Thursday, July 20, 2006

Let Me Know Where Ya Land, Kid!

I haven't really talked about my dad too much. He passed on in June of 1993 at 49 years old.

Its been so difficult to disect this man who was my father. He was gregarious and smart and witty and a complete package of the "Disneyland Dad". My memories of my father stretch between gratitude for him because without him I would never have developed the charisma that enables me to walk on this planet -- the very charisma that has enabled me to live even though I weight 400 lbs. I can enterain people with my wit and charm and pretend that they don't notice I'm 400 lbs. and dying inside.

However, my father was selfish. He was addicted to the ponies. His whole adult life was spent chasing the elusive big win. He did this at the expense of his children's well-being and security. I suppose that fits the addiction model. Here's a trip down memory lane -- join me won't you?

My brothers and I are all sick with bronchitis. My dad reluctantly drives my mother and us to the doctor and says, "I'll be back to pick you up." He never shows up and my mother and my brothers and I walk home from the doctors office - sick and coughing and feeling awful - the trip was about 5 miles. Where did Dad go? -- Where do you think he went? (rhetorical question)

My mother sits crying and I ask her what is wrong? I have always had an intuitive sense when things are wrong. She tries not to tell me, but I am so attached to my mother, I simply have to know...begging her to please tell me. She said we couldn't pay the rent because my Dad has gambled it all away.

My mom and dad had gotten divorced when I was seven. My mom and my brothers and I move into the Casa de Single Moms Apartment Complex. I had constant stomach aches during this time and often had to come home from school early due to intense stomach pain...(this gives me some clue about food being a soother). One day, my dad shows up and my brothers and I are beside ourselves with excitement. He doesn't stay but for a minute -- just long enough to take our television and walk out. We all cry the cry of abandonment.

This takes place any given weekend throughout my childhood: Dad makes arrangements to take us somewhere on a Saturday. We get so excited and look forward to the day. All dressed and ready to go we wait for his car to pull up outside (a brand new Cadillac for him -- we had a VW bug with no a/c). Phone rings and my mom says my father wants to talk to me. I say to him, "Daddy what time are you getting here?" He replies, "Sorry kid-- can't make it today, something came up, but we'll do it soon." I tell him oh that's okay daddy-- I love you. The rest of the day is spent with my mother rushing around trying to take our disappointed minds off of what had just happened. We would do art projects or macrame or anything so we didn't feel the emotion of what had taken place.

Daddy calls and says he's taking us to Disneyland. We are beside ourselves with glee and over-excitement. However, when daddy shows up he introduces us to "Sheila" and says how great she is and how nice we should be to her. (This is just a typical time with Dad- never Dad alone-- always a new woman in tow). We got to Disneyland and I have good memories of Disneyland (who wouldn't -- its the Magic frickin Kingdom), but what happened next was disturbing. I was about 10 or 11 at the time and Dad and Sheila were either having sex and having issues or having sex and then having issues, because I heard my father talk in a way I had never heard. He mocked "Sheila" and told her she was a baby and wanted her mommy. I guess Sheila wasn't having a very good time. This memory still leaves a pit in my stomach.

As the years go by, wife number two, three and four are introduced. We are to love these women because they are so great. For the most part, these were women who had fallen under his charismatic spell. They were all quite nice, but would disappear without notice to us. We were just supposed to love them and then they were gone. My dad would never be without a woman and I imagine these women were all bled dry of their financial security and/or self worth after Hurricane Larry blew through.

When I was 16, my dad sent me roses. I felt these were so special. Wife #3 was very kind to me, as it was her idea for the roses. Wife #3 taught me to drive. Wife #3 was an alcoholic with money to spare I suppose. My dad calls me and says he's taking me on a special trip to Washington DC for my birthday. I am so excited to have a trip with him- just him and me. However, wife #3 comes along and they are on the 10th floor of the hotel and I'm on 12th - all by myself. As is regularly the case, Wife #3 is stuck with me the whole time because Dad has business to take care of -- the races were in town. I sucked it up as I always did with my Dad because not doing so made me selfish. I was supposed to be grateful for the trip. My room had a mini bar and I ate every single thing in it.

Enter Wife #4 -- the longest running wife and the last wife before he died. The phone call came in and as is typical of all the wife announcements it was explained that he met Wife #4 and they got married. Isn't that great? He told me I was going to love her. She was also a very nice woman. Rumor has it she went nutto after my dad died and left her penniless. With Wife #4 I saw my dad alot more. They would come to San Francisco and my dad would disappear to the track and wife #4 and I would go shopping. However, I had become quite fat now and shopping was a daunting task. We ended up in the shoe and handbag section alot. She was kind to me, but I remember the shame that lived deep inside of me was beating like a drum. All of dad's wives were thin and blonde. I was red-headed and fat.

A few years later, my father called full of glee. He announced that something great had happened. He announced that he won "big" at the races and was beside himself with joy. I gave him the congratulations that you give an addictive gambler who had won big. I was 22 and living in downtown San Francisco and working and going to school. He said to me, I want to give you my Thunderbird. The Thunderbird was a large vehicle with all the bells and whistles. However, I had no need for a car in San Francisco and more importantly no where to put a car in San Francisco. I told him that I appreciated the offer but I would rather have money for school. He replied, "Listen Kid, I can't help you with that-- you're on your own. But, I will give you this car...if you don't want it you're ungrateful." I took the car and paid $180 to park it in a garage every month. This story gives me a stomach ache.

At age 23, I called my father to ask him if he could help with money to go to Jenny Craig. This began our conversation about my weight and he proudly told me that he was the only one who had never bothered me about my weight. "Chele, I've never bothered you about your weight, and I never will - but remember I have never bothered you about it". Actually I remember him saying that to me quite a bit. As I think back, he said that so much to me that I think it was bothering me about my weight. He gave me the money for Jenny Craig where I proceeded to last for about 2 weeks. This reminds me of a story of a girl who is very similar to me and had a very similar father. She says:
My dad was a radio disc jokey and always got free cars , etc. He would give me the cars and then he started doing sponsorship with Jenny Craig. Thinking it would inspire her to diet, he hooked me up with Jenny. I was was sixteen in a brand new sports car, with a crap load of Jenny Craig, driving through Taco bell.

At 24, I joined Overeaters Anonymous and began learning about my addiction. I lost weight and was thin. My dad still boasting from his winnings wanted to have a Norman Rockwell Christmas. (Places everyone, places -- you could almost hear the director calling out.) He reminded me that I looked great and that he never talked to me about my weight. (Ok Dad, I got it -- you never bugged me about my weight). Dad and Wife #4 had moved into a posh neighborhood in the Los Angeles area and we got to enjoy a huge house with a swimming pool and waterfalls, gardeners, housekeepers, etc. My brothers both got brand new cars and we inherited two step-brothers who were a year or two younger than me. I'm supposed to love them too. Prior to this visit, I had experienced a number of panic attacks for the first time and was given Xanax to help me. I had never thought I was a depressed person but was quite confused as to why I felt so panicked all the time. Xanax only excaserbated my emotionalism. Both my mother and father didn't do "emotions". My dad wants to take me to a party with Wife #4 for Christmas (to show me off I suppose). I was so depressed I just didn't want to go. He was not pleased with this. Later, after they returned from this party, he sat me down and sternly said, "Chele I want you to tell me why you are so angry at me. Just tell me everything." I said that I didn't feel comfortable doing that and perhaps we could talk about it at another time. He insisted I tell him. I reluctantly told him that I had been continually disappointed by him as a child when he would disappear. I told him that it made me sad that he never tried to get to know me. I told him it made me think that he didn't like me because he'd rather marry 3 strange women rather than get to know me. After this explanation, he got very angry and said to me, "You are the most selfish person I have ever known. You're an ungrateful person." Well, let's just say this didn't help the depression.

The next 6 months were strained between me and my father as I really didn't know what to say to him. In May of 1993, he went in for his 4th bypass operation where they take veins from your legs and place them in your heart. He had never followed doctor's recommendations to quit smoking, quit gambling, etc. Hence, the 4th bypass by the age of 49. He had burned through all the money and the honeymoon was over. I had my last conversation with my father on the day he got out of surgery. He was groggy from the morphine and I told him I loved him. He told me that one day he and I would take a trip together - just us. I told him that I would like that very much and that I loved him. A few weeks later he died suddenly while at the doctor for a follow up appointment after his surgery.

I received a phone call at work and was paged to answer the call immediately. It was Wife #4 sobbing and trying to tell me that my dad had died. She asked me if I could call my brothers and tell them. Oh, those were not easy calls to make as my brothers were in love with my father. We were all numb from this experience however, I imagine my brother's numbness was for different reasons than mine.

The money had run out and sadly there was not enough money for a headstone for his grave. That is the way my dad lived. He had the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. When life was running high we would meet the next new wife. When life was running low, we wouldn't hear from him.

I have such a hole in my heart where his love and admirationof me wouldhave lived. I weep from a deep place when I think about this and I also weep when someobody comes along and treats me with unconditional love - the love I should have received from him. There haven't been too many men in my life who have been unconditionally loving to me. In fact, I can't really think of one. And it is with that experience that my heart weeps when I think of him.

At least he never bugged me about my weight.

The evolution of human growth is an evolution from an absolute need to be loved towards a full readiness to give love.
--Dr. Karl Stern

As children we looked to our parents for love, for clothes and food, for an indication of who we were. If our needs were met, we felt secure. As developing adults, we still seek love. We continue yearning for security and all too often our self-definition comes through someone else. But a healthy sign of our growth is revealed each time we extend love to another with no thought that love is owed us in return.

We can show our love in myriad ways -- a genuine smile, a note of appreciation, an unexpected favor, perhaps flowers, or a phone call. Warmly giving another attention in any form is an act of love, one that will be repaid in full by someone, at some time.

The ease with which we genuinely love others is directly proportional to our commitment to loving as a priority in our lives. To love is a decision first, an action second, a value next.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Did I mention that I am a scapegoat...

First, let's start out with some definitions:

The scapegoat was a goat that was driven off into the wilderness as part of the ceremonies of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, in Judaism during the times of the Temple in Jerusalem. The rite is described in Leviticus 16. The word also refers, in modern parlance, to one who is blamed for misfortunes, often as a way of distracting attention from the real causes.

Scapegoating in psychoanalytic theory

Psychoanalytic theory holds that unwanted thoughts and feelings can be unconsciously projected onto another who becomes a scapegoat for one's own problems. This concept can be extended to projection by groups. In this case the chosen individual, or group, becomes the scapegoat for the group's problems.

Well the family drama unfolded in Colorado this week. My mom and her husband went to visit my brother and his family in Denver. All went to hell. There was arguing, blaming, and my mother took ill and retreated to the guest room. This is her M.O. and it is the way she deals with having an emotion. Her husband is a hateful man who has never been able to look at himself in any way. He has no friends, no hobbies, complains all the time, and hates me. He's hated me since I was 17. At 17, I was a normal teenager with angst, drama and a bad attitude. This guy still defines me by the 17-year old girl he met. Therefore, he hates me. He likes dogs and toddlers because they are controllable. It would take years for me to talk about this piece of work == but let's move on. The dynamic duo headed to Colorado in hopes of having some illusional family brew haha. This has never happened as "Dick" (the husband) never likes anything or anyone and makes everyone nervous. My mom is a total codependent so she tries to manage him so he doesn't get upset and then acts weird most of the time. My brothers' kids are 3 and 5 and a little bit hyper. This was just too much for them to handle so they wanted to leave. The little 5 year old told his mommy that he felt weird around them and didn't want them looking at him funny. (Hmm, if a 5 year old says something like that, I tend to believe it).

So, they wanted to leave early and my brother's wife made some curt comments to them because she was protecting her baby cubs. Well, she told me about this and then my mom called me and told me her side. I didn't take sides. I just listened and provided an ear. IN the back of my mind I thought, these people have always said that I was the "ruiner" of every event because I was emotional. So, for the past year I haven't gone to any "events". I've seen these people destruct over and over again even thougth the "ruiner" wasn't around. But, they are used to thinking I'm the problem.

With that being probably know where this story is going. Things heated up today as my mom called me and told me that the mamabear left her a message that basically said my mom was a horrible mother and that's why her kids are all fucked up and that she was very hurt by the way they acted around her cubs. Earlier in the day, mamabear had called me and told me she had done that. I understood that she was distraught because her kids had been affected by this visit. The kids were so excited to see Nana and Poppy, but Nana and Poppy were displeased with their kid-like behavior and decided to leave early. Mamabear got real pissed at this. So, the scenario is that I know both sides. I talk to both and don't offer anything about what the other said. But, lo and behold, I am an instigator supposedly and caused this entire catastrophe. Now who's hurt? ME!

However, the important part of the journey for me is that I'm in San Francisco and no where near them. I have always been the Identified Problem and Scapegoat and even though I am miles and miles away, they found some insane way to blame me for the problems they are all having.

It's insane, I tell you ...Insane. What is it about coming out of a suicidal depression and getting abstinent that makes people turn into assholes. I just don't get it. First, I had the idiot friend who dissed me and I let go of, then we had the drama with the family, and now I'm being blamed for something I had no part in. I was so angry when I heard this and really wanted to rage at all of them. I felt myself going toward that same suicidal place that only my family seems to help me get to. I am holding on. ONe thing I liked about James Frey's book, A Million Little Pieces, was the term "hold on, just hold on". I'm holding. I'm still taking care of myself around food and trying to tend to my tasks that keep me on the road to recovery but this dynamic of scapegoating is becoming intolerable.

Am I supposed to just walk away from these people? At a time when my friendships aren't quite a family, and I'm jobless, and very tender due to new abstinent behavior and coming out of a deep clinical depression, am I supposed to walk away from them?

Maybe some of you are wondering; what does this have to do with Fat Girl Camp? It has everything to do with Fat Girl Camp. It is a known fact that eating addictively is merely a symptom of much deeper problems. I am recovering from a hopeless state of MIND and BODY. My reaction to food AFTER I take the first bite of an addictive substance is out of my mental control. I believe this wholeheartedly. However, when emotions come into play it is required to rely on a power greater than myself. I'm having problems in this area.

I've always said that I should have been born into a crazy Jewish family from NYC. I would fit in so well. But alas, I was born into a broken Irish Catholic family who are so disjointed and fragmented it has made me physcially sick and mentally shattered. I wonder how I can use a higher power in this? Will a higher power even help me? Is there even a higher power at all?

These are the things going through my mind right now. I still can't believe they are blaming me for something that happened 1000 miles away....unbelievable but predictable.


Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Did I mention that I was sensitive...

In the words of a broken heart
It's just emotion taking me over
Caught up in sorrow
Lost in the song

My emotions runneth over since last Wednesday. I have been a regular waterfall. It all started last week when we were talking about the meaning of different emotions in my DBT class. The first emotion we discussed was LOVE. Well, it described the different facets of love and I just found this place inside of me well up and the tears began to flow and I couldn't stop crying. I could feel this old wound wake up and demand attention. I haven't processed the "LOVE" thing yet, but it doesn't want to wait for processing, it wants attention and it wants it NOW.

For the days following, I found I was sensitive to everything. I was tearful at tv programs, commercials, seeing homeless people, etc. But mostly I am tearful about my family right now.

I have been the Identified Problem in my family since 1991 when I admitted I was powerless over food and began to abstain. Losing 100's of pounds can unleash emotions that one might not be aware they have...hence, Identified Problem enters the scene. My family is not comfortable with my emotions or their emotions. This has always made me sad deep down in the caverns of my being. My heart cannot be broken open by anybody except my family. I have given them the keys to enter that chamber and mess up the furniture (if you know what I mean).

My emotional self has never been comfortable for them. My mother is a wonderful woman who is completely afraid of feeling vulnerable or sad. If anything occurs that is uncomfortable, she "ices" up. I describe it as a "cold front movin in". I am very attached emotionally to my mother even though she doesn't want me to be. I have been very close to her all my life because we essentially grew up together. She had me when she was 18, and the story goes from there. When she feels discomfort, I sense it, and basically feel the emotion. I cry and feel sorry for her and start to catastrophize the situation and want to rescue her. She doesn't want that. Remember: when emotions rear their head, my mom heads for Antartica!

My brothers are both emtionally crippled as well and only want to be around for the "good times" as my brother Larry stated to me when I went through a suicidal depression earlier this year. My mom told me my brothers felt "dumbfounded" when they would speak to me while I was sad, because they didn't know what to say. But, my brothers are people I worry about too. They don't deserve it and I know that, but I can't help it.

My family says things to me without thinking anything of it. I mentioned to one brother that when I got to a comfortable weight I would like to join them on some of the group "family" vacations they enjoy. He said, "Well, Auntie Chele seems to cause problems when she gets around the family." I haven't been physically around the family for over a year now and have watched them all fight with each other and basically implode without me being anywhere near them. My response to my brother was, "Well, I think you guys are having problems without me being around, so do you really think this family myth is correct?". He said, "You have a good point. Maybe you're right." I left it at that.

Today, my other brother called me. My mother and her husband went to visit them in Colorado. Now, in most families this would be a joyous occasion, but in my family, we do much better on the phone together than in person. I had a feeling it was going to be disastrous when I heard of their plans to go visit my brother and the kids, etc. And lo and behold, Auntie Chele no where in site, they had PROBLEMS. Yep, issues abounded and I was no where near the place. Yay for me!!! So my mom started feeling "ill" and they have cut their trip short. After speaking to my mom today, I found out her sickness was really an emotional sadness that manifested in physical discomfort. She didn't like seeing how my brother lived (i.e., the mass amount of chaos, the spending of money they don't have, the out of control wild sugar high children, etc.) Instead of facing the issues, my Mom has declared that she won't be a part of any of our lives anymore. She will only phone and write letters from now on. This is my mother! She makes declarations of coldness when she feels emotions.

Well, this just made me sad. I know it is not true. She will be a part of my life. The iceberg will melt. But what makes me sad is that she has to go to Antartica at all. I wish she could go into her feelings and feel them and embrace them. She grew up in a rough family and deserves so much love and affection and admiration. But, she won't let people give it to her. I'm powerless over this. makes me cry.

My mother's husband is quite a specimen. He has no friends, he likes small children and dogs. Why, you ask? Because they offer no opinion and mind him. He's very difficult and negative and the exact opposit of my now-deceased father who was a philandering gambling addicted self centered dude. So, my mom married this dude and ever since, he's been a pain in my side as well as hers. ON the phone with my other brother today I mentioned that Mom seemed depressed and that perhaps she needs to move on from this husband. My brother says to me, "I told her not to do that because if she did you'd move in and spend all her retirement money." I was taken aback. What!??? I was so displaced my his comment and offended and angry. I told him that I didn't like that statement and it was far from the truth and the fact that he even thought something like that was disturbing. He said, "Well, you probably would. You'd probably move in with her and take everything she has." I said I needed to stop this conversation because it felt really sick to me and unhelpful.

Now, here comes my dysfunction: I have never thought about living with my mother or her retirement. In fact, I've never thought about retirement (mine or anybody else's). But I start to question myself after my brother made that kind of statement and think to myself: Am I a pathetic loser who is a mooch? Why am I perceived as one? If I'm perceived that way, doesn't that mean I am one?

OH my heart is heavy this early morning (4:44 am). I want to move through this and not fall into the pit of despair. My family is the one group of people who have the express elevator button pushed and ready for my journey to despair, hopelessness, and misery. I don't want to hate myself. Am I this person he assumes I am? Is he just a dysfunctional bastard? How do I have a relationship with these people without destroying myself? Who am I without them?

I can see now why 400 lbs of armor might have been necessary.


Friday, July 14, 2006

Ladies I Love


Here are some diddies that were collected from the Overeaters Anonymous convention held here last week:


Ruth's prayers:
May God hold me in the teacup of his hands.

The love of God enfolds me,
The light of God surrounds me,
The power of God protects me. (like a mosquito netting)
The presence of God watches over me.
Wherever I am, God is.

Send me the sun to warm me,
The moon to charm me,
A heavenly angel to slay all that would harm me,
God, hold me in the teacup of your arms.


Every day is STEP ONE.

We're all here, because we're not all there.

Abstinence is the goal.
The food plan is the tool.

Win with the stickers.
Stick with the winners.


This disease wants to kill us every single day either through negative thinking or with food.

Abstain from certain foods AND behaviors.

I can use my black & white thinking when it comes to abstinence.

My abstinence does not change, but my thinking and feelings do.

Wanting to change is the same thing as not willing to change if not accompanied by taking any new actions.

When I think. "I want to eat what I want, when I want, as much as I want" it is listening to the disease spoken to me in my own voice.

A "nice" meal will not help me.

Success takes the CONTINUAL work of seeing causes and conditions to improve my spiritual condition.

Why am I more scared to be hungry than to be fat?

Being IN MEETINGS does not mean I'm IN RECOVERY.

Compulsive Overeating is a disease like Cancer.
For Cancer, Chemo is the tool of recovery.
For Compulsive Overeating we have our tools, which are way easier to take than Chemo.

I needed stubborn ACTION BEFORE willingness hit me.

"Wisdom to know the difference" means:
Who I go to ask for help, when I need help.

Can you be abstinent if your gaining weight?

Projections: What you plan to eat
Actuals: What you did eat

On Hope:

I couldn't eat what I had planned even for one day.

I heard that they lost 100 lbs and kept it off for many years.
I needed this evidence to have hope and I got it in OA.

I get "experience" from other people. I get hope when I experience it myself.

Proceeding in pain,
Nothing else is left,
Then hope comes in.

It works if you go to the wire for it to work.

Being fat was the biggest thing in my life. I had been in pain for many years, what's a little pain now to get relief, compared to that?

It's not true that I didn't have a higher Power, it was food.
Now I can substitute another, better HP for food.
The God of my MIS-understanding is food.

On Fear:

"It's ironic to have to have an extremely fearful person talk about overcoming fear, but that's what this program has done for me."

Rage means that I am being fearful. I go right past fear and into rage when I am being threatened, or think I am being threatened.

When our basic instincts are not being met, we go right to fear and it is the basis of our defects. Fear then makes more defects come out. "Self centered fear is the chief motivator of our defects." (from the AA 12 x 12)

Fear is the future not going my way. Losing or not getting something I want or need.

The opposite of fear is love and faith.

I need God to overcome fear.

Wrap it up in a package and give it to God. God will take whatever I give him.
God won't give me more than I can handle.

This too shall pass.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

It's time to Rally The Troops Again

Well friends its time to rally the troops again. Our friends over at have been bamboozled by Tucker Max. This guy supposedly bashed them for their site which is quite delightful and really rattled alot of cages. I read alot of the messages on Tuck's ol message board and became inspired to write the following:

Hopefully, you will feel compelled to do the same:

Tucker and Friends,
Are you guys seriously bashing fat people feeling a little positive about themselves. Are you really giving fat people dieting advice? Are you really that mean? You have no idea how damaging your words can be.

Let me pose this to you: If someone were to follow your advice...and they lose over 50 lbs, 100 lbs, etc., would you accept them? Would you stand and cheer for them because they did what you suggested--what you recommended -- what you deem is right and just? Or would you see this person and their imperfect body albeit thin body, but imperfect, with loose skin and possibly a little embarrassment and shame thrown in the mix, and judge them?

Would you date a woman who had lost alot of weight? After all, it is your advice that we're all supposed to follow, right?

The world despises fat people. That's a given fact. The fat person themselves usually isn't a big fan of themselves either. It is healthier to be in a trim body. It is a wish of every fat person to be in a trimmer body so they can participate in life as you all do. You enjoy even the simplest things that fat people cannot.

And I know you say to yourselves in a just and righteous way: Damn right I enjoy my life and you fatties should just get on the treadmill and put down the fork! I don't know if I could ever demand a society of people to do something that with all the reports out there seem impossible to do. The right wing is full of Born Again Christians that are denouncing their homosexuality because the Bible says its wrong. We all know that if someone is homosexual, they really can't change that.

Don't misunderstand me; in a way the obese are lucky. We have a chance to change ourselves physically. We get the opportunity to build an internal life that is rich in texture because our outside life is limited not only by mobility but by society's disdain for us.

I'm not looking for sympathy and I wouldn't venture to change your viewpoints, but I wanted to place a sane and simple post to your forum because it seems your voices speak loudly here and I want to yell too.

I would like to just go off on you and your name "Tucker" and how ridiculous and similar it is to Tucker Carlson and how you must be a right wing homophobic asschunk, but I think I made my point.

Good night, and Good Luck.

By the way, you seem to be very concerned about the well-being of society, and I wanted to let you all know that in Darfur and Sudan people are dying everyday. Maybe you could focus all your forceful energy over there and find a solution for them.

Addiction comes in Many Forms

Hello my sweet friends,
I've been laying back the past few days due to a message I needed to get out to some hooligans that kept visiting my precious blog. But, I am back. I will not be silenced nor afraid of who reads my site any longer. If the racist idiots want to come and visit, well then sit on down for a spell and let me bring some laughter, wisdom and some addiction trudgery to your small idiotic world. Please note: that last line only is applicable to the idiots from that small racist Oregon town.

Now onward and upward:
It's 3:30 and I still can't sleep. I have found a new addiction and it is a doozer. I'm a big TV fan as you might already know and I love Big Brother and Season 7-All Stars has begun. There are a few thousand people that subscribe to the live feeds, which allows us to watch the houseguests all day 24/7. It's absolutely riveting. I watch them, and at the same time the others that are watching chat about it. I found myself to be pretty popular among the BB fans and its feeding my ego and confirming my ability to be witty and entertaining. So, I haven't eaten through this but it has sucked up all my time. I sit here all day -- my ass goes numb, I drink diet coke and smoke a ton of cigs. It's not a healthy combo by any means. So that's where I've been. I know its nothing to be proud of and it certainly doesn't feed me or nourish my soul as much as reading all of your blogs and corresponding with you all.

With that said, I've been thinking alot about my weight lately. I'm starting to get overwhelmed by the fact that I have a very long way to go before I'll be able to ride in an airplane, go to a theatre, move about without strain. I keep thinking about being 4 hunsky and it just overwhelms me. I am taking it one day at a time, but sometimes thinking about the journey and how long it takes becomes a burden.

I have been abstinent now for a month and I haven't been able to weigh myself because I have to go to the hospital to do it. I'm going to be there tomorrow for a few other things, and I want to have the willingness to ask them to let me weigh myself. I'm afraid if I step on that scale and nothing has changed, I will be so disappointed.

I don't want to forget this place though. This place of being 4 hunsky is precious in a way. This body carts me around. This body has been willing to not partake in the addictive substance. This body continues to wake up everyday and house my soul, no matter what condition it is in. I would often look at my fat pictures when I was thin and get teary looking at the girl in the picture. Just imagining how much she went through on a daily basis. I had compassion. Most people look at their fat pictures with disgust. I look at mine with bittersweet tenderness. I learned to do that, but I was in a program then that had fat disdain. People would get up in front of the room and talk about how awful they were when they were fat; even 25 lbs overweight would qualify them as disgusting. I tried to fight that feeling, but nobody was supporting that vision of me. Just lose more weight, be more willing, etc. I'm not blaming that program for its non-supportive view of my larger size, but I see people "chasing the weight loss". If I chase the weight loss it will only run farther away from me. If I hate myself down to a small weight, it will run back and find me.

I tried to love myself down to a normal weight, but inside there was shame and remorse over the life I had led. I never was allowed to work the steps in that program because there were rules to be in the step group: First, it was that you couldn't be on antidepressants, caffeine, nicotine. Then, a certain faction opened their doors to antidepressant people; they called them Med Awols. Many sponsors would not sponsor someone in a Med Awol. I went through many sponsors, but mostly I got kicked out of AWOLS for smoking or drinking caffeine. So, I never got the chance to go through the steps where the healing takes place.

I have a sponsor now that is willing to do the steps with me and I go to meetings etc. I am working it one day at a time. I'm not trying to be perfect. I still am drinking diet coke, smoking, and occasionally letting the digital scale weigh at 5.1 or 4.9 instead of perfectly 6.0. I just don't think little things like that are important in the scheme of things. All perfection did for me was make me more intolerable of myself.

I'm working on myself in a big way. But when I spend alot of time on the internet watching the beautiful people on Big Brother strut around all day, it can be pretty harming. I guess I'm getting the point now, aren't I?

Missed all of you,

By the way, I saw The Devil Wears Prada and I changed my picture to the Meryl Streep character from the movie because I found her deliciously bitchy. I'll have that one up until I find something else...I simply loved that movie.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming...

Lake Oswego Racists: I see you looking at my blog. You are not welcome here. Bye bye. I don't want racist hypocrites reading my blog. Shoo Fly Shoo!

I don't want anyone reading my blog who refers to their hometown as Lake NoNegro...that's just sick.

If you're not from Lake Oswego - please ignore this message.

Friday, July 07, 2006

Georgia on my Mind

Well, Georgia is only slightly on my mind. I watched Gone with the Wind for the first time and it took place in Georgia, so there you have it. Geez it was 4 hours long. Anyway, that is not what's really on my mind; here's what's on my mind:
  • Fashion
  • FA
  • Fat (big surprise?)
Let's start with fashion. I received a catalog today from Nordstrom for their Anniversary Sale. This is different than most of the catalogs I get who serve the large lady community. Nordstrom is for the twinkies (thin girls). Anyway, I noticed that the 80s fashions are back with a vengeance. It goes as far as men's style suits for the career twinkie. What I noticed is that these models are of course a size 2. They have them posed like corporate vixens who by day demand power in the boardroom, but turn the page and they are in sexy barely-there lingerie where they can demand pleasure in the bedroom. I know this is nothing new as the fashion mags always seem to have this sort of theme, but for some reason it hit me today. Is this the pinnacle we are supposed to aspire to? Are we only guaranteed respect in the workplace if we are dressed like sexy women-men with a vixen side? I don't know why this really got to me, but it did. The catalog even had a juniors section which wasn't any better. The high school girls were dressed like teen vixens-you get my drift.

Reading things like this immediately makes me feel inadequate on so many levels. Since I am not working right now I don't really have to think about career vixen clothes, but I will soon and believe me I'm far from a vixen in the boardroom or the copyroom. I'm a sarcastic fat girl who seems to piss people off with my gregarious humor and a slight attitude problem...

Even when I was thin, I had problems dressing vixen-like. I always seemed to go for the clothes that looked very middle of the road with a hint of style. I never felt comfortable with trying to look sexy. I somehow feel embarrassed to look sexy or to even feel sexy. It's almost like I don't have a right to have sex, be sexy, want sex, or look sexy. I just get too embarrassed. This feeling is deep in the caverns of my being. It began long ago. I know this because it feels like a cobwebbed dusty feeling that has been lying inside me for many moons. I know this feeling has got to be explored, brought out into the light, and smiled at lovingly. I don't know when I'll be able to do that, and I don't know who the trusted soul will be that will be able to journey with me through this. There is more to this, but I can't handle much more exposure we'll pick it up at a later time.


One of the few friends I have left after doing a clean sweep of the assholes in my life, has decided to go back to FA. This made me so sad and scared. Alot of feelings rushed through me when she told me this. I felt abandoned and judgmental and scared. I am fearful for her because I know how damaging this program can be to our fragile esteem. She is a different psychological make-up than I am, so perhaps it won't destroy her as it did me. Although, it did affect her dismally as well. She stopped opening up to most people due to the betrayal in that program when you "backslide". I think what is most affecting me is my own fear. I am afraid that they will suck her in as they tend to do. Pretty soon, all of your social events center around the program and I feel as if I will lose another friend. I know that if she is a good friend then I won't lose her, but it still makes me afraid. I can't imagine that she and I would ever be estranged, but I just know that as she gets rolling in that program she will acquire the "insta-friends" that program provides. I will still be sitting here a big blob with nothing to do and all day to do it. I am really starting to feel sorry for myself now. Wow, I can feel the emotions bubbling up as I type this. I am just very afraid that I won't have enough, won't be enough, and I'll fail at every attempt to do well.

I guess its time to do an assessment of what is:
  • I am abstinent
  • I am caring for myself well
  • I am actively working on getting along better with others; although, it's not that hard when I don't go to work.

I am quite afraid to start working again. I don't even know what I should apply for now. I feel if I could do something creative, like become an editor, or do something that isn't "clerical" or "sales" then I would feel proud of myself. But, I don't know what or how to do anything else. I did send in my FAFSA for graduate school and I will see how that pans out, but in the near future I need to think about what I can do. I will feel like a total loser if I have to get a low-paying menial job at 40 years old. I feel as if this "dark night of the soul" I've been going through won't look to appealing on a resume. I'm looking for a miracle. Maybe someone will read this blog and say, "Oh my god, we have to have her write for us."

Roger that.

Thursday, July 06, 2006

The Immigration Debate

Take 5 minutes and watch this excellent cartoon on the Immigration Debate. Sorry, sometimes I have to post my political stuff.


Wednesday, July 05, 2006

The Brick

One of our friends sent this to me and I think it is worth posting, Enjoy!


A young and successful executive was traveling down a
neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new
Jaguar. He was watching for kids darting out from
between parked cars and slowed down
when he thought he saw something. As his car passed,
no children appeared. Instead, a brick smashed into
the Jag's side door! He slammed on the brakes and
backed the Jag back to the spot where the brick had
been thrown The angry driver then jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid
and pushed him up against the parked car shouting, "What was that all about and
who are you? Just what the heck are you doing? That's
a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a
lot of money. Why did you do it?" The young boy was
apologetic. "Please, mister...please, I'm sorry but I
didn't know what else to do," He pleaded. "I threw the
brick because no one else would stop...." With tears
dripping down his face and off his chin, the youth
pointed to a spot just around a parked car. "It's my
brother, "he said "He rolled off the curb and fell out
of his wheelchair and I can't lift him up."

Now sobbing, the boy asked the stunned executive,
"Would you please help me get him back into his
wheelchair? He's hurt and he's too heavy for me."

Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the
rapidly swelling lump in his throat. He hurriedly
lifted the handicapped boy back into the wheelchair,
then took out a linen handkerchief and dabbed at the
fresh scrapes and cuts. A quick look told him
everything was going to be okay. "Thank you and may
God bless you," the grateful child told the stranger.
Too shook up for words, the man simply watched the
boy! push his wheelchair-bound brother down the
sidewalk toward their home.

It was a long, slow walk back to the Jaguar. The
damage was very noticeable, but the driver never
bothered to repair the dented side door. He kept the
dent there to remind him of this message: "Don't go
through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick
at you to get your attention!" God whispers in our
souls and speaks to our hearts. Sometimes when we
don't have time to listen, He has to throw a brick at
us. It's our choice to listen or not.

Thought for the Day:
If God had a refrigerator, your picture would be on
If He had a wallet, your photo would be in it.
He sends you flowers every spring.
He sends you a sunrise every morning Face it, friend -
He is crazy about you!

God didn't promise days without pain, laughter without
sorrow,sun without rain, but He did promise strength
for the day, comfort for the tears, and light for the

Read this line very slowly and let it sink in....

If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it.


"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who matter don't mind
and those who mind don't matter"
-Dr. Seuss


Ahh, my sleep pattern is totally off kilter, hence a late-night/early morning post. All is well is Micheleville. Made it through a long weekend abstinently and relatively unscathed by the process with the Passive Agressive Witch. I feel total relief letting go of that friendship or whatever you want to call it. It is freedom. Freedom to go forth in my life and grow and choose my family of friends from a healthier place.

I forgot to mention due to all the hooplah over the PAB (passive aggressive bitch), that I had dinner on Saturday night with my brother, his wife, my niece and my grandmother. We went to an obnoxious restaurant but it was kind of fun to get out of the regular rigamaroll and get together with them. I have been hiding out from family for some time due to the weight gain and my depression I went through.

My brother has taken up drinking and has found that it takes the edge off his problems. I hope he either takes it down a notch or hopefully he'll be haunting the rooms of AA before long. He's a funny guy and my brothers and I have a sense of humor that is likened to that of Vince Vaughan type humor. I laugh the most with my brothers. Nobody ever knows what we are speaking about, but we're laughing.

My brother tends to get very loud as he drinks and starts to spout off about America being the Blanket of Freedom. They just bought a YUKON which bugs the crap out of me. There is no need for huge vehicles in suburbs. But I'll save that rant for another time. I believe I touched on it in a previous post about Hummers.

My niece is turning four and kids can be so honest. She said to me, "Auntie Chele, your stomach is big." I laughed and really didn't get bugged by it at all. It's true- my stomach is big. And then she touched my Grandma's face and said, "How come your face is like that?" She was referring to the wrinkles since Gram is almost 90. We laughed. We then had a wild ride in a cab with a driver from Nigeria. He blazed through the streets of San Francisco while my loud brother was in the back trying to tell everyone about the Blanket of Freedom. It was quite comical. He calls me a liberal hippy. I wish I knew enough about the issues to earn that title, but I have to admit, I don't really know much, but what I do know is Bush sucks, Republicans are insane, Born Again Christians scare me the most, and people shouldn't drive gas guzzlers.

Ah, does this make any sense to anyone? I'm so deliriously tired but can't sleep. I guess one thing I can write about is how I'm taking what I want and leaving the rest. There are alot of rules on the Kay Sheppard plan. I simply can't get myself wrapped up in rigidity. My experience in FA really screwed with me so I'm really approaching this plan with quiet steps.

I still drink Diet Coke (I LOVE DIET COKE) and Kay says that is a no-no. I still use Splenda simply because I can't find the saccharin crap they are talking about. I seriously am working a food plan right now. The steps are important and I need to do the work so I can seriously recover from the hopeless state of mind and body. But, I'm afraid to give up too much. I guess its because I want to hold on to my own way for a while. I use the argument that it is a miracle that I'm off the junk (sugar flour wheat) and that should be enough miracle for right now.

I know the weight is coming off as I can walk easier, get out of my car easier, stand and cook easier, etc. Things are getting better. But it is necessary to keep growing. I vascillate between being gentle and saying "You are enough and you're doing enough" and the fear based "If you don't do all the things that are asked of you - you will end up eating". I'm afraid of that fear based recovery that I had in all the previous recoveries. Each time I ended up eating myself up to 400 lbs.

OH, and another fear is that I'm tripping off of having to go back to the work world. I am worrying way ahead of time since my disability goes until September and then I will ask for a 2 month extension after that, but still, I need to think about what I can do...what do I want to do? My dream is to get a Masters in Psych and become a therapist and writer, but a friend of mine told me that there are 29,000 therapists in the United States and 24,000 of them are in California. That's all I needed to hear to throw me off the track. My lack of confidence tells me, "Might as well give that dream way you'll succeed in a saturated market."

Ok, kids, well I've laid out alot of my fears now for you to peruse. Do you see what happens when you write at 4:13 am?


Tuesday, July 04, 2006


St. Theresa's Prayer:

May today there be peace with in.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love
that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing you are a child of God.
Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the
freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.
It is there for each and every one of us.

Monday, July 03, 2006

Passive Aggressive People Cause Pain - Story at 11

What is it about them, our mean friends? They treat us badly, they don't call us back, they cancel plans at the last minute, and yet we come back for more.

I don't even know how to begin this post as what I am about to write about is so painful. To the left you see the picture of a woman. She sits arrogantly on a throne shielding herself from the truth as she casts judgment among others.

I have such a limited amount of true friends that I value and trust beyond measure. I give whole-heartedly to my relationships and always give what I can to maintain them.

However, I have (had) a friend who has continually been abusive to me inthat she is a passive aggressive bitch at times and never sees her part in anything. I have overlooked these things time and time-again because the good times and good conversations and like-mindedness we did share was great. However, she has "thrown me under the bus" several times. I have looked the other way over the past couple of years because it just wasn't worth trying to reason with someone who has no access to their emotions or reasonable mind. She continually would do things like make plans with me and then go and do the same plan with somebody else or talk behind my back to numerous people about me. She would do these things and then not call me for a few weeks and then voila! she would reappear. I guess I knew that I couldn't dialogue with her about what happened because it fell on deaf ears many times before.

Isn't it interesting that this is the same friend that I spoke about in my previous post, who is moving away. She really is either trying to sever ties so it's easier for her to move on or she's just pulling the same crap that she always has.

You see, she is a hoarder. You've seen these people on Oprah. They buy enough toilet paper to supply all of Sudan. They buy 1 bra and an additional 8 of the same kind on the same day. They shop at the warehouse stores for food for 1 person. There is a ton of excess. WEight, food, attitude, deception, arrogance and money. She is a trustafarian and doesn't think twice about taking her other friends on fabulous vacations, buying them fabulous gifts, etc. I've never even received a Christmas card from her. I have never pushed this point because I think that is greedy. I didn't want to appear greedy but it did hurt my feelings when she would tell me about the fabulous vacation or the fabulous gift she bought for so-and-so. These so-and-so's are also the people that she has complained about me to, so any chance of me ever being friends with them is not possible.

Since she is moving at the end of this month, I knew she had a big job ahead of her. I talked with her about how she would tackle the mound of items she had accumulated. Of course, she really didn't know. I came up with a plan, where I would orchestrate her move in a 3 phase plan and lined up some boys from the neighborhood to be able to haul off some of the items and get her receipts for taxes etc. I really thought this plan out. In exchange, she agreed to let me buy a computer on her credit information and I would have the money automatically deducted from my account every month. We agreed to this plan.

Then, (hear the sounding drum) she played a passive aggressive stunt with me where we had made plans to go see a movie and go to dinner. On that same day, she said "Shana" and I are going to a movie (the same movie she was to see with me) and then going to dinner (at the restaurant I wanted to go to). I thought to myself, well same ol'shit - different day. I didn't say anything about it and tried to stay spiritual. That was hard. But not as hard as it is now.

I told her to keep her schedule clear on Sunday so I could come over and assess the damages and make plans to get the ball rolling on her move. I called her this morning and she said that "Shana" had already started on this and would be coming over today to do more. Then she said "I'm sure YOU don't want to come over now." She repeated it twice. And I said well okay, I don't know what all this means, but I did make a plan with you for today." She just kept repeating that "Shana" was coming over. This is a woman I've been friends with for over 15 years and she really treats me like a floormat. I let it go and I figured she'd tire of "Shana" and eventually we would be able to start on the project.


I received an email from her this evening (passive aggressive bitch) that she wanted to stop the delivery of the computer and if she couldn't do that then I should refuse delivery when it arrives. I will gladly oblige with her wishes, however I will never ever forget this. She didn't say anything to me verbally, just an impersonal email, obviously written by one of her minions because she doesn't have an original thought in her dysfunctional brain. This came out of nowhere, but with her this is typical. It's as typical as making plans with me and then trading me out for somebody in her eyes that is better. I tried to say to myself, "It is my spiritual decison to love and accept her as she is" over and over again. I just wanted this in my blog because I am so hurt. I'm not hurt about the computer, I am mostly hurt that she did it to me again! I'm also angry with myself that my esteem is so low that I would tolerate this kind of crap for so long.

My negative thinking leads me to a place that says, "Nobody likes you Michele. You're a horrible person. This only happens to horrible people." I know this mustn't be true but it is a deep thought I have.

Ugh, this woman is such a bitch. GOOD RIDDANCE TO BAD RUBBISH, I SAY.

Still abstinent thank god. I'm just afraid of falling into the deep pit.

Thanks for reading.