So tomorrow night I will be embarking on my first Amtrak adventure to Reno.  I'm writing this now because I have no idea how much time I will have tomorrow afternoon after work to worry about entering another blog.  That's not to say that I may not create an entry from there...but I'm not planning on taking my laptop along so that's that.

I miss my husband, my pets...(even though I'll be leaving Peaches behind and missing her terribly).  I'll be having a lot of fun just being with my husband and celebrating our 8th anniversary (as of today!)

So here I sit...pondering over just how to pack the big ass suitcase full of stuff that I don't use here so that I can get it back to Reno.  Moving back one big suitcase at a time!

Oh...I can't forget my drugs.  God help me if I forget my anti-depressants and blood pressure meds.  I think I'd worry myself to death!  Haha!

There is a "fruit stand" up the street from where I live that has been there since before I can remember.  It's probably 6 or so blocks up...on the corner of two main streets.  It's more than just a stand...more like a small cement building.  It closes in the winter and opens in the warm months when the surrounding orchards are fruitful again.  It's always been there...always been a fundamental part of my growing up.  As children my friends and I would ride our bikes up the street, me with my flower basket and tassels hanging out of my handlebars...my friends, all with similar looking bikes...we'd pump our way up the street with our pockets full of change and purchase what then really WAS penny candy.  I still can't taste a swedish fish without remembering the good old days.  We'd buy our penny candies and then load up our baskets and head back home.  It was a short bike ride...but it was made several times a week during the summers.

It's funny how little things like that stay with you.  I don't have one particular memory that stands out...but I remember the days of riding up to purchase our penny candies and then biking back.  The couple who owned it back then were older...at least I considered them old by my young standards, and I'm they've probably passed away by now...but the fruit stand remains in the same family.  I haven't been in there in many years...I wonder if it's still the same inside.  Or if, as with everything else these days, it's been modernized...perhaps I will drive up there in the next few days and check for myself...and see if it still holds the memories within it's walls...of children laughing and ordering candy.  I wonder if other children are creating the same memories.  I never see bicycles parked outside anymore....so I'm banking on not.  Too many people worry about abductions, etc. to allow their kids to bike off to two main streets alone to buy open candy from strangers.

It's too bad it's changed...those are great memories.  Very great indeed.

Sometimes I get into a funk and ask myself..."why did I have to be fat?"  As with most families there are chunkier members than others but it's mostly the older ones...with age and all that.  I have a few fatties in my external fam...and I suppose that is where I get it from.  Some random fat gene handed down.

Why me, Fat Gene????  Why me????

I haven't wrote much about being short.  So here's something that happened to me the other day.

I wake up at 4am for work.  There are others who are still sleeping so I'm quiet while getting ready.  Well, I'd forgotten to make coffee the night before so I had to hurry and get all of that prepared and in the midst of all of THAT I realized that I was out of creamer.  I can choke down coffee without creamer if I put a little sweetener in it.  So I was trying to remember where the Equal was kept...and remembered it was in the cupboard...up high...on the top shelf.  *Sigh*  So I grabbed a spatula from the drawer and was trying to hook it behind the box to pull it down.  Apparently the shelf has a tiny lip on the edge because it kept stopping right there.  So here I am at 4:15am jumping up and down (jumping doesn't accomplish much when there's so much of me to heave off of the ground) trying to get the dang Equal down.  FINALLY the spatula caught and the box came flying off of the shelf...and clanged and banged it's way onto the stove.  I think that probably woke up the neighborhood!

Ahhh the stories I have from my 4am adventures.  I love working that early...but does it have to be so darn early???  Haha.

...makes you want to be dead!  Or at least close to it!

Have you ever wondered why you have the self assurance that you do?  I mean...really, truly wondered?  I've discovered that everyone, to one degree or another, is a product of what others tell them that they are.

Would I believe I was the most amazing about beautiful person on Earth had I grown up being told that?  Possibly.  But would I believe it?  Now I'm rambling...and I'm not even drinking!  Nor have I taken sleeping pills yet!

While I was laying down and drifting off in my nap time yesterday I had two ideas to write about for the blog.  I wrote about one...and the other has escaped me.  As much as I've tried to remember...it's gone.  I knew I should have jotted it down on my iPhone...but I honestly didn't think I'd forget.  Serves me right for assuming that one!

So I was thinking about my past relationships and my current one with my husband and I realized that for some reason guys must think that a woman's largest erogenous zone is between her legs!  Seriously guys....it ain't!  OK, maybe ultimately it is...but to get us to the brink of a great orgasm it doesn't start with the main course....you need to make it through the appetizers and salad first before you get to the cuisine, no?  OK...enough food analogies.  Here's the deal.  And guys...all of you...listen up.  This is a valuable lesson that you need to remember.  When you've got a hot, writhing and naked woman in your bed do not zero in immediately on her clit.  PLAY with her body.  The mind is the largest erogenous zone....and the way to the mind is by touching her body...talking to her....make love with touch and words....tell her how nasty she is and how much it turns you on...run your hands around her breasts without touching the nipples...tease...lightly...tickle.  PLEASE do not make the mistake of touching her to see if she's remotely wet and if she's not within 60 seconds dragging out the lube.  Not gonna solve anything, guys!  Undress her slowly, nibble down the sides of her neck, listen to her breathing quicken and soft moans.  Allow her time to run her hands behind your neck...kissing you...down your chest...over your strong arms.  Making love is so much more than just a 10 minute ordeal.  Take the time to learn each other...whether you've been lovers for one week or 50 years!  There is nothing more erotic than knowing that you personally turn your lover on.

And being a large woman...well, there's just that much more to play with!  Large breasts, large thighs, large ass, large stomach...everything is bigger!  Everything is tastier!  Make your way down between her legs and make her beg to feel you inside of her!  Withhold, tease, you've got the ultimate weapon...use it.  Buy some toys...a feather and honey dust can go a long, long way.  Shop together.  Buy something you will both enjoy using together.

Ladies...don't forget your man is more than just a penis.  I've learned that one myself.  They, too, enjoy being touched and teased.  Licked, carressed, kissed.  Don't forget to communicate what you enjoy.  Don't forget to tell your lover how much you love them...and how attractive they are to you.  Trust me...you'll be rewarded ten fold!

Ever since I remember my mom had me on a diet.  I harbor a great deal of resentment towards her about that but I'm working through it in my own due time.  However, when you're the age of 5 and on a diet for being chubby it's not cool.  What I didn't realize at the time but realize now is that what my mom was telling me in her own passive aggressive way was that I was less than good enough for her.  I was on diets at 5, 6, 8 and on up into my puberty years.  I was never good enough...pretty enough.  Wouldn't it have been just as good to enroll me in a sports program?  Swimming?  Or maybe just tell me that I'm pretty as I am?  I don't understand what was going on in her mind...but it has taken years for me to realize that I AM ok, just as I am. 

Some days are easier than others to understand that...I still have the occasional issue about not being good enough...especially when it comes to being with my husband.  I know he loves me...there is no doubt in my mind about that.  But I also know that I was never his "type".  Some people are attracted to fatties and some people aren't.  He isn't.  And so, while I have been with several men in my life...all of whom were very attracted to the fact that I was comfortable in my own skin...the one man who means the most to me I have the most problems with feeling adequate enough for.  I want him to see my personality and positive nature when we make love...but instead I see myself through his eyes.  Fat, unattractive, ugly.  And that hurts.  While men in my past love that I can climb on top and get all aggressive on them...I feel embarrassed and unattractive if I even THINK about doing it with him...let alone actually doing it.

This is not his fault.  He loves me.  And I love him.  Love is not the problem here.  Acceptance of myself...and of him...is.  I'm having problems.  Even now I'm crying while writing this because I feel ashamed that I feel this way.  Ashamed that I don't trust my husband enough to love me in the way that I need to be loved.  Ashamed that I don't give him the chance to.  God I want to.  I want to feel gorgeous and attractive in his eyes....and in the eyes of my parents.  Whom, I might add, still find me less than adequate.  My father reminds me that I need to lose weight almost every time I see him.  My mom...well, in her own way reminds me of the same.  My husband doesn't tell me any of that.  He just wants me to be healthy.  And that's all that I want, too.

I need to be loved, appreciated, accepted, and wanted without reservation.  Will I ever allow myself to do so?

So I finally got smart and checked the pricing for Amtrak rides between where I live now and Reno and it's cheaper than driving.  So I'm taking the train in a couple of weeks to Reno.  This is a new thing for me.  I've taken the trains all through Europe but Amtrak is a new experience.  I was fretting about seat width because as a grossly obese woman I need to think of these things.  And you don't even want to know how uncomfy it is to fly for me.  So, when I read on Amtrak's site that the seats are wide and comfortable I didn't know if I should believe it or not.  I mean....is that comfortable for a person size 5 or a person size 12 or a person size 28?  Wide and comfortable is extremely vague.  So...I did some searching online.  Oddly enough there's not a lot of other people out there who are fat and travel by train.  I wonder why....

So I ask friends on facebook and only one responded about getting a sleeper car and wishing they'd just gotten coach seats instead.  Not a lot of help.  So just when I think of giving up my new supervisor at work, also quite large, tells me that she's travelled via Amtrak and that I should have no problem.  The seats truly are large and comfortable.

What a relief!

It's shit like this that makes me really not like being fat sometimes.  Ah well....life moves forward!

I recently watched a movie, He's Just Not That Into You, and there's a quote from it...

"Girls are taught a lot of stuff growing up. If a guy punches you he likes you. Never try to trim your own bangs and someday you will meet a wonderful guy and get your very own happy ending. Every movie we see, every story we're told implores us to wait for it, the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule. But sometimes we're so focused on finding our happy ending we don't learn how to read the signs. How to tell from the ones who want us and the ones who don't, the ones who will stay and the ones who will leave. And maybe a happy ending doesn't include a guy, maybe... it's you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is...just...moving on. Or maybe the happy ending is this, knowing after all the unreturned phone calls, broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment you never gave up hope."

I've seen this movie twice now and both times it was a little hard to get into from the beginning...but then, somehow, like an old battered blanket that you used to hate but now you can't imagine living without, it creeps up on you.  You're into it.  It makes me feel so thankful that I have a wonderful and loving husband who fell in love with who I am...flaws and all.  Extra pounds and crazy attitude.  He didn't fall in love with who I might be.  He didn't fall in love with a woman that he planned to get to lose weight.  He fell in love with me.  And never, in all the 9 years that we've been together, have I ever doubted his love for me.  Call me cheesy...but he really is my other half.  My soul mate.  He's my yang to my yin.  We're not the most perfect couple in the world...but after all of the guys I've dated and even an ex-husband....I know he's the one I was working towards in my life.  He's it.  He's the one.  And I will always and forever be grateful for his love, his patience, his slapstick and weird wit and his true acceptance of me...all of me.

This post is dedicated to my husband...and to all those other people out there who are searching for love and keep stumbling.  Please don't give up.  You'll find your ONE.  And when you do....it'll be amazing.  I know mine is.

I love you, Kurt.  Forever.

OK, the subject has nothing to do with what I'm about to write.  But it sounded good...and kind of dramatic...no?

So here it is...another Friday night.  I'm alone again.  Well, not alone...never completely alone.  But not home with my husband where I truly want to be.  Still separted by over 500 miles of big, flat nothingness.  One more week closer to being back there, though.

I got my student aid report back today.  I am not eligible for any of the pell grants.  Bummer.  So I think now it moves along to the financial aid office to see if I qualify for any other grants or whatnot.  And if that fails...then it'll be a student loan.  One way or another I will get back to school.  I'm totally looking forward to it.

Side note: I think I'm a tinier bit more in shape...I don't huff and puff after climbing the 2 flights of stairs at work anymore!  That's something, right?!  Yay!

So lately I've been attempting to locate any of either side of my family on Facebook.  My mothers or my fathers.  I think I might be the only person in this country with a completely stupid family tree on either side.  I can't find a single SOUL.  None!  Granted I rarely talk to them in person...in fact, I think the last time I talked with any of them was back in 1998'ish when my grandmother died.  But still!  We were all fairly close growing up!  What the hell happened?  We won't go into the fact that I not only THINK I'm better than them...but that I AM better than them.  I have made something of myself...sort of.  I'm intelligent, witty, fun...they're all hillbillie hicks who live in the trailer court next to the railroad tracks.

Great....just great.  I feel much better.

Sometimes I wonder if I am hideous to look at to people.  I mean...I'm not just fat...I'm morbidly obese.  I take care of myself and don't smell or anything...but am not unpleasant?  I hope not.  I hope that my smile and laughter draws people towards me like a moth to a light.  But on the other hand....do people just see me and think..."Oh my fucking hell....she's FAT FAT FAT!!!"

I wonder....

Needy, selfish, self-centered people make me want to scream!  Really SCREAM!  Do they truly believe they're going anywhere in their life by being that way?  Don't they see that people don't care to hang out with them because of those reasons?  Do they not see that they're that way at all?  How can they not???  Argh!

I just watched a movie trailer about a woman whose life changes drastically because she makes a decision that cost her just 10 minutes of her life.  One was where she caught the subway and the other was where she missed it and had to wait 10 minutes for the next one.  The one where she catches it...she gets home and catches her man in bed with another woman.  In the other...she gets home, the woman is gone, and she's none the wiser.  Which would I rather be, I wonder. 

As someone who often asks herself if her life would be any different had I chosen to not marry when I was 21 but instead stayed in school and gotten a degree, followed by a good job, etc. etc.  Where would I be now?  I used to be very religious back then.  Over the years, some of which were when I was married to my ex-husband, I discovered that religion was not the answer for me.  Would I have a grand job?  Still live in the same state that I lived in back then or would I have moved around and had the worldly experiences that I've had in a different manner?  Was it my destiny to live my major life experiences or would they never have happened had I made any other decision back then?  Would I be a different person or would I be the same?  I'd like to think I'd be the same person.  That I am defined by the sum of my experiences to quote an old cliche.

I like who I am.  I don't want to be anyone else.

I just read an article stating that Susan Atkins is coming up on parole.  If you don't know who she is and don't care to Google her she stabbed and killed actress Sharon Tate back in 1969 as part of the Charles Manson murders.  Susan is dying of brain cancer and is 85% paralyzed.  She is unable to sit up or even be moved into a wheelchair.  Some say this is her penance for murdering a pregnant woman and her unborn child.  Others say only death in prison would right the wrong she's done.

I feel for her and her family.  But I feel for the murdered woman and unborn child more.  This is her 18th parole hearing.  I do wonder if she'll be ordered to continue on as she is.

In a manuscript posted on her Web site, Atkins, who was known
within the Manson family as Sadie Mae Glutz, wrote that "this is the
past I have to live with, and I have to live with it every day."

"Unlike the reader, or the people who seem to think Charles Manson
was cool, I can't think about it for an hour or so and then go on with
my life. Just like the families and friends of the victims, this is
with me every day. I have to wake up every day with this and no matter
what I do for the rest of my life and no matter how much I give back to
the community I will never be able to replace what my crime took away.
And that's not 'neat,' and that's not 'cool.'"

The murdered actress's sister, Debra Tate, states:

"The 'Manson Family' murderers are sociopaths, and from that, they can
never be rehabilitated," Debra Tate said. "They should all stay right
where they are -- in prison -- until they die. There will never be true
justice for my sister Sharon and the other victims of the 'Manson
Family.' Keeping the murderers in prison is the least we, as a society
who values justice, can do."

What are your opinions?

A Fat Rant.

So my chihuahua has been going into the depths of the backyard and coming back inside smelling like something ripe and rotten!  I'm not sure where she goes to roll...but it's a hideous smell.  I'm almost afraid to know...but I need to go scout the yard to find whatever it is.  I can't be giving her baths every day!  She does love getting them but it's harsh on her skin to be getting them daily.  Besides...I think at one point or another she probably got some water in one of her ears and now it's bugging her.  I'm going to wait another day and see if it gets any better.  If it doesn't then a trip to the vet is in order. 

If it isn't one thing it's another.  We just had my other dog, a flat-coat retriever, in the vet a couple of months ago for pancreatis.  She had an overnight stay and we were pretty worried about her.  And at the beginning of the year I had my chihuahua in to get spayed.  I think this is what pet insurance is for.  But it's one of those things you always think about getting after the fact.

Sometimes I wonder what people are thinking when it comes to dressing themselves.  Just because one is fat (and short) does not mean you have to make concessions with how you dress!  I'm a big hater of Wally world.  I don't like wearing what thousands of other women in the country are wearing.  Millions!  Cheap, sloppy.  So not my style.  Call me a clothes snob but I refuse to wear that kind of stuff!  My fave place for clothes purchasing is Lane Bryant, T.J. Maxx or even Ross.  People already make snap judgments because of how you look...don't throw fuel on the fire by dressing like a sack, too!  Be proud of the curves you sport....men or women.  Love yourself and others will be drawn to you and will love you back!

Funny but I didn't realize that the title of today's post has a wannabe pun in it!  How cool is that?

Have you ever wondered why people don't like to sit next to fat people?  Even fat people tend to not like sitting next to other fat people.  Think on that.....and get back to me on it!

This blog has been an idea in the making for quite some time.  My life is pretty interesting sometimes and in order for my posterity or people generations in the future to believe what I write...I figure I'd best put it down (so to speak).

Now granted, my life is not the most exciting.  I've lived a lot, cried a lot, and fell in love a few times.  I'll cover a lot of that stuff as I go but really I want to concentrate on the present.  God knows I'm not perfect.  I have my faults and they are many.  I wish I were less complex but I suppose I'd be less interesting if I were...and if that were the case then I'd probably not be writing a blog!

So here I am.  My name, for privacy sake, is V-Dizzle.  For now anyway.  It's an inside joke between myself and my husband.  The only person on this world who knows my every secret and loves me anyway.  How many people can honestly say that?  I mean really?  Can you? 

Continuing on...I am 36 years of age, 4'11" (or 150 cm...approximately.  I think.)  I'm also almost 300 pounds.  Now imagine, in your mind, a chubby bug...and then what that bug would resemble if you stepped on it so that it was half it's size.  That is me.  Well, not a bug, but squashed...compact.  Short...but not petite...no matter WHAT my pants say that I purchase from Lane Bryant! 

I'm FAT.  F.A.T.  It's three letters.  I have no problem describing myself as such because that is what I am.  Some people gasp when I say it about myself and their instint is to tell me "you're not fat!"  Are they blind?  No.  They just think it's like a bad word....like fuck.  That's a bad word.  Fat?  Nah.  It's the truth!

I'm short.  People aren't offended by short.  Some think it's cute.  Some are annoyed by my asking them to help me reach something.  Most laugh it off.  I didn't get to be my age without coming to terms with the fact that the growth spurt that I was waiting on during puberty is never going to happen.  I'm cool with asking for help.  I like it.  I like being me...most of the time.  And THAT is what this blog is all about.

My life...as a short...fat...woman.

Welcome...save the feed.  Stay tuned.  This will hopefully be quite a ride!