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I’ve been having some major self-hate lately regarding my size. I was doing really well, trying to stay body positive, but the last week or so have been really hard. I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been in my life. Clothes are a challenge, I get winded all too easily, sexy-times aren’t so fun anymore, and I’ve convinced myself that I’m probably going to have a heart attack any minute now. I’m super anxious and terrified and unhappy about it. Weight loss has been a life-long struggle for me and I don’t know if it’s something I can do alone. I need help. I’m going to make a doctor’s appointment to come up with a plan, but it’s so scary. I am terrified they are going to berate me and tell me I already have diabetes or something. I don’t want to turn into my father.
While I try to love myself for what and who I am, I’m afraid what I am will eventually kill me.
We all have days where we look cute. Today was one of my days. I work part time at Torrid, it’s simply a way for me to build my wardrobe. I bought this shirt in two colors, black and white. It is by far my favorite top this season.
This is my college bestie. She’s super rad.
And that outfit is adorable, Nina!
I had a Sherlock and Doug crossover dream last night. And yes, by Doug I mean
Tell me more.
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I did a little thrifting after work and found this lovely skirt. (I know, I’m wearing pink! A pastel! Who am I?!) I wanted to toughen it up a little and added the moto jacket. Can’t tell if it’s cute, stupid, or costume-y.
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Spring is here (though you wouldn’t know it because it’s snowing in frakking April, but I’ll get over it) and that means it’s time for a wardrobe shift. Well, eventually it will be.
I get a little nervous about dressing myself in the spring and summer because there is this bizzaro expectation to show more skin because it’s nice out. And I’m not hatin’ on those crop tops, skater skirts, shorts, and tanks that you lovely people wear so well. Those just aren’t how my rolls roll, you know what I mean? I don’t feel good in things like that. Skin touching itself and sweat and ick. In the fall/winter, I wear dresses above my knees with leggings or tights, but in the summer that won’t do.
So, I’m looking for some suggestions on spring/summer looks that are still cool and fashionable, but are a little more modest. (Also, I hate saying “modest” because I think it sounds like this is a religious thing, which it isn’t.)
Any ideas or blogs out there? Thanks!
First day in a week without crying. I think because the weather went back to crap.
April showers bring Naseem out of Spring-induced depression.
Someone my 15 year-old niece was acquainted with committed suicide last week. Neither of us knew about it until yesterday, when someone from work asked if I am friends with her or her family on Facebook. I am not. The girl, whose name I will not mention, was also associated with my theatre, so news spread among the theatre-folk with sad sighs and shaking heads.
I called my niece today to see how she was doing. This might be the first young person she has ever known to die, and while she is incredibly bright and level-headed, I wasn’t sure how she’d handle it. She said she was surprised, and that the girl didn’t seem sad and she didn’t understand, not only why she would kill herself, but why she would do it on a family trip. Why in Florida? Why on her father’s birthday?
She had another question. How. My niece, much like me, is one for the macabre. How did this girl kill herself? What was the timeline? The obituary said she died in a children’s hospital, what was she doing at a children’s hospital and not a regular ER? Did her dad find her? Why was she cremated in Florida and not brought home? Is it expensive to transport a body? I found myself delicately answering these questions, not knowing anything more than her.
The conversation segued from this one person to suicide in general. My niece wanted to know HOW people kill themselves. I’d be lying if I said answering her was unsettling. Is she too young? Am I giving her tools to do such things herself? No, I decided. Like most things, she’d figure it out from somewhere else if not from me, whom she trusts and loves enough to ask. And if she were in a dark place, I hope she’d still feel that way about me to ask for help.
So I let out a breath and answered her questions.
I told her about the different ways people cut their wrists, and why some do it in bathtubs full of water. I explained how hanging will break the neck otherwise you strangle to death. How a gunshot is quick and to the point. Some pills put you to sleep, some make you sick first. I stayed matter-of-fact, neither glamorizing or shaming the choices people make. We spoke candidly and openly about the graphic nature of death.
My 15 year-old niece, so full of spirit and so wise for her years, treated the subject as though in a classroom. Inquisitive without being nosy, objective without being cold.
After describing all the ways to die, she said to me, “I have a theory about all of this, about how people choose to commit suicide. Whether they realize it or not, I think people kill themselves based on how they think they deserve to die. Hanging yourself would be awful, so maybe people who do that want to end their lives suffering, because they think they deserve it. On the other hand, people who shoot themselves don’t feel any blame for the way they feel. Maybe it’s other people’s fault. It’s over fast and the mess is left for other people. People probably don’t even realize they do it, but maybe subconsciously, there is meaning behind how they kill themselves.”
After all of this, my niece’s teenage sense of self-consciousness crept in and she started apologizing for her questions. “I find this so interesting. I know, it’s weird.” I stopped her immediately.
"Ok, so we’re all going to die, right?"
"The thing is, most of us don’t know how or when that’s going to happen. We don’t get a choice in how we leave this world. So when someone makes that choice, and then acts on it, and then succeeds, it naturally conjures up these questions. We don’t know how we’re going to go, so we are fascinated by those who do. We’re human. Death makes people uncomfortable. Mortality is scary. But don’t feel bad for asking about it. It’s natural, and it’s ok."
I don’t know if this gave her more closure or confusion.
One of my board members told me that if I want a pay raise, I had better be exceptional, because raises only come with stellar work. In the same breathe, she said she recognizes my hard work and that I work late without pay and that I do a “phenomenal job” but yeah, I probably won’t get a raise or even more paid hours when I have my yearly review.
So…. there’s that.
Random thought while I fall asleep:
If I ever own a female dog, I’ll name it Chloe. It’s a fitting name for a bitch.
Anonymous asked: what is the difference between a circumized penis and a non circumsized penis in performance, child birth with autism vs non autism. (aka does getting circumsized lead to autism)
Let’s just nip this one in the bud (no pun intended). Surgery on a penis can not effect the state of a child born via that penis’s ejaculations.
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