Tag Archives: secure

Playing with My Pudge

Do not fear. This is not an obscene post, despite the rather provocative title. Hahaha…just have to tell you this funny story from some years back and hopefully, it will bring you a smile and remind you that the body is our refuge; it can be a source of peace, comfort, and nurturing.

bubbles

When I first stated technical writing fifteen years ago, I interned at an electrical engineering company in Silicon Valley. So, my job was serving triple-PhD. engineers in the Integrated Circuit, Semiconducting, and “hard-as-shite” sector of the working world. There I was, a tiny, shiny fish in a huge ocean of mathematical equations, you know: transistors, electrons, physics, voltages, poly-silicon, etc.

Now, I am not a math person. I’m a creative soul, first and foremost. I have always been a creative person, as in, a liberal arts geek: poet, artist, graphic designer, freelance journalist, crafter, theater-nerd, etc. So, how the heck I landed a job in “uber-math-ville” is beyond me, but I nailed the interview and charmed all of those “Data-from-StarTrek” types with whom I interviewed that day. I think they hired me because I was bold and loud and so unlike all of them. But, I digress.

Early on in my writing career at Cadence Design Systems, aka “Math-Central”, I realized that over half of one’s time in High Tech is spent in meetings with lots of other people. And, if you know anything about me at all, you know that I suffer from extreme sensitivity (aka social anxiety), so meetings are, understandably, the bane of my very existence. Sitting in a room with lots of other people and trying to keep myself from falling off of the planet is physically painful. Meetings suck.

One day, like, two weeks into my first-ever exposure to High Tech and the mind-numbing machinations of technical meetings with 25 other people all crammed into a small, hot room, I was sitting there trying to get my pulse under control when out of the corner of my eye I see the dude beside me kind of shrink away and shift his chair over uncomfortably with a look of horror on his face. I follow his terrified gaze and look down at my lap where I notice that I have two fistfuls of my belly fat and am shaking it gently like a mother soothes a little baby. HAhahahahaha! No lie!

Needless to say, my face instantly flushed scarlet, I started to sweat, and quickly muttered “I’m so sorry. I do this when I’m nervous. OhMyGod, I am so, so sorry.” The dude was seriously FREAKED OUT! I mean, NO ONE in High Tech admits to having a body let alone touching it in front of others, EVER. I had broken one of the cardinal rules of High Tech: admit that you actually have a body and are not simply all mind like everyone else around you.

Holy-poop! I was so scared that the dude was going to report me to HR and that my career would end before it ever really got off the ground. For the record, he didn’t report me. But, for the next three years, whenever he saw me, he avoided me. I’m talkin’: briskly-walk/run-out-of-the-hallway-away-from-me avoidance.

I can laugh about it now, but back then, I was mortified! I couldn’t explain to him that I do this to comfort myself and that when I reach down, grab my yummy belly, and give her a little pat and a shake, it makes me feel better instantly. It’s not lascivious or obscene, it’s just a way for me to mother myself. It’s a way for me to love my body and take refuge in her ample-ness. I couldn’t fully explain that I was stressed and I needed to feel better. No, instead, I had to put myself on notice right then and there and, vow to never do it again, EVER (which, of course, just added to my anxiety in meetings). But, such is life.

The take-away is this: even if others do not honor this or understand, our bodies can be our biggest source of comfort and peace. We absolutely can turn to them to make ourselves feel better and to sense our divinity, our connection to the universal mother, and tap into the healing energies available to us. It is okay to love the body and turn to it when we need help. We can use the body to center with, align with, and embrace our highest good and the mommy or daddy inside of us that adores us and wants what’s best for us. It’s part of the body’s role. It’s part of the agreement that the body makes with us when we decide to play together in a lifetime.

Our bodies want to be useful and helpful. They do. So, to me, it feels like it’s time for us, as a race, to dig into this concept and find a way to open the channel of communication with ourselves, reach for greater healing by way of our bodies, and grab happy fistfuls of belly fat. Just pick a better location to do this comforting work than I did. LOL!

Anyway, I always say: “If you got it, grab it, baby” and I’ll now add to that: “…”and hold on, despite other people’s reactions”. So, go on. Reach down there and play with the belly pudge. See how you feel! 

All my love and light to you, my friends. Yours always, BigLizzy

Advertisements

Self Esteem is Sexy at Any Size

It’s true. Ask any dude and he’ll tell you that a woman with self-esteem, a woman who knows who she is and can actually think for herself is far sexier than some stick-thin bimbo with big boobs who leaks insecurity and pathos all over the room. Now, before you jump on me: This is not to say that stick-thin bimbos with big boobs can’t have self-esteem or be intelligent; they can. But, in a straight, side-by-side comparison between a chunky woman with self- esteem and a woman with a “hot body” and little self-esteem, the fatty with a healthy love for herself will always win.

self-esteem-is-sexy

Don’t believe me? That’s okay. I can’t really prove these assertions anyway as they are largely anecdotal. But, I can tell you that I have observed this interesting social phenom on many occasions, mostly, through my own experiences. This is not because I’m not interested in other people’s lives, but because I honestly do not know many women with the rampant body-love that I possess, so I have to use myself as the guinea pig.

But, back to the core message. I get hit on all of the time. Yes, me, at 250 pounds of hefty Germanic-Indian-and-French origin. Seriously. I do! Oh sure, plenty of people look right past me or through me like I’m not there, but that’s about them, not me. I can tell you that lots of people, the right people, notice me and my “healthy, happy, loving emanations”. I get looked at, up and down. I get hit on. My husband tells me this all of the time; dudes look me up and down, alot. Yes, even with my big booty and my joyous rolls of belly fat. They look. Why?

The secret is that I love myself. I love my life. I adore my body and that “light” of self-love just blitzkreigs out of me and into any given space, filling it with a breathy, astonishing, and buzzing buzziness. Okay, ya, ya, ya. Everyone knows that I’m terrific. But, I want YOU TO FEEL AND BE TERRIFIC!

I want you, dear readers, to know how awesome and gorgeous you are. I want every woman to feel her power and to feel her sexiness and to truly, deeply, and abidingly know that it doesn’t matter one little bit what you look like. What matters is how you feel. What matters is your mental health, your depth, your presence. Most guys, well, guys of substance and equal self-esteem, do not care if you have a fat ass. They don’t! They care that you can laugh and poke fun at yourself and poke fun at life’s travails. They care that you are healthy and happy, not “thin”. Trust me. Guys, back me up! Leave some comments. Let’s fix this female “mind-poop” once and for all!

Women are the ones who largely obsess over their size far more than men obsess over their wives or girlfriends’ sizes. If you could spend 1/10th of the time you now spend obsessing over your weight and instead find little ways to love yourself, to think about the miracle that you are, connect with your reasons for being here, in this particular body, and then embrace that journey? OMG! Your life would explode with energy, joy, movement, passion, and love.

So, I have an idea. Do this: Stand in front of a mirror every day for five or six minutes and tell yourself how cute or sexy or happy or present or beautiful you are. The adjective does not matter so long as it’s a positive adjective or statement. Do this even if you do not yet believe it. And, do this for a total of 30 days. Look at your body and thank her. Look at your breasts and tell them: “Thank you for being here with me and for feeding our children.” Tell your hips: “You are so awesome for holding me up, for allowing me to do so many things.” Tell your neck, “I love you, neck. Look at your cute little pad of pudge and how you laugh when I do”. Tell your feet: ” What a wonderful job you have done in supporting my life and movements, feet. You take so much and rarely complain and for this, I deeply love you.”

Go through your whole body and tell your entire body that you love and respect her. This exercise, if done diligently and with a full, soft heart, will change your mind and it will change your perspective. I promise. I promise that at the end of 30 days, you will feel differently about yourself. You will feel happier. You will begin to believe your own programming.

Try it and write to me. I want to know what you experience. And, if you want to write a guest blog post here about your experiences, ABSOLUTELY let me know. All my love to you, my friends. ~Lizzy

Ooooo Fat Acceptance with Adipositivity

Ooooo….big-body lovers! Have you SEEN THIS AWESOME SITE and project (that my good friend Suzan sent me a link to; THANK YOU, Suzan!) called “Adipositivity“?

Wait, what?! You haven’t?! Oh, for shame! You just gotta go. Seriously. A link is right up there. But, be warned: The high-quality and artistic images on this site, while all very tasteful, are of lovely, large (and largely nude) women. So, use some common sense when visiting. Like, don’t click through while at work, because these images are NSFW. I would hate for you to get fired or sued.

What is Adipositivity? For starters, it’s a word made up by the photographer and author of the project, Substantia Jones (obviously, a pseudonym) and is an amalgam of “Adipos”, which means: “Of or relating to fat” and “positivity”. The Mission Statement from the site says it all (and frankly, I couldn’t state it any better):

“The Adipositivity Project aims to promote size acceptance, not by listing the merits of big people, or detailing examples of excellence (these things are easily seen all around us), but rather, through a visual display of fat physicality. The sort that’s normally unseen. The hope is to widen definitions of physical beauty. Literally.

The photographs here are sometimes close details of the fat female form, often without the inclusion of faces. One reason for this is to coax observers into imagining they’re looking at the fat women in their own lives, ideally then accepting them as having aesthetic appeal which, for better or worse, often translates into more complete forms of acceptance.

The women you see in these images are educators, executives, mothers, musicians, professionals, performers, artists, activists, clerks, and writers. They are perhaps even the women you’ve clucked at on the subway, rolled your eyes at in the market, or joked about with your friends. This is what they look like with their clothes off.”

Um. Yeah. C’est tout, my friends. In a word, delicious. Now, before you accuse me of getting all “pervy”, I say “delicious” not because these are naked chicks. No, it’s because of the depth and feeling in these photos. I was so moved by these images and the abundant character, strength, heart, and presence of these women. OMG. Delicious.

The thing that I found most compelling is the way that I felt when viewing the photos. I felt pride for these gorgeous women. I could feel the women’s love for their bodies. I could feel their process of exploration and how they pushed themselves to go deeper with the work. How they challenged themselves. I could feel them wanting to reach another plateau in understanding and expression. It’s simply astonishing to me, the level of feeling evident here. I LOVED looking at the way each of them carries herself and how their weight is distributed and where it takes different pathways and forms. And, thanks to the life-changing book, Eat Fat (that I blogged about last month), I could fully and without reservation enjoy these photos of succulent, pleasing fat, even love them wholly. God, I love fat. I love looking at it. I loved seeing these women’s various shapes and the amazing journeys they have all taken by way of their hearty and beautiful bodies.

Many of these women stare unflinchingly at the camera. They are not ashamed or nervous or uncomfortable. They are totally present. They lay it all out and do so without shame of any kind. That is remarkable. Not just because they are fat. Let’s face it, most women are body dysmorphic and posing nude is the last friggen’ thing they would ever consider doing. But, for fat women to fully step forward into this exposure, is nothing short of miraculous. This is high art indeed. And, the Adipositivity project is such a gift to us all, because it helps us see that confidence is sexy. Truth is appealing. Real is right. Thought, emotion, and being here, really being here in all stages of our human evolution, are of the highest importance.

I got deeper into my body by way of these gorgeous photos. I got deeper into my acceptance by way of these thought-provoking photos. And, I got deeper in love (with fat) by way of these astonishing, breath-taking, and courageous photos. I hope you do, too.

I’ve Been Called Worse by Better

The title of this post is my snarky remark for whenever someone calls me fat or anything other than “angel”. LOL! But, seriously, people. This is no joke. Being called names or being teased really sucks. I have been compelled to use this snarky line (or similar variations of it) at different times in my life. I really dislike having to come out swinging at people, but it turns out that I’m genetically incapable of putting up with other people’s poor behaviors. I have been this way much of my life. So, swing at them I do, but only when I have been attacked first.

For example, once, when standing in line at a fast-food place where I was, incidentally, not getting a meal for myself (because I don’t eat fast-food), but simply grabbing a milk shake for my daughter, some lady whispered to her friend behind me: “She might try eating something other than this food to lose all that weight.” I turned around, looked the woman square in the eye and said “Oh, because I’m fat and in line here, you automatically know what my entire story, is? You know what I’m all about based on what you see with your eyes? How interesting! Just so you know, and will maybe think twice about ever saying something like this about another human being ever again, I don’t eat this kind of food, because I love my body. This food is beneath me. My body deserves better. But, the best part is that I also happen to have a beautiful soul, which is more than I can say for you.” She stood there with her mouth open and a violent flush spreading across her cheeks. He friend looked completely mortified, too. I had said my peace, so I turned around and went about my business.

Luckily, I’ve been blessed with intelligence and a strong sense of self. Plus, it also helps that I have enough chutzpah to verbally spar with any foe and I almost always prevail. I have no problem telling another person to “sod-off” when they have crossed a line with me, but many, many other people are not as lucky or as feisty, nor are they as secure and able to stand up for themselves. Besides, it took me years to get here.

Being called names or teased because of a condition, regardless of what that condition is, just sucks. Whether you are fat, thin, of color, bi-racial, or have some physical or behavioral impediment, being called names or being harassed verbally or physically because of who we are or how we act damages people’s psyches. We have no idea what other people’s realities are, but because we witness them, we see them with this condition, we think that we know all about them. It’s not at all true.

For all that lady knew, I could have had been on a medicine that made me gain weight or I could have gotten gastric by-pass surgery and was on my way down from weighing over 400 pounds. Just because we can see something doesn’t mean we understand it. We only understand the world by our own neuroses and childhood programming anyway. She saw what she saw based on who she is, not based on my actual reality. But, because I’m a tough broad and stupidity must be vanquished at all turns, I just had to correct her.

The thing is: what I really want is to be so secure, so sure of myself, so at peace with myself that I never have to say anything. Wouldn’t that be the truest measure of my self-esteem and my self-acceptance? Wouldn’t merely accepting other people and their expressions, no matter what they do or say, and remaining in my happy center despite other people’s behaviors, be the real measure of self realization?

I would love to be able to field a comment like that and never, ever move from the center of myself. I would love to simply understand it for what it is, her truth, not mine. I would love to handle it with love. I would love to be so secure and so at peace that I could accept another’s criticisms as “their truth” and not take it on or attach to it. So, while I have managed to get really far in the “loving myself” department, I am not there yet. I have a long way to go. For, whenever I push against another person, regardless of circumstances, it indicates more lessons are in store for me. It indicates that I need to go deeper, learn to love myself and by turn, the world, more.

What about you? What do you all think? Feel free to share your thoughts here. : )