On Charlotesville

It has been several days, and as such, I am behind the outpouring of words that customarily follow such an event. Words of sadness, confusion, love, help, good intent… mostly words of good intent, but also words of anger, hate, vitriol, and even people who deny that this was what even the perpetrators of the incident say it was. In this case, an act of white supremacists, making sure the rest of us know that they are still very much alive, and willing to fight for what they think they deserve.

“Jews will not replace us”

Jewish people have neither the intention, nor desire to replace anyone. There is no “gay agenda”, African Americans are not trying to undermine white people in any way. They are simply standing here saying “Please, can you make some room for us, too?” And when you stand, and shout back at them that you want them to die, or that you won’t let them “replace you” or “win”, maybe you are the problem here.

“Blood and soil

Using an old Nazi chant drives in only one point. That the people shouting it are Nazis. Unless, of course, they happen to be shouting it on soil that they stole from people, while covering it with the blood of those native peoples. Then, a second point is made. The people shouting are either extraordinarily forgetful, or just really stupid. This soil does not belong to us. If it belongs to anyone, it is the Native Americans who were cheated out of their land, pushed into corners and largely forgotten about… and then… replaced. In fact, throughout history, it is the white man who has done most of the replacing.

White people will never be replaced, and they know that. Everyone with any semblance of a brain knows that. That isn’t really what they fear. These people fear having to share, and being made to share equally. They fear having to treat everyone as though they are equal. Being forced to acknowledge that they are superior to nobody.

The fact is, if Charlottesville had been Native Americans or African Americans protesting, even if it were a peaceful protest, they would not have made it out safely. They would have been arrested. Bombarded with teargas and rubber bullets. America is not, and will not be free and equal until this is no longer the case. Until white protesters are given the same treatment as protesters of any other color, creed, religion, etc, we have no equality.

Until we have someone in the White House who can see why Charlottesville was, indeed, an incitement of terror from white supremacists, and not simply “bad on both sides”, we can not come together, and if Pence wants to stand with Trump on his statements on the issue, then let him fall with Trump as well.

We, as a country, need to move forward. We need to move into equality for all. Nothing less can be acceptable.

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Sometimes

Sometimes you make me want to laugh

And sometimes, you make me want to cry

And sometimes, you make me happy I’m alive

But sometimes, I just want to die

Because I can’t have you

No I can’t have you

And you’re all I want

And sometimes, I wonder if there’s a chance

That someday, perhaps you’ll change your mind

And somehow, you’ll find yourself wanting me

But would you even tell me

If you wanted me?

 

 

Dear Clothing Companies

Most of the time, if I am shopping for clothes, it is for my daughters. Arienette is the easiest, she is five. I go to the boys’ section if she needs sweat pants, because they are thicker than the ones the girls have, (yes, really) then, I just raid the girls’ section for whatever else she needs. She loves clothes, so, as long as it’s cute, she doesn’t care what I get her.

Krishna, at 16, is a little more picky. Luckily, we generally have the same taste in clothing,(though sometimes I still find myself thinking WTF??) so, anything I think is cute will generally make her happy, plus anything that has super heroes (or villains), or The Doctor on it will make her squeal with delight. Basically, at her age, as long as she is covered, I am happy.

The problem arises if ever I should deign to attempt to find clothing for myself. Regardless of what store I am shopping at, I walk in already knowing that I am unlikely to find anything I like that is also in my size, and, bu the time I walk out, 98% of the time, I have bought no clothing.

You see, I am a fat girl. (GASP!) For some reason, clothing companies see this, and assume that it means that I do not wish to be seen, so they throw shapeless tops in dark colors and floral patterns with barely any neckline and no flare or imagination at all at me thinking, somehow, that I will be thrilled at the options, when really, they are not giving me options.

This upsets me more than I can tell you. Follow me around the clothing section in any store, and you will invariably hear me muttering obscenities along with things like “do they think that they can just make fat girls disappear by hiding us under circus tents?”, or “Of course, I’m a fat girl, why on earth would I possibly want to look cute?” The thing is, I do want to look cute. I love the clothing I see in other sections. I really wish that someone would make those clothes in my size.

I prefer to wear form fitting clothing. It is more comfortable to me, and frankly, I may be a bigger girl, but I have some kick ass curves, and you can’t see them if I am swimming in one of the shapeless t shirt things that dominates my size range at any given store. I like my clothing to reflect my personality, to show off my goofy, nerdy side, or maybe that day I want to just look pretty. When my choices do not have personality, this is made even more difficult. I just don’t understand why manufacturers don’t see the market for cute, plus size clothing.

I went shopping the other day, and I bought four pieces of clothing. Four. Three tops and a skirt. One of the tops may get returned, because I am iffy about the pattern. I consider this to be a good shopping day. My best, actually, in over a year. I had to look through all of the clothes in the entire women’s’ section twice before I found anything. i had to dig through the racks to see if they had anything that would fit me that wasn’t boring or hideous. This should not be the case.

I am going to end this by saying one simple thing that I think everyone can understand: unless you want a bunch of fat girls running around naked, you need to clothe us. Most of us prefer to look cute. It makes us happier. You don’t want a bunch of pissed off, naked fat girls looking for you, do you? Or, maybe that’s your thing, I won’t judge.

“Spacetacular” No More.

In the late 90’s, when Space Center first opened its doors in Hooksett NH, the commercials were like a Siren song. The colors, the sounds, the images on the screen… it all depicted everything that a middle school girl could ever hope for. When we finally went, I wasn’t disappointed. It was a dream come true. The games were fun, putting tokens into slots only to get back piles of paper tickets, jumping on rides, and getting prizes better than the ones at FunSpot. The only downside was when we left… I actually remember getting a big, blue, floppy, fuzzy hat, and a teddy bear. A week later, I gave the bear to an assistant teacher who was moving away. I was in 6th grade, so this must have been 1996 or 97, depending on which part of the school year it was. I even remember the jingle for the old commercial, lauding it for being “Spacetacular”, and it certainly was. Unfortunately, as children, we never went back.

Fast forward 20 years, The girls and I went with a group of friends to Space Center for laser tag. I was fairly excited to go, running on the nostalgia of what I remembered as a wonderful time as a kid. As we walked through the doors, however, I realized things were going to be different this time. No longer do they use tokens, instead, plastic credit card type things are used, which, apparently, if you do not re swipe after playing a game, might not credit your points to you. Most of their games are gone, replaced by so much seating that went unused. Almost half of the building was seating. The games that remain were fine, I suppose, however, there was nothing at all for Arienette to do, her sister even had to be with her in order for her to ride the bumper cars, and even though the ski ball game was half the size of the one at Fun Spot, she still couldn’t do that. There wasn’t a single slot machine in the building. What they DID have were bumper cars, a mini roller coaster, a rotating rock wall, and of course, laser tag. Oh, and the furniture and carpets that they had in the 90’s. There were some claw machines, and a “Buck Hunter” game, and a few others. The prizes were about what you would see at Fun Spot, and every time I saw an employee, they looked like they were bored out of their mind.

To say that I was disappointed would be an understatement. I was sad. To see something that was once such a wonderful memory for me tarnished like that was painful. In the end, the kids did what they were there to do, so they had a good time, Ari ran around and danced in the ample space provided by the couches in the TV area, and I got her some prizes with the points I got while trying to find a game she could play. She had a good time too.I will not be returning to Space Center. I don’t see the point, when Fun Spot is just SO much better.

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For the Love of a Child

I am not, nor have I ever been a fan of the Trump family. I have yet to use the word “President” when discussing Donald, and I am unsure whether I ever will; not because of some self righteous, “you did it to Obama, I can do it to Trump” bullshit, but because I simply do not feel like he is what a legitimate President would be. I feel he is Narcissistic at best, and that at worst, he is out to destroy the country along with whatever else they will let him get his grubby little hands on.

This post, however, is not about Donald, it is about Melania. It is so easy to hate someone who is attached to someone else that you cannot stand. Especially when that person should be, for all intents and purposes, on the list of people that person wants to throw out of the country. Melania Trump, upon first glance, paints a picture of vapid hypocrisy. In the news just recently, for suing Daily Mail because of potential money lost (NPR), it is easy to think she is all about appearances and money. However, reports like this one on (Washington Post) stating that she and her son, Barron will not be living in the White House (at least while he is in school), require you to look deeper than the obvious statement that this is going to be expensive for taxpayers, and ask yourself whether Melania wants to stay apart from her husband. It is when you take in videos like these ones (1), (2), (3), that the picture finally starts to come into focus.

Imagine, for a moment, that you are married to someone extremely wealthy and powerful. Perhaps you entered into this marriage for reasons that were less than perfect, but, we all make mistakes. When you got married, you only imagined that being married to this person could only make you wealthy and powerful as an extension. Then you had a child with them. Perhaps the marriage became something less than savory. Maybe, you want nothing more than to leave this person… but you have a child with them, and if you leave, or if you even make waves, they have more than enough money and power to not only take your child from you, but to also force you to leave the country permanently. Do you leave? Do you stay, and try to just be as small and unobtrusive as possible? Do you try to make you own money and your own power, so you can perhaps overcome and keep your child with you?

I cannot say with any certainty what I would do. If you can’t either, I implore you to give Melania the benefit of the doubt.

Books and Their Covers.

When you tell me that the reason you don’t like me is my size, even when the way you say it, is sugar coated, and wrapped in gentleness, what I hear is “You could be absolutely perfect for me. You could be everything I am looking for in a woman… but I won’t consider you, because there is too much of you.”

I’m not going to lose weight for you. I am going to lose weight, but it will never be for you. If my weight is so important to someone that they will make it the deciding factor in whether or not I am ”good enough” for them, then they don’t deserve me.

I am an entire, complex person. I sing, I debate, (okay, sometimes, I revel in a downright argument) I paint, draw, color, I write, and I think I write well. I read so much sometimes that I burn myself out on it. I love research, if I don’t understand something I will look it up. I love words, colors, and shapes. (Not so much numbers. Anyone who knows me knows I can’t math.) I love being outside, walking on the beach or in the woods, swimming, playing in the rain. I love living and doing and being. I have been told my smile brightens a room, and that I am funny. My eyes get so many compliments, that sometimes it is actually a bit embarrassing. I am kind, smart, and beautiful inside and out. I am a complete package. A whole person lives inside this body.

The idea that someone can not appreciate me because of my body size is disgusting to me. I understand preference. Personally, I prefer a man who has an average build myself. However, preference does not mean that I would not consider someone because of their size. I have liked guys who were bigger, smaller, and everywhere in between. I have liked guys who were stereotypically attractive, and those who were not. Each of these men has captured my interest because of who they are, not what they look like. You could be the perfect Adonis, but be so insipid that I would be bored with them. What point would there be in that? Contrariwise, you could be the most interesting person on the planet, and look plain, and I would be head over heels, wanting your attention.
It saddens me that so many people value appearance over content.

If you can’t appreciate me when I am bigger, you don’t appreciate me.

Books and covers, everyone.

I Will Not be Silent

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately. This post may not be well received by everyone, but that’s fine, because sometimes, it can actually be more destructive to sit and stay silent in the name of keeping the peace. I may lose friends over this, and for that eventuality, I am prepared. All I ask is that you please read to the end. Anyone who knows me should know that my intent here is good. My intent is love. As Always.


Donald Trump has made threats against every group of people except for white, rich, cisgendered, heterosexual men.

He has promised that a wall will be built to keep Mexicans out.
He and Pence have sworn to roll back the rights of the LGBTQIA community.
He has threatened the reproductive rights of women.
He has threatened to deport Muslims, and keep them out of America.
He and his people have threatened to cut aid for the disabled, veterans and the elderly.
And the list goes on.

In addition to the blatant threats, he has made insult after insult against everyone within earshot.

People, a LOT of people, are feeling threatened and at risk by this man and his people. A man who has chosen, as his second in command, someone who backs conversion therapy for LGBT youth, that includes electroshock treatment.

Schools are even offering support to students who feel threatened by Trump’s win This is not a typical election cycle.

I have heard people say “When Obama won, we felt the same way”, but no… Obama never threatened anyone’s rights. Nobody felt their life was at stake when Obama won. This is vastly different. You do not get to tell people how to feel.


To the people who voted for Trump who do not understand why your loved ones are hurt or angry:

When you voted for this man as president, it didn’t matter to the people you claim to love whether you believed he could fulfill any of these “promises”.

What mattered to them is that you were voting for someone who was making threats against their very existence.

They don’t care that your reason for voting for him is that “he is honest” (despite the fact that he flip flops faster than a fish on hot asphalt).

They care that he wants to take their rights away, and you don’t care about that.

They feel like you have turned your back on them, for this man who promises to strip them of their rights, their very person-hood. Your reason for voting for him doesn’t matter in the least, the fact is that you chose him over the people you say you love.

I’m not a Hillary fan. I love Bernie, I feel like Bernie was out best option, but we could not have him. A lot of Bernie supporters went over to Trump to Spite Hillary, but what they really did was shoot themselves, and America, in the foot. Bernie said Never Trump.

You don’t know what you have done… losing the trust of your loved ones may only be the beginning. I hope, for all our sakes, that I am wrong.

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

-MARTIN NIEMÖLLER