Ford Ahead

I just want to write briefly about the hearing yesterday.

CB Ford gave her testimony yesterday. She was terrified. I would be, too. Not to speak in front of people. She does that every day as a professor. To speak about trauma. To speak about PTSD, anxiety, the assault and to be humiliated all over again by having to relive the attack. With her alleged attacker nearby.

Terrifying.

And the nation was listening.

I cried and trembled yesterday. Not much. Not crazy sobs of compassion, just small little tremors. Mostly moved at her quiet bravery. Strength. Composure.

I heard her tiny voice. Stuck at age 15. It’s not unusual to be stuck vocally at an immature age for victims of sexual violence. Meek. Restrained. Congenial. Apologetic. Deferential.

You don’t have to apologize, Christine. Or be concerned about anyone else’s comfort. You’ve worried about that for far too long! Thank you. Many women will benefit from your authenticity. Thank you for showing us class, candor, courage. Transparency. Something we want from our SCOTUS nominees.

We believe you. And your tiny voice will topple the tallest towers.

You, at least, deserve what any victim does–an investigation.

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Me-rror

I catch my reflection
In the shiny laptop screen.
I threw away the girl I was
In being just a teen.

Skin gone slack.
Life off track.
Stark and dark.
Taken aback.

But the eyes.
She’s still there.
The care and thought of
My singe-tinged stare.

And my smile.
Still turned.
In spite of all
The bridges I’ve burned.

You can’t stop the fire
And stomp in the ashes.
When you’re the one
Playing with matches.

Burnt to the ground,
My youth is gone.
Rising from what remains
Is the sun on the dawn.

Exuberance escapes
And with it my verve.
But age brings wisdom
And strong-willed nerve.

Do I have enough guts
To follow a dream?
When life is pulling
Apart at the seam.

So what if my chin
Is sagging a bit?
It’s not a question of beauty
But taking a hit.

Is that jaw strong?
Enough for a blow?
Sticking my neck out–
The only way to know.

So. I’m older. But bolder.
And I’ll just say thank you.
Age is a privelege
Achieved by so few.

This Might Break the Internet.

Deep breath. Go ahead. Laugh. Giggle. Look away. Throw up in your mouth a little. It’s okay. I get it. This is a very crazy picture. But I’m posting for myself. This is the most courageous, the bravest thing I have ever done and I know I’m being open, vulnerable and some would say reckless by posting this on the Internets. But–I have to post this. I know the people who love me will not misuse or harass me. And those who don’t love me, I couldn’t really give two sh!ts about what they think. So. THIS is the before pic. I covered all the bikini parts.

Today, I am 435 lbs. Almost 2 weeks ago, I was over 455. I wanted to take a pic before I lost any more weight. I’ve been on a high-protein diet and dropped about 20 lbs. very quickly. I’ve been here before. I was down to 412 on my own, but then my thyroid went full-on kamikaze and blew up with cancer. I gained back about 40 of the 100 lbs. I lost before my thyroidectomy. (I started at about 513 when I entered the hospital in 2012 for heart failure. See full health journey here.)

There is shame in that. I’ve wallowed in shame most of my life in big amounts and small amounts. For things inside of my control, and out. I don’t like this feeling of shame all the time. I’ve gained and lost hundreds of pounds and suffered with hypothyroidism for years. What I would like? To cast off that shame once and for all by doing things that scare me, doing things that take guts. Proverbial guts. 🙂

Honestly, I posted this pic with all its flaws in full-out authenticity to the world and to myself (this photo has only been cropped) to show what I look like. When we see before pics, this is what we want to see, right? How bad was it? How big was that gut? How flabby were those arms?? Well, there’s no hiding in this photo. This is me. This is real.

This is 43 years of tragedy, abuse, obesity, bullying, birth-giving, overeating, thyroid-cancer-having, heart-clogging, sleep-apnea snoring. (Those saggy boobs fed a human being.) But this is also 43 years of never giving up on trying to level up and be the best possible person I can be. Never giving up on losing weight. Never giving up on being healthy! NeverEVER giving up on my dreams. I am the strongest person you’ll ever know and the fattest person you might ever see in their skivvies. Take a good, long look. I dare ya. If you look close enough?

You’ll see an excited smile for what’s about to come. My weight loss surgery is going to change my life. I’m ready for born-again salvation and transcendence in the celebration of new body and new mind. Deep breath!