Uppercase Woman

Life on Life's Terms: Can't live with it, can't shoot it in the ass

So the last few days have been a tad rocky.

First, a woman came into my store with five-month-old twins.

Second, two new guys at my main recovery meeting raised their hands to introduce themselves and their names were Nick and Zach.

Third, my therapist just told me she’s moving over two hours away.

Do I get to kill myself now?

Oh, God, the poor woman with the twins. I was afraid I would either kill her then steal her babies or run out of the room weeping, so I decided, in a moment of panic, to just tell her about my boys. I don’t know what I thought would happen; she was in her mid-forties, so it’s not insane for me to wonder if the twins are the product of ART, so I guess I hoped that she’d respond with a touch of that sisterly bond we infertiles in the blogosphere have.

But no. Instead, she looked rather alarmed, murmured something under her breath, and left the store as quickly as she could.

That’s me, the absolute epitome of good customer service.

When the two guys introduced themselves at the meeting, both Sarah and Charlie didn’t notice until they saw my “clearly God’s back on the pipe” face.

My therapist said this might be how God is attempting to re-establish our connection.

Memo to God: poking me repeatedly in the eye (and heart) with a pointy stick is NOT going to get you back in my good graces.

When my therapist gave me the news about her move, my first reaction was to just leave the appointment immediately. Cause, you know, what’s the point? Well, she’s not actually moving until the end of June, so she’ll be here another three months. Hell, maybe I’ll be cured by then. Who knows?

Is “fear of abandonment” really a fear when everyone DOES abandon you?

Karen and I are clearly on the same emotional cul-de-sac of late. It’s been nearly three years of trying to conceive for me as well. On Tuesday I heard about another acquaintance who has decided to expand his family—they’ll start trying next month—and I just burst out with bitter cackles (thankfully, this information was relayed to me, so I wasn’t laughing right at the horse’s mouth, so to speak). Remember when we were waiting a month or so to start because we wanted to time things correctly?

*join me in hysterical bitter laughter here*

I know it’s been said before, but damn if I don’t miss that Cecily. The one that said, “Oh, let’s start in May so I won’t be pregnant in the summer!” and “Maybe we should wait until fall so I can be home during the summer?” Those days were sweet and easy, not full of agonizing God-pokes.

I swear, I never saw twins ANYWHERE until after I lost my boys. In the last six weeks or so, I’ve seen at least twenty pairs. What is UP with that?

The good news is that I’ve found an excellent distraction.

I have become real estate obsessed. I spend at LEAST two hours a day combing through listings. We actually contacted an agent and are going to see homes tonight! And Monday morning!

It’s very exciting.

Our current home is only 860 square feet (and we have three bedrooms. HA! picture that). I’m dreaming of, oh, 1200 or 1300 square feet instead. And maybe a fireplace. And maybe a park or some woods nearby (my city is blessed with having more park acreage than any other city on the east coast—and a lot of that is woods). And maybe even off-street parking, so if we get home later than 5:02pm we can still find a place to park.

The other good thing is I have become a Bloglines convert. Wow! Now I have more time to check real estate listings that are already sold (but not off the web) instead of clicking on blogs that haven’t updated yet. Awesome.

Oh, and more good news: tomorrow Sin City opens. Featuring the eye candy of Benicio Del Toro and Clive Owen. I might just see it twice.

PS: Thank you, Charlie, for totally forgiving my Clive Owen crush. I love you.

More About Terri

Hmmm**. Perhaps it isn't Michael that's after money after all, no?

**New York Times Link. Need to register.

Miscellany

I'm actually busy at work today, so this is gonna be short.

Thanks so much for all your excellent responses to yesterday's Jesus post. Funny, I managed to not piss off anyone. I guess I should have tried harder. The responses made it very clear to me that my basic issue with Christianity is that I believe good works should come before salvation. In fact, I believe good works may very well lead to salvation, if salvation is to be had. But thanks for the fascinating input.

One of the most interesting people discussing religion today is Karen Armstrong, the former nun and religious scholar. She an expert in fundamentalism, and has lots of fascinating things to say. I've heard her on NPR a few times (further proof that I'm a liberal! I listen to NPR!), and she's really quite fascinating. Here is a recent interview with her.

Oh, and this will absolutely infuriate all of you in the process of adoption (but then cheer you up when you see the sentances). Thanks to Julie for the link.

I forgot this yesterday...

MONDAY MORNING MOVIE REVIEW! (on Tuesday)

The Upside of Anger

Holy fucking shit --call the presses-- Kevin Costner ACTS! It's amazing. Actually, it's quite a performance. This movie was full of some really great acting. Joan Allen does for anger what Diane Keaton did for sobbing in "Something's Gotta Give."

Some plot elements are just not believable; but damn, there are some really good lines in there.

Be warned, though--if you have a dysfunctional mother or alcoholism in your family this movie will make you squirm in agony. Wowza, that made me uncomfortable.

Jesus, Jesus, He's Our Man! If He Can't Do It, No One Can!

I was going to post about Jesus yesterday, you know, in honor of Easter and all, but the day required much lying about and consuming of fat free Chocolate Meringues (I ate the whole tub from Trader Joe’s; I am so skipping weigh-in this week). I was feeling pretty blue.

I tend to have delayed emotional reactions. On Thursday, I stopped by the hospital to see Melanie and her twins. Then on Saturday night Charlie and I babysat Elise’s daughter and Miss P was just a perfect little girl (when we convinced her to go to bed, I put her in her crib and she said, “Turn out the light!” It was adorable). I felt fine through all of this, but then on Sunday I couldn’t get out of bed.

I’m so tired of feeling sad, but I thought it would be a good idea to honor that. And use chocolate as an anti-depressant.

But enough about that! Let’s talk about Jesus.

So I was shopping at Whole Foods the other day, and I couldn’t resist picking up a copy of the most recent issue of Utne Magazine (is there a sentence that could MORE clearly identify me as super liberal?) because it was focusing on issues of faith (Utne—Norwegian for “far out”—is basically a clearinghouse of liberal thought. The staff scans small presses for interesting articles and re-publishes them).

The whole issue was fascinating, but the article “Heaven Can’t Wait: Jesus was a radical, and it’s about time we start saying so” by David Schimke really caught my attention. He discusses the two most common interpretations of Jesus. To quote:

“For many, what matters most is that Jesus was a divine spirit who died for their sins. To accept him as your savior is to be saved, and the pursuit of that salvation is paramount. For a smaller percentage of believers, Jesus was a peasant revolutionary who lived by example and died for it. To model your behavior after his is to bring earth closer to heaven.”

For a long time I was pretty anti-Jesus, I must confess. I tended to agree with the poet Robinson Jeffers—he called Jesus “that confused Jewish poet.” But I’ve softened my opinion, thanks to Christians like Moxie and Anne Lamott.

In her book Traveling Mercies (yes, one of my favorites, for all you people that asked about the books I read), Anne Lamott talks about her spiritual awakening and how it helped her get sober. When she was in the depths of despair, she called a minister and asked him for help. She asked him what it means to be saved and he said, “I guess it’s like discovering you’re on the shelf of a pawnshop, dusty and forgotten and maybe not worth very much. But Jesus comes in and tells the pawnbroker, ‘I’ll take her place on the shelf. Let her go outside again.’” How could that vision of Jesus not warm your heart? That sounds pretty radical to me.

Jesus being a radical is hardly a new idea—just recently I’ve heard Jim Wallis, head of  Sojourner Magazine, talk about this very idea on NPR and The Daily Show. So, in honor of this idea, I decided to whip out my bible (ha! you though I didn’t own one, didn’t you? In fact, I have several versions! So there!) and look into it.

In fact, the bible is full of radical ideas. For instance, here are The Beatitudes from Matthew (Matthew 5:3-12) (um, the bible I’m using is The New American Bible, St. Anthony Guild Edition, so it may be different from yours if you are playing along at home):

How blest are the poor in spirit; the reign of God is theirs.

Blest too are the sorrowing; they shall be consoled.

Blest are the lowly; they shall inherit the land.

Blest are they who hunger and thirst for holiness; they shall have their fill.

Blest are they who show mercy; mercy shall be theirs.

Blest are the single-hearted for they shall see God.

Blest too the peacemakers; they shall be called Sons of God.

Blest are those persecuted for holiness sake; the reign of God is theirs.

Blest are you when they insult you and persecute you

and utter every kind of slander against you because of me.

Be glad and rejoice, for your reward is great in heaven;

They persecuted the prophets before you in the very same way.

Now, there are some wonderful things in there—showing mercy, making peace, consoling the sorrowing. That is radical. I also like the idea of “the lowly inheriting the land” (better known as “the meek shall inherit the earth”). It makes me think about the idea of humility. Attaining humility is an excellent spiritual aim—in fact, in recovery, it’s the main goal. Becoming right-sized is critical; learning to be “one among many, a worker among workers” is the primary goal of much of the soul searching we do in recovery. I misunderstood the concept of humility when I first got sober; I thought it meant suffering humiliation, when in fact it means recognizing and honoring my assets as well as my defects (for instance, it would be lacking in humility for me to call myself a shitty writer—especially after so many of you told me how much you liked my writing—just as it would be lacking in humility for me to call myself the best writer ever).

Of course, then you get the last few lines, about being persecuted for your beliefs. Those lines have been the battle cry for everyone from Civil Rights marchers to the Operation Rescue people. ANYONE can declare themselves holy and right and use any resistance to their ideas as proof that they are prophets.

Therein lies the rub—the crux of the issue—the shit that fertilizes the mushrooms of righteousness.

People.

People misread, misinterpret, and fuck up the basic message of Jesus all the time. In fact, we don’t even know how accurately the bible portrays the words of Jesus anyway. Most of the New Testament was written years after Jesus died, and he didn't actually write ANY of it . And even the best parts of the bible have been terribly misinterpreted.

A great case in point in Mary Magdalene. You know, the prostitute that Jesus hung out with? Except that nowhere in the bible does it actually say that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute (thank you Discovery Channel for clueing me in to this tidbit). She is only called a “sinner” (in fact, everyone is a sinner before God, right?). The early church declared her a prostitute, since after all, sex is how women sin, right? Maybe she was a shoplifter. Or murdered her abusive husband. Or wouldn’t marry her parent’s choice for her. Who knows?

Great parts of the bible are also ignored. Every television evangelist manages to ignore the whole story of Jesus driving the moneychangers out of  the Temple. He felt money had no place with worship. Interesting, no?

The bible is also full of contradictions and some nasty ideas and rather a fetish for stoning, don’t you think? People will argue, oh, that's only in the Old Testament, not part of Jesus' message at all. Except all that anti-gay crap ALSO comes from the Old Testament, and right-wing Christians are willing to utilize that little tidbit (for an excellent discussion of homosexuality in the bible, check this out. In fact, the whole site is really fascinating).

The point is, no one knows what exactly Jesus actually said. So, if you ask me, trying to create heaven on earth by living a kind and responsible life, therefore following the example of Jesus, is the best way to be a good Christian. In fact, if tolerance, patience, a love of our fellows and an open heart means being a Christian, then sign me up. THAT I can get behind. As David Schimke says in the article in Utne Magazine, “…the Jesus I met in the bible would be more concerned about curing AIDS than outlawing homosexual marriage, more troubled by world hunger and violence than an erosion of ‘family values.’”

Now that I know so many of you who read this blog are Christians, I’d love to know; what do you think? What’s more important, salvation or doing good works? I’m very interested in your responses. Also, you non-Christians, if you managed to get through this whole thing, I'd love to hear from you as well.

Now: KEEP IT CIVIL! Civilized discussion benefits everyone. Remember, LOVE AND TOLERANCE IS OUR CODE. Nasty comments will be deleted immediately. Disagreement is permitted, but hatred is not. Mm'k? K.

Go!

Abortion, Terri, and whatnot (edited)...

I’ve been thinking lots of things this week while I was busy reading your survey answers and responding to them (and no, it’s still not too late to answer!).

I’ve been thinking about Terri Schiavo (who isn't? Since it's all over the freaking news). I haven’t posted about it because, silly me, I thought it was NONE OF MY FUCKING BUSINESS. The fact that everyone else in the universe seems to think it IS astounds me. Of course, now I’m going to talk about it, so I’ll be sticking my nose in it like everyone else (after all, Jon Edward was on the Fox Network to discuss the case from a psychic standpoint, so why can’t I weigh in?).

I think the parents are in a kind of emotional coma as a result of unprocessed grief. I have to wonder if the real anger they have toward Michael Schiavo is because he went ahead and did his grieving (after seven years, after he became a nurse to try to help Terri, after he finally had to give up and went and selfishly continued to have a life by starting a family with someone else). Demonizing Michael is such an easy road to take and neatly bypasses a lot of issues people don't want to think about; like Terri's bulimia and anorexia (now they're implying that he strangled her--um, if that was true, why hadn't it come up before?).

On the tapes, Terri looks (to me) like a woman whose soul has already fled her body. I can only hope that she is with God (the good God—not mine, who is clearly smoking crack) and is not a part of this struggle at all.

I think what Charlie suggested was brilliant; I’d love to see living will check boxes on our tax returns. I also have to say that Charlie would know what I want in this area more than anyone (I’m talking about him! See?).

The thing I wish everyone was talking about is that there is a better way for her to die—and I wish, desperately, that euthanasia was allowed in this country.

I hope that every single person in this country sits down with their family members and talks to them about this case, and then TELLS THEIR FAMILY WHAT THEY WOULD WANT IN THE SAME SITUATION.

So, if you haven’t done so—and even if you believe you’ve already covered this ground with the ones you love—do it again. Because while Living Wills are good, telling your family what you want is better.

Charlie and I discussed these issues again, and we want different things. He wants no heroic measures unless success (and a normal life) is guaranteed. I want heroic measures unless I have serious brain damage (for instance, I wouldn’t want to live with severe dementia). He would rather die than be paralyzed, and I would rather live paralyzed. While I knew what he wanted, he was rather surprised by my choices.

So please—talk about it. Don’t leave your family in this situation.

I also have to say that I think the politicians that got involved in Terri's case never intended to save Terri's life. They knew her parents did not have the law on their side--but it sure was a nice showy way to pay lip service to "the right to life." If you are pro-life, ask yourself--did the politicians really do this to preserve life? Or did they do it to get your votes?

I have to add that I find it deeply sad and ironic that one lone white woman in a persistent vegetative state has gotten more than twenty times the press than the shooting deaths of several brown people on a reservation did. Just makes me sick, and proves the innate racism of this country.

__________________________________________

Rainbow asked me to call your attention to House Bill 1212 on the decks in Texas. It’s an abortion parental notification law. You all know how I feel about this, but if you’d like to refresh your memory, you can read up on my view here.

I would rant and rave about it, but frankly, this is all making me feel tired.

But cheer up! I’m composing an interesting post about Jesus. Bet you can’t wait, can you?

My keyboard is bloody and my fingers are now mere nubs...

...because I just finished responding to all of your survey answers! Whew! How fucking cool was that? If you didn't hear from me, it's because you didn't post an email address or you are one of those who gets all tricky and puts NO SPAM in there. So you may not get the answers to your questions (I responded to most of the questions directly, although a few will end up being blog entries!).

Oh--and go on over to Melanie's site and congratulate her on the birth of her twins! I'm visiting her (and meeting her in person for the first time) later today! The kidlets were born early this morning and everyone is fine!

I'm surprised to find that I have LOTS of republican/W votin'/pro-life readers. I'm honored at your willingness to have an open mind. I have to say that I have TRIED to avoid saying all people who voted for Bush are stupid (not so successfully, perhaps). I keep thinking you guys must not read the same press I do, cause if you did, how could you like the idiot (I won't call those of you that voted for him idiots any more--but I'm still gonna call HIM an idiot), but then, what the hell do I know. You probably read stuff I don't as well. We should compare notes.

Oh, and by the way, I am an asshole, and Tertia is a goddess. DID YOU HEAR THAT TERTIA? YOU ARE A GODDESS, AND I AM AN ASSHOLE.   

Bet paid off.

I'm also shocked--shocked, I tell you--that so few of you have tattoos. Who are you, my mother? Do you think only prostitutes and loose women have ink? Well, I'm here to tell you--YOU'RE RIGHT! HA HA HA HA HA! Course, I didn't have any tattoos back when I was loose. Would have made me too easy to identify later.

The things you guys want me to talk more about are Charlie, my recovery, Charlie, and oh, right--Charlie. I will. I promise.

You are absolutely split down the middle about the movie reviews. Some don't care, some love 'em. And--by the way--yeah I totally KNOW I will never see another movie once I have a kid. I KNOW.

Lots of you want book reviews too. I'm going to start doing those, since I do read two or three books a week (I know--and see all those movies! And read all those blogs! I read really, really fast). I'll try to start that soon.

I'm going to end this post in a moment, but tune in later today cause I have some abortion stuff to tell ya. M'K? k.

For your reading pleasure:

TEN THINGS ABOUT CHARLIE

1. Charlie went to an Ivy League University, one of the big ones, and graduated in the cocaine-fueled investment bank craze of the mid-80's. He's proud to have majored in drunkedness (oh, and political science). He is also proud to be the least successful member of his graduating class (of course, that all depends on how you define success. I'll bet he gets more blow jobs than any other guy in his class).

2. Charlie is an amazing poet. He has had over 200 poems published in over 100 literary journals. He stopped writing because of two things; first, September 11 happened and made poetry seem insignificant in his mind. Secondly, a publisher broke his heart by holding on to his book for nearly two years and then rejecting it based on internal strife (it was a major publisher--run by a husband and wife team--and the husband ran off with an intern, so the wife sent everything back for spite). He claims that the "hawk has flown from his wrist" but still manages to squeeze out the occasional love poem. You can see his work here, here, and here.

3. Charlie has an annoying tendency to follow me around the house while I'm getting ready for things ranting about the news and the weather. Usually I don't mind too much, but some days I have to yell at him. That's why I finally made him start a blog--so he'd have a public place for his rants.

4. Charlie chases and photographs freight trains. And he loves steam trains. We have ridden all EIGHT tourist steam trains that are in our vicinity, and have made some of our friends ride them too. He's part of a large on-line rail fan community.

5. Charlie has the most amazing eyes ever. They are so pale blue that you can see right into his heart.

6. Charlie is six feet tall. I'm 5'2" so that's kinda funny.

7. Charlie was born a month late and weighed ten pounds (incidentally, I was also a ten pound baby. Can you say screwed?). Because he was late, and because his doctor was an asshole, they yanked him out with forceps. In the process, they crushed the nerves in his right shoulder, completely disabling that arm. Through lots of physical therapy and time, he now has about 70% use of that arm, but it is still slightly shorter than the left side.

8. Charlie has slept with a lot fewer people than I have. And this fact doesn't bother him in the least. He always says, "Well, as long as you're not sleeping with them now."

9. Charlie was never into drugs back when I was using them. Everyone used to jockey to sit next to Charlie when the coke came around cause he'd only do half a line (the next person would then, of course, get a line and a half!).

10. Charlie is an amazing kisser.

There! You all happy now?

Survey Says!

I am not posting another entry until you go and respond to my survey!

This blog got 4,000 + hits yesterday. I know you aren't all looking for pictures of naked fat women. Come on, I have a bet with Tertia to lose here! I have to say things if I get over 200 responses. She got over 600, so you all have some serious catching up to do...

So I'm on strike until you respond. So there.

Happy Blog-o-versary to me! and, tell me all about you...

One year ago today I began this blogging adventure. Thanks to the pioneering efforts of women like Grrl, Tertia, and Julie, I decided what the heck and plunged right in.

It has been one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done. Blogging got me through IVF, pregnancy, and of course, the horrific loss of my sons. Without this outlet, and the amazing and fabulous support of those that read this blog, I don’t think I could have survived. I’m not being dramatic when I say that—it’s really true.

This blog would not exist without you readers. So I thought I would totally rip off take a cue from Tertia and ask you all to tell me about yourselves.

So here are a few questions I totally copied adapted from Tertia’s survey. Answer them however you like. Feel free to give one-word answers or to hijack my blog and write an essay. Be as honest as you like. Seriously.

1. What do we have in common? Infertility? Fatness? Politics? Loss?

2. What DON’T we have in common? One of the most interesting things about this blog has been the development of friendships with people like Anne—we’re on a different page about so many things, but we’ve come to support each other anyway.

3. How did you find my blog? Was it through Julie’s amazing list or a random google hit?

4. What do you enjoy about this blog, if anything? You have all been so generous and kind already about my writing, but I’m not seeking more ego stroking here (ok, maybe I am. So what?). I’m just curious.

5. Do you comment? If so, awesome (it's really about more of that ego gratification)! If not, why? I know I read more blogs than I can possibly comment on, although I do try to comment on everyone’s blogs once in a while. I read over 60 (holy shit!) a day now, and if I commented too I’d never get anything done.

6. What do you wish I’d shut up about? A woman’s right to choose? Bush? My giant ass?

7. What do you wish I’d talk more about? A woman’s right to choose? Bush? My giant ass?

8. Where are you from? You can be as specific or general as you like.

9. What one question would you like me to answer? Be creative. But don't ask me about when I lost my virginity (I was 14--eek!).

10. Do you have a blog? If so, plug it here!

I doubt we’ll be able to come close to Tertia’s 600+ replies (I am SO totally jealous!) but let’s give it a good try! Delurk and comment today!

Happy Anniversary, Wasted Birth Control! Now, that's not a sentence you see every day.

Left Behind

So I spoke too soon.

Sigh.

This cold is actually doing more of a number on me that I want to admit (it’s all Sarah’s fault. Two weeks ago she says, “You are sick all the time!” and I’m all like “No I’m not!” and so then, of course, I get sick).

Plus Saturday was Miss P’s (Elise’s daughter) second birthday. I had to work on Saturday (ug) but I dashed over the grandparent’s house during a break and it was lovely, of course.

But I was the only woman there that is not a mother.

Elise and her husband started trying just a month or so before Charlie and I did. At Miss P’s first birthday party, I had just started doing injections for my first IVF cycle. Last year I enjoyed the party, although I was a little sad. I realized as soon as I got there on Saturday that I’d always kind of thought that Miss P’s birthday would be the first big outing we’d undertake with the twins. It just hit me with a big WHAM when I walked in the door.

I hate this awful left behind feeling.

Thankfully, they had ice cream cake. That helped a little.

Fucking grief sucks ASS.

______________________________________________

Monday Morning Movie Review!

Yep, only one this week. I had to work too much.

The Ring Two

Dear Hollywood:

There are a few things you need to know. I’m assuming that you must NOT know these things, because I keep seeing these things in movie after movie so you must either be ignorant or fucking stupid.

1. Women who are afraid that their child has been possessed will NOT leave that child alone in the bathtub to go to another house to “get a few things.” EVER.

2. Glass syringes do not exist anymore. No hospital is going to have a glass syringe handy for someone to use to inject air into his or her own jugular. In fact, the amount of air that would need to be injected into a vein to kill someone FAR exceeds the average syringe size. Also, no one, whether demonically driven or not, would be able to hit their own jugular without looking in a mirror. And you couldn’t go straight in like that. IT’S JUST NOT BELIEVABLE!

3. If the woman in the first movie was smart enough to know that you can’t defeat the bad chickie by destroying the video tape, then she is DAMN SURE gonna know that a few months later. So tell me—why the fuck is she burning the tape???

But because I don’t want to be cruel, I will say the girl crawling in the well is creepy. But two minutes out of two hours ain’t fucking cutting it. The first one was so terrifying! Why did you have to fuck up the sequel???

Not So Bad To Be Me

Other than having a touch of a bug (one that can’t choose between the head and the belly), I’ve been feeling pretty good these days. It’s like I’ve been trapped under water for months and I’m finally coming to the surface. It’s brighter, it’s warmer, and soon I will feel the sun on my face.

When I wrote about the possibility of trying to buy a new house a few days ago, I couldn’t tell if I was just bored and trying to create chaos in my life, or if I was just being hopeful. My therapist said that she feels it is, indeed, a sign of hope returning. Since she gave it the thumbs up, I’ve allowed myself to fantasize about having a bigger house, one with a deck or a fireplace, or even—dare I hope—a functional kitchen.

I’ve also been having a fair amount of success on the weight loss front. The new Core Plan at Weight Watchers has been really, really easy for me to follow. I’ve lost about four pounds in three weeks, which is a comfortable amount (I don’t know what I lost on THE DIET—I don’t own a scale at home). I’ve also continued to walk every day, usually about a mile or two, and it’s gotten easy. My knee doesn’t hurt anymore, and my hips and lower back don’t yell at me to sit the fuck down already.

I’m not perfect—I’ve rediscovered the fact that I can’t have any junk food in the house, and I need to eat a little chocolate at least once every two weeks. I think one of the main reasons that I’m losing weight so easily is that I have finally managed to stop eating movie theater popcorn—since I discovered the truth about it’s nutritional facts. 71 grams of fat! Holy shit! And I was eating that about twice a week! Arg…

So it’s a nice, quiet time to be me. I feel pretty good about things these days. So I’ll end this post with a really cool link. Apparently, Leonard Nimoy (yep, of Star Trek) is doing some amazing photography these days. This series of naked fat tattooed women won me over immediately—I just think the women look beautiful and strong, and the look on their faces is just so empowering.

As I looked at these, I said to Charlie, “Wow. Look how beautiful these women are. Do I look that good?” And the love of my life said, “Oh, hon. Better.” Gotta love that man…