Nobody Likes You When You’re 23

I’m going to be honest about something: being 23 has been bittersweet.

I remember, on my 23rd birthday, when people kept playing Blink 182’s “What’s My Age Again.”  I remember thinking my 23rd trip around the sun would be one of happiness, fun, memories, and prosperity.

Although this age, so far, has been an adventure, I notice myself changing and I’m loving it.  I spent my birthday at a bar on a college campus, drinking anything my friends handed to me, and ending the night at a Denny’s that I barely remember.  I spent the next few months in a cycle, where I attended events and went to bars solely for the intention of drinking.  After losing my job in July, I fell into a helpless mindset that alcohol seemed to soothe.  Unfortunately, in my generation, a lot of my peers glamorize “being an alcoholic,” binge drinking whenever and wherever they can with no regard for how it may affect them long-term.

I didn’t notice a problem until New Year’s Eve, when a group of friends and I bought tickets to an event in our area.  The ticket included access to the free buffet, both stages for the bands performing, and open bar all night.  Usually, I’m paying for drinks and I pace myself so I don’t blow all of my money at the bar.  However, with a designated driver and an open bar, I took things too far.  I drank more than I ever had, and ended the night praying to the “Porcelain God,” miserable and nauseous.  Until that moment, I justified my excessive drinking as “just having fun.”  I had a lot of occasions where I justified why I was drinking.  It was then that I realized I needed to take a step back.

I don’t frequent the same bar anymore.  I have started looking at bars that are more for relaxation and good conversation, instead of bars that are known for dancing and hooking up.  Going to bars that perpetuate the “party lifestyle” can get very dangerous, and quickly.  You fall into what seems like a black hole, losing perception of time and having your inhibitions dwindle away.  I’ve noticed that the bars I go to now are more for a calmer crowd, interested mostly in classic rock, pool tables, and knocking back a couple (literally meaning 2) beers.  I don’t drink as quickly or as much when I go to what others call “dive bars.”  I also find myself going to the bar less, because there’s no withdrawal from anything, just a yearning to relax again.

A lot of my “friends” from the bar I used to frequent don’t call me anymore.  They don’t ask me if I want to go out for “Two Dollar Thursdays,” and they don’t text me asking what time they’ll see me at the bar.  They live the lives they were living before, and I’m just a shadow of the bar’s dim lights that doesn’t exist there anymore.  I’m sure I could guarantee that I could go back to that bar in 3 years, and the same people will be singing the same songs, with the same friends and alcohol dependency they have now.  I am confident that my not going to the bar with these “friends” I once spent most of my nights with will only help me grow as a person, because it already has.

I am noticing that my attempt at weight loss is getting easier, because I’m no longer drinking the sugar and syrups from the many Vanilla Vodka/Diet Coke mixes I would otherwise be drinking.  My taste for water is starting to grow, and I have a more regular sleep schedule.  My skin is softer and has less blemishes, and I have found out who my true friends have been.  I have more energy in my day-to-day life, and I’m exploring the world around me more.  There isn’t a single thing I can think of that would show I made a bad decision in cutting back on drinking and going out.

Don’t get me wrong: I still go out.  I just changed my scenery, the frequency in which I go out, and the type of people I go out with.  I’m no longer going to bars with people who have the sole intention of getting “plastered” and “making hilariously horrible decisions.” (Yes, these are things people have told me.)  I have no interest in being an alcoholic and making jokes about it before I’ve hit 30.  Unfortunately, a lot of the people in my generation could end up in a situation very similar or identical to that.  It breaks my heart, but makes me simultaneously overjoyed that I have decided to take control of, at least, what I do.

I don’t know everything.  I don’t know anyone’s life story, or what they may have gone through (or may be going through) to lead them to the bars they’re at.  I don’t speak for anyone in specific, and I don’t speak on behalf of any of those old “friends” I used to drink with 2-6 nights a week.  I don’t feel anyone should be shamed or talked down on for the decisions they make that may differ from mine.  I honestly just believe that I was raised in a way that differentiates me from a majority of people my age.  I’m not better than anyone, I’m just different.

I think it’s important to know what’s best for you, and to listen to your intuition.  This is something I needed to do, and if it means I lose people or miss out on memories, at least I’ll learn more about myself and make memories of my own.  I just don’t want all of my stories to begin with, “Well, I was drinking and-”

 

♥︎ Mama Misfit

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DISCLAIMER: Now, I cannot say this enough: IF YOU DO NOT LIKE WHAT I WROTE, IF YOU DO NOT SUPPORT OR APPRECIATE EQUALITY, AND IF YOU EVEN THINK OF POSTING A HATEFUL COMMENT, PLEASE CLICK THE EXIT OR UNFOLLOW BUTTON. THANK YOU ❤💛💚💙💜

On June 26th, 2015, something happened that moved me to tears of joy.

I believe in love. I always have. Love is arguably one of the strongest bonds/forces on the planet. Love can be the difference between life and death, sometimes. Love is what we all crave in this world, whether it be the love of a friend, a significant other, family, or even a pet.

Therefore, I support love. I believe in the very real love and dedication possible between people; whether they be man and woman, woman and woman, man and man, transgender and transgender, or any other combination. I am so proud to have lived to see that love, and the power to marry because of love, is an equal opportunity for any person in the country.

I am engaged to the man of my dreams. He makes me laugh, he makes my heart flutter, and he still gives me butterflies. We are nowhere near perfect, but we know each other well enough to know that we are in this for the long haul. However, before I met Nyier, I was scared for myself. Being a young, bisexual woman, I have always been fearful that I would fall in love, and there was a 50/50 chance I could never marry. Even though I am marrying a man, it’s a beautiful thing to know that friends of mine (or even complete strangers), don’t have to live with the pain and fear I once did.

In all honesty, as happy as I am, my heart is still heavy. I ache for 3 friends of mine (a young lesbian and two young gay men) who lost their chance at lifelong love; because of misunderstanding and pain. For my friends, and so many others once part of the LGBTQ community, who committed suicide, or were killed by others: we wish you could have been here for this amazing day in our history. We wish you could walk down your aisles to the loves of your lives and say, “I do,” in front of all those who shamed and doubted you. We love you, we miss you, and we live in your memories. For those in the LGBTQ community who have been bullied, your prayers were heard and answered. You may not be able to change the minds of the few, but the law of the land is in honor of you. Walk with your head held high.

In conclusion, as happy as I am about the American government recognizing love and equality for all, our work is not done. Love has won, but personal bigotry and disdain is still rife in this country. Between extremist groups and individuals who just don’t “get it,” we still have a lot of work to do. I hope we may one day reach a place in time when anyone, no matter their sexual orientation, the color of their skin, their gender, or their body type can walk down the street with a smile, no fear, and pride. The day when everyone can love and appreciate one another genuinely, is the day we can all smile. We are getting closer, and we CAN do it.

As a bisexual, fat feminist, I am happy. I just hope we continue to move forward.

💛💚💙💜

Greetings Misfits!!

I have to apologize (profusely) for being M.I.A. recently.  I have been running around crazy!  There was a family emergency the week of Easter, the following week I started my new job, and this week I am finally getting used to this new schedule!

Anywho, I am going to start by, again, thanking everyone for reading what I have posted already, and supporting this movement.  I am so excited to be moving forward with this blog, and I cannot express my extreme gratitude enough!  I promise: I will try my hardest to be more active on this account so things can pick up speed.

Today, I want to address a very specific situation I have recently encountered.  I have been trying as hard as I can to figure out how to properly word this, and I think I have finally come to a decision.

In the past 5 years, my weight has drastically fluctuated in both directions.  I have gone from a thinner, more active build to a heavier, yet toned build.  After that, I changed a few things in my diet, walked EVERYWHERE (I was living in DC at the time), and I went down to a semi-dangerous BMI for my age and height.  I didn’t do it on purpose; I was just running rampant wherever I went.  When I moved to lower Maryland, I was walking less and got to a healthier place, then I moved back home a little over a year ago and have toggled between healthy and slightly obese.

Now, I am 21 years old and weigh nearly 300 pounds.  My weight is distributed equally throughout my body, so I am proportionate enough to appear “thick.”

I have said multiple times: I am fat.  I don’t try to sugarcoat my physique with the words “thick” or “curvy,” as I know and have accepted exactly where I am.  I have a natural hourglass figure, but that doesn’t make me “thick.”

With all of that said, I am fed up.  I see body shaming posts and memes on multiple social networks.  I hear songs diminishing the appeal of multiple body types, as rappers and singers place their infatuations and lusts on specific groups of women.  I have heard arguments from women of all sizes, stating they are “better” than those larger or smaller because of whatever insane and rude reasons imaginable.  I have spoken with classmates from high school, college, and miscellaneous acquaintances.  I have heard some of the worst assumptions, insults and stereotypes.

Here is why I am fed up:

WE (MEN AND WOMEN) ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL AND HANDSOME IN OUR OWN WAYS.  WE ARE ALL DIFFERENT SHAPES, SIZES, AND COLORS.  WE ARE ALL RELEVANT, IMPORTANT, ATTRACTIVE, AND WORTHY OF LOVE.

I am not saying this to make a generalized statement that everyone should be attracted to everyone.  We all have different preferences, and find different things attractive.  However, whether you are naturally attracted to someone who is fat, thin, thick, curvy, a certain ethnicity, with certain features, or have no preference at all; none of us have any right to shame or put down anyone else.  No one is perfect and no one will ever please every person they meet in this life.

With all of that said, I truly hope and wish for a day when we are all genuinely kind to one another.  I hope to wake up one day without all of the riots, wars, anger, bullying and shaming.

I believe we, as a human species, need to unite in compassion, love, and acceptance.

Until then, we are all our own kind of wonderful.  I just hope you all realize that.  You are all your own version of amazing.

Love and Rockets,

Mama Misfit ♥

Being a Fat Misfit

Hello beauties!

I am new to the blogosphere, and I am SO excited to be posting about something near and dear to my heart.

I’ll just cut right to it: I’m FAT!  I have struggled with carrying a bit of extra weight since I was in elementary school, and always had a lingering feeling that because I didn’t look like the pretty and skinny girls, I wasn’t pretty.  Throughout middle school and high school, I continued to struggle with weight loss and gain.  I resorted to periodically starving myself, and throwing up food.  I was diagnosed as an anorexic, and a bulimic, at 15 years old.  This was the same time my parents found out I had been cutting myself.  I had the logic that if I could collateralize my emotional pain for a physical pain, I wouldn’t have to deal with my actual emotions.  After being linked with an AMAZING therapist who was able to teach me how to properly handle my emotions, I finished out high school healthy and happy.  My family was one of the best support systems, and they truly helped me overcome most of my deep insecurities.  However, I still had body image issues, and struggled with only feeling pretty if someone else said I was… Usually a boy.

In college, I tried to stay in shape, but the “Freshman Fifteen” (the mythical fifteen pounds you gain in your first year of college) turned into the additional 60 pounds I put on.  I still struggled with my body, but I slowly grew into an attitude that blamed media and advertising for my insecurities instead of blaming myself.

So now, in March of 2015, I am 21 years old.  I weigh 268 pounds.  I have E-cup breasts, cellulite, a double chin, “flabby arms,” a large booty, and discoloration on the inside of my large thighs where they rub together.  I am, for all intents and purposes, FAT.

Here’s my issue, though.  The only reason the word, “FAT,” has a negative connotation is because it has been laced, draped, and colored with negativity over the years.  FAT has become a seemingly synonymous word for disgusting, nasty, lazy, lacking respect, and so many other negative things.

FAT is technically defined as, “n. a natural oily or greasy substance occurring in animal bodies, especially when deposited as a layer under the skin or around certain organs.”  Another definition for FAT is, “adj. (of a person or animal) having a large amount of excess flesh.”  Synonyms include, but are not limited to, “plump, stout, overweight, large, chubby, portly, paunchy, pot-bellied, beer-bellied, meaty, of ample proportions, heavyset, etc.”

FAT is not a negative description when plainly read.  FAT is an observation; an adjective.  FAT is a substance; a noun.  How did we ever get to a point in society where FAT is offensive, instead of descriptive?  Some argue that the word itself doesn’t sound appealing, but I argue that the way people say the word isn’t appealing.

I could go on and on for days about the beauty standards throughout history compared to now, or how society seems to view women (and men!) as paper dolls to cut and paste in any way that’s “more attractive” or “more fit.”

Let me tell you this:  that is exactly why I started this blog!

plan to go on for days about beauty standards, my journey, others’ journeys, and so much more.  I chose this because it took me almost my entire lifetime to finally be comfortable in my body.  Now that I am, I just want every other young lady who is struggling to know she isn’t alone.  If no one else, I HAVE BEEN THERE!  I had the nightly rituals of picking at myself in the mirror, and the daily activity of putting myself down for sport.  I am well versed in the ways of pushing people away who cared about me because I felt I wasn’t good enough to be in their lives.  I was my own body shamer, and I bullied myself harder, better, and more than anyone else ever did.

However, my journey was not in vain.  I am proud to be FAT.  My fiance loves my FAT body.  My friends love me, no matter how FAT I am.  And finally, I love MYSELF no matter how FAT I am.

I can’t wait to build on this blog, and truly make it my own project.  I am more than just my FAT.  I am so much more, and I am ready to step into the light, lovehandles and all, standing proud and FAT in the face of judgement and criticism.

Forget their beauty standards. If beauty only came in one shape, size or color, we’d all look the same.

Ta ta for now,

Fat Misfit ♥

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