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)
Disclaimers: the following post contains multiple, continuous and flagrantly shameless use of the words: fuck, bitch, and FAT If any of these words offend you or if you're one of my former English teachers please navigate away from this page now

Dear Ungrateful Fat Bitches,

nobody put's baby in a corner

I expected hate from the "mainstream" but from you. You're breaking my god damn heart. I knew when I started doing burlesque that I would have an uphill battle to fight but I can't believe you are trying to drag my ass down too. Oh you are flag waving for equality, bitching about how people treat you differently, crying about all that bullshit you went though in grade school but when it comes down to it sometimes you are just as much part of the problem.

Lets start with the thing that pisses me off the most. More than the fuck-me-never frumpy grey clothes you wear, the constant newest fad diets you go on, or the enabling support groups where you get together and cry. Lets start with this: The whole. utter and complete dismissal of yourself as a sexually potent human being...

I keep getting these response from other big women:
#1 We are about celebrating our curves not sexualizing them
#2What you are doing is perpetuating a harmful fetishism
#3 We deserve to be loved not put on embarrassing display

Ummmm... you lost me sweetness what better celebration of your curves, then covering it with glitter and dancing the night away.

The idea that my particular thunda thighs are floating her boat or rockin his cock doesn't break my flow sugah. It's not like I have to stand there and watch them do it to it. I'll pose for a picture for private use...and if they want panties that costs extra (you freaks know how to reach me ;) ) . Besides like someone pointed out to me the other day skinny women don't get pissed off that people find them attractive just because they are skinny. Or do ya'll?

I really wished you believed that... because if you did then you would not fall for prey to being what Kathryn calls the "grateful fat chick". I am not a grateful fat chick but I used to be. I was that fat girl that would be oh so happpy that someone was checking her out, asking her out, or calling her pretty. I was that fat girl that was content to let him touch her in private even if he didn't hold her hand in public. I was that fat girl that was starving for his compliments and hungrily eating all the bullshit he spit out. I am no longer a grateful fat chick... now I'm a phat bitch

I'm out there shaking my wide ass and jiggling my tits not just to appease my behemoth sized ego but to liberate you, reeducate the masses and fuck with the heads of fat-o-phobs. I'm fighting to be free in mind and expression. Yeah I'm taking my clothes off but if you look past that you'll see that I have the ovaries and intestinal fortitude to live my dream at my present size in my present body unapologetically and that is something that extends beyond the stage.

That's the real reason you fat bitches hate on me. I am shoving in your face what you want to run from most,what you cover up with girdles and cinch in with control top panties. Because you have not let go of your shame, and self loathing. Because someone beat you down so hard you are trying to beat me down too.

But I don't want to beat you down,
I don't want to embarrass you.
I want you to really see, to really accept how fabulous you are, how deserving you are how damn pretty you are.

And don't give me that it's so easy for you bullshit either. I went though it too, from sneak eating to starving, from depression so deep that I could not step outside... I'd binge and purge on self hate with side orders of hot steamy shame. I may not always be fat.. you may one day be skinny but we are ALWAYS human beings. And as human beings we have basics needs that are physical, spiritual, emotional, mental, sexual.

Because I believe fat bitches need love too
Because I believe that this phat bitch needs love too I refuse to let your fear, past rejections and negative reflections suppress my sexuality, my sensuality, my personality .

Nobody puts baby in the corner!!
Besides there is too much of me to even fuck around at pretending at being invisible.
All 5'6 279 pounds of me demands to be respected to be loved, to be touched, to be sexualized and fetish-ized and glamorized and seen for the powerful beautiful woman that I am.

so do me a favor
cut a bitch a break
and stop weighing me down with all your misplaced hate.

oh and Dr Phil... BITE ME!!

fab photo of Rubenesque Burlesque by JOHNNY CRASH
missrenie: (Default)
I’m on the verge of mental breakdown.

This little inconvenience (which is all manner of interesting on its lonesome) transforms into something of a Shakespearean tragedy when you account for the fact that my mind is one of those needy cry with me sons of bitches because it is taking my body and my car with it.

I figured I was headed for a breakdown last Tuesday when I went into work. I just felt off, scattered, and paranoid. A feeling I simply detest especially if a herbal high is not directly involved or the cause of the pandemonium. As soon as my brain processed the possibility that it was becoming unhinged it began a complete shut down of all systems in order to maintain its integrity.

By Wednesday evening I was up to a 102 degree fever complete with snot, headache, cough and chills. Sonya being the darling that she is came over to take care of me but she had a rather rough week/end herself. I tricked her into going to bed and spent the next three hours doing laundry and being in formed by some ex actress and British chick about the benefits of this brand new body shaper that makes all your skinny clothes fit your fat body.

So now I feel sick, fat, more than self conscious

And vaguely militant against these bitches who are selling a false and temporary solution to a problem that is not as simple as aesthetics but goes far deeper into post traumatic stress syndrome from a screwy childhood and fucked up start as an adult.

Besides I’m fat!!!

I’m well and intimately acquainted with every roll, divot and curve of my body and a small portion of San Francisco is as well. No bodyshaper in the ‘verse is gonna take back or change that…. and as Kathryn’s bright shiny button says “Kiss my Fat Ass”

I almost bought one in my delirium…. a body shaper not a button.

Thank the goddess I was broke.


Still feverish… but really in need of soup. I decide to haul myself and my 101 fever down to the local Whole foods for that organic brand of tlc. I use wipes on everything I touch since I don’t want to curse anyone with this disease and everything seems a little bit brighter. Maybe it was the sun, maybe it was the successful venture. On my way back my car decided to flip me a fuck you and begins doing a bump and grind while groaning wildly …. Also something I simply detest if me + sex is not involved or the direct cause of it.

I make it home
Park it
Curse it
Have a coughing fit (on account of the cursing)
Lock both key and groceries in it
Kick it
Fight with the pass code entry
Cry over it
Curse it more
Beg it (that works)
Retrieve my parcels
Slam the door and spit on it.
Split the grocery bag.
Sob a little until I am giggling

Decide I have neither the mental capacity nor the money to deal with it and drag my feverish deranged soundlessly laughing manically ass inside.

Thank goodness Jerimyah brings me tlc and soup soon thereafter.
Later that night I loose my precious flash drive that stores my life and scandal.


Sitting still is a certified bitch. Neil was right maybe I do have some weird disease that keeps me from staying in one spot. If it wasn’t for Jerimyah I would have probably reorganized my writing, re organized my closet by color, cleaned the refrigerator, sweep and moped all the floors, thrown out half of everything I own since I have not used any of it in the last three months. Instead I take a few showers and dream about my roll in the zombie apocalypse.

There is a 30 year old cop involved and I decided to bed him right before the heads started to roll but just as he leans me back onto an amazingly soft bed (amazing because were trapped into military encampment) I get excited and wake myself up with a fucking coughing fit. When I fall back asleep I skip straight to the “Oh this shit just got real” part and in the end have to cut his head off. … without ever having the opportunity to ride it first.

Needless to say I wake up a tad bit put out, ornery and now horny but the fever broke... so yay!


Spent the day in the shower trying to breathe
Spent the afternoon in bed trying to orgasm
Dinner out and movie with Mister …saw 9.
Walked out in total need of an upper.
But with time patience and the right touch achieved on hell of an orgasm not climax fucking orgasm!!!!


Mister took me for a much needed airing out at the Flea market, quick visit to San Francisco and then He dropped me at Burlesque Rehearsals in Oakland which left me whipped… but when I got home I couldn’t sleep. Instead I had the great idea to do a ceremonial smudge(spiritual smoke cleansing originating from the Native Tribes of this country) myself and my room with sage.

Note to self: smoke is not helpful if your lungs are still encased in ick.


Dependant for rides from friends and loved ones until the Falcon gets fixed.
Made an appointment with the OBGYN.
It seems that that wonderful orgasm I had been a jonesing for has knocked out my IUD. It’s all bleeding, cramping and uncomfortable and every time I think about my elusive unicorn of an orgasm my cervix cinches with wondrous remembered pleasure and sends me into a semi spiral of non consensual what the holy fuck.

I had no idea that I thought about sex so much.

This has to come to a close or ill end up like those fucking rats who went off cheese due to electrocution.

I’m still stepping and still smiling…
Because what does not kill me makes me stronger, crying isn’t getting shit done, crumbled cookies, spilled milk , mercury retrograde, Saturn return, blah blah blah. But really
Fuck you trouble… and thank you too.

I realize that I am blessed enough to be surrounded by a loving patchwork family of friends that have my back, will hold my hair away and hug me even if I’m covered in ick. Thank you trouble for bending me gracelessly over a barrel without the lube to make me notice, appreicate and fully understand this.

So currently I’m too fucking busy being grateful and emotionally overwhelmed to tears and giggles by the support of friends and loved ones to truly let temporary trouble, car problems, mental break downs, missing scandal a 24 hour financial glitch and a fucked up cervix darken my day.

Besides all that sage and sick left me with a voice like Jennifer Tilly and that has to be worth the all trouble by itself ;)


missrenie: (Default)

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