My Mom

  It's Christmas day. I'm sitting in my bedroom, the TV is on and my sister is next to me playing bingo on her phone. The weather is abnormally warm, sitting at 7 degrees Celsius, there's no snow on the ground and the entire street outside is quiet. By now, seeing as it's 2:30pm, my neighbours are probably finishing their Christmas dinner prep. The presents have probably been opened and kids are hopped up on sugar and a toy high. Everything feels normal..... But abnormal. A presence is missing. The presence of my mother.

  All day I've been strong. I've not shed a single tear. I've not had a moment of weakness. I'm choosing to treat this day like I would any other day. Today is not special. Today is a Friday, and just like any other Friday, I am in my room trying to drown the never-ending thoughts of grief and remorse with junky television. So far, it's working.

  On October 17th, my mother passed away. She was the one thing that held everything together, so little by little, things have been slowly crumbling since she's been gone. She got really sick. Her body just started decaying on her, as she developed something called Calciphylaxis. There's no cure, there's nothing doctors can do once this sets in and we had a choice: Let her go peacefully, or keep her and watch her decay before our eyes. we chose what we knew she would want, and we let her go.

  That day, it was odd. I am one who believes in the supernatural, and what happened the morning she passed was something I have never experienced. About 20 minutes before she passed, the area surrounding her bed got abnormally cold. I kept getting gusts of cold air brush past me and goosebumps kept forming on my arms. Earlier the night before, when friends and family came by to say their goodbyes to her, my cousin Angela said that, when it was her time to go, only one person will be the one to come and get her. That person would be her father. My grandfather. As the room got colder, I remembered Angela's words and knew for a fact that she was right. People may think I'm crazy for this. And that's okay. A room, kept warm by hospital standard heaters, does not just get cold like that. As sad as I was, I took comfort in the thought that my mother was taken to the other side by her best friend: her dad.

  My life has been a mixture of grief and hiding my true emotions since the day I said goodbye to her. I've become an expert at hiding my emotions; hiding my tears behind a fake smile or excuses of being tired. I started a job 2 days after my mother's death, and stayed as strong as I could. Even today, it hurts. I'm trying to keep it together, especially for my dad, but its hard to keep my emotions in check when this is the first holiday without her. Just last year, me and her were walking through Wal-Mart, leaving my dad behind in the electronic department while we went to get coffee or to browse the pet department. It's just weird to be here today without her. It hurts and I know its not going to get any better just yet.

  This year has not been a great year. With a new one coming up very soon, all I wish for is for the pain to go away. As my sister plays with her cat, giggling as he attacks her face with sandpaper kisses, I'm trying to hold it together. Trying and slightly failing.

Friendship Lost

This is going to sound so emo but I just don't care.

I started off this year with three really good friends: Kaydie, Jessica and Shawn. We spent New Years together, they have all spoken to my boyfriend over Skype, we used to do everything together. Then something changed. Kaydie and Jessica had it out and ended their 6 year friendship. Shawn and I were stuck in the middle between the two and we tried to stay neutral but it was hard. My mother was in the hospital and I needed all of my friends, but with those two at each other's throats, it got harder and harder. Eventually, Jessica was left out in the cold with just me as her friend, as Shawn had, inadvertently, chosen Kaydie's side.
After this had happened, I too was left out and I eventually told Shawn how I felt. I made sure he knew that he had hurt me very badly and I wasn't about to allow him to treat me like I was nothing, and told him that he and I could no longer be friends. It hurt, and honestly, it's been almost a week and it still hurts.
I have always been the type to give until I can't give anymore. Money, clothes, food, emotional support, it didn't matter. If I had it, I would give it away if someone needed it. That's how my mother raised me. As good as this sounds, it makes for bad friendships because I get used a lot. Which, I feel, is what happened with Shawn. Whenever we went out, if he needed gas money, I would offer what I had, and I never asked him to take me somewhere if I didn't have at least $10 for him. When we went out somewhere, I would usually be the one buying someone drinks or food, and I didn't complain because it wasn't a huge deal to me. He was my friend. It didn't matter. However, it got to a point where he only hung out with me when I could give him money. He only hung out with me when Kaydie asked. He only hung out with me when everyone else was busy. I was his last resort and with my mom in the hospital, I needed people. And he stopped being there for me.
Many people will probably read this and think that I'm over-reacting. I'm not. This is the third time this has happened, and the 5th time we've fought. There are only so many chances that someone can give to a person. I had had enough. Shawn seemed fine with losing me, but not fine with losing Jessica. He texted her saying that he didn't want to lose her as a friend, and if she forgives him, then that's fine. I just know that I can't. I'm not saying that he never helped me. He did. Many times. He drove me to see my mom many times. He came and got me from my grandmother's funeral. He was there when I was in horrible shape and needed someone, but at a time when I need someone the most, I can't have them flake on me and he seems to do so at the worst of times.
With this, I have also seemed to lose Kaydie; the first friend I made when I started school and the one who introduced me to Shawn and Jessica. I know that everyone is going through hard times, but I wouldn't ever want to lose Kaydie. If I have, I won't go begging her back, but I hope she knows I love her.
This year has been a shitstorm, and all I hoped for was some support. I have Jessica, who checks on me daily and lets me know that I am supported, but I have lost someone who promised to always be by my side, and someone who is slipping away due to the first loss. I feel utterly alone, and I wish I knew a way out.

Interview with the Aspie

  I am a woman in a relationship. I've been with Robert for 6 years, and it's been a learning curve. As much as I know about him, there's a lot I still don't quite understand, especially when it comes to him as an "Aspie." For those that are unfamiliar with the term, an Aspie is someone who has Asperger's Syndrome. For this blog, I am interviewing him, learning what he feels about having Asperger's  while educating myself. :)

When did you get the feeling that you might have Aspergers?

Robert:  Never really did had that feeling until someone mentioned it to me; a professional, after I got diagnosed with adhd. This all happened after I got a huge burnout.

What was the initial reaction when you were finally diagnosed as an adult?

Robert:  Mostly relief. All my life I kinda knew I was different but was trying to be "normal" not knowing what was wrong with me and why I can't be like everyone else. Had trouble keeping jobs, making new friends etc. So after I got diagnosed with both adhd and later aspergers, it all fell into place.

Okay. So would you say that having Aspergers has helped your relationships with people, now that you understand what you have?

Robert:  Not really, but it helps to understand me why I have trouble with relationships with people, and I can explain it better to others.

 Do you find that people are more understanding when you explain it? 

Robert:  Often have to explain to them what aspergers is, but I am surprised to see that many people actually know what it is, and have someone close to them who has it too.

 What do you find is the best way of coping with having Aspergers?

Robert: Well....the best way with coping with it is to understand it. Know your strengths and weaknesses and most importantly, don't try to be someone you are not. I been on medications for both adhd and aspergers, but the side effects of those meds were worse than what they tried to cure.
ADHD and Aspergers is part of who I am, medication can't change who I am. I am now off of those meds for a while and figured out that eating the right food has much better influence on me mentally. Artificial food additives make me worse, just like we all know how sugar and sweets can kids go crazy, same thing happens inside my head if I eat those additives. My mind will just go crazy, up to a point where I just end up having a headache.

Do you have any rituals or obsessions that you do in order to get through every day life, such as a set schedule or a certain way of doing things?

Robert: Don't think i have. but then again, if i did it would be normal for me to do things like that, so it wouldn't look like a ritual or obsession to me.

Do you think that therapy has a helping hand in learning new social skills?

Robert: Therapy can learn your limitations and how to deal with them, so they become less of an disadvantage. But if it can learn new social skills,... to me, I never learned any new social skills from therapy. But some people might learn new social skills from therapy

Which situations do you find the most difficult to deal with? 

Robert: Unfamiliar situations, and situations where I become the center of attention for a bigger crowd.
Me: So parties and concerts, for instance?
Robert: kinda. it's more like giving a presentation, where everyone is focussed on you. I don't like big crowds to begin with, but you can be pretty invisible int hem if you want to. I'd rather sit in a dark corner, like Strider (Lord of The Rings), and observe.

Do you have certain sensitivities? Like to sound/light/touch, etc?

Robert:  I don't like strangers to touch me, or those who come too close when talking to me.
I am sensitive to bright light. What I really dislike is sudden loud noises, one of the main reasons why I don't like dogs, especially the barky ones.

What is the most important advice you could give to someone who was diagnosed with Aspergers

Robert:  Best advise I could give is let people you care about know you have it and what you struggle with and what you don't like, so they help you with that and keep it in mind. for instance, I don't like unannounced visits, so everyone close to me knows to call me 1st, so I know they are coming over and i can mentally prepare for it.
Also good to remember to not focus on what you can't do and what you are bad at. Focus on the things you are good at instead, stay positive.
We aspies can do great things. Albert Einstein was an aspie, Bill gates is an aspie, just to name a few.
So try to find a profession where you can use your strengths the fullest.

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Final Word

Robbie is, and always will be hard work. Lol. But he's worth the work. I have had to change my mindset a lot, and being with him has made me a more mature, open and honest person. I know that if I am upset, I can't just wait for him to guess, or be passive aggressive when I can just tell him. I let him know what is happening in advance, and realized that when he does the same, it actually eases my anxiety.
Being with an Aspie has made me grow up. I believe that, if I had dated someone else, I wouldn't understand things the way I do now. Being with him has benefited my life, and I couldn't be more thankful.

Lessons Learned the Hard Way

I learned a lot this month, even though right now, it's only the 10th.

  I learned that you never really know people. You could be best friends with someone and have them turn on you, or a stranger could give you the best advice you could have ever asked for. People are not to be trusted, and I hate that I have to say that. My boyfriend and my sister are the only two that I trust with my whole heart because they are the only two who have never burned me. I found out that, after we have arguments, my "best friend," talks shit about me to mutual friends behind my back. In the past 4 years, I never thought that was possible, but apparently, it is. One argument = shit talking. I'm back in high school.

  I learned that once your use has run out, so has your worth. I know none of the girls read this so I will just blast this. No fucks given. I was part of an instagram group for body positivity. I was an admin and did pretty well until my mother was admitted to the hospital. I was accused of not giving my full attention and got right back in, apologized to the girls and was, supposedly, forgiven. However, as the months went on, I was increasingly ignored, and when I was having a especially bad few days (this past couple weeks), I was completely ignored by the group, even though I was there for everyone else. I left, mostly because of my state of mind, but the fact that I felt I had no support was another reason. All of the girls, with the exception of one, seemed happy I left. So I guess I too am happy.

  I learned that being an adult sucks. After spending every day without my parents here, I know what it's like to really be alone. And I hate it. I'm used to hearing my mom's TV paired with her Candy Crush game blasting from the living room. I'm used to hearing her singing her made up songs and my dad telling her to shut up because she's annoying him. The quiet is deafening and I hate it. I want to escape but I can't because even if I do leave for a few hours, I always come back to a quiet house. I always come back to seeing her favourite chair completely empty and my dad already asleep. And when I wake up in the morning, my dad is gone and me and my sister are alone again. The days are all the same and there's no escaping.

  I learned that some people are toxic and no good, but you can still miss them. After letting go of a friend 3 months ago, it's been harder and harder to not talk to her. With feeling so alone, having the companionship of her is appealing. I know I have my boyfriend, but because of the time difference, between the hours of 6pm and 4am, he's asleep and/or busy with his own stuff. My sister is still friends with this person, so it's even harder. A part of me wishes she would just drop her but I would never ask her to do that. It still hurts and I think it will for a long... Long time.

  This month has sucked. Well, this month so far. I just hope that the final 3 weeks is better than this because this... It's enough to make a girl go insane.

Nicole Arbour Responses: A Fat Girl's Opinion

I'm going to start this out by saying that Nicole Arbour, just like everyone else in the world, is entitled to her opinion.

  I'm not one of those people who are offended easily, and this time is no different than any other occurrence featuring people who speak out against fat people. I watched the "Dear Fat People," video and the entire time, I found myself with a straight face waiting for a fat joke that I haven't heard before. There were no new jokes. None.
  What was expected more than the over-used jokes was the outrage the video caused all over social media. Within 24 hours, there were response videos and people crying about it. And I'm not unsympathetic. I completely understand why people were upset. However, as I said first and foremost: She is entitled to her opinion.
  For years, people were saying that "real women have curves," and "men like meat, dogs like bones," etc etc. All of these phrases were essentially "skinny shaming." Now that the body positive community has erupted all over social media, it seems as if ANYONE who talks bad about fat people are to be shamed in return and to be criticized and attacked for their view. If we're supposed to "love everyone," and project such love and positivity around the world, why is Nicole Arbour being hated on so harshly?
  I personally believe that the views that Nicole Arbour expressed weren't even her own. I believe that she made a video bashing the most popular movement on social media right now because she knew it would get her attention. She knew that a video with that kind of content would garner her millions of views, get people talking about her and that's exactly what she got. Within 24 hours, everyone knew who she was. Everyone knew her name.
  The fact that everyone is even responding to her is laughable. What do you think will happen? That her channel will get shut down? Well, it did, but CNN got it back less than 2 days later so what does the crying actually do other than bring her more attention? Nothing. It does nothing.
  And I'm not saying all of this because I support her claims. I'm a fat girl, I've always been rather large and I'm trying to change my habits in order to get healthier. I was bullied in school, I have been called the most foul of names due to my weight, but did it harm me in the long run? No, because people who call me names on the internet are just people on the internet! If you can't handle the opinions of others, then you shouldn't use the internet! I just don't understand why people who have no stake in your daily, offline life affect you so much. It's not like you're seeing these people all the time. It's not like you go to the same coffee shop as Nicole Arbour so what does it matter what she thinks?  She hates fat people. So what? I thought the whole Body Positive movement was supposed to mean loving your body despite what others think, not "fight everyone who has a different viewpoint."

  Nicole Arbour is a blunt, rather unfunny comedian who you can easily avoid by not following her on Youtube/Facebook/Twitter/Instagram. If you want to have an impact, then live your life and show people like Nicole Arbour that they are wrong. Show them that fat people are not just lazy stereotypes and I promise, you'll have an easier time on social media. Exude happiness and love for the ignorant and let go of the viewpoints you don't agree with. Life is too short to spend arguing with people who don't matter.

Dear Former Friend

Some people just can't be friends. I have accepted this long ago and I honestly know that you know it's true too. Sometimes, people grow apart. It happens every day, it's the just the way things happen. Real friendship can withstand the distance and the quiet moments. Ours, obviously, could not and that is one of the many reasons why we can no longer be friends.

In the past, you have made me feel completely disgusting. I have been at the end of your rage-fueled fits and it's not nice. I have never had any human being make me feel like I was the lowest of the low... Until me and you fought. And it didn't matter how many times we made up. Every time we fought; every time you made me feel useless or not good enough, the wound grew and it continued to grow until last week. I was told to "not bother," with you anymore and I took it to heart. The moment I did ONE thing that didn't involve you, you flew off the handle and made me, once again, feel like I was the worst human being who ever lived. Is that the way it's supposed to be between friends?

You say that I make you feel unloved, unwanted and unappreciated. You say that in the past year, I have been distant. Let me ask this question to you: What would you do if someone made you feel like your relationship with your significant other was a joke, or made you feel like you weren't good enough at everything you tried to accomplish? My guess is that you would remove yourself from their presence and move on with your life. I may be wrong, but I am not a masochist. I value myself more than most give me credit for.

For seven years, I was by your side. I defended you. I stopped talking to people and took your side over the stupidest things because I truly thought me and you were close friends. I see now that I was wrong. I loved you and I firmly believe you did not. You talk to me about distance... But I have not received a message from you in almost a year. You talk about belittlement on my part, but I never did anything but defend myself against your vile words... It hurt then and it still hurts now.

I am not upset. I can honestly say that when you told me to not bother with you anymore, I was relieved because I could feel the weight of our friendship leaving. I could feel the need to walk on eggshells around you fade away and it felt damn good. Then you had to ruin it by cussing me out again... It's just the same old routine and I'm sick of it. I'm sick of all of it.

Please, don't ever speak to me again. Don't think about me. Don't ask my sister or mutual friends how I am. I no longer concern you. You and my sister may be friends but I no longer want anything to do with you. My feelings matter more to me than our friendship does because you are toxic to me, just like I am to you.

Have a nice life,

Cris.

Lower-Middle Class + Plus Size = Low End Fashion

  As someone who is plus size and living that middle class lifestyle that many people around the world know so well, I feel like I can have an input and speak my mind because, honestly, I am pretty ticked off by this.

  Everywhere you look on the internet, you see women who are plus sized and they look amazing. Whether they're models like Tess Munster or Instagram beauties like Shawna from ChubbyCartwheels (who is also a fashion designer and runs ChubbyCartwheels.com, an online plus size store), being plus size and fabulous looks like it could be doable for anyone. Oh, how wrong that is...
  There was an uproar on my Facebook feed today about the price of plus size fashion, especially on sites like DominoDollhouse and Torrid. People were arguing because, and this is brutal honesty, plus size clothing is double, if not triple, the price of regular size clothing, in any quality store whether online or physical. Being fat and shopping already sucks if you're not fully accepting of your body and know exactly what looks amazing on your frame, but adding in the price of the clothing just makes the middle class girl want to run and hide.
  Living in Canada, there are only two stores, that I am aware of, that sell quality plus size clothing. These stores are Penningtons and Additionelle. They are two different stores with two different price ranges, but both shops typically share the same building space. Going into these stores is like walking into Fat Girl Heaven. The clothes, for the most part, are nice. They're made of quality material and they fit really well on most bodies. The only problem: You have to sell your ass to get a full, casual outfit.
  Let me tell you all a story.

  Last year, me and my best friend went into Penningtons/Additionelle to find me some clothing for summer/work. I had $150 to spend and I was ready. I was thinking I could get some new jeans, a nice top to match and maybe a nice summer dress. I was excited, and so was she. She loves to shop. We were scouring the racks and checking price tags... Only to be disappointed over and over again by the amount of money I would be spending on such little pieces of fabric. I ended up purchasing a very thin, quite see-through, purple blouse for $65 (with tax), and didn't have enough money for anything else. One item in particular broke my heart: A black and blue ombre skirt that hung to the floor. It would have gone perfectly with a white, short sleeved shirt, tucked in, if worn high waisted, but I just couldn't afford the $70 price tag. I left feeling quite cheated and rather angry at society, especially when I was forced to go to a store called Giant Tiger and buy clothing that not only fit rather poorly, but possessed thin, see-through fabric and everything shrunk and deformed after one wash. Buying clothing should not be this difficult.
 
  Being plus size and not part of the upper-middle class society means that you are stuck with clothing that is thin, cheap and loose-fitting. I don't understand online shops that believe that dresses should cost upwards of $100 just because they contain more fabric than regular sizes. A plus size dress that costs $80 in a store can be found in the regular sizes for $15. A pair of jeans in a size 26 is sold for $65 when the exact same pair of jeans can be found in a size 6 for $20 or less. Why is this okay? Because I am a size 28, at the moment, and part of the lower-middle class, I am forced to buy all of my clothing from stores like Wal-Mart or Old Navy, and the saddest part is, Old Navy doesn't even sell plus size clothing in stores so I am forced to shop blindly online, often ending up with clothing that is too big, too small, too short, or too see-through. It shouldn't be that way. If you're above a 2XL, you shouldn't have to pay an extra $35 for a decent article of clothing. If you're overweight, you shouldn't be subjected to cheap, flimsy clothing because you can't afford the "extra material tax" that all stores have on plus size clothing. It's pathetic and it's wrong.
  And I know what many people will probably think, because I've heard it all before: "Instead of complaining about it, why don't you just lose weight or get a better job so you can afford the better clothing?" Well, I'll break that down as well.

Losing Weight: If I lose weight, which I am making an attempt at doing, I will have to buy more clothing. The clothing I have now will no longer fit. So I will have to spend money I do not have in order to constantly supply myself with clothing, especially pants, to keep my ever-shrinking body covered.

Get A Better Job: Well, there is a capital idea! However, in order to get a better job, I will need to look the part. I don't think frumpy hoodies, see-through shirts and too-big or too-small jeans will get me very far, do you?

  I'm sorry for this rant, especially if you get offended easily, but this has me very upset and it has for a very long time. I will never let this go, because this is a problem. This is an issue. Maybe women would feel more comfortable in their skin if clothing stores would allow them to.

The Heart and Its Scars

 There's the first love. This usually happens in high school, freshman year, when hormones are raging and you think the most popular guy/girl in school is the person of your dreams. You spend a couple months together, and you think you're in love, until the excitement of new romance fades and there's nothing more between you. You find your next love within a week, but in the back of your heart, you know the first is always the most special.

 There's the kind of love that comes and goes in an instant. Maybe, for one night, you meet your soul mate at the far end of the bar. You have a couple laughs, you down a couple drinks, and you go across the street to the motel for one night where you are The One to someone. When you wake up, you leave them without so much as a note.

  There's the first real love. The one that causes your heart to melt, the sound of their voice has the same effect as your favourite song, and you never think the feeling will end. Until it does. The pain is almost unbearable, the stinging and burning that rises and falls like waves inside your stomach seems to never fade. You wake up every day thinking they're still there, only to cry a little bit when you realize that you're alone. But, as time goes on, your heart stitches itself back up and you slowly heal. This scar is bigger, and cuts deeper than the rest, just to remind you of what had passed.

  Then, there's the last real love. It's content, it's comfortable, and there is history. The passion fades over time, but the flutter when you see their sleeping face next to you still springs to life in the morning. There's routine, and you know everything there is to know. You have the feeling of their fingers interlocked with yours memorized, and their voice is still your favourite sound. Maybe you still dance whenever your song comes on the radio, and their smile still makes your world a better place. This kind of love makes all the rest obsolete.

  The scars are very real, and some never fade. Sometimes, they still sting when you think of the old memories, but the purpose of the heart is not to forget, but to remind you that there has been worse, but now you have reached the best part of your life.

Body Positivity and Health. Are they the same?

  There have been lots of conversations around Snapchat and Instagram lately about what body positivity and fat acceptance have to do with health. In my opinion, they do not exactly go hand-in-hand, but there is a connection, even a very small one, between the sides that I feel place me in the middle.

What I Am

 I feel as if I am body positive. I believe that every body is beautiful in its own way, that every one has the right to do what they want with their body without being subjected to criticism and that beauty does not come with a number limit. I am having body positive issues when it comes to myself, but I never feel any hatred towards anyone who professes to love themselves in any way they see fit. I believe that men and women can both be body positive, as gender roles should never play a part in body positivity. Men have just as many body issues as women do, and I think that is overlooked quite a bit.
  I am pro health. Healthy living, eating, exercise, fitness, etc. I believe that people should strive to keep their bodies in tip-top shape on the inside in order to live a long, lusciously beautiful life with friends and family.

What I Am Not

  I am not part of the fat acceptance movement. While I do believe that people should never be hated on for their weight, their size, the number on the scale, I don't believe that being fat should mean being obese for the rest of one's life. Having extra fat on one's body is okay as long as it's not an excessive amount. I am a morbidly obese woman. I am coming close to 400 pounds and I am trying to get that in check toot-fucking-sweet because it is not fun living life in this body.  I can barely walk up a flight of stairs, and when I do get there, I am panting and sweating like I just ran a marathon. I know that many people like to be big. They accept and love their bodies and I honestly applaud them because of the struggles I am facing. I don't judge and I don't discriminate. It's just not how I want to live my life.
  I am not a fat hater. This seems to be tied to the fact that I am not a fat acceptor. I am fat, I'm not going to shame myself, so no, I'm not a fat hater. I just don't think being obese is the way I'm supposed to be.

Let's talk about Health and Body Positivity

  Body positivity and health are not in tandem with each other. They should never cross. I think the reason why they get put together has to do with the fact that many plus size woman are part of the body positive movement. Plus size people outnumber thin people in the movement 10 to 1, so the debate on whether health should be included with body positivity is an ongoing one.
  That being said, I believe that being 300, 400, 500 pounds is not healthy. Even if a doctor says that there is nothing physically wrong, such as a thyroid disorder or diabetes, I don't think being that heavy is healthy. If you can not walk a couple blocks in normal, spring weather without sweating or being out of breath, you are not healthy. If you can not walk up a small flight of stairs without breathing heavily at the top, then you are not healthy. If you can not do simple tasks without a part of your body hurting, you are not healthy. I don't care who you are, what your weight is, this applies to everyone of any size. Getting back aches and trouble breathing by doing simple tasks around your house is not the symbol of health and any doctor who says different needs to have their license revoked.
  I'm going to get real with everyone. My legs are the smallest part of my body, second only to my arms. Walking up hills and stairs is especially hard because of how small my legs are and how much weight they have to carry. I figure my legs carry at least 300 of my 400 pounds around all day, and it wears them out. I get home from shopping and I can barely walk the next day. My thighs shake from exertion after walking up the 15 steps to my dentist's office. Does all of this sound healthy to you?

  I firmly believe that a person can be fat and healthy. I have seen it, I used to be smaller and in much better shape so I lived it. I was a fat girl but I was healthier than most fat girls my size. I firmly do not  believe that a person can be obese and healthy. There is no way. As an obese woman, I can say that it is impossible. I'm not judging anyone by saying these words, either. I am obese and I will never shame myself, but people... We need to stop the madness. Stop associating body positivity with health. They are two completely different things. Fat acceptance and health are two different things. They should never be brought together and be represented as one.

A Letter To A Friend

  How do you tell someone you care about that they're wasting their life? How do you tell someone who has been around for years that the person they're choosing to spend their life with is using them? Is there any easy way or is it like a band-aid; tear it off and hope to not rip the skin underneath?

  All I ever wanted for you is happiness. You deserve someone who loves you and who accepts you for everything you are. You deserve someone who doesn't want to change you, but upgrade you from boy to man. However, I feel like I can't tell you these things in person because it ends up in a fight.
  I know that I am not the easiest person to talk to. I get angry, I believe I am always right and I think, because I'm the oldest, that I know what's best for everyone. I know that I can be incorrect in some ways, but what I say and do comes from a place of genuine care and concern.
  I believe that you are wasting your time. I know that you disagree, or maybe you're with her because no one likes her; an attempt to rebel against everyone who says you shouldn't be with her? No one really knows the real reason as to why you are wasting your time other than you. There's just too many red flags for me, as your friend, to stay mum about this.
 You have changed so much in the past few months, and I know you say it's because of things like work or a certain someone who used to work with you, but it's not and you know it's not.You've been changing slowly ever since getting into this relationship with her, it's not hard to miss. The excuses need to stop, so I'm going to outline the reasons as to why she doesn't deserve you.

• She lies about the worst things
• She refuses to allow you into her apartment
• She's still married
• She's sexually selfish (this is from your own mouth)
• She has a violent past
• She has no desire to meet and interact with your friends and family
• She plays games and lies about stalkers in order to get out of spending time with you
• She uses her old relationships as leverage to get you jealous

  I know you will probably have an excuse for all of these points, but that's all they are: excuses. There's no denying the facts that are laid out for you on paper, but I know you will try. So, instead of justifying my facts,  I will bring up a couple very valid points.
  You told me, as you drove me home one night after us not speaking, that you did not trust her. You said to me, point blank, "I don't see a future with her because I don't trust her." She won't allow you into her life and it's scary for me to watch you give your all to someone who doesn't care enough to allow you to spend time alone with her in her own apartment. Someone who doesn't respect you enough to tell you the truth. Someone who, I believe, isn't even really attracted to you as a person, but thinks your car and job are not only attractive, but convenient for her. Let's face it, where else in this city is going to find someone who will shower her with affection, take her out, spoil her and only ask for some kisses and cuddles in return? Something is very wrong when none of your friends, except for maybe a couple, want to be around her; when your own mother says that there is something about her that she doesn't quite find right. But who knows, maybe I'm wrong. I haven't met her. I just have some word of mouth to go off of. However, some of the negative words came from your mouth. How else are we, your friends, supposed to react when this girl's own boyfriend says that he can't trust her?
  On the same car ride, I asked you a very simple question: "Besides physical contact, what does she do for you?" You not only hesitated, you couldn't answer the question. So I am asking that again, now. What does this girl do for you that puts her ahead of all of the other women in the world who would be more than happy to date you? What does she give you, other than physical affection, that draws you in because, in my experience with asking you this, she gives you absolutely nothing.  In my experience with talking to you about this girl, she provides nothing of substance to your life and it's sad how you're okay with that.

  I care about you, and as I said when you got back together with her, as long as you don't talk to me about her or bring her around me, feel free to date anyone you want. It may sound harsh, especially since me and you were, at one point, very close, but it is for your benefit more than mine. When someone uses one of my friends, and I know that's what is happening, I have no filter and I will resolve to calling her out. I don't want to do that. I promised I wouldn't.
  You deserve so much better, and I can't help but to get worried when I see you settling for someone who uses you for things like your car and money. You're such a good person, and you're getting dealt such a shitty hand when it comes to women. I just hope you, eventually, realize your worth and stop associating yourself with trash.

Pet Peeves

  Everyone has pet peeves. I'm opening up this little section to talk about a few of mine.

Passive-Aggressive Behaviour

  I am a person who thinks that the world would be a better place if people just voiced what they wanted and/or expected out of the people in their lives. An example of this could easily be explained with what happened on a show I am watching as I write this.
  I'm watching "Married at First Sight" with my sister, and a newly married couple are on a horse and sleigh ride when the wife starts crying. She says it's because she's never been so happy; the scenery and the emotion were allowing her to cry openly in front of her husband for the first time and she thought this was a huge thing. She was beside her husband and he was holding her hand; all she wanted was for him to pull her closer to him and he didn't, so she was instantly hurt. However, she didn't voice what she wanted from him. She decided to hold in her want for affection and stay mad until later in the night rather than just move closer to him. Maybe it's because I'm dating someone who needs verbal communication rather than non-vocal clues, but I feel like if she would have just voiced what she wanted instead of holding it in, she wouldn't have been so upset. She built herself this bridge of self-pity just so she could suicide dive to the bottom.
Note to human race: Stop being so stupid!

New Parents, Mothers especially.

  I am not sorry for what I am about to post because as a child-less person, I know what other child-less people are thinking. We are thinking: "Shut the hell up already!"
  Now, I love kids. I never want any of my own, but I love my friends' children. That being said... I don't give a crap what they're doing day-to-day. I do want to hear their first words. I do want to see them taking their first steps. I do NOT want to hear about all the cute outfits he/she gets every day. I do NOT want to see him/her roll from his/her back to his/her stomach all by his/herself 60 thousand times. And I certainly do NOT care if his/her bowel movements are regular. There are some things you need to keep to yourself. We get it, your child is adorable. However there is only so many times we can say "Awwwww. He/She is so cute/adorable/charming/ETC."
  Whenever my friends have babies and turn into the "New Mother," I always wonder what happened to my friend. An example of this is a friend I've had for YEARS. She had her first child and all of sudden, she stopped having a brain. I would be on Skype with her, and all she could talk about was her daughter. All she could talk about what her life as a new mother, which seemed kind of boring, to be honest. Why does life stop when children are born? It's annoying! Just because you've given birth, you suddenly can't have your own thoughts or opinions? All of a sudden your IQ has dropped 30 points? I guess the smell of poopy diapers has psychological effects.
Note to human race: Children are supposed to add to your life, not consume it!

Eating with Mouth Open and Talking and Eating at the same time

  This one is probably the biggest one out of all of these. I was just easing everyone in with the first two. This is gonna be a rant.
  I don't know who raised those who chew with their mouths open, but for those of you who insist on having full-blown conversations while your breakfast/lunch/dinner/fucking snack is rolling around in your mouths: I wanna smack your mother!
  Who in the hell taught people that this behaviour is okay? You can't put the fork down in between mouthfuls, finish chewing and then speak before picking the fork back up? REALLY?! It's disgusting, it's rude and it makes you look like you were raised in a damn barn. If it's not okay for a child to do it, it isn't okay for an adult to do it. And doing it on social media is even worse. You are showing the world that you have zero manners. You are showing the people who watch your videos that food is more important than upholding a standard. Smacking your lips when you eat can actually, literally cause you to get smacked in the wrong circumstance. Has anyone ever heard of "Misophonia?" It's a psychological disorder. It's when certain sounds cause negative/violent effects to the listener. One of the trigger sounds is loud eating noises. You smacking your lips and heavily breathing while eating can cause you to get your face smacked. Don't want that? Learn some manners!
Note to human race: Move out of your barn and into society!

People who do not replace the toilet paper when they finish the roll

  There is a special kind of hell for people like you. It's one thing to forget once. It's a complete other to be completely fucking lazy about it and use excuses like "If I change it all the time, you won't learn anything." It's common fucking courtesy! You share a bathroom with people, you fucking use the rest of the toilet paper, you REPLACE THE FUCKING ROLL!
Note to human race: Fuck You.

  Before anyone gets their panties/boxers in a knot, I just want to make sure everyone knows that I'm just letting off some steam. Pet peeves are very real, and not everyone will agree with what I've written here (especially the new moms thing, I know). I just hope that no one gets angry and has a laugh at this. I laughed while writing. Except for the last one... The last one is serious.

Happiness...

  Have you ever liked something that you knew you really shouldn’t due to the depravity of the action? Like being choked during sex to the brink of death just to see if you’ll make it back or allowing someone to run a knife along your throat; trusting them to not slice open a valuable artery? I have. Once.

It was 3 years ago. I was walking home from work, my feet aching to be put up after being on them all day when I was grabbed into a parked car. I remember not even trying to scream for help, but looking around the completely blacked out car in hopes to see something; anything. My attacker seemed to be anticipating a struggle, and was noticeably disappointed when I just sat there, wiggling my toes in my shoes and sighing contently. Fear had not set in, and that surprised not only myself, but the man with his rather large, gloved hand wrapped around my elbow.

Frustrated, he yanked me toward him and held a knife to my throat. I could see his eyes peeking through his hair, which hung down across his forehead in an almost adolescent fashion. His eyes; a deep blue, wide with anger, frustration and shock stared into mine in an attempt to intimidate. I simply looked at him. No noise escaped my lips. No plead for survival, no tear dripping from the corners of my eyes. My eyes, staring back at him, showed nothing but acceptance.

He pressed down, letting a little trickle of blood escape my flesh and I remember smiling. Glee sprang to my brain and this was just what I needed to end the day. I smiled widely at him, making his breath become more ragged and his hand shakier on the blade.

“Why are you watching me like that?! I’m going to kill you, bitch!” He screamed. Frustration at the boiling point, unable to process the reaction I was giving him. This made me chuckle, the blade cutting deeper into my throat.

“What would you have me do?” I asked, a grin across my lips as the small trickle of blood pooled at the base of my throat. “Scream for help? Beg you to spare my life? Offer my money, my purse; anything but my cell phone because it’s all I have?” He looked down at me, his mouth open in astonishment.

“You can take my purse, sir. You can have my money, the keys to my apartment; hell the address is on my license, you’re welcome to it. Just do me one favour. One small favour before you take everything and leave me here with just my blood.”

“What?” He asked, almost in a whisper. His hand, still trembling with the blade.

“Cut me deeper.” I leaned towards him, grabbing his wrist and holding it so the knife cut me so deep, I could feel every piece of flesh in my neck snap under the pressure. Blood gurgled out of my mouth, it splashed against the young man’s arm and face as I smiled a wide, bloody tooth grin. I made him watch; I held him there until my hand, wrapped around his wrist, turned limp. Life left my body and I ended with a smile on my face. A smile of bliss.

Dead Inside

  How could I possibly express how I feel to someone who doesn't understand feelings? I could look at her, straight into her eyes and she would never understand me because how could she? She has never felt anything like this. She has never been ridiculed, bullied, beat down. She has never had to fight a day inher life for anything; the blank look is expected. I see her standing there, blurring over slowly as my eyes fill with tears and she just.... Stands there... Like a statue in the middle of a crowded park. No emotion, no feeling, no sense of any remourse because she is better than me.. Her eyes are dead because she can not see me.

I scream for her, tell her how much she hurts me, yell at the top of my lungs that I will never forgive her for the things she has put me through and.... Still nothing. Always nothing. There will never be anything behind the coldness... My screaming is for nothing. It results in nothing but a raw throat, loss of voice and rashes from the stains my tears leave upon my cheeks.

I see all of these on her but there's a difference between feeling and seeing. She has the same rashes upon her red cheeks. Her mouth opens and releases the same screams as mine does but the eyes in the mirror are dead. I guess the reflection does not lie... And I really am just trying to feel anything real. I guess I am just dead inside.

Return...

    A single spotlight shone in the middle of a darkened room. A luxurious, black leather wing back was placed in the centre; it's soft surface gleaming under the brightness from the ceiling. The large, empty space filled with people. Everyone invited stood like statues, painted in black and white, against the four walls, waiting for whoever was to sit in the spotlight.
    Several moments passed when suddenly the heavy, metal doors on the farthest wall swung open. The metallic scraping echoed off the empty walls as the doors slammed shut. The room was silent again with the exception of the breathing coming from the guests. The bodies surrounding the spotlight waited in anticipation for who or what entered the room. A faint outline could be seen, but the details were blacked out by the darkness of the room.
    She moved. She walked slowly toward the spotlight. Black, latex heels clinked and clacked with each step.The silhouette became clearer in the dark as she moved closer to the spotlight. Long, straight black hair swung behind her, hitting off her back as her pale skin glowed in the growing light. Her full, voluptuous body, dressed in a black corset and skin-tight leather shorts, was just visible in the dark. She stopped at the edge of the spotlight and waited, letting the anticipation grow around her. Thick thighs the colour of milk stepped inside the white light. The brightness bouncing off her heels and sparkling brightly. She looked around at everyone who had come to see her. Her brown eyes studied each face behind thick, black framed glasses. She turned around, swinging her hair over her shoulder and sat down in the chair. She sunk in, swinging one leg over the other and resting her arms along the armrests.
    “Well,” her voice rang out,echoing in the vast space. “I'm back.”

The Morgue

 "Of course they left me. Why am I even surprised?" Claire thought as she stumbled across the wet pavement. The warm, summer night made her even more frustrated than she ever thought she'd be. Her dress was now feeling too short, too tight and was bothering her, her feet burned in her one size too small red stilettos and all she wanted to do was rip the clip that was holding up her straight black hair out, whip it across the street and watch it get run over. Tonight had not been a good night. Walking the two miles home was the only way to clear her head, which was now soaked in the assortment of cocktails she had downed in a matter of a couple hours. The older, dirty guy across the bar who made all those comments towards her was now a dull vibration in her brain, thanks to the cosmopolitans. Walking along the street at 2am was not her idea of a good ending though. 
  
 At least it's not raining she thought to herself, as she heard "Du Hast" resonating from her purse and echoing off the windows of the local store fronts. She stopped dead in her tracks on the corner of the street to dig through in the light of the street lamp, rustling around and finding everything but the iPhone. As she continued to dig, she was suddenly splashed by a passing car running through an oil and rain water filled puddle. Jumping back, she felt the heel of her right stiletto catch on a crack in the crooked sidewalk and snap, causing her to fall back, landing flat on her rear in a puddle in front of the local chinese restaurant.
  
 "Shit!" she exclaimed under her breath as she got up and looked at her stiletto, which was completely destroyed. Frustration built up inside of her as she felt tears spring to life in her eyes. Pulling herself together quickly as to not draw more attention to herself, she began to hobble down the deserted city street. She heard her phone ring again, and dug around as she continued to walk along.
  
 "Hello?" she said, sounded exhausted and exasperated as she blew a string of hair out of her face.
  
 "Heyyyyy girl," Tonya slurred from the other end. "I'm so sorry but me and Rach met these guys and they wanted rides home. We were going to come back for you but we are wayyyyyy too drunk to drive."
  
 "Don't worry about it," Claire said, regretting it instantly. She should have told her where to go, but she was too tired to care anymore. After a few minutes, Tonya had passed out on the phone and Claire returned her cell back to her purse. She was suddenly aware of her surroundings as her drunk brain began to sober quicker than she would have liked, and looked around. The china town district was easy to navigate through. Restaurant on the left, butcher shop beside that, and an assortment of the local convience stores full of nicknacks and doo-dads. She knew this area very well. The bus stop was 10 blocks away if she was to continue down the same street, but soon realized she could take the shortcut she had taken as a child and teenager, and cut through the old military cemetary. Crossing the street and walking up the steps to the front gate, she could see the blinking light from inside the bus shelter. It was only a 5 minute walk, and as it began to rain, she risked the mud, dirt and soggy grass and walked in between the gravestones as her one stiletto heel sank in the earth with each step she took.
  
 Claire stopped at a mausoleum half way across the cemetery, looking across to see the comforting light of the bus stop blinking at her as she took off her stilettos. She was fed up of this night and just wanted it to end. As she continued to walk, now slightly more comfortable as her burning feet touched the cold, wet grass, she heard a scraping noise from behind her. Before she had time to turn around, she was grabbed by a cold, clammy hand and pulled back into the mausoleum. She tried to scream out but her voice caught in her throat as she watched the mausoleum door scrape closed, encasing her in complete blackness. In the darkness, she could hear another door open, and hands grabbing her waist and hoisting her over the shoulder of a man as he made his way down a flight of stairs. Too shocked and confused to fight, she stayed quiet until she was dropped on a cold, smooth floor. Her ears were suddenly flooded with the sound of pumping, cyber goth music as she tried to adjust her eyes to the blackness that covered them.
  
 "Hello?" she said loudly, then instantly cringed at how cliche she sounded. Suddenly the music stopped. The silence rang in her ears as she stood up and tried to feel in front of her for anything that she could grasp onto. That's when she heard a familiar sound; clicking of stilettos, slowly creeping closer to her. 
  
 "Well what do we have here? You look just a mess," a soft, feminine voice echoed through what seemed like a vast empty space. "Welcome to The Morgue." Suddenly a spotlight flashed on, and Claire was blinded as her eyes, now adjusted to the darkness, throbbed in her skull. 
  
 "Ok, I know this is going to sound about as stupid as any horror movie script, but where am I?" Claire wrapped her arms around her waist and shivered as the coldness of the room chilled her to the bone. "And why can't I see anything?"
  
 "Manson! Dim the lights a bit, you're blinding our guest," the mystery woman called out to someone, somewhere in the vast, empty space. The lights dimmed and Claire slowly opened her eyes. All she could see was herself in a pool of light. The woman giggled as she inched closer, making her black, PVC stilettos visible in the light. Claire watched as the woman stepped closer, revealing her very pale skin, black and white striped, latex mini dress and dark makeup,
  
 "Welcome, again Claire. I'm Macabre, but please, everyone calls me Dame. And this," Dame clicked her heel on the now visible black and white checkered floor and all the lights went on, filling the wide room with dim light. "is The Morgue."
  
 Claire looked around, not able to say anything. Everything in the room was something out of a gothic night club. The DJ booth was high on the wall behind her, with no visible way of access, and behind Dame along the opposite wall, were 3 cages, each with a name and a girl inside. The girls were all pale, almost ghost like, as they danced seductively to the music, which had started again as the lights went up. She read the names to herself, as Dame watched her intently with a small grin, her black hair shining all the way down her back in the lights of club. 
  
 "Allow me to introduce you to everyone," Dame said over the music as she touched Claire's wet back and guided her to the cages. Her stilettos clicked loudly on the floor as the crowd of people, all dressed in latex with dark makeup and almost dead-like pale skin, parted for Dame to pass by. She pointed to all the cages, naming them off one by one by what Claire hoped were nicknames; Silicone, Nari, Ghoulish, or, as Dame called them, The Gore Gore Girls. Each girl looked over and smiled, waved or nodded as Dame called their names, but stayed in the character of the job they were assigned to do: entertain Dame's many guests. 
  
 Stepping in front of Claire, Dame eyed her attire with a worried look. "You're positively soaked. Monstrum grabbed you just in time. We must get you out of this... outfit. Come with me,"
  
 Claire was guided to a doorway on the right side of the club. Opening the black, silk curtains, Claire stepped inside with Dame behind her. She realized where the club got it's name instantly. Inside the slightly smaller room, morgue doors covered the sleek black walls in rows, each with a corresponding number. In the far corner was an autopsy table with an attaching sink, and lined with tools and knives. The sour smell of death filled Claire's nose as she felt Dame's hand reach up and pull the small clip out of her hair, and feeling it unravel down her back.
  
 "You know what? I was on my way to a bus stop to go home. I can change there. There's no need to change now. I can just be on my way. I hope you enjoy your night, but I really must be going," Claire said anxiously. She did not want to be a part of this. All she wanted to do was go back to the cemetery, down to the bus stop and eventually get under her covers in her own bedroom.
  
 "Nonsense!" Dame exclaimed with a smile. "You need out of this dress before you catch your... Death of cold." Claire backed farther away from Dame and continued to try to excuse herself. Before she knew it, she was handed a short, red dress by a tall, rather attractive man, along with a pair of white, latex stilettos, and was accompanied to a small screen by Dame and instructed to change.
  
 As the music continued in the other room, she could hear Dame speaking with the man who handed her the dress and shoes, finding out that this was Monstrum. It was he who grabbed her from the cemetary, and he was Dame's confidant. Claire stepped out after a few minutes, slightly surprised at how well the dress fit her, and wondering how Monstrum knew her dress size. Her mind darted back to when she first heard Dame's voice, and remembered she had known what her name was. Who were these people and what did they want with her?
  
 "That looks lovely on you. You look a bit more alive than I'm used to, but I'm sure that will change by the end of the night. Shall we?" Dame opened the curtain that led back to the club. Claire suddenly felt like she had no control and walked through the curtain. Every one of Dame's guests eyed Claire like she was the next meal, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around her waist to shield herself again. Dame motioned for her to join her on a sofa as she sat in between Monstrum, and a curvy girl with long black hair and black rimmed glasses. Her name was Needlz. The couch sank under Dame's tiny frame, the black and white cushions seemed to blend in with her dress as she crossed her legs and lit a cigarette with the ease and grace of a queen. Introduced to the two people, Claire found out that Needlz was Dame's best friend and she, along with Monstrum, helped run the club. She didn't say anything to her, and just nodded as her name was mentioned. Monstrum said a simple "Hello" but nothing more as Dame chattered on, talking with guests as they passed her. 
  
 "Would you like a drink? The Gore Gore Girls have cracked open the liquor so the party is really starting," Dame asked with a smile as Silicone and Nari came up in front of them. Before Claire could protest, she was handed a drink by Silicone, who skipped off drunkenly with Nari, their big platforms clunking as they ran back towards the dance floor, as Dame sipped her drink. Claire was confused by the hospitality of these strangers and took a sip of her drink, which was her favourite cocktail. She finished it quickly, and instantly felt herself overcome with fatigue. Fear crept over her, sending chills up her spine as she gripped the soft, leather sofa.
  
 "I'm sorry," Claire slurred. Fear overcame her as she heard herself speak. The world was spinning around her, and she felt like she was beginning to pass out as she tried to stand up. "I would really, really like to go home now. Please, Dame. I'm tired and I need to sleep. I want to go home."
  
 Claire blacked out then. Falling back onto the sofa and her glass falling onto the floor and smashing over the black and white tiles. Dame smiled at the sight of this and stood up, leaning over Claire to brush the hair out of her eyes. Monstrum picked up Claire, and hoisted her over his shoulder as he and Needlz followed Dame across the dance floor back to the small room where Claire changed out of her dress. Monstrum placed Claire on the autopsy table with a kind of gentleness that was not placed upon her at first. Dame stood at the head of the table as Needlz pulled on latex gloves and picked up a scalpel. She grazed Claire's jugular vein with professional precision and grazed the scalpel again along her femoral artery, and the embalming process began.
  
 As Dame watched her new member slowly bleed out under Needlz's care, she invited her guests, Gore Gore Girls and her DJ, Manson to observe her handy work. As she watched Claire be sewn up, and her skin turn a milky white colour under the lights, She smiled ear to ear and picked out a Morgue drawer just for her. 
  
 "Number 8962. What does everyone think?" Dame asked as she turned towards her guests. They all nodded and agreed with her as Monstrum once again picked up Claire, this time cradling her like a child. Dame opened the door and slid out the slab that was hidden inside, and he placed Claire on it gingerly. Dame looked over Claire, examining her positioning and smiled, very pleased with her choice of members. Claire looked more beautiful in Dame's eyes than she had when she was pulled in from the the cemetery. Her black hair splayed out along the slab and her expression seemed more peaceful than Dame had ever seen anyone's before her. She motioned for Monstrum to push the slab back into the freezing drawer and grasped the handle of the door.
  
 "Welcome home, Claire," Dame said with a broad grin and shut the Morgue door, locking her newest member inside until the next party was held.


~Crissy D

Why Friends Are Necessary

   Growing up, I never really had any friends. I had one that I grew up with. Me and her are still friends and have been for going on 17 years, but we're not best friends anymore. She's more like family now, since I don't really remember a time she wasn't in my life. She was all I had, and when we started drifting apart about 5 years ago, I was left with no one but my boyfriend. Until I went back to school.

  I started Red Hill in February of 2010. I was 23, almost 24, and needed to get my high school diploma. Since I was expelled as a teenager for fighting (that may go in another post, just to prove how bad ass I am), I had zero credits. I started at the very beginning. I went through the first 16 credits thanks to a program held at the school, then started Adult Day School in September of 2011.

  Adult day school was different. I was scared, anxious and I reverted back to my old ways instantly. I sat at the very back of the class, my hood over my head and refused to have any contact with anyone. Until a very short girl came over and sat in front of me. Her name was Kaydie.

  She was spunky, and younger than me by 5 years, but she was nice and asked if I wanted to go outside for break. No one had ever asked me to do so, so I shook my head no and looked back down at the notebook in front of me, thinking she'd just go away. She didn't. She stayed and started talking to me; asking me my name, random questions and prodding me until I finally agreed to go outside with her. Once outside, she stood there with me as a group came over, she knew them all, and introduced me. I just kind of stood there awkwardly while they all had a conversation. No clue what to do. When I was finally able to go back inside, I headed straight for the back, ahead of her, and tried to get my work done so I could leave. But she followed me, and sat down with me again. She was so chatty, it intimidated me. She never seemed to run out of things to say, while I sat there and searched for words in between her taking breaths. She was funny and witty, and she seemed to want to have a conversation with me, for reasons I didn't yet know.

  I went to class every day and she came back every day to sit and talk with me. Eventually, we were hanging out all day, even after school; going to the mall, riding the bus together even though I was within walking distance. I even started waiting for her at her bus stop every morning. We had each others' numbers and we would text constantly. For the first time in years, I had someone other than my boyfriend who wanted to talk to me, and it was motivating.

  After a few weeks of getting closer, I stopped hiding who I was when we went outside for breaks. Me and Kaydie were obnoxious, laughing loud enough for teachers to come out and tell us to be quiet, sharing inside jokes that made everyone else confused while we almost fell on the ground, in tears with laughter. I had never been like that, and it was scary to think that I didn't care what people thought of me anymore.

  When Kaydie graduated a year before me, it was lonely at the school, but by this time, me and her had already become so close, we hung out almost daily. She came by the school to pick me up, I would spend nights at her house and we'd share out inner most secrets. The first time I ever went to a New Years Eve party was at her house, and we sobbed all over each other as the alcohol consumed our souls. Through her, I met other people I could be myself around, without being ashamed of how I looked or felt about myself. Kaydie opened up a part of my life that I wouldn't have had without her.

  I can honestly say that I have a best friend. I never thought I'd be able to say that because all of the people I become close with leave me in some way. Other than my boyfriend and my sister, Kaydie has been the one consistent person in my life. She never makes me doubt her friendship, and that is something that I could never thank her enough for. People have let me down before, and I know that people are going to continue to let me down, but if I have my best friend with me to battle through the hard times, I think I'll be a better person at the end.

Me vs. My Age

  I have to start this off by saying that I am so glad that I have a thicker skin in person than I do online. While chatting online, I feel like I can say and do whatever I want in regards to how I defend myself against people who talk down to me. In person, I'm naturally shy so it takes a lot for me to show my emotions, even when I'm ready to explode into tears or a fit of rage.

  As many know, I am spending my time volunteering to earn some experience and some community service hours before I apply for college. On Monday's, I'm a receptionist at a youth drop off, and on Wednesdays and Fridays, I spend my time at a food bank, where I'm supposed to be doing reception but, people don't think I can handle using a computer. This is where the title of this blog comes in.

  This past Wednesday, I was at the food bank, holding down the Welcome Area when my co-volunteer, Melissa, was asked to help out in the food bank downstairs. She had to leave the computer, where she was putting in Data for tax returns, and asked me if I could take over that between answering the phone/greeting guests. I said it was no problem, and she handed me the file she was working on. I have been trained in Excel, so it was a breeze for me and I started flying through it faster than Melissa had ever done it before. After three minutes however, I was told to stop.

  My boss, who is usually very nice to me, came over to my desk and said she didn't want me to do the data entry. I asked why, showing her that it was going well and that I was almost done, and she just said, "I want someone more experienced to do this." I asked her what she meant and she said "Melissa is older than you. She has more experience working with the program. I've already told her to come back." Before I could say anything else, my boss was taking the file and the computer and putting them in a different spot for Melissa, who was making her way back up the stairs, very unamused.

  I just sat there, dumbfounded. I'm not young exactly, but I'm not old. I'm the youngest one there at 28, with Melissa 10-12 years older than me. Melissa apologized as she went into the room and sat there with her files. After a few minutes, and a few phone calls, my boss' boss comes by and hands me a stack of papers. She looks at me, with the biggest smile on her face, and asks if I'm capable of folding pamphlets instead of using the computer. At this point, I've had enough, but because I find it hard to mouth off in public, I just grit my teeth and folded her pamphlets without complaint.

  My age has never been an issue before. I've been looked down upon for my weight, my lack of experience, and my lack of education, but never for my age. This was very new and hit me in a way that I never anticipated. I was looked down on, made to feel stupid, because of the fact that I am at least 10 years younger than anyone else there. I was flipping back and forth over whether I was staying or leaving at the end of this month when Melissa and Rob, my supervisor, leave, and I think I have made the decision that leaving is the best thing for me.

  I may be young, but I will not be looked at like I'm stupid because of my age. No one knows my story but me. No one knows what I'm trained in and what my capabilities are until I am given a chance. I refuse to be someone's pamphlet folding bitch.

Betty Jane

  On September 17th, 2013, I lost my grandmother. I've been holding in certain emotions for the past two years, and every day it gets harder and harder to put on a brave face because, let's face it... I can't always be a robot.

  My grandmother was the most amazing woman I, and many others, have ever met. She was a funny, proper German-English woman who loved high heels, plunging necklines and red lipstick. She always had a smile on her face, a bounce in her step and a loving nature that could reach inside of anyone's soul and hold them together. She used to sing me to sleep, make paper dolls with me in her kitchen and do my makeup before going out because she loved to see me in her red lipstick. She sang "Paper Doll" by Frank Sinatra, in her own way, to me when I was sick or sad, and ran her fingers over my head until I fell asleep on nights I was homesick.

  My best memory of my grandmother was from when I was a teenager. I was graduating from the 8th grade, and I was going to be wearing a navy blue dress. She came over the day of, as I was getting ready and presented me with a blue heart necklace; a replica of the one from Titanic. It was ugly. And I hated it. I refused to wear it, even though it "matched the dress perfectly." We fought for hours over this damn necklace, to the point where she tried to sneak up behind me and put it on while I wasn't looking. In the end, I won. She hated me for a moment for my stubbornness, but loved me enough to let it go.

  I regret a few things concerning my relationship with my grandmother. One of those things is the time I took for granted when I was in my early teens. My grandmother had, in my immature brain, broken a promise to me, my sister, my mother and my grandfather, by marrying another man.We all hated her new husband. He was abusive towards her, emotionally and mentally, he wouldn't dare lay a finger on her or he'd have the wrath of the entire family on him. She came over one day, and she handed each of us a cheque or $100. I was immediately skeptical, but thanked her and kissed her goodbye as she left. The next day, she called and said she had married him. We were not invited, we had no idea she had even agreed to marry him. She did it behind our backs and at the time, I couldn't understand why. I mailed her cheque back to her and reused to talk to her. Because of my stubbornness, I lost three years with my grandmother.

  She divorced her husband a few years later, after we had made up, and met another man named Bill. I didn't like him at first. I was on edge and wanted nothing to do with him because he was just another guy coming to do what her second husband did: take my grandmother away. It took about a year, when I was 24, to come to terms with the fact that her new boyfriend wasn't as bad as I thought. He took me to the vet when my cat was sick. He drove my disabled mother to her appointments and he was there with my grandmother while she had her falling spells and had to go to the hospital. How could I hate a man who loved her so much?

  I visited my grandmother the day before she died. She wasn't conscious. She didn't know I was there but I kissed her forehead and told her I loved her. Being there when she stopped breathing was too much and I spent the day drinking and crying with my sister, who was just as heartbroken as me. My mother and father went to the hospital, said goodbye and watched her leave this world.

  At her funeral, I made a scene. The pastor who was performing her eulogy knew nothing about her, her life or her life with my grandfather. He called her "Betty-Anne," and my grandfather "Buzz," instead of "Bus," which was his nickname. Little things they may have been but they set me off because the man could have at least done some more research and allowed us to have that one moment of remembrance without fucking up their names! I corrected  him in a very loud voice and left the chapel, crying and in need of escape. I called my best friend, who called our mutual friend, and he came and picked me up. I couldn't be in that funeral home anymore and I cried in his car all the way home.

  On Christmas Eve of 2014, the second Christmas without her, me and my sister went to get our first tattoo's. Mine, was for her. For the best memory I have of her. Two blue hearts are now permanently on my wrist. One for her, and one for me. I look at it and get emotional sometimes, but I wouldn't want it in any other place. My grandmother may not have been perfect, but she was the only one I knew growing up. She helped shape who I am, and I wouldn't trade in any amount of time I've had with her in the world. Her memory lives on, and I'll always have paper dolls and Frank Sinatra.

What the Hell is going on?!

  These past few days of going through Instagram and seeing the trolls taking over the hashtags I used to use, such as #pizzasisters4lyfe, #effyourbeautystandards and #honoryourcurves, and it's making me physically sick. Not just how people are completely bullying others based solely on how they look, but by the response of the people who are a part of the body positive community.

  I agree, we should not allow people to make fun of us, to belittle us and to put us down just because we have some extra weight. I agree, that something needs to be done. But what doesn't need to be done is complete and utter disregard for the integrity that we as a community have been striving to promote. We are supposed to promote self-love and love for our fellow humans, but we're not, are we? Are we really promoting this? By telling people that we're better than they are, is that promoting love?

  If we're so much better than the people who promote hate, why are we feeding into them? Why aren't we just going on with our lives, being loved by others and ourselves, going to work, the gym, playing with our kids and going shopping? Why are we commenting on the hateful posts and giving them more ammunition? It's all it is, really. The people commenting on their posts and "defending" yourselves, you are making it worse! They want you to comment. They want you to be angry and to call them out because this is entertaining for them. They all banded together on their hate-train and rolled right in because they knew that they could get a rise out of you and for what? Entertainment.

  If you really want to do something, leave the haters alone. Let them dry out, get bored and eventually they will go away. If they want to post photos showing the effects of obesity, let them. Are they physically tagging you and pointing you out? You're giving them too much power. If you're really better than they are, prove it.

Am I Really Body Positive?

  I keep thinking about this today, simply because of the reaction I got to a photo I posted on Instagram. I have been trying to accept myself for how I am for a while now. Body positivity towards others comes easy, but looking at myself in the mirror is something that is still hard to do because I don't feel like I'm at my best; health and appearance wise.

  I have people behind me that are hoping I succeed and gain a healthier life through exercise, healthy eating and weight loss. On the other hand, there are people who are now calling me a hypocrite or a "fat hater," because I don't want to be obese my entire life. I'm no longer "body positive" because I am choosing to go against "fat acceptance," in order to lose half of the weight on my body. I'm sorry, excuse the fuck out of me.

 I'm going to be blunt. I am 28 years old, 400lbs and completely unhappy. I have an awesome boyfriend who loves me, even though I am as big as I am, amazing friends and the best sister anyone can ask for. But I can not look in the mirror every day and see beauty. I can't look at myself and see someone who exudes health and confidence because, let's face it, I'm neither blind or fucking stupid. I've been large my entire life because I grew up with parents who, even though they loved me, didn't teach me proper eating habits from the start. There is a photo of me from when I was two years old and there's a huge plate of food in front of me, including two hot dogs. As I grew older, my parents, especially my mother, shoved the "you're healthy," lie into my head. How is it healthy to be twelve and 224lbs? Someone answer me that. I was bullied at school, I was bullied in my neighbourhood, so I built my wall. It was easier to be the quiet, fat girl in the class than to draw attention to myself. I loved to write, but never did out of fear of people finding it,reading it and showing it off to other people. I loved to sing, but didn't rejoin the choir after the fourth grade because the bullying was so bad, I did not want to stand in front of anyone and open my mouth. Art and music were my two passions and I left them behind in order to keep all attention off of myself, in hopes people would leave me alone. Is that healthy?

  This whole "fat acceptance" thing is fine for some. I'm not judging, I'm not badgering, I'm not going to put it down because it's something that helps so many people overcome their struggles. But I am not part of the fat acceptance movement. How can I accept something that has torn me down for so long? On the other side of the coin, I'm not part of the "fat hate," movement. How can I hate something that made me the person I am today? I personally believe that being fat has made me mentally strong. My maturity level has always been higher than my peers because, being silent has made me observant. Being fat has made my intuition stronger, has made me able to read people and to see behind the masks that they wear every day. So, if I'm not "fat hating," and I'm not "fat accepting," what am I?

  People, can we all just be? Do we have to have labels, titles, expectations and hatred? Can we just be human?

How to Fake Your Own Death (Short Story Beginning)

   People say that when you're about to die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. Images of past birthdays, Christmases, Thanksgiving dinners; family, friends and the old street where you learned how to ride a bike. The day you had your first kiss, lost your virginity, the feeling of heartbreak. The warm sun on a winter's morning and the first bite of fall on the last day of summer. These things are what normal people think of just before the last beat of their heart. Normal people wouldn't be lying in a pool of blood hoping that it's not in their hair, but I've never been what people would call “normal.”

   My “name” is Ariana Guile (pronounced “geel” for future reference) and I am about to die. I think. Well, I should say “I hope,” because honestly, I have quite had it with this life. I'm ready for the next one. Ready for the adventure of starting over and moving on with a new life. Death is the perfect out. No, I'm not suicidal. I'm simply faking my own death.

   Trust me, it wasn't easy to pull this off, but I've been planning for three years. I've saved three years worth of wages from my shitty job as a Wal-Mart cashier, paid for a counterfeit passport that looks more authentic than my real one, and have all the bleach I believe my dark hair can take without falling out. I am ready.

   The ambulance is getting close, I can hear it as I lay on the street, the blood packet underneath my shirt has drained completely, staining the street around me and my yellow blouse. I know that Jake and Tom are inside the ambulance, fresh out of paramedic school. They only know of my plan because I need their help. Once they stop being useful, I'm sure I'll forget them and the $1000 I'm paying them. It will be money well-spent once I'm “dead.”

   The ambulance stops about 10 feet from me, at least that's what I can sense through the crowd that has gathered around my seemingly lifeless body. Everyone is chattering so loudly, it's hard to keep still. The elders in the group seem to be more concerned about my appearance than they are about my life.

   “Such a lovely top. That blood will never come out,” I hear one of them whisper to their friend.

   “What a pretty young lady,” an elderly man says to himself. “I wonder if she was tight.”

   Conclusion: Old people are shallow and gross.

Can We Talk About The Children?

  Before I start, I would like everyone to know that I am not singling anyone out. I am not pointing fingers or trying to make parents of today feel bad. I am simply asking a very valid question: What is happening with this generation?

  I am in my late twenties, so I was born in the 80's and grew up as a 90's kid. I was a child during the best time in life; when going outside was not an option, but a necessity. When, if you mouthed off, you got a mouthful of soap, and TV time was the hour between dinner and bath time. We, today's young parents, did not sit around all day after school and on weekends numbing our brains with video games, hour upon hour of TV, and walking around with our noses tucked neatly away behind mobile devices. We had to go outside, learn how to interact with the kids in our neighbourhoods and we loved it. We were out every day until Mom/Dad/Parental Guardian called for us to get our butts inside before dinner got cold. If this was our lives, why are we subjecting children of today to anything less?

  I go out and I see teenagers sitting in groups, not interacting, but with their faces glued to the screen of the latest touch screen technology. They don't say one word to each other, unless it's to show the one closest to them a funny meme or quick witted quote. But this isn't the worst part. Let me tell you a quick story:
  I take care of my parents because of their mental disabilities. One day, my mother was due at the doctor's office, and I, of course, went along. As we were waiting in the seating area for her name to be called, a mother with a child, she couldn't have been more than three years old, came in. Without a second though, the mother gave her child her iPhone to "play with." The little girl, whose hands were so small, it took two to hold the phone, went to the tiny table in front of me, sat on the floor, placed the phone on the table and proceeded to not only correctly unlock the phone, but to maneuver through apps faster than I've ever seen any adult do. I was stunned, and her mother saw how shocked I was and proceeded to laugh and say, very proudly, "she works that thing better than I do." Most people would have found this endearing. I found it frustrating.
  We now live in a society where kids don't know how to properly interact with people face-to-face, but they have hundreds of friends on Facebook. We have kids who have devices worth hundreds of dollars and the only thing they use it for is to take nude photos. Taking photos with friends while having fun has been replaced with the proverbial duck-lipped "selfie," and parents are either at their wit's end or simply do not care.
  I know people are probably wondering why I even have an opinion. I don't have children, I am active on social media and I'm just one person with a laptop, able to post what comes to mind whenever I please. I feel like, as a person who does not have children, I have the ability to see things from the outside, making my viewpoint clearer than others'.
  Why does a 12-14 year old need an iPhone? Why do teens need Facebook, Instagram and other social media accounts? Why is it okay for young girls and boys to take photos of their bodies in inappropriate positions and inappropriate clothing?  These are all valid questions that don't have answers either because parents have given up, have no idea what to do, or are completely oblivious.

  I guess, I just believe that kids today need the same type of childhood that we had when we were young. All of the children are stuck inside, their eyes glued to some sort of technology and why? Because it's easier? We need these kids to grow up and be the next leaders of the world. How is that to happen when their brains are slowly turning to mush? I suppose, in twenty years, we'll know the effects. Until then, good luck new parents. Technology may just be more damaging than you think.

Pools of Blue

  The look in his eyes made it that much harder. If he would only look away for a moment and let me have my say. The only thing hurting me was that he was hurt. The pools of blue that used to dance with such life now just looked dead, sorrowful and dark. That was my fault.

   It was hard for me to look him in the eye and tell him; to show no remourse, no feeling at all. Practice makes perfect, but nothing could stop me from catching the tear that rolled down his cheek with my thumb. A little contact, the floodgates opened, there was no going back.

   This will never get easier. I realized the day he turned away from me for the last time that a piece of my heart was walking away with him. I let him have that piece, no questions asked.