missrenie | Entries tagged with fatgurl@thegym

To all those men who told me the following thinking that it was a complement

-for a fat chick you are pretty/sexy/hot

-you're not like the other fat chicks I know

-I’ve never been into big women but I could get into you

FUCK U you goddamn moron. Do you honestly think my self esteem is so low as to need you to tell me shit I already fucking know? Did you think that by telling me that I’m not like the “other fat chicks” you have some passing acquaintance with that I would feel all warm and fucking fuzzy and slide the pole? Do you feel the same way about black people too? I’m totally ordering an expensive dessert on your dime tonight you silly jackass.

FUCK U to

-Macys/ JCPennys/Sears for not only putting “Women” sizes in the basement near the draperies but also for carrying clothes so matronly that not even Margaret Thatcher would wear them

-Women’s magazines who have the “Latest Diet Secrets” right next to a recipe for “The World’s Best Chocolate Cake”. Seriously…. wtf mate

-People at the gym that cut their eyes at me with either disdain or pity. I need neither you condescending sons of bitches.

And finally to all the thick sisters, big girls, phat chicks, bbws, rubenesque rubies who walk around with their head bowed, feeling sorry for themselves, hidden under layers of grays and blacks and dresses that are shaped like feed sacks, waiting until they lose 10, 20, 50, 100lbs before they even attempt to remove themselves from their living dead state of mind.

A very, very empathic FUCK YOU!!

Because you’re not helping the situation either.

So what if the media pressures you, your peers teased you, your mother called you fat growing up and you manifested it later in life. Whether you are a size 10 and think you are fat or a size 30 and actually are. Own that shit!!

You sweetness are pretty and sexy and hot . You can get the man/men or woman/women you want and you can trust me on that one ;)

Demand better, rise up, wear colors, take pictures, accentuate your bursting bosom, celebrate your round round ass, caress your thunder thighs as much as possible and encourage your lover or yourself to give you the tummy rub you so desperately need.

Cause nobody is going to want you it you don’t want yourself

Cause nobody is going to see you if you don’t show yourself

I’m 5’6

I’m 287 lbs

I refuse to be invisible, stuffed into a box, labeled and listed among societies rejects, forced to I drop 137 more pounds before I can feel pretty and sexy and hot and fucking worthy of the life I want.

And you shouldn’t either.

Current Mood: kiss my fat!!!

So my gyno (the one who likes to scrape the walls of poor unsuspecting women's cervix without the use of anesthetics) called.

The last time she called she told me that the cancer results were inconclusive because she didn't have enough of a tissue sample to tell whether or not I had cervical cancer. She wanted me to come in for another biopsy. I considered bloggin that bullshit earlier but I was exhausted.

Three weeks ago she sent me for an MRI as a last ditch effort to figure out what was wrong with me. We both knew the results were going to come back negative. I paid my 40 dollars and took the test. While I was lying there on that narrow gurney with the machine whirling around my head (maybe it was whirling my eyes were closed) I had a lot to time to think. To consider things… like calling it quits with this woman.

Every time I went into her office she told me she had no idea what was wrong with me.

Sent me for more tests which confirmed almost six years of previous diagnosis

Referred me to three other doctors who totally confirmed the previous diagnosis

And gave me one hell of a biospy

I was ready to toss up my hands and say I'm just fat and hairy because I'm a fuck up. That's it lady. Stop trying to search for answers! Give me my hormones, a lapband, some hella good razor bump cream and lets call it a flipping day!

I was totally at that desperate/giving up point. Depressed, overwhelmed and in completely bad form. If you would have cut me I would have poured enough emo-golobin to drown a small farming village

But it just so happens that my crazy sadist of a gynecologist was on to something. Turns out that while my ovaries are made of steel my pituitary gland is shit.

There's tumor… not on it. In it.

When she told me that I was like

Oh… no freaking out like when my doctor told me I had allergies. Just "oh" closely followed by "well… hell"

She went on and on about some stuff and commended me for handling the news so coolly. She referred me to neurosurgeons in Redwood City. They'll run a few more tests and then operate on my brain through my nasal passage.

I thanked her for working so hard to figure out what was wrong.

When I hung up I had to go into an empty room and cry... something I've been doing way too much lately.

Not because of this tumor but from relief, from thankfulness, from happiness that someone believed me. She didn't just look at me and say. Lose weight and everything will go back to normal. Or your obviously not exercising enough. She didn't make me feel like this lazy lethargic pathetic person who let things get so out of control.

She believed me when I told her just what special type of hell this past decade has been. From the depression and weight gain, the constant fatigue and dizziness, the complete and utter mutiny of every cell in my body.

She believed me. She was the only fucking one to believe me. She followed a trail and she was not afraid to say that she did not know where she was going or what she was looking for. She kept looking. And she found it.

Even though she cut into my cervix without the passing pleasure of a Tylenol she listened to me. She believed me. Even though I didn't believe in her

…even when I stopped believing myself.

Current Mood: relieved

I haven’t always been fat.

But that doesn’t really matter now does it?

Because I’ve always considered myself to be fat, large, rotund, morbidly obese and doomed by my anti-aesthetic monstrosity to a lonely life. A horrible, torrid, terrible affair, brimming with romantic rejections, jobs that had me stuffed in the farthest darkest cubical, and the occasional snickering of small children. I would only find peace by my merciful and satirical death. Which would involve a two year old twinke and a Jerry Springer rerun.

As I would laugh merrily at the misfortune of some skinny bitch I would choke on the twinke I just found under my seat cushion. would tumble from my recliner (an awkward pathetic slow fall) with my flower print mumu flailing out around me (except for where it was pinched between my ass cheeks in a gigantic weggie). My chubby sausage fingers would rake the air knocking over my sad collection of crystals, precious moments children and snowglobes.

No one would come. I would be alone. I didn’t date. I wasn’t married. I never had children, because I was still scared from elementary school and the kids who pointed and snickered on the streetcar. As I lay there drowning in my own vomit while simultaneous reliving all my nightmares and daydreams my eyes would catch a rumpled ad from Jenny Craig that read “Isn’t today the day?”

With that the curtain would fall heavily on the Shakespearian tragedy that was my life. From there I would go to heaven (because I died a virgin) where I would be given a set of 3x size wings (because I was still fat). This makes me sad but I forget all that because for the first time that I since I was seven that horrible lower back pain is gone and I don’t get winded standing up.

I’d float all happy like down from heaven to take a peek at my sparsely attended funeral only to find that it is a closed casket because my nine cats had partial eaten my face before they found me in my backstreet, ground level, studio apartment. Surrounded by broken glass and dried bits of confetti snow with the mother of all wedgies stuck between my asscheeks.

It is preordained, predetermined… destiny.

Even when I managed to lose my virginity, meet a man who wanted to marry me and developed an allergy to cats I knew better. I had seen it. The same vision since I was sixteen…. Trust me its going to happen.

Or so I thought.

Current Mood: chipper
Current Location: thegym
Current Music: huffing and puffing

Dah Fab Miss Hu wrote:

How to end conversations quickly w/o being rude.

I've figured out how to end conversations quickly w/o being rude. This is guaranteed to work. Here's what you do:
Talk about how fat you are. Then continue to whine about it. The more pathetic you sound about it, the better. Trust me. I've tried it. It's a proven method. Or maybe it just works with a few people... hm...

My response:

In my experience this technique only works if your not fat
If you're not fat people leave you alone because they think you are crazy.

If you are fat they start giving you suggestions on how to lose weight and stay healthy...
unless they are fat too.

If they are fat as well they:

a: they get put off by your self loathing and riled by your dissension from the ranks of BBW. They launch their own personal campaign to free you from your dangerously low self esteem. This may seem like a noble effort but it is really an attempt at self validation. If you see yourself as Shamo’s younger undiscovered sister what must you think of them? *

-or-

b: attempt to out whine you by directly engaging you in a verbose battle chock full of social injustices, morbid self actualizations and the mental/spiritual pain and anguish accrued/inflicted in dressing rooms around the world, fitting into roller coaster carts or trying to tell the flight stewardess that they needed a seat belt extender on the DL. Contrary to popular belief (sadly based on personal experience) no one wins these because ultimately fat misery loves fat company. *

* As a side note this is particularly troublesome at work because after being called in by the HR manager who gently suggests therapy and for months you will have to deal with empathic yet annoying coworkers who tell you how especially nice you look today even though you are wearing the same damn thing as yesterday.

Current Mood: thoughtful
Current Location: worky work
Current Music: Feelin good

“But you’ll always be a little bit heavy” She said brushing the crumbs from her big mac off of her sweater. “Besides who cares what you look like.. you already got a man who wants to marry you.”

“I care” I say trying not to stare directly into the beckoning depths of meat, cheese, meat and pickles. I take a swig of aquafina and chant thou shalt not lust, thou shalt not lust over and over to myself

“No you care that other people care.”
I was quiet because it was partially true.

“Well I don’t feel like a woman any more… My period has been missing for seven years,sure it made a brief come back but it lasted as long as that guy from new kids from the block. I shave more often than Terick, I have forgotten where my waist is, i’m to embarrassed to guess, my shoes don’t quite fit, I have hypertension and I’m pre-diabetic and my clothes cost 5 to 10 dollars more because of the extra fabric.”

“Menstruation is messy… I wish mine would go away. Anything else.” She says polishing off the burger… I wanted to lick the paper.

“Yes this goddamn under wire bra is killing me because it is too small but I can not afford to order my size off line… and I’m uncomfortable on long flights”

“If you loose weight your tits will shrivel”

She had me… she knows I love my breasts I even gave them names. I looked down my bra and imagined them giving me precious moments eyes… don’t abandon us they whimpered in unison.

“Gah!!!!” I say hungrily inhaling the fumes of charbroiled mystery meat “You don’t understand.”

“I understand you’re flipping the hell out… maybe you should eat something”

“I don’t want anything from here” I say taking a rather long prolonged glance at the value menu

“Yes you do”
damn she was right about that too.

“Lets get out of here”

“K” She shrugs “You know you should love yourself… forget what everyone else says you are fine just the way you are. Besides You’ll always be a little bit heavy” She says as she retrieved whats left of her evil Starbuck’s Frap

She’s right about that too. She was right about everything except one.

-I should love myself…by doing whats right for myself.

-I am fine just the way I am… but fine is not good enough. I want to be outstanding, I want to be healthy, I want to be strong,

-Menstrual cycles are messy

-My boobs will shrink but maybe that is a plus because I am lugging around DDs.

*******But I will not always be a little bit heavy!!!!!!

My body is a temple where nobody worships anymore… well my fiance worships on a regular basis but I really should be the main matron.

Step One
-locate my reasons for doing this    *Done
-create a plan                                              *Done
-implement plan                                         *Done
-change plan as necessary                     *Done
-find a support group                                 *Done 43 things :)
-find better friends............................................................................................ an ongoing process ;)

See more progress on: Lose 150 pounds

Current Mood: cheerful

I rolled out of bed this morning rather ungracefully for two reasons...

Reason Number One: I'm sleeping on a day bed with a trundle bed pushed up next to it. Both have comfortable yet temperamental air mattresses which Terick and I discovered on Tuesday night when he got his left shoulder wedged between the trundle and day bed while merely reaching over to rub my tummy after my most recent nightmare and 7am is way to early for something cold and metal to be pressed against my skin... unless it is of a high kink value and this was not one of those cases.

Reason Number Two : I felt extremely bloated. I'm still managing to surf the holiday binge wave via a combination of : other peoples procrastination (i.e. late holiday baking, late New Years Potluck at work, late removal of various holiday goodies from co-worker's household) and my own lack of will and weak rationalization (i.e. there are starving children in Africa who am I to turn up my nose at brie, smoked gouda, raspberry mocha cheesecake, hush puppies, fresh tamales, the most delicious Mexican beans on the Goddess's green earth, and the occasional non-diet coke.) Btw this wave is weakening in strength because the novelty of divergence from my life style change is wearing off and pepto bismo is a horrible after dinner chaser.

I mumble quietly to myself just to alert Jocko that I am awake and moving around the house... Jocko it my ex-neighbors dog. He's better company than some human beings that I know. I'm dog/house sitting while they are away. He's been moping around with a precious moments look in his big brown eyes that just breaks my heart because he misses his mommy and daddy. I wonder if Terick is like that when I am away...

I open the curtains to let in the early morning sun, heat up Jocko's breakfast, give him a good morning scratch for which I am rewarded with a hearty tail wag that stopped as so as my hands are one half inch away from him... at this point I am convinced that he is trying his hardest to stay depressed in hopes of getting some kind of treat. Then I jump into the shower for a brisk cold wake up and head into the guest room to get dressed

That's when it happened.

They have a rather nice sized mirror in the hallway you can see your entire body in it. I usually avoid these contraptions like the bubonic plague ,confused gay men trying to prove to me that they are straight, and ultra conservative born again Christian evangelicals and their children of the corn offspring but I was not able to today because I was still half asleep.

What I saw woke me up fully.

From underneath my pink and brown cotton nightgown appeared two lovely legs. I don't know if it had anything to do with the sunlight streaming in from behind me... but I noticed my legs for the very first time... Oh my goddess! I said to no one in particular... I doubt Jocko was paying attention as he was too busy trying to be depressed. "I have certifiably gorgeous gams, steamy sexy stems, beautiful mahogany voluptuous branches." At this point a heard Stefanie's disembodied voice from the living room say "I hate you".

I stayed in that mirror for at least five minutes turning this way and that in the morning light standing on the balls of my feet kicking, "vouge-ing", touching and other wise molesting my own legs. Up until now the things I liked about myself were pretty minor... my eyes, my lips, my fingers, my pink nails, a couple of months ago I feel deeply in eros with my dred loc'd hair, but aside from that the biggest thing were my breasts because ... well they are breasts for goodness-sakes... what's not to like about them (Terick think's im obsessed with them and way to possessive of them).

But to fall in love with my legs is a positive sign... that I am coming back to me... coming back to loving me and not someone's opinion of me. It's a sign that I am seeing myself, as a woman. As a beautiful woman. Instead of looking first for faults. When I look in the mirror I normally see uneven skin tone, stray hairs that need to be shaved, patches where foundation should be applied, fat tummy, thunder thighs and an ass too large for a few peoples good... and I am torn between running back to bed and hiding underneath the covers with strong urge to become a social recluse or skipping work to put in overtime at the gym.

But not this morning. This morning I was torn between getting to work on time and making love to my new self as a result of this new discovery....

I was a little late ;)

Current Mood: sexy

I'm sure that the 9:15 commuters at the corner of Market and St John did not need to see black lady beaver before their first cup of coffee, but that is just what they got.
It's an usually windy day here in San Jose. As I crossed the street to collect the mail from the P.O. Box Jack Frost got a little frisky and goosed me in the middle of the intersection. As I grabbed the front of my dress the wind changed directions and the back of my skirt flew up. Visions of childhood flashed through my head.

I was seven
we were at the zoo
fell out the back of the bus
my skirt covered my head,

I was ten
walking home from school while eating a snow cone,
stumble and fall flat on my face
skirt went up in front of main crush.
exposing bright pink and blue "Today is Tuesday" underwear
it was a Friday.

I was twelve
on the playground
running backwards, feet leaving the earth
fingers spiking back the volleyball
a football zoom past my line of vision
really disorientating mid air collision
Waking up to hear in a daze
"Someone pull her skirt down over her legs"

And it goes on and on
A really horrendous haiku

So when it happened today I turned tail and ran into the office and begged Dennis to get the mail for me... anytime before martini hour is really too early to relive some of your most embarrassing moments.

Current Mood: nostalgic
Current Music: The Big Lebowski: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack

4:44am and 30 seconds

Omg what time is it... its still dark... hmm I can sleep a little longer right?

4:45

Alarm rings loudly under the pillow
Damn I had to be cheated out of at least 30 second... where the hell is that snooze button?
Shuts off alarm
hahahah 4:46 my big black ass its too early to be getting up and going to somebody's gym
falls asleep

4:55 and 45seconds

Big black ass is right!

Me: (Snaps awake)Who said that?

I saaaaaaaaid Big black ass is right.

Me: Shut up!!! (I hate it when the voices in my head wake me up) I'll get up when the alarm rings

Alarm: Rings loudly under pillow

Me: !!!!!!Shit!!!!!

Betta get that lazy ass out of bed and down to the gym before it gets any bigger

Me: Jesu Cristo!!!

What the hell do you want with him?

Me: (silence)

Look lazy ass bitch are we going to have to go though this every morning or what?

Me: you know name calling and abuse is not necessary

Well obviously it is cause your acting like a punk bitch... don't tell me your about to pussy out.

Me: Look I went to the gym yesterday I can miss a day.

yeah umm did you really?

Me: Well the day before that

Nigress please I know you not gonna lay there and lie to yourself

Me: .... last week?

Get on the scale

Me: I don't wanna

Get on the damn scale!!!!!!

Crawls out of bed, trips over Terick's shoes, knocks over a cup of water while trying to find the light, initially blinded, steps on scale, Bends over really close to see the numbers... falls off

try your glasses Eienstein

Finds glasses, steps on scale

Me: Oh shit

More like bullshit

Me: 10 pounds

10 mfing pounds

Me: 10 pounds

cue tight feeling in chest, downward turn of left and right corners of the lips, elevated levels of blinking that eventually leads to tears.

(disgusted) oh no you don't you did this to yourself don't even start crying about it

Me: But all my hard work?!

yeah and a week hiatus from the gym and all that junk food, ice-cream, wonderbread milkshakes, m&ms

Me: alright alright

onion rings, french fries, missed medication, pie, donuts...

Me: Would you shut up already....I really need a hug

You really need to get that ass to the gym; you really need to eat correctly... before what you really will be needing is a pine wood box

Me: okay (sniffling) you don't have to be so mean about it.

Oh I'm sorry I forgot that you wanted to be cremated.

Me: Alright im going !!!!(still sniffling)

(silence)

Me: hello?

(silence)

Me: hello?

So at 5:30am I was at the gym back in the saddle, or on the cart er horse... whatever
today I broke my personal record... I managed one hour and decreased the time it took me to do a mile... I managed to get in 3.2 miles total. I made it home in time to start a veggie stew in my crock pot before work
I also put in another 45mins at lunch making my total time one-hour and 45 just 15 minutes under my 2 hour daily goal.

The voices in my head are appeased
accept for one incident involving a orange cranberry muffin that almost left me in tears.

Current Mood: accomplished

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.

http://www.illwillpress.com/vault.html (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.

Current Mood: fuck yeah
Current Location: worky work
Current Music: alanis one hand in my pocket

Soooooooooo I fell off the cart again.
It hurts.
Trying to be optimistic
but that would just make me what to shoot myself more

Current Mood: disappointed
Current Location: I suckville usa
Current Music: my wallowing wails of self pity

Profile

missrenie

November 2011

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Page Summary

Phat gurl ranting and possibly raving
My ovaries maybe made of steel but my pituitary gland is shit.
Fat gurl @ the gym (intro to my autobiography blah blah blah)
How to end conversations quickly w/o being rude... fat version 0.1
But you'll always be a little bit heavy
This gurls got gams!!!
I'm no Marilyn but my skirt can fly just as high
Back on the cart... wagon... er horse? Or the voices in my head
Friends don't let friends drink Starbuck's (neither do any of the voices in my head)
I fell

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Page generated Jul. 28th, 2017 08:45 am

It's not that serious

but that doesn’t mean I might not bitch about it later

Entries tagged with fatgurl@thegym

Phat gurl ranting and possibly raving

My ovaries maybe made of steel but my pituitary gland is shit.

Fat gurl @ the gym (intro to my autobiography blah blah blah)

How to end conversations quickly w/o being rude... fat version 0.1

But you'll always be a little bit heavy

This gurls got gams!!!

I'm no Marilyn but my skirt can fly just as high

Back on the cart... wagon... er horse? Or the voices in my head

Friends don't let friends drink Starbuck's (neither do any of the voices in my head)

I fell