I just know that for some people that title is going to cut off and all they'll see is "I'm coming out..." and that's how the rumors start. But yes, at the encouragement of Matt, I'm starting to blog again.

Anyway, assuming most of you also use some combination of Pinterest, Facebook, or Twitter, you may have seen this blog post going around:

http://www.themilitantbaker.com/2013/03/things-no-one-will-tell-fat-girls-so-i.html?m=1

(I'm the very last person on Xanga still using the old editor, and I can't figure out how to link that right now, so pull yourself together and just old school copy it into your browser, would ya?)

It's a good read, I really like it. If you haven't read it yet, take 5 minutes. I'll wait. No I won't, because I'm not actually writing this as you're reading it, unless you watch Dr. Who, in which case, tell me how much I should watch it because I think I would love it.

I think it's an important message for many plus size ladies, but I have one little problem with it. If anyone reads this I'm probably going to get crucified for saying this but..

Ladies...

I think some of you are way hotter than other's of you.*

And it doesn't matter.

Being average looking or, dare I say it, unattractive by conventional views DOES NOT make anyone less worthy of love and affection, a rocking sex life, self-esteem, equal wages, respect, human rights, etc.

I get a little tired of the "all women are beautiful" self-esteem because it makes beauty the most important part of who we are, and by definition requires SOMEONE to set a standard. Obviously our Western/American media/culture standard is too narrow, but who then?

It shouldn't be an issue because how ANYONE sees our physical attractiveness shouldn't be at the top of the list of what defines us. Feeling self confidant and worthy shouldn't rest on feeling beautiful. People are worthy of much more than just being looked at.

Being able to see your own beauty is an extremely convoluted issue, one that I imagine 99% of women have some problems with, as Dove recently pointed out (though surreptitiously harmfully in my opinion, but that's another blog. Well, actually it's pretty much the same issue as this blog but I'm tired of talking about Dove because I already did for so long on Facebook and I'm lazy, maybe I'll copy-paste later). It's been one of the biggest struggles in my life, and likely will be for a long time. Definitely not something I can take to heart all the time.

This has been written about all over the interwebz, and much more eloquently than I just did, but cut a sister some slack, my blogging muscle is a bit atrophied. There are a ton of other things I could have written about, but this one was floating around in my brain today.

Welcome back, Buscuit

*I say this in the most, I-dig-guys-so-hard way possible, though I'd be lying if I didn't also admit I'd be ALL over Christina Hendricks.

OMG. New favorite poem.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul

-William Ernest Henley, 1875

I was reading through an old letter to a friend, and came upon this little gem. I laughed so hard when I foud it.

"Ok, this has been bugging me for a while... Why is the Cervical Spine called that? Like, what do the vertibrae in your neck have to do with a cervix? It's awkward to talk about, like sperm whales and Uranus. I hear 'cervical collar,' I'm like, what is that, birth control?"

Doesn't that make you wish I wrote YOU letters?

Ok, I know there are much more important things to be upset about, to blog about, to try to bring a change to. I'll solve all those tomorrow. Tonight, I'm going to be petty.

I just got back from a little late-night trip to Target. You know, when you realize that you should probably stop stealing your roommates toothpaste and go buy more of your own. While I don't buy many of my clothes there, I've had a few good finds before, so I usually take a stroll through their plus size section. That's where the problem comes in; it's not just a plus size section. It's "plus size/maternity."

Am I the only one that sees that as mildly insulting? For one thing, while there are some similarities, plus size clothing and maternity clothing are not the same. But it's also kind of a double insult. Like "Yes plus size ladies, you really do look pregnant," and "Whoa pregnant ladies, looks like you need the fat clothes!"

No-win situation.

/rant

I did get a pair of purple flats , so I can't hate too much.

Am I allowed to clean all my dishes the way I clean my grill? Can I just kind of scrape off the main burnt chucks of food, cover it with a tarp, and let it sit until I next need it? Pull the tarp off a few days later, scrape it again and you're ready to go. Why can't a skillet work that way?

Such a time-saver.

-biscuit

What do I do with the check?

I wrote my roommate a check for utilities earlier tonight. She took the check, endorsed it, took a picture of it with her phone, sent the picture to her checking account, and handed the check back to me. Man... We really are heading for a paperless society.

I saw the commercials for that check-picture-taking-deposit-thing a while ago, but for some reason never really though it would catch on. Something about banking just seems like it needs to be... harder. More secure. More formal?

I just transfered money by text message the other day for the first time. Four simple characters. "T200." It was easy. Too easy. Sort of like reading an ebook. Handy to have at times, but not a replacement for paper.

But, my question still remains, what do I do with the check now?

-biscuit

It is too easy for me to fall into the trap of only realizing how blessed I am when life is good and the blessings postive and tangible. The last few days have seen several obvious blessings come my way; most notably, a new car from my oma as a graduation present, and a job I was really hoping to get was virtually secured. I don't think I can count on both hands how many times I've texted "I'm so lucky," or "I'm so blessed" to my friends recently. But it's easy right now. I wish I could remember to say that "when sorrows like sea billows roll." Even when my car is broken down and I'm out of work, I'm still one of the luckiest girls in the world. I have an intact and loving (albeit eccentric) family. I have generous grandparents (paid for my college tuition, car, gym membership, and more). Supportive, lifelong best-friends. As a girl, I'm blessed that I was born in the time and place that I was; not Iran, not Warren Jeff's ranch, not medieval England where I could be married off at 14 years old for financial security. I not only have my driver's licence (something most of us take forgranted), but I was lucky enough to actually get paid to get my Commercial Driver's License (ie, some measure of job-security). For fear of sounding cliche and boring, I'll leave the list at that.

I don't want to let everything I have going to me go to waste. In the wise words of Spiderman's uncle, "with great power comes great responsibility." I think it's even more true that with great blessing comes great responsibility. I have a strong lazy streak; I'll be the first to admit it. I can see myself getting complacent and squandering everything I've been given. I stand on the shoulders of giants, yes, but I hope I stand tall; no slouching.

Nope. No slouching.

-biscuit

P.S. chi chi chi! le le le! Viva Chile!

QOTD: "Something about him always led her back to her childhood and the precocious child's fear that she is being seen through; also to the precocious child's fear that she is not being seen enough. Afraid of being exposed, dying to be seen - there's a dilemma for you."

My mailbox flooded. Only here (the rainiest inhabited location in North America), would someone have to worry about their mailbox flooding. Generally speaking I wouldn't mind, seeing as the only thing in my mailbox is bills, coupons, and various solicitations for credit cards I don't need and satelite service I don't want. However, on this particular day, the night before I had put 7 pages of letter-writing in a plain-old, non-waterproof envelope (how silly of me) into said mailbox to be faithfully carried through rain, snow, and sleet to my best friend out in the wilderness. When I headed to work in the morning, I noticed my mailbox was full of water, and there, sopping wet and about to desintegrate, was the packet of love. After carefully peeling all the pages apart and drying them out, I've found they are fortunately still readable, so I will take my chances with the weather and try to send them once again.

I've got to start writing in pencil.

-biscuit