are. You always quit. That's why you're a Fatty McFatterson." My elliptical can be a real dick sometimes.

     Halloween candy has indeed been rough on me, but so has laziness and stress. All the stress. All the time. Being a mom is really hard. Being a mom to two kids with special needs is wearing me the fuck out. Every day there's a new crisis.... Therapy appointment is changed, 9 year old's panic attack over homework is out of control and she needs help regulating, 6 year old is off his meds and off the wall, had to change 9 year old's teacher due to non-compliance with her 504, another appointment with the principal.... on and on. All you moms of kids from hard places out there feel me. Every day is a new emergency. And a new excuse, really.

     But here's the truth of it: I think I want to fuck this all up. Well, I don't, but my subconscious does. Remember when I first started on my quest to find the big-bright-shiny-Jenn-light-that-burns-so-bright, just a couple of months ago? Remember how I kept saying that it was freaking me out that it was so easy? That's because I am not comfortable with taking care of myself. I am not comfortable feeling sexy, healthy, worthy... any of that. The stress and the Halloween candy, they are just self-sabotage really. I can't lie... some part of me is relieved that I am starting to struggle. Some part of me thinks I deserve this fat, motionless, boring life. Screw her. Screw that part of me. Seriously, she's a waste of space. The healthier, energetic, happier me is SO much better.

      Today I totally gave in. Today I ate pretty much whatever I wanted, and guess how I felt after? Awful. Not sick-to-my-stomach awful, (I didn't actually eat that much, just stuff I haven't been eating), just gross. I felt heavier, slower, tired, depressed. Yucky enough to realize that I am being dumb. Time to lace the sneakers back up, and tell the elliptical 'Enough sassin' me, I'm back.' Time to make my weight loss tracker stop looking like rolling hills and more like a steep dive off a cliff. Here's hoping my sanity doesn't go with it!