She wore a Blue Bathrobe because nothing else fit anymore

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I was laying out in the sun with my new, shiny friend Jen at 16. She looked at my legs.

“You don’t have any saddlebags”, Jen pronounced ,amazed.

What were they? She showed me hers. Oh. Didn’t look like much to me but I guess they’re not desirable?

Jen was blonde, tan, native Californian, more experienced. Christy Brinkley tone. Her parents let us drink and then helped me throw up over the side of the boat. They were so cool.

“Do you diet?” DIET. What was that?

Wow, now she was introducing me to a whole adult world full of saddlebag fear and diet culture. Calories and counting. I loved counting. It’s comforting.

I had friends. I was getting tan and I had no saddlebags! It was 1984 and the pants were full-on pastel at Contempo Casuals. Jelly shoes were light as a feather. I knew the words to both Synchronicity I and II. 16 and blissful.

10 Items Of Clothing We All Remember From The 1980s

I had just moved from Michigan where I was bullied and unpopular, at least by the end. Now I was laying next to my empress friend (who had a college-aged boyfriend )on her boat in Catalina. So, So stoked!. To make her laugh I would get buzzed and imitate the aerobics instructors on the “20 minute work out”. Her boyfriend laughed too. What a man. Los Angeles, where have you been all my life?

4 years Later.

I live at home and am 20 years old. I’ve gone from a 114 lb naturally slim girl to a compulsive overeater who is nearing 150 lbs. I’m agoraphobic. The gaze of anyone as I walk across a crosswalk hurts. My 50 -something year old mother is sleeker than me. Nothing fits. My body is not mine.

I have a bathrobe thats nubbly and Navy blue. It has red braided waist tie. Sometimes I tie it slightly below my waist,80s style. This Bathrobe is all that fits. Sometimes I would belt it with my fathers tan leather belt to feel more secure. It’s the only piece that doesn’t rub up against the folds of fat and remind me physically of my size.

I eat whole loaves of bread with cold, Imperial margarine in a fever. I don’t even like bread. And it was Roman Meal for god’s sake. I cannot stop. I rabidly eat pasta which tastes like nothing and I chase the hope of it tasting like something. I grab hold of flesh around my body often, pull at it, and visually measure what is me and not me. I have friends but don’t want to go out. None of them have my problem.

I was hurting myself with food. With distention and paralysis. I did it over and over again.

Neato Coolville: ROMAN MEAL BREAD IS THE BEST

There’s a lot of reasons why I did it. None of those reasons are: “Everyone gains weight as they get older”. I do not have any molestation in my history. I built a house of extra in that bathrobe. I needed protection. It was not safe out there. I did not belong anymore.

If you are here. If you are suffering and repeating this pattern compulsively, it can change. I am proof. The whys may be different for you. They may be worse. My compulsive overeating was traumatic but not special and it’s mainly OVER. It taps me on the shoulder sometimes but it’s mostly out of the picture.

I remember listening to a cassette tape by Marianne Williamson circa 1990 about the power of food and its ability to physically transform the body. That’s different in comparison alcohol or heroin. Those drugs may string you out, hag you up and kill you too. But they don’t have the power to multiply you by a quarter or more of your mass. FOOD. Potent and Powerful. This nourisher and nullifier.

More later. I’m full.

10 snarky, shallow reasons to stay sober at your next bar outing.

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Lions and Tigers and BARS (reopening) Oh SH!T. You know who needs this list? I do.

Trigger warning – I am trying to refrain from Alcohol only. A little Cocaine is ok. Kidding only because I don’t care for cocaine but not kidding about the Alcohol free goal.

There are so many whip-smart people who write thoughtful books and analysis on alcohol abuse. They can lovingly awaken you to the Grace and Freedom of refraining. I will list them at the bottom of the post. But for now, let’s flip it!

10 snarky, shallow reasons to stay sober at your next Bar outing.

  1. Sonja Morgan* -just watch RHONY and see what the progressive effects are on Lovely Sonja. I relate to almost all her needs and desperation except the Famous and Rich part. And yes I’m picking Sonya not Leah. Because thru our societal lens, mess looks worse on her and me then it does on the younger and more nubile.
  2. I just got fillers and botox- I don’t want to fuck this up because I’m enjoying my filled face and it ain’t cheap.
  3. Smarter than you-My command of the Kings English recedes when I drink . I need my sober, silver tongue. Especially when I call you out succinctly on your passive aggressive behavior.
  4. Hypocrite snark- For All the people that said to me “I think you’ve had enough” , “Are you ok?” or ” I can hear you” :I can’t wait to 1) arrive 1.75 hours later then the outing starts and 2) confirm your buzzed demeanor and zing you with a comment perhaps in a different language. Or trip you in your heels. Easily.
  5. More noble than you- I will interview you if I don’t know you. I’ll develop 4 questions to ask you that are pointed and not about your work and remember your answers. Obviously I do this anyway sober or not but rarely remember 100% of answers.
  6. Mock not Cock- I get to try my first or 3 Mocktails
  7. Discern Boring Commoners- I will know for a fact if you talk mostly about yourself or if your mother taught you to ask questions of others as well.
  8. Do I care ? When drinking, I cared that you thought I was ok because I couldn’t sense if I’d read the room correctly or said anything untoward. I wanted your approval stamp in the aftermath proving I behaved. Now I can be untoward with full faculty. I can decide for me what is appropriate. I can change my mind 14 times too. I can do it wrong. I can sit with the fact that I only wanted your approval not necessarily your friendship.
  9. Sleeker than you – I’l most likely be at a dance class tomorrow and it doesn’t have to be early or late.
  10. More me then you – I glide into the establishment and have an intention for myself. This is for me. Not for you. Although I just cant fathom how you wont benefit.

As promised :Books on Varieties of Sobriety :

Blackout

Sobercurious

The Recovering

Hit so Hard

This Naked Mind

Alcohol is Sh!t

** Sonya Morgan may be as gorgeous and flirtatious and unburdened by alcohol as ever by the time you read this.

**** Of course I’ll do another 10 reasons after a couple of outings with less meow. Im sure 2 people will look forward to that.

When Gratitude isn’t Just a step to the left. Saditude b4 Gratitude

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Some days are “tra lala lala” effortless. Some are “Are you fu@king kidding Me!?”

When dealing with the latter, I don’t fall victim to immediately gratitude journaling. I need a bridge and a guide to Kumbaya. OR a river, a creek , a balloon, whatever. I need help with the transport feeling to get me to gratitude. I can’t Time Warp or Wrinkle in time there. This bridge step is un-skippable when Im ultra agitated or sad. I cant be all like, “Presto! Silken Scarves of gratitude surround me now!”

If you are glaring at an Instagram picture of your friend holding a yoga pose and you think “I believe in Peace Bitch”. Know that :

1) Tori Amos says that same sentence in The Waitress and 2) I’m with you.

So I grant ye permission not to be grateful for 20 minutes or 20 days. You will most likely slide into home plate of grateful much more easily without the pressure. Take however long it takes to do what you need to do to move in the direction of true North/Namaste.

This bridge could be bitching , writing , feeling, scream-singing, punching, crying, cleaning, smooshing, chopping, swaying, hanging, breathing, dangling or kicking , gerund, gerund, gerund.*
It could be none of those. Who says you have to end up at a journal unless that works for you. Some call this acceptance, but to me it seems a titch more dynamic than that word.

Finally you may arrive back where it is “just a jump to the left and then a step to the right.”

*Oh!, and sleeping