Saturday, February 04, 2012

Frickin' Soup for the Soul

Dear Fat,

I think I lost my mind.


Stupid frickin' soup diet.



Sunday, January 15, 2012

The Beast in the Fatungle

Dear Fat,

It surprises a lot of people that I've been alone for my entire life.  Maybe they think I've been abused.  Maybe they think I'm a closet lesbian.  Maybe they think I have unrealistic expectations for men that can never be reached.  If you really want to know . . . I've just never been asked.

In high school, I couldn't even get my loser guy friend to go to prom with me.  In college, it's not like I hermited myself into the corner of the library studying all day (you all know that I rarely studied, and if I did, it was never in the library).  I did my service groups, and I was out with a lot of different people almost all of the time.

I could blame the fat, but it's really the way you perceive yourself as a fat girl (even better to be a tall, fat girl who sometimes gets mistaken for a man).  The awkwardness and the insecurity show through, and it's difficult to figure out how to change.  I thought that if I could just try to be a good person, something would eventually happen.  Then the years passed.  I've been out of college for almost as long as I was in it, and I'm around far fewer people than I used to be.  I've found myself past that point where it's ok to have never dated anybody.

It may be hard to believe, but I've actually learned a lot from my solitude.  At the very minimum, I've learned that I will be okay on my own, and in some cases, it is preferable to be alone than in an emotionally abusive relationship.  But I do value experience.  Maybe it would've been better to have exercised the right to leave a bad relationship.

Yes, I had/have been somewhat unsatisfied.  I noticed it most when I was alone, but it's not loneliness that gets to me.  It's the lack of purpose.  I felt unneeded.  My presence in lab has so far been almost a complete waste of space, time, and money.  I don't yet have anything outside of lab--I used to have applications or classes or quals to occupy my time--but I'm working on it.  I also don't have the same support system I'm used to having or providing.

In the past couple of weeks, I've had two friends say things to me that made more of an impact than they may have realized.  One told me about a conversation she had with someone else.  They were discussing whether you would judge someone for being a virgin into their late 20s if it wasn't by choice.  At first, she wanted to say yes, but then she thought about me.  She ended up saying that she actually had a very good friend in that scenario, and she didn't think there was anything wrong with me at all.  That alone has been one of the most encouraging things I've heard in a long time.

On Christmas evening, I had drinks with a good friend who I unfortunately can see only a few times a year due to her despotic father.  I think I was harping over my insecurities and how much I've tried to change from my awkward high school self. She very simply interrupted me and said, "But . . . you haven't changed at all!"  That made me think quite a lot.  I realized that as much as I have kept in touch with a fair number of people over the years, and as much as I have seen them change, these changes have been superficial.  We know how to deal with our emotions better.  We know how to communicate better.  We have more realistic expectations for what life has to offer and for what we are capable of achieving.  But our essence is the same.  Justified or not, we are still a little judgmental.  We get jealous or insecure about the same things, but we've learned not to lash out.  We approach life with the same humor we always did though the references have changed.  We care about the way others perceive our personalities just as much, but most importantly, we value our relationships as much as we always have.

I guess I can't speak for real loneliness because I've always had friends around.  Old friends are nice because each of us paired together is like an old, married couple.  We can talk very seriously and very openly for hours on end, or we can not talk at all while we're doing our own thing.  We'll run errands, attend family events, go for hikes, and drink gallons' worth of coffee.  Spending time together has maybe gotten easier as we have gotten older.  So, here's to growing even older together.

Somewhere . . . I don't remember where . . . I recently read that your self-image takes a long time to recover even after you've lost a significant amount of weight.  I feel that now.  I still don't really like the way I look (hey you, don't worry, I'm not going to turn anorexic), but I feel myself getting to the point where I don't care.  In a good way.  These little physical things matter a lot less.  I can even flaunt these hideous scars on my leg (just not to my mother . . . please don't tell her--she'll flip her shit).

There is sort of a nice, poetic tragedy in perpetual loneliness, but I don't think I'm quite cut out for the life of a literary figure.  I just wanted to say that I am okay with being alone.  I'm working up to the rest of it.  I'm not trying to avoid anything, but I'm still getting over my personal issues.  But I know that I am getting over them.



Sunday, January 01, 2012

The Fattest Years of Our Lives

Dear Fat,

When I used to come home to TO from college, it would amaze me how nothing had changed.  The streets looked the same.  The people had the same bored look on their faces.  The air had the same damp earthy smell at night.

On Thanksgiving, I talked to a family friend, a girl I first met back in Minnesota when she was 2.  Her mother is probably my mother's best friend, and they had moved out here to Westlake about half a year before we moved as well.  More or less, I have seen her grow up--she's almost like another sibling to me.  Anyway, she just started her first year at Cal, and we were having a conversation (recently, we've been able to have actual conversations for a change) about what it feels like to come back home.  It's not so surprising that the city hasn't changed.  It seems stranger that our parents don't change.  We've learned so much in this time.  Why haven't they?  But that is the narrow-minded view.

For dinner on Christmas Eve, we went to the home of another of my mother's friends.  My mom has known two of the women there since they were little children back in China.  Their parents all worked at the same hospital, and back when communism was high, that meant that they also all lived within the same set of apartment complexes.  They played together; they biked to school; they studied.  Eventually, they all managed to immigrate here, what they considered the better life.  I can imagine, but I'll never really know, how much they had to learn to adapt to a world where they will always be considered foreigners.  And what was their driving force?  To live.  To live with financial security for themselves and their loved ones.  To live with independence and a bit of dignity.

Because of my parents' success, I have managed to meander my way through life without a very clear direction.  Now I look at my future with . . . indifference.   Not complete indifference.  I would like to help people most of all.  I would also like to have money.  Some part of me still believes that if you have the capacity, you should acquire as many skills as you can to be of most use to society.  I guess I just need to focus.

And lose more weight.


Monday, December 05, 2011

Feast of Eden

Dear Fat,

I started jogging again.  It was... uncomfortable.  Fortunately my playlist had several Pokemon songs on it, so I was super pumped to keep going.  I want to be the very best--like no one ever was.  You know the deal.

Uggggggggggh.... I ate too much today. I was cold after running and found a tube of biscuits in the fridge.  After braving the terror of popping it open, I immediately ate 3.  HOW?!  Daaaaaaaaaaaaah... food... stop jumping into my body.... Body... stop stuffing food into me.

Is it cheating to link to a Cracked article that sums up my running issues?  Really?  Too bad.

Jogging makes me so tired.  Like so tired.  SO tired.  So. Tired.

So tired.

I think I'm turning into a fob.  I'm not sure how; it might have something to do with the fact that I don't really talk during the day so the language center in my brain is shutting down.  Or who knows, maybe my dream of being a fob is finally coming true.  (I hope it's the second one!)  Here are a few sample conversations tracking my metamorphosis:

-On jogging-
"I like jogging in the morning because it's cold and I overheat really easily.  If I jog when the sun isn't out, I don't have to wear sunglasses and I also don't turn into a fiery inferno of death."
"You like jogging in the dark?"
"No, not the dark.  But just when the sun isn't all the way out.  You know, like... in the twilight of morning..."
"Yes.  That's the word for it.  There's a word."

-On becoming a fob-
"I think I'm turning into a fob.  I can't talk anymore and my word choices are weird.  Sometimes it's hard... to like form sentences... completely."
"It's hard to form complete sentences?"
"Shut up."

That's all for now. I have to go add sequins, lace, and shoulder pads to everything I own now.  I totes need a complete denim outfit.



Sunday, September 11, 2011

One Flew Over the Cuckfatoo's Nest

Dear Fat,

I was skimming my last couple of entries, and I realized that I make quite a few depressing remarks.  My last somewhat hopeful one was actually spent reviewing Hoop Dreams, and that was over half a year ago.  (Actually, I do like that entry the best so far.  I need to be more thoughtful about what I write.)  I mention this because I think I am depressed.  I was attributing this last bout to hormones, but those really shouldn't affect me so much unless something else was going on.

So, I've been thinking it over.  For one thing, I have too much free time on my hands.  I don't do very well on my own for too long, so I am actively looking for volunteer work now to fill up these empty time slots.  I had another thing . . . what was it . . . oh, feeling like I'm stuck in one place for a long time.  Yeah, there's not much we can do about that for a few years (yay, PhD . . . )

I spent about 6 hours making this beef stew and some other things yesterday.  It turned out . . . okay.  I was missing a few key ingredients, but in an effort to exercise economy, I did not go out to buy anything.  Now, I have to eat about a gallon of it.  That should hold me over until Thursday, which is the day that my budget will allow me to purchase food again.  My eating habits may have become more erratic lately.  But we should note that I cannot afford to make myself feel better by consuming egregious amounts of food.

Today, I also went jogging.  During the blackout on Thursday (on which day, my dinner consisted of a banana and some almonds), I guess there was a sewage spill somewhere in SD, so the beaches all have blaring yellow warning signs telling you to avoid the water.  I thus avoided the sand itself and stayed along the road, but then I had no idea how far I was going (and I got bored a little too quickly).  It ended up being 1.5 miles.  Whatever.  I was hungry, anyway.

Learning new songs on piano is frustrating.  I like being able to do things, but I really don't like the effort it takes to get to that point.  Even re-learning these pieces I used to know is not as easy as I thought it would be.  I forgot how sloppy my fingers can be.

Hooray, the autoclave is done.

Waiting for my phage to titer,


It's about 6 PM now.  I had to buy ice cream.  I just . . . you know . . . if you were in here in my brain, you would understand.  I'll have about 1 cent to spend on Thursday.  Frick.
I actually feel a lot better now.  I have problems with things like ice cream.  And chocolate.  And ice cream covered in chocolate.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

The Fat Weekend

Dear Fat,

I . . . drank too much.

For me, at least.  I think I had 8-ish vodka or tequila drinks, but I don't quite remember.  And although I woke up at 8 this morning, I still haven't eaten anything.  It is now 2 PM.  I'm not nauseous or anything, but I'm not hungry either.  I think my digestive tract is numb from drinking two nights in a row.

My last few credit card bills have dipped into my savings, so I am now on a budget of $7 a day, starting today, for the next month.  Unfortunately, I think I'm also going to have to take my car in because the power steering fluid keeps leaking out.  Boo.

I meant to go jogging today, but I'm so tired.

Oh, and regarding my last post, it turns out that I did get assigned to a jury. I was called in the first panel and randomly assigned as juror 10 in the box, and then I never got dismissed, so . . . ta da.  It wasn't too bad, though, and the whole thing lasted less than 2 1/2 days.  Not bad considering now I don't have to go back for at least 3 years.

Anyway, detoxing,


Sunday, August 07, 2011

12 Angry Fats

Dear Fat,

It happened again.  I stopped jogging for . . . 2 weeks?  3 weeks?  It was so long that I lost track.  Anyway, I'm starting to compensate this weekend: I ran both yesterday and today.  I can feel my leg muscles again.  I also took off my shirt at one point to try and get some color on my jiggly white belly.  I was on the beach, so that makes it alright.  And now that I'm older, I just don't care about discretion anymore.

Okay, that's a lie.

Anyway, I am more or less moved into my new apartment.  It's nice to have street noise again (although I'm not sure that my roommate would agree).  We still need things like a dining table, and I still need some more efficient way of lighting my room, but overall, I'd say that things are fine.  I like having big windows .  And I like not having the threat of frog invasions.  Hopefully, there is also a lesser threat of psychotic pigeons.

Jury duty on Wednesday.  Part of me wants to get placed onto a jury just so I don't have to go to lab, but the more rational part of me realizes that there are probably better ways of taking time off from lab.  This is also the first time that I'm not "moving" to an out-of-county address to avoid jury duty.  I . . . hrmm . . . mixed feelings.

I really do need something to do outside of lab that isn't lab-related.  I think I stay saner when I have more things to distract me.  I'll try to figure it out this week.

Not diverted enough,