The Word “Obese” is the New F-word

I think the word “obese” is a cruel word and is a derogatory term. Do people know how awful it is to see that term on their medical charts when they’ve struggled with weight issues their entire life? A few years ago, I was up to 189 lbs and my doctors threw around the word obese like it was nothing. I had cholesterol issues as well. I received a phone call after some tests were done three years ago- it was my doctor’s nurse telling me that I had to stop eating red meat, that I needed to basically switch to almost all vegetables and fruit, walnuts, etc.
I had some problems with overeating that I was working on at that time, but it was not a lifelong problem, it was an issue that had a lot to do with a recent breakup. I’ve fluctuated with my weight a lot in my life. They stressed how important it was for me to lose weight, so I started drinking vegetable smoothies every day and the only other thing I ever ate was bagel thins with a little lettuce, tomatoes and lunchmeat on it once a day. I was basically going hungry for almost a year. I lost 50 lbs in that time and my doctor was telling me at the 155 lb mark, ‘oh, btw, now you’re not obese anymore,’ (smile). I got to 140 lbs and my sister had died, I got attacked… and I had stopped eating almost altogether because of grief. Then I was forcing myself to eat. I got sick and for almost a year, my menses was thrown off, I would hemorrhage for weeks… spot for weeks, hemorrhage. I thought I was dying. This went on for nearly a year. I started to gain the weight back because I was so sick. This past February my gyn told me the reason my system was thrown off is because of the weight loss. Now I am doing much better and things are back to normal but my weight is pretty high again. My point is, I already had a self image problem way before my doctors started giving me crap about being overweight. When I saw the word “obese” on my chart, and because they wanted me on a special diet because they were upset about my cholesterol, I freaked out and wanted the weight off. But it made me really ill. So either way, I couldn’t win. Instead of spending 1 minute on the phone leaving a voice-mail for a patient telling her what she can and can’t eat, doctors ought to really sit down with a patient and help them when these sorts of things need to be dealt with. Then maybe they’d understand how terrible I felt.
The reason I’m thinking of this now is because I recently read an article of how a little girl was sent home with a BMI measurement done by her school in which they told her parents she was overweight, and she wasn’t. Even if she had been overweight or extremely overweight, why give a 9 year old a complex? Our country already has enough issues with body dysmorphic disorder which in turn causes eating disorders. The least the school could have done is have the parents come into the school for a conference instead of sending the child home with a letter, expecting the child not to open it. When I was about 9 years old, I was stockier than other children my age and I noticed it. I think a doctor pointed this out, from what I recall. At that point, the kids at school didn’t. But I remember feeling very miserable about it, about not ‘looking’ like everyone else. I didn’t feel pretty or cute like the other kids. Later, I hit puberty and grew out of that stage, but that feeling clung to me my entire life.
In life, people can be cruel. The words people use can be harsh. The least doctors and schools and others in authority can do is to attempt to stop perpetrating that cruelty. A lot of people who are overweight don’t overeat. That was the ironic thing for me last fall. My doctor (who is no longer my doctor, thank God) kept accusing me of overeating, as if that was the only way to gain weight. I kept telling him that I do not overeat. I am poor and so I eat a lot of rice, beans, etc. That stays on and is harder to lose. I didn’t even drink much soda then. Yet every time I saw him, he’d ask. And that word, obese, would be written on my chart. Like the “F” word.


Extreme Couponing & Healthy Eating: Incompatable?

I found this blog because I, too, believe that extreme couponing leads to buying unhealthy foods. Because I am disabled and living on a fixed income, I struggle with my choices every time I go shopping. People ask me why I don’t coupon. This is why. Most of the items available are unhealthy. If there were deals for produce and other fresh foods, I might.

The Healthcare Marketer

I have to admit that I am intrigued by this extreme couponing phenomenon. For the uninitiated, Extreme Couponing is a new hit show on TLC. It is amazing to see someone buy $1,000 worth of groceries for $8.28. Wow. If you haven’t seen it, here’s how TLC promotes the show:

“Enter the world of bargain shoppers who have mastered the art of saving! In Extreme Couponing, meet the everyday people who save hundreds of dollars in a single trip to the store. Tune in to TLC to see the savings!”

I’ve seen the show a couple of times and it is amazing to see these women (I have yet to see a man featured) organize their lives around making huge grocery purchases while only actually paying for a very small percentage. They have definitely learned how to work the system and seem to derive a ton of psychological satisfaction by…

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Social Media, Blogging & Writing

I didn’t grow up around computers. Being a child of the 70’s, the first computer I ever used was an Apple we had on loan at school in the early 80’s.  Each student had about twenty minutes on it and that was about it. We had the computer for about a week or so in our class, from what I recall. That was in the sixth grade. We never had a computer in school again until I had gone to college. My parents couldn’t afford a computer at home, so we never had one. Besides, not many people in Hawaii really had a personal PC, unless they used it for work. We had a video game system that looked the same, though.

I didn’t even learn to type until my early 20’s. I dropped out of my typing class in high school because my teacher was a bit of a nazi. She would give us an assignment, then proceed to go around the room, looming over me and others while we attempted to complete it. She would also stand at the head of the class and utter rapid fire commands of what she wanted us to type, with no break. For an introductory class to typing, it was very stressful. I would get hopelessly behind and frustrated and she would take her frustration out on us by scolding us whenever we fell behind and made mistakes. It was not what you would call a healthy learning environment. So I dropped the class and took French. Later, while in college, I taught myself how to type on an old typewriter and honed the skill with typing programs on the computers at school. I can now type up to 100 wpm.

Life used to be a lot simpler for me as a writer. In a way, it used to be easier for me to just sit down and carve out some quality writing time. With the internet, came the never-ending possibility of distraction. Whereas before I would just sit down and pour out my soul in a poem or begin a story, I find myself so easily distracted by social media, email, etc. Yet there are also so many bonuses to this technology, as well. That word whose meaning or spelling I’m not sure about? I can simply look it up with a click and some typing, rather than searching for my dictionary and opening it up. If I need a synonym or antonym, no need for a thesaurus, just do a websearch. If I need a word that rhymes with a word in one of my poems, same thing. Instant access to books, movies, facts. The web also serves as an excellent networking tool, if used correctly. So all of this has its plus sides.

I still turn to pen and paper for writing, however. I love the smell and feel of paper, the appearance of my writing on it. I do own a Kindle and a Nook Color, but I also own a ton of print books and will likely always own and buy in print as well as ebook. My mind still rebels a bit when I’m reading on my Kindle and/or my Nook/android phone. Technology has its bonuses though- my ebooks are published thanks to Amazon and Smashwords.

Lately, I find myself immersed in the beauty that is my own little microcosm I’ve carved out on the web. I’ve got my Twitter account with all of my lovely followers who are each unique in and of themselves and I’m really enjoying the experience this time. I was there three years ago and I just didn’t understand the purpose at that time. It is unlike Facebook in the sense that people on Twitter interact very differently. There is poetry in the brevity of the 140 character tweet. Usually, each character carries a much deeper, well-thought message. It makes one really think- Is this going to show what I am trying to convey? It can be comical, it can be deep, but the message must be said with 140 characters!

Whereas Facebook is more about sharing one’s life in lengthy posts, being open, having a laugh, keeping in touch with friends and family and the infamous “Like.” Not to mention the “Like” pages that nearly every company, author, musician, politician, news agency and even Police Department now has. On Facebook, people are also very passionate, and people can also be pretty catty and snarky, fights happen, people get blocked, rumors get started and it’s the hotbed for political arguments. I have often said to myself that if it weren’t for my friends and family, I probably wouldn’t be on Facebook.

A couple months ago I was exploring WordPress and was viewing the page “Blogs I Follow.” I had never before gone to this page, as every blog gets sent to my email inbox. When I opened up the page, I heard something so beautiful, sweet and resonating: music. Then I began to concentrate on the images on the page, various pictures of nature, cascading drops of beaded water over a steep cliff, a kelly green field of grass with wild yellow flowers, a stunning azure blue sky. I began to read the intros to the blogs: one woman was writing about how much she loved someone, another sharing her poetry, yet another imparting experiences of her struggle with bipolar disorder. All of this was simply sheer wonder. A compilation of creativity unfolding before my eyes. I experienced a type of beauty I never had before, and it left me in awe. Humanity is beautiful.

Keep sharing your worlds, everyone! I love you. ❤

Monday Musings: The tropes that trouble me

Monday Musings: The tropes that trouble me.

I agree with Mr. Bury. Too many authors attempt to emulate Tolkien and Lewis. The thing is, a good writer ought to be able to create their own world and pull it off. A good story is not dependent on someone being able to recognize a world in which a reader finds oneself in. The best stories I’ve ever read were just that because no one had ever written about it yet. For example, Lewis’ Space Trilogy. The first two books in this trilogy are about man visiting planets never before touched by humans. I fell in love with Perelandra, the drifting islands, the descriptions of the fruit, the innocence of the inhabitants. It was this originality that made it so unique. Had Lewis written a novel about something that took place in, say, Arthur’s Briton, sure, I would have liked it, but probably not as much. Perelandra remains one of the best novels ever written, in my book. Not because Lewis wrote it, but because he took the time to create an entirely different world no one else had ever created.

So instead of creating a fantasy novel set in Britain or the UK, delve deep into your imagination and create something truly unique. I am working on doing just that right now. 🙂 Happy writing!

Love, Sex and Cuddling

Being that I am over 40, I’ve had some experience in this venue. I’ve been in a few long term relationships, I’ve been married once and I also went through a a couple periods I can only call ‘self-discovery’ which really involved a lot of drunken nights and ‘dates.’ Over the years, I was able to learn what I wanted, what worked, what sucked and what I was really after. As I grew older, that also changed. Some things became confusing to me over time, however, particularly when I gave my life back to Jesus.

In my teens I really was all about finding love, really had no clue about ‘men’ who were actually boys and if I had a clue, I would have known most of them were out to use me. By the time I was in my twenties, I had two young men of my own to take care of, an abusive ex I had just said “see ya” to and I was madly in love with someone I had known since I was fifteen. This man had been my friend and had been obsessed with me since he met me, and for once I looked his way and saw something there. He had a lot of experience and I had very little when it came to being with someone. But ultimately, our five year relationship was fraught with breakups and reconciliations that were intermixed with other people so it wasn’t meant to be.  It was a learning experience.

The next man I was with seriously was my now ex-husband. I won’t go into much other than to say I became a bit repressed around that time, because although he expressed desires for things that any other guy seemed to want, he also didn’t want me to dress certain ways and would react funny when I responded to those desires with proposed action. After it was over, I pretty much went wild for a while. Before I evolved into an alcoholic I used to enjoy going out on weekends and I was an attractive woman, so I met guys who really liked me and also those who seemed to. Some guys were still just out to use me though; men who I found later had girlfriends or wives waiting at home or who just didn’t intend to emotionally commit to anything.

Emotionally I was hung up on the husband, and I suppose you could say I was attempting to fill a void in a way. I wish I’d spent less time drinking and more time getting to know someone for who they were, really. In retrospect, I passed up a couple guys who turned out to be really great friends later on in life, and if I hadn’t held that lantern for my ex, who knows? But c’est la vie.

I had a ‘following’ back then. I would go to a pub and dance all night. It was mostly just harmless fun. When I’d get there, I’d get hugged all around and signed up for karaoke. I’d sing Olivia Newton John’s I Honestly Love You, and I’d have guys singing it back to me. Or I’d sing No Doubt’s Don’t Speak, and cry during the last part of it because I was hurting so bad over my divorce. Most of the time I’d go home alone. But I had a few friends. I generally kept my social life to the weekends. I didn’t want anything affecting my daughter.

After a few years, though, I had to wrestle with the alcoholic demon and it changed my entire life. If you’ve ever had a drinking problem, having sober sex is terrifying. I was 36 years old when I got sober and was with a guy who was 21 years old. That relationship was fun at first but doomed. I should not have taken it as far as I did, because I was the one who wound up getting hurt. After it was over, I decided to take a complete hiatus from all men. And I did, for a couple years.

But I had gone home to Hawaii at the time and saw someone from my past, “M,” a man I had a bit of a past with, and started to have romantic thoughts about. I thought how nice it would be to ‘date’ someone my own age for once… I spent some time with him while in Hawaii, just talking. And flew back to the mainland with my heart sorta set on him.

I moved back to Hawaii in 2010 and I didn’t see this guy for a long time. I had this thing about my weight and also I was conflicted about my faith and relationships. I stayed celibate and alone for two years until I just got so lonely. Instead of calling the old friend up, though, I started dating another younger guy, 8 years younger. For about 4 months I was totally ‘in love’ with him. More like ‘lust’ I think, really. Then I started realizing how little I knew about him, and he was staying with me. He did something incredibly juvenile and betrayed my trust out of the blue about 6 months into our relationship, and instead of saying it was over, I wallowed in self-pity and turned to the guy from my past for comfort.

Things went really south from there. The guy, “M,” from my past came down one day and he was not who he represented himself to be. He tried to do something so criminal and horrible to me. I lost all faith in men for a long time after that. My relationship, already failing, fell apart. I had already had issues with PTSD and this just compounded it. Last October I finally kicked my last ex to the curb. It was the best decision; I really feel as if I am becoming who I was before he stepped into the picture in 2012. I am happy with who I am again for the most part. At the end of our relationship I was just miserable.

What made me think about all this is a book I’m reading called Sleeping Around by Catherine Townsend. I began my twenties having a very liberal attitude towards sex, relationships, gender roles, etc. I think the hardest part about being a Christian, for me, is I am stuck in a rut as far as relationships go. I pick the wrong men. The good guys? I don’t find them attractive. Hoping I will one day… with enough therapy. And I like sex. And that feels wrong. Add what “M” did to me and I’ve had terrible issues in that regard. My healthy attitude towards sex also changed because of going to church. I had this burning question in my head all the time: Is it wrong to masturbate?? It wasn’t being Christian, really, it was the fact that I felt ‘judged’ by other people when no one else has the right to judge someone else. That whole he who is without sin verse, you know? Cast the first stone if you are Jesus. Not a human.

I also have questions, though. I am single now and don’t have a plan on changing that. Do I have to go without intimacy or get married to someone even though it may fail? My divorce almost sunk me into oblivion. How do I balance being healthy sexually with being Christian? Because right now, I’m not healthy sexually, not after what happened to me. It’s why I don’t have anything to do with any men. Someday I may want to change that.

I just responded to a post on Facebook where a friend commented that she wanted someone to cuddle with. I said I’d like to cuddle then make him go away so I can sleep. That’s really where I am at right now.  Funny? Maybe. But also pretty serious.


I like this song. I believe in Jesus Christ but I like what Ozzy has to say. Not every person, even Christians, are absolutely 100% positive day in and day out. I find myself falling into sadness a lot. I don’t believe that means that I am any less faithful, but that I am human. I see things in life that bring me to my knees, that makes me feel like humanity is so lost. I hear of things that are heartbreaking. I have experienced such depression in my life, mind-breaking trauma and still I press on. I love Jesus Christ more than anything, and appreciate the sacrifice he has made all the more for having experienced the true depravity of what man is capable of. If He can love us, we ought to love one another.

Imagine all the people in the world who need love. Imagine there is a heaven. Imagine there was no strife or argument about that. No religion, just God. This is the life promised to us. Forever.

What a Life to be Had

Trying so hard to figure you out

Filled with all kinds of insecurity and doubt

Don’t you know you’re all, you’re it, my world

You’re my muse, my everything, poetry unfurled

Love like nothing ever sung

Like no award ever hung

Writing in indigo

You stand so tall to me, a love I would never forgo

I’m feeling so poorly, I often can’t breathe,

I didn’t want you to worry, but why do I feel as if you seethe?

Seek me, find me, all I ask.

Are you up for the task?

My heart, it feels broken, like a stone weighted down,

Drowning in the depths of a deep ocean sound.

Distance too far to measure, I can’t swim so I sink,

I can’t sprout wings, I feel as if I’m on the brink.

I feel this deep shooting pain, oh what a cost!

Coughing, I cry out for a life that was lost.

See you, I must, as I foresee my demise.

‘No forwarded address, deceased, please advise.’

She died alone, poor woman, so sad.

We’d see her crying often, alone, what a life to be had.



Hanging on Your Every Word

So much pain I can hardly stand

How can I explain?

None of this was planned.

I feel small,


My body left earth and I felt I would fall.

Into an abyss

An endless chasm.

Easily dismissed.

Shattered, tears flow like a river,

Grasping, gasping for air,

I cannot stir.

Wounded, I attempt to climb,

Every word a rebuff,

Every second of silence a reminder of time,

“I love you, I want you to know,”

Efforts discounted.

How can we grow?

Breath is slight, I feel vertigo.

No matter this distance,

J’adore, j’taime.