My Big 3 0

Sep. 28th, 2011 06:37 pm
missrenie: (steam)
I just turned 30

About five years ago I told myself that by time I turned 30 I would weigh x amount of weight.
It was going to be my gift to myself. Finally conforming and squeezing my body into what was "socially acceptable"

But some things happened. My life changed and the only weight I lost was 165ish pounds of boyfriend who held me down, and back and at the same time up to some incredibly impossible standards.

In fact I've gained.
Joy, happiness, fierceness and part of that comes from being able to show the world what I once hated so much

My body.

I had not realized how much everything centered around my body.
My ability to hold my head up in a job interview,
Shame was eating at a restaurant,
Anger was trying on clothes,
Fear was take a trip
Embarrassment was meeting my partner's friends and family.

It was inescapable... this all encompassing adipose. I hated it, I hated me.

I wish I could tell you what changed.
I wish I could tell you how I changed.
Its too much like that "Dune" quote. The one about passing through your fear and looking back and seeing nothing because only you remain.

Well only I remain.
I am not ashamed to touch my body now
Can you imagine how seriously fucked up that is? Being ashamed to touch your own body?
The weight of no longer being repulsed by my own weight was heavier to me than my actual hips and thighs
and ass

I can look in the mirror and see what I look like and not compare that to what I wanted to look like.
I can see my own face sans the superimposed silhouette of societies views

To some people my fat says that I am lazy, that I eat three times the amount a "normal" person would eat, that I am sick or shut in, that I am depressed or stupid because obviously I do not love myself or want anyone else to love me either, that I have been abused in some way... that I need to be fixed.

but I'm not broken
there are no mental issues, I'm not diabetic nor do I suffer from hypertension, I am vegetarian and borderline vegan who eats all her meals home cooked and full of veggies,I exercise, I dance and sing, my week days are long and I doubt you could keep up with me on the weekend...

See that was the defensive side of me. The one side that feels like I have to explain or excuse myself. Because people sneer at me

People sneer at me
because I am fat
because I am black
because I am nappy headed
because I have the nerve to be HAPPY while being all of the above

The really fucked up thing about this is that deep down and somewhere inside I believed them.

I don't anymore.

I'm angry and I'm motivated. I don't think that is being reflected in the wording or the tone of this post but I am. Its this slow burning thing that's heating up all my blood and skin and bones but instead of turning it inward it's going right where it belongs

To the judgmental sizest cunt faces, the dick headed fat-o-phobes, the assholes, the haters... I don't owe you anything aside from my foot up your ass.

I just turned 30
I'm finally at home in my body
I just turned 30
and it looks damn good on me
missrenie: (Default)

A year ago I made a promise to myself

I promised to Untame , To Rename, To Reclaim me

Because amidst years of conflict
amidst years of conditioning
amidst years of conforming

I had forgotten
my worth
my beauty
my self


A year ago I made this proclamation of reclamation. 

~it has resulted in the metaphorsis of a nine year relationship to a wonderful life long friendship
~it has resulted in the loss of 30 pounds
~and the gaining of 15 ;)
~it has resulted in ardent change within myself which has rippled out to touch those closest to me
~it has brought to me a learning of  me

And some of these things that I learned  I love
And some of these things that I learned I absolutely despise

I have learned that I like the razor edge of things
That my sunshine is all the deep deep sensations from elated joy to tortuous pain
I’ve learned that I can shout and sing and strip in front of a crowded room
I’ve reclaimed my sashay, my sass, my sexuality, my spirit.

I’ve also learned that my halo can just as easily become Horns
That I possess as much callousness as I do compassion
That I can be as ugly as I can be beautiful, selfless and selfish
That I can be brilliantly confident and oh so needy of outside affirmation


I learned that I had miscalculated terribly

I assumed at the beginning of this that being “me” was a destination that I would arrive at.   I even had the nerve to assume on several occasions that I had “arrived”.   

Now I know that all this, all these things that I have embraced as part of me, all these robes of robes I have put on me is not me.  

I know this because I see it in others. 

In the mother who turns to temptress after her children as fast asleep.

In the tattooed burlesque dancer who has to run off after her performance to study for her exams

In the most feared sadist who cries cheerful tears when given the gentlest butterfly kiss upon his cheek.

In the eyes of the power lawyer who confesses that all he wants is to give in, submit, be told what to think and feel and do.


Burlesque Dancer, Debaucher, Red Pill, Submissive Switch, Poly, Pan Sexual, Pagan these are  planets  coming in and out orbit around the soul of who I am and more importantly who I can be.  It’s easy to get caught up in “planets”  I mean hell they are fucking planets.  Huge massive things with there own systems of doing things, rules and landscapes.  It is easy to get caught on one.

I’ve gotten caught on a few
I’ve been lazy again

I’ve come far from the quite girl with low self esteem, from that over emotional self hating mess that used to cut her wrists and cry herself asleep at night.  I’ve come far from the binge eater, the hater, the angry one who threw things and cursed(I still curse but I do it with a smile).  I’ve come far from the cowardess, the powerless.


But  I have not arrived
This is just a plateau
I can see a little bit clearly… at least I think I can. 

And what I see are other lines cast down.  From other men and women who have gone before me.  Ropes of knowledge, wisdom, challenge, growth all dangling in the breeze.  There are footholds too, uncharted paths to take as well all things leading to the next level and the next.


To continue on this everyday adventure that I’m making my life to be will take more than proclamations, more than believing and boasting.


It will take that discipline that Sensei told me I needed so badly ten years ago…  I’m looking forward to the new set of challenges before me, the creations and catharsis they will bring me…


I’m not so afraid anymore
and that either means that I am ready or that I am incredibly, inexcusably stupid.  Not that that matters… I’m committed.


Or certifiable.



Either way there is nothing like getting your hands a little dirty to cleanse your soul ;)
missrenie: (Tree of Knowledge)
I am happy
this emptiness right here
this emptiness right now
is a temporary thing.

Happy people cry too
even if their tears are confused, missed and taken for laughter
Happy people scream too
even though their pain is mistaken for con and fused with fervor

I am a happy person
and this emptiness is a temporary thing

this Emptiness
where my Worth once stood
Worth I so carelessly gave away
Worth that with an equal carelessness was wasted away,
until my hallowed became hollow  there
once warm womb turned temporary torrid tomb…

Stand not at this grave a weep for me
Neither grieve for me
Nor hold wake with me
give me your noise
lend me your laughter
create chaotic celebration so that I can cry

Soak me in the sun of your warm smiles,
transmute this sea of tears into fertile spring rains rich with the beauty of our combined joy.
Lend me the rhythm of your stamping feet
turn bitter grapes of sorrow into sweet wines of sacred wisdom, a precious ambrosia garnered from life’s painful lessons
Pour it over this rotted earth
let me use your bright colors as inspiration to re-landscape my barren greedy glorious garden

Grieve not for me
nor hold wake with me

give me  noise
lend me  laughter
create chaotic celebration so that I can
and cry

for I am a happy person
and this
this is but a temporary thing.
missrenie: (Default)

I think the problem is that you think you know me
You think you have me all figured out
that you know what makes me tick and switch on
but you don't
you don't know me
you don't have the slightest idea.

I told you that I was tried, overwhelmed exhausted and needed a break from life for a moment.  You diagnosed me as simply being in need of orgasm. That you would deliver this “prescription”.  That you would make me feel things I have never felt before and that I was gonna release and relax.  Have peace within myself. 


…News flash...

your dick can't do that honey. 

1 that is something I have to give myself
2 that place you talk about getting me to , that momentary state of bliss you see fit to challenge yourself to bring me is a place you and I will never go

I told you how to get me there
I gave you hand written specific directions
go for my mind, my spirit, my divine and my body will follow

but you think you know better
you think you know me better than I know myself

you don't know me
you don't have the slightest idea.
and you’re not interested in that are you?
You just want my orgasm to be some trophy on your fucking shelf.

Like it's a competition between you and all the others that have come before.
It's not a competition but sense that's the only language you seem to understand
know that you have been weighed, measured found lacking and subsequently  disqualified.  For multiple reasons but this in particular:  For telling me what my body, my being needs and for having the audacity to tell me what I have and haven’t felt.


I've been in the game since 16 sugah.  I've  had plenty of climaxes and I know
beyond a doubt
that on that one late afternoon in the early fall of 1999
right as the sunset was casting blood orange slices of light through half lidded venetian blinds,  as the sweltering heat wrapped me from toe to hip from hip to tit from tit to crown  that this was different
Movement, breath and sound and sense different

and to tell me that I was mistaken, misinformed or otherwise ignorant of what it was makes you look like a jack ass ... trust me honey I know my own body.  I've lived in it longer than you have ten second man... see you don't even get a Mr. in front of your name any more.


Because you’re not worth it* no one is worth it*.


Dre was right

For a while there my inner Goddess went on vacation. 
I sent her off
I actually packed her bags, bought her a ticket and pushed her on the plane because I could not indulge in my most recent delusions if I didn’t.
You see I didn’t fall for you I fell for a false sense of security.


She’s back now
I’m back now
and it’s time to clean house.









*It=  the wiliness to compromise or change myself, my actions, my goals in order to accommodate some other person in an attempt to be accepted, embraced, “understood” or “loved” in varying degrees.

missrenie: (Default)
I went out to dinner with Chris last night
I thought it was going to be just to two of us but it wasn't.
She was meeting some friends.

Round One:
Me: Oh *** wow you've lost so much weight since I have seen you last
#1: 30 pounds
Me: 30 hmm... it looks like so much more
#1: ...
Me: I don't mean that in a bad way... I mean to say... well wow you look great!
#1: umm thanks

Round Two
#2: what are you doing with your life these days Irene?
My first thought as I looked around the table at the teacher, engineer, almost cop was
well obviously nothing worth while.
Me: Still writing
#1: one syllable reply "ah"
I could tell no one cared at that table... just asking to be polite
ah my ass
So I continued
Me: But my mom is on the hospital so I'm sending her a lot of energy you know... that's the main issue in my life right now.
The teacher's face dropped.
She then proceeded to tell me about how she knew about having a parent in the hospital.
And she did too. Because her father passed away last year. And me talking about my mother being sick just brought back all those horrible feelings again.
I apologized but I'm sure it was too late.

Round Three
#3: Nip Tuck is so sick.
Me: yes it is I hate that show... sick show for sick people
#3: (hurt) I really like that show
someone says something like soft core porn
Me: its just nasty... at least its not as bad as Desperate Housewives.
Silence swept the table
somewhere an angel lost its wings

Round Four
forgets how this one started... something about going out and doing something later in the month
Me: Can't really this month is a biggie for me... I mean being a witch I have a lot of stuff to get done Hallow's Eve is our New Year celebration and all that.
#1 #2 #3: stunned silence
Me: ummm well this year we will be helping kids cross the street so they won't get hit by cars... you know safety stuff
#1 #2 #3: silence crushing now
Me: so.. uh yeah lots of plans this month

Later Chris informs me that they are all very Christian.

Instead of being embarrassed about this whole thing I am enthralled.
So what.
So I haven't finished school and I'm not making the best money in the world.
So I'm not a teacher or an engineer or an almost cop.
What I am is card carrying bisexual over weight witch
who hates most syndicated or pre syndicated television trash
who hangs out with artists, thinkers, creators.
What I am is strong enough to not be a sheep just to win people over.
What I am is not afraid to be myself.
And I am proud of that.
Proud that I walked away laughing
because even though I have yet to "arrive"
It's a sure sign that I am well on my way.

So bon appetite
missrenie: (Fatgurl@thegym)


I was a bad girl at lunch to day. Instead of having a perfectly good salad that I made myself of organic vegetables, greens, micro green and organic fruits and such I went out for a sandwich on processed sourdough bread with chicken that has also been processed and sauce that came from god knows where and probably genetically modified onions and tomatoes. I determined that I was only going to eat half ... but when I looked down the whole thing was gone.

“What a disgrace what a failure” the parent voice reprimanded

“What happened.. Oh no.. my addictions they overpowered me.. I will never be free” wept the inner victim

“Damn skippy I ate it... and it was fuckin good too bitches” the not so hidden hedonist added without prompting

“We can overcome this... gurll power!!!” the optimistic co-president of the pussy power brigade shouted waving a small banner and alternating between pink and purple neon pom poms.

This incited the others to sudden violence
They attacked her... it was quite a ganking
“We must suffer for our actions” The ex-catholic parent raged

“Aye me what a whore you are false hope” the inner victim cried while raining blows... which missed because of the tears

“Your fucking annoying”stated the hedonist (coincidentally the other co-president of the pussy power brigade... she's been looking to stage a coupe for some time now)

After the beating they were all quite worn out... not to mention thirsty
“Lets get some starbucks to celebrate my new reign” the new acting president said
and to starbucks we went
quite against my will I assure you
What's wrong with starbuck's one might ask?
Well aside from promoting slave like conditions in other countries,
not providing their US workers with a living wage,
killing the coffee house scene for all of us “transcendental- tortured artistic souls” ,
creating a way for the sheep of society to feel good about themselves by convincing them their coffee is culture, class, character in a cup and mass producing a highly addictive substance... they are completely and utterly over priced... and I do agree with Foamy the Squirrel on this one bit of wisdom. (Small, medium, large)

So there I was in line with a nervous tick in my left eye.
“What can I get for you today” the forced peppy metro-sexual barista asked trying to avoid looking into my left eye.
“Venti java chip frappucino with one squirt mint hold the whip cream extra drizzle” I stammered as the acting president whipped her hands on her leather pants with a satisfied smirk after finally taking down the bisexual freedom fighter who was totally caught off guard because she was taking a nap.
Ten minutes later I was back at my desk, sipping my frap, shivering in ecstasy and brain freeze when the dethroned co-president made a startling and triumphant return assisted by her little cohort common sense.

“Just because you did one thing wrong doesn't mean the whole day was a waste, don't you see your on the edge woman step back from the edge!!!!”

The parental voice chimed in with demeaning approval “that coffee is like dessert and no dessert without eating your vegetables first”

“And starbucks sucks dude where are your principles, where is your pride” sputtered the battered bisexual freedom fighter limping to center stage

The inner victim was no help at all she just cowered in the corner

What happened next looked pretty odd I am sure.
I took the lid off of the cup and tilted it over the trash can ready to pour it out
but found myself taking a gulp
I tried again
damn same results
okay third time the charm
and it was
and down it went
into the trash can and with it went the not so hidden hedonist like golum after the ring of power...
But she'll be back she is co-president after all.





Feb. 9th, 2004 01:44 am
missrenie: (Tree of Knowledge)


I started writing something a few days back this is all that I have so far but I think that I am off to a good start the hardest thing is getting it all to come out sometimes I feel as if thw words are all stuck in my head just content to lay there and rot. I have to poke and prod them to come out. Well here it is.

Me -n-Jane

It took my hair out the first time… clumps of it. Just as tame and straight as Jane's but it came out all the same. As if my very skull rejected the forced assimilation even though I was quite too young to understand. And it itched, itched like hell. You know the kind of itch that is just like a doctor saying "oh no dear this is only going to sting" to calm you down just enough to inflict his torment freely upon you. I learned after the first time going to the doctors but for some reason (other than my mother) I kept going back to that salon, sitting in that hot leather chair, letting myself be boosted up until my dangling toes no longer touched the ground ( I suspected then so that I could not change my mind and run away) and tortured almost unbearably for 12 years (once a month) like clockwork.

Oh it burned like hot ice. I imagined my head a stack of smoke. How long was it? 15 or 20 minutes with that awful white girlish pink tinged stuff dripping to my ears and eating the flesh away. I remember it even now. God the liberation I felt when she put my head "under the sink" to wash out that awful lye based acid. It felt like relieving yourself after waiting a long long time. Crud I know but that is the truth. Such intense pleasure after all that pain. Every muscle in my body ached with release. It was like I was being worked over by a grand masseur. .. Well that was until she stared scrubbing my scalp to make sure it was all out. Her freshly French tipped manicured nails ripped at the newly opened wounds or war against my untamable hair. I remember the salt tears running from my eyes as I tried desperately not to cry aloud. Over the years it got easier, more accustomed to the pain. Just one of my many penances for being black and a woman.

I would leave that parlor (two hours later) on account of the drying and curling) and relish in the feeling of the wind running it's finger through my sore scalp. I didn't mind the fact that I would not be able to play bare headed in the rain, sweat or worst of all go swimming (unless it was under the strictest understanding that my head was not be submerged at any and all costs). I was happy no longer nappy. I would swing my head back and forth until I saw stars swimming in the clouds. I would turn in mad circles just to see my hair move freely like all those shampoo commercials. Just as lose and easy as those blonde skinny models. For five minutes I was in heaven on earth. Just five minutes because my mother (ever watchful) yelled at me to get back in the car/house lest the strong southern humidity cause it to go back, all the way back… to Africa. And that would be a waste of her 30 dollars. Money that we did not have to spend. For a week I would suffer sleeping on hard curlers thinking to myself that if Jesus could stand a crown of thorns I would at least stand this. By the second week the chemical burns would heal up. Mama would scratch my head and the scabs would float to the top of the black river and fall like snow onto my back and the dark blue towel across her lap. By the end of the second week I was fine, perfect at peace. My scalp had healed over and my hair still moved when the wind touched it. But by the fourth week it no longer hung down and the thin comb would not pass though it. And my scalp began to itch un mercifully. My mother interrogated me about what I had been doing to my hair. The hair dresser laughed and said my hair will one day be able to "hold the perm" for up to six weeks once I was older (it never did). Unruly once more like an unbroken wild animal thing back in Africa all the way back in Africa.

And so the process began again.
So I could look
just like


missrenie: (Default)

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