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Moving Through the Space of Work & School

So, once again i’m here to talk about my fibromyalgia

*cue the violins*

mr krabs

haha but really this past week was very interesting.

Let me explain why.

So Friday before last I woke up and i just couldn’t bend my wrist. At first I thought I just slept on it at a weird angle and figured I could stretch it out and continue about my day. As the day progressed it only got worse. It became difficult to lift anything and driving to work was pretty painful. When I got to work one of my managers helped me out and wrapped it with gauze and tape then used a coffee sleeve  as a splint (innovation at its best!) to keep it from moving. Now while this did limit my movements it did not stop the pain that was radiating from my wrist.

Lifting plates and holding cups, swiping credit cards and reaching for change in my pocket was all so painful now. Unfortunately for me I had to stay and work the rest of my shift. Before I left I took 2 tylenols to help. But it only slightly numbed it to a tolerable level of pain. This problem persisted through the entire weekend. Let’s just say it was one of my harder weekends at work. But I made it through and made a doctor’s appointment for Tuesday bright and early.

Now I was originally diagnosed with fibromyalgia in 2010 by a doctor who worked as an arthritis and pain specialist. As i mentioned in my last blog post, he prescribed me two medications. One prescription was illegible but the one I could read turned out to also be used as an antidepressant and i didn’t feel like risking the side effects. To this day I have not been using a doctor recommended form of treatment. Just yoga, acetaminophen and willow bark for the pain. Lately i’ve realized that maybe that’s just not enough. I need to be able to use my wrist and considering i’m going on week 2 of pain, I need a solution fast.

So I met with a doctor at University Health Services and explained to her that I needed blood work done to be absolutely 100% positive this was indeed fibromyalgia so that I could in turn take the appropriate course of treatment to manage it and keep it in check. She understood my desire for a medical plan that did not involve former antidepressants as treatment. So she drew a bunch of blood and prescribed me anti-inflammatories. Her theory is that my body is producing too many inflammatory cells and sending them to my joints. I’m supposed to take them for 2 weeks and see if they help. In the event that they do, she wants me to stop taking them and if the problem persists, I will be sent to a specialist to determine why my body is sending so many inflammatory cells throughout my body.

Now because my wrist isn’t what it should be, I went and bought myself an Ace bandage to help minimize movement and reduce pain by stabilizing my wrist.

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It’s interesting to see how people react to me now. Most people just stared at my brace and made comments like “you’re a woman of many talents” when i still managed to balance 3 plates. Only a few brave souls have been bold enough to ask me what happened, many exclaiming upon my explanation “aren’t you a little young for that?” To which i reply “yeah but i’m like a 75 year old woman trapped in a 22 year old body” and everyone laughs…. but i’m not even kidding. I literally feel like this old creaky body struggling to get up the stairs or even out of bed in the morning. One of my coworkers told me Sunday it breaks his heart to see me like that because usually we just joke around about my fibromyalgia when i’m really feeling it after a long day but seeing the brace on my wrist “made it all so real.”

Who knew that this simple black bandage could affect the way people perceive my ailment. I’m wearing a knee brace most days but since people can’t see it, it doesn’t exist to them. Something can’t be real if it doesn’t exist, right?

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The female body in crop tops

Crop tops. I love the way they look and everything else about them. But I am too shy to wear them, without a camisole underneath that is. I can wear them when I’m at home, but when I leave the door I feel like I have to cover up. Why do I feel this way? It’s not like I’m uncomfortable in my own body, it’s just that I’m afraid to go out in my crop tops because I feel that I will be judged merely on my appearance. I look at other women wearing crop tops and admire them for being confident enough to show their skin. I was watching an episode of Trendy or Trashy that brought up a lot of questions, they basically react to crop tops, and while all of the men said crop tops were trendy, it left me feeling…weird. Why should a woman be judged by the clothes she is wearing? And people always tell others that shirts such as crop tops that show your midriff only look good people that have “abs,” Also in the video, they always mentioned how much skin was exposed through the tops, and whether they found it acceptable or not.

In the show, a man and a woman, I don’t know there names, look at crop top designs on women and feel they have the authority to say whether she looks good in the shirt. I was watching the video out of curiosity, however, I came to realize that we tend to think that women can be controlled and that we can decide what they wear. Why can’t women just wear whatever they want on their own bodies?  I don’t know, I just found it kind of annoying. As long as you are comfortable in your own body, wear them. 

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What the F*** Is Your Problem

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People come in all shapes and sizes and manufacturers that created planes were well aware of this. Even if they were not aware when the first plane was made it is now 2013 and they know damn well that not everyone is going to sit comfortably in those seats. This is a money thing, that’s all it will ever be about. It is reported now that those who are deemed overweight must pay for two plane tickets rather than one since they will take up two seats and therefore cause there to be one less seat for someone else. For some reason I am a little torn because I do not think people should have to pay two tickets. Although I do not agree with this I myself have experienced sitting next to someone who is unable to fit in one seat. Not only is it uncomfortable for them but it was also uncomfortable for me because I could feel their sweaty skin rubbing against my side. The fact that certain airlines are starting to implement this rule is somewhat degrading I think. This is not only telling someone that their too fat but it is also letting other passengers know that the person was deemed too fat to fit in a single seat. All of this is just bringing attention to the person that more than likely they do not desire to have. Here is my question though: How do these airlines determine whether someone is too big to fit into one seat? I’m sure that they do not have the right to weigh them and they don’t ask how much you weigh when buying a ticket!! I just think planes should be altered so that they have at least three seats in which someone who is overweight can fit comfortably and only have to pay for one ticket instead of two. Some people have no control over their weight and I don’t believe that they should have to pay for it emotionally and physically

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The nonpliment – “Oh my gosh, you lost so much weight!”

ImageSitting in my “to-read” list for a bit was this article.  It caught my eye because of what we have been talking about in class for our fat studies unit.  Now that I read it, I am SO glad I did.

During our conversation last week, we talked about the really important idea of keeping the lives of fat people at the center of our analysis.  One of the other points from class that really stuck with me was that it’s not just enough to focus on loving our own bodies and encouraging people to love their bodies, but we also need to respect and love other people’s bodies of all shapes, to accept, to affirm, and to abandon size-judgement. Continue reading →

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I Know This Pretty (Slutty) Rave Girl…

Jamming onstage to Doctor P during Stacked: Miami

Jamming onstage to Doctor P during Stacked: Miami. RIP blue hair.

If you’ve ever heard me talk about my musical interests, you’ll know that I’m a massive basshead. I love everything about the Electronic Dance Music community, from the art of making heartfelt kandi bracelets and the secret handshake used to trade them, to the PLUR (Peace, Love, Unity, and Respect) motto, the flow arts (hula hoop dancing, poi, and flow wand) performances during a show, the ability to walk up to anyone and potentially make a new best friend, to the infectious energy radiating from the crowd. Being introduced to the EDM scene allowed me to express myself with reckless abandon, whether it be through dance, hooping, kandi-making, or interesting costume-like getups. But there’s one thing I don’t love about this community- the amount of slut shaming in response to girls wearing rave outfits that attempt to be both cute and comfortable.

TW: Sexual assault, death mention, slut shaming, drug mention, rape culture

Continue reading →

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Note of Absence for 10/9

I’m not going to class today.

I can’t say that it’s because I have a fever, or because I had a dentist appointment, or because anybody died.

I’m not going because of the sensations I feel when we talk about fatness. The sickness and the overwhelming feeling of inadequacy (that has always been pushed in to my mentality from various points in my life) always crop up as we talk about our fat, or not so fat bodies. It’s inevitable, this distinct sucking feeling, as if my gut has become a vacuum, and I can zip myself away like a fancy reusable grocery bag.

We talk critically about the hegemonic institutions that create these body ideals. We complain together, air our grievances, we nod and shake our heads together. We are a good class, a good group of people who can empathize and understand each other’s problems, but that’s not enough to save me from wanting to shrink into my backpack and cry in a bathroom stall.

Continue reading →

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Short Hair, Don’t Care

It is funny how some people can dislike one small aspect of your body. Shouldn’t people be more reasonable and accept your styles when you choose to do them. Shouldn’t it not be anyone’s business but your own in choosing what you do with your appearance?

Once upon a time I had a boyfriend and we had been dating for about 2 years.Throughout the relationship I had very long hair. This long, frizzy, split ended, dead mass of hair flopping on my cheeks around my face. Don’t get me wrong at one point I did enjoy having my long hair, for me it was a way of hiding when I suddenly became shy and uncomfortable with myself/ my body.. But then all of a sudden I decided to stop hiding from the “world” and show them my face. After I cut my hair I felt a sensation that I had never felt before:empowerment. I felt so unstoppable and beautiful I could not wait to show my boyfriend at the time. He broke up with me within 3 months saying he couldn’t stand my short hair and he wasn’t attracted to me anymore.  My response was simply this; short hair don’t care.

I had learned to love my body, face and self that I realized that I didn’t really “need” him anymore. If someone can’t accept your physical appearance then they are not welcome to influence your daily life.  After cutting my hair I became more comfortable with my body especially my face. Cutting my hair released and old version of me who I never want to be again, a shy small woman who cant see the beauty in herself. That old version of self will never be invited in my life again.

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The Short Body

I am 4 feet and 9 inches tall and I am proud to say that I am short. I have never been worried about my height before. In High School, I have always had people come up to me and ask, “Why are you so short?” I had no answer, no words would come out come out of my mouth, I wasn’t prepared for the confrontation. It’s no big deal though; I’m just a short person, that’s how I am and I can’t do anything about it; actually, I’m comfortable being short, I like that I am different from everyone else. Sometimes I do have my days when I’m like, “Why the hell can’t I be taller, like everyone else?” But then, I wouldn’t be me. Ever since I was little I knew I was different from the other kids, but I didn’t know why. I was shy around everyone and didn’t talk much; Hell, I used to pretend that my family was part of the “X-Men” and pretend that we would secretly save the world from evil. In high school I never I got teased about my height, until my senior year, a girl in one of my classes used to tease me, after a while I started to believe that I would be much happier if I were taller, like the other kids in my class. Why would that make me happy? I wanted to change myself just because someone called me “short”? NO! Just no! I would never ever, in a million years, ever change anything about myself for someone else! I was fine with way I was until then. Is it because societal norms have found it more appealing to be tall? Whatever, regardless of that shit, this is how my body looks and I am truly happy with it and would never change it.