Pretty for a big girl

She died.
In her bed beside her husband.
Of a heartattack.
She was 35.

That was the news I received last week regarding a friend. Only 2 years older than me.
She was also obese. Perhaps even morbidly so by medical terms.

Her funeral was today and I didn't attend.
One reason was work - which I'm sure that had I told my co workers the circumstances they would have granted me the time off. But the real reason is fear.

I don't know if I could look her husband in the eye and not fall apart for him.
How does one even pick themselves up after that? Is it just over?
I know the feeling of heartbreak from breakups - but to know that you will never see the love of your life again? To come home to the place you shared memories - seconds of everyday.

I was also afraid of simple aspect of mortality that it's thrown in my face.
I am 33 years old and could use to loose a few pounds. Food and I have never had a good relationship and I don't assume we ever will. I eat - I'm fat. I don't eat - I'm still fat.
I've tried every fad diet out there - every pill, every drink, and combined with killing myself at the gym 5 times a week. And you know what? That scale has never moved.

Weight and food has been an issue my entire life and has been deemed something of great importance as I was taught by my mother. Fat people are not respected. They're disgusting and lazy. They deserve to be alone because no one wants to be seen with a fat person. Or to even quote a more recent sentiments:

"Fat people shouldn't be allowed to work in restaurants like McDonalds or fast food restaurants because they'll eat everything. They should only be allowed to work at places that only serve salads."

Or this gem:

"You have such a great personality. Don't you think you would be happier and that I could love you if you just lost some weight?"


"You're pretty, BUT, you could be so much more if you were thin"

The last 3 are from a man I recently had the fortune to be rid of.
But the key thing about that, is that he's not the only one in the world thinking that way. It's scary and it terrifies me. It makes me not want to have anything to do with anyone new. It makes me not want to open up - not want to give anyone a chance because in the end they just intend to hurt me. But that's a whole other bag of apples.

Aside from never being able to find a companion I could relate to - the bigger fear here is the recent death and how close am I to dying here alone in my apartment? I don't want that.

So a week ago, I stopped eating.

No ones noticed and if I drink enough tea, it seems to imply to the people around me that things are okay.
Never stop smiling.

Never.

When is it time to hang up your freak flag?

It's something I've been struggling with the past couple of weeks.
It's only arose a couple of other times in my life but was quickly dismissed. This time is different.

I am currently 32 years old and this year will be my 33rd.

It all started about a week or so ago when I received the news that I was not being considered for a position that I had been working towards for 2 years.
I was feeling so optimistic when I put in my application and had my first interview.
I know this position like the back of my own hand and have spent the past 2 years preparing myself for it when it became avaliable.
This was my chance.

After only 1 interview in the succession of 3, I was eliminated.
I was heartbroken and confused and could not understand why I was being passed over.

I had attended every workshop, every seminar and conference to make sure that I was on the top of my professional game. I had even reached out for assitance from my peers to make sure that any of my short comings were improving and to keep me on my toes.

When the conversation took place last Tuesday to discuss why I was not chosen, I was left confused and questioning my entire life.
It was communicated to me that I had everything in place to be the best candidate.
The amount of things that were listed as things I am very strong in was long and I felt proud.

When I inquired about why I was still not even chosen for a second interview, I was told that it was predominately due to my "visual lack of approachability". In non-HR terms - " You're a freak and you don't fit the image we want"

It hurt.
I mean it stung really deep.
And it was something I had put in the back of my mind. It was something I felt growing the past while.

I love.
No, I fucking adore my job.
Every second of it, every opportunity, even the downsides are things that I take as challenges.
I want to see myself there celebrating my 10 year someday.

So, I reached out to someone who is currently doing the job I aspire to and is amazing at it.
She's been with the company for 8 years and I know that she's a good person to ask for a no BS response to my concerns.
She mostly let me talk and come to my own conclusion, but it was nice to have a confidential ear to share my ideas of what my short comings might be.

On the plane ride home from a session my thoughts were cemented and I knew what I had to do.

There was a woman in the terminal who was boarding the same flight so we struck up conversation [I'll talk to anyone]. She asked what I did and I told her.
Her response was one of disgust and disapproval. She could not believe that a reputable company in the beauty industry would hire someone looking like me [with coloured hair, piercings and tattoos] to represent them. She flat out felt it was inappropriate.

It didn't hurt this time.

It made me think deep and hard about myself.

I've always been the wierd girl. I have been since I was 13 yrs old.
In the past 20 years I've been lucky to have amazing experiences in various careers and appreciate every moment of them.
I have been single for the majority of my adult life =and even during my teen years.
Men in their 30s-40's arent' looking to settle down and create a family with someone who bares my appearance. And I want that.
I want a home and a solid relationship.

Is it possible that my freak flag needs to be folded and put away?

Maybe I need to give this a try.
Maybe I am getting too old for piercings, and fun hair. Maybe it's time.

But why am I so scared?
Metal shoved through parts of me doesnt' dictate WHO I am. It doesnt' change me.
So, why is the idea of removing them permanently seem like such a big step?
[Also septum rings are cool again. 2 girls at my work just got them done. Ug. ]

Is it fair to loose part of yourself to further your career and your dreams?

Has anyone else faced this dilemma?

2014 Holidays

I guess I can starting on December 23rd.
I had a pain in my stomach that wasn't letting up.  It was a grumble that started at the bottom and worked its way to the top.
That's where the vomiting on the hour by the hour started.
I was sent home from work despite trying to cover it up. Of course, I was mortified when I left the washroom to have 12 of my co workers standing there staring at me after overhearing me vomit my guts up for 10 minutes. I couldnt' even look up.
I was humiliated.


I went home and kept thinking the entire commute "Dont' throw up. Don't throw up Don't throw up"
And I almost made it home...but one stop before it was time for me to get off, my stomach exploded all over transit. Awesome.

I got home and crawled into bed with a bucket.
And that's where I stayed until the morning of the 26th when I dragged myself out of bed to go to work.
I felt like I was going to die and seriously considered actually visiting the emergency room when I ran out of things to vomit and couldn't even keep water down.

But alas, I survived and made the best of it.

I was lucky to be given the morning shift on the 31st so I could still go out in the evening for NYE.
I had a new dressed laid out and new boots...I wasn't overly excited since the evening would be spent alone, but figured I could make myself happy by dancing at my favorite place.
I was exhausted when I got home from work at 6pm and figured I could just lay down and take a quick nap on the couch.
Wrong.
I woke up about 11:30pm.
It was too late to get dressed up and go.
So, the countdown was done alone...again.

I woke up well rested [for the first time in WEEKS] this morning.
I laid there and thought for a while about what I wanted out of 2015.

I made a list of things I would like to achieve or do.
Learning to swim is one of those....and add a new tattoo to my collection.

But as I laid there realizing that I hadn't heard from  my fellow today I thought about what I really want from a relationship.
Is it irrational that I like to communicate everyday?
I know that it stems from a series of previous bad relationships and it's not his fault.
I like to spend a lot of time with that other person. I like to do things...share things.
I like to get excited to see them.

Lately, my relationship has been mostly the occasional text, the occasional drive home from work....the occasional make out session and that's it.
He's very sweet, and I understand that he's busy with work and hockey.
I work 2 jobs and I still find time to ask him out to do things.
Maybe this just isnt' working.
Or maybe I'm just giving in too easily?

I'm gonna try to make this work because I really do care about him.
And there's more behind him than I think anyone's given the chance to get to really know.

Here goes nothin' I suppose.