#sometimes people really are out here just making mountains out of molehills about fat people's behavior

[nightmareonpeachstreet]

swear 2 god you accidentally watch 1 fatphobic video on youtube and suddenly youtube thinks u wanna watch them forever even if you immediately tell it you didn't like the video

[rose-coloured-angel]

For those who dont know, my mom had surgery to lose weight. Had that thing where they staple your stomach to make it smaller. She's getting older, and she was really skinny for her whole life, so her body isn't used to being big, y'know?

Here's the thing

She's very vain

She'll deny it, but I mean, c'mon. Her whole life she's been the thin, gorgeous blond. All the men loved her, she was paper thin, she made good use of what she calls the "dumb blonde" act. It got her out of driving and parking tickets numerous times.

There are pictures of her all over the house. Not even family pictures, just pictures of her. Thin, gorgeous. Professionally done by men who thought she looked dazzling.

And they're not wrong. She looked like a model.

Cut to post-children and menopause years later. She starts gaining weight. She complains, and complains, and complains. Guys stop going after her. She has terrible eating habits. She can no longer for into her clothes and saves them for when she starts "working out" to lose weight.

Why is this an issue?

I have been "the fat kid" my whole life. I hated clothes shopping. I was always told to wear clothes that would make me look thinner.

"At least you have big boobs," my mother said. "Boys like that."

I spent my entire childhood worried about what boys would like. Boys never liked me. I hated myself. I hated how fat I was. I had an eating problem. Nothing was ever enough. I loved sweets and ate them whenever I could. I would sneak food, and I ate whenever I was upset.

(My father always took my brother and I on walks. One day, he pulled my brother aside and said "You don't want to end up fat like your sister, do you?")

I started running. I stopped eating. I had a slice of bread in the morning. I didn't eat at school. I said I wasn't hungry. I lost weight (and hair), and I started going to bed at 5 PM to avoid dinner and wake up at 5 AM so I could tell people "I already ate breakfast". For once in my life, boys noticed me. They asked if I had a boyfriend, and if I would like one. One boy asked me out (I didn't go out with him, though. We were both too nervous). My mother was so happy that I could fit into clothes. I worked out so much that I could lift up to 100lbs. I ran and ran and ran. For once in my life, people thought I was beautiful.

They didn't notice that I was losing hair, or that my finger nails were always broken. They didn't notice that I never got sleep, even when I went to bed so early. Sometimes I didnt bother to sleep; I once stayed up for 48 hours straight. I fainted after running a mile.

I moved back in with my mother. I went to a new school. I thought I was finally thin enough.

Kids made fun of how I "jiggled" when I walked, so I stopped running. I stopped wearing gym shorts. I started eating again. Two sandwiches in the afternoon when I got home, after already having breakfast, and lunch, and then having dinner when mom got home. Then she would come home from a whole day of not eating, and she would be hungry, so I would make her food and eat some myself. I gained weight again, FAST. I still wasnt sleeping.

Cut to a few years later, and I'm in high school. I try again. I try being healthier and I participate in gym class, but I still dont run as much as I used to. I try to get enough sleep, to eat enough. I am gaining more weight.

I tried to be girly, and my mother loved it. I tried so hard my whole life to be someone, to figure out who I was. The only thing I never tried was being "girly". So I got girly clothes and did girly things and cared about looking thin and pretty.

I still wasnt happy.

A month later, I find out I'm transgender. My friends start calling me Nathan, and I use he/him pronouns at school. I DO NOT tell my family. I'm terrified of what they'll say, or do. Kaitlyn Jenner comes out as trans (I dont like her as a person, but I respect her as a human). I ask my family. They hate her.

"Being a transgender is only a fad"

I realize I can never tell them.

Sophomore year I start signing my homework and classwork as Nathan, and I ask to be called Nathan in class. The school tells my mother. She tells my father.

I havent seen my father in two years. His family doesn't associate with "people like [me]".

My mother blames anything she can. Daddy issues, an excess of testosterone they found in my blood work, a phase. My brother says I have "betrayed him and God".

I feel like shit forever. I hate myself even more. I start self harming again, I stop working out even at school, I eating like I'll never have food again. I try to kill myself.

My mother finds put two weeks later after I fail. (I told the school counselor. They said they have to notify parents of a suicide attempt. I beg them not to, my mother will be outraged. "I'm sure she will understand," they said. "She will want to help you.")

"How dare you?" My mother screams. "How many more times are you going to do this to us?" (This is not my first attempt, and will not be the last time I plan to take my own life)

She accuses me of wanting attention and "happy pills". I am officially diagnosed with clinical depression, something I told my mother I thought I might have when I was 14 years old.

"Dont make mountains out of molehills," she said. "That's just normal teenager stuff." (I dont think normal teens plan their own deaths at least five times a week)

She tells me she had ignored my cutting for years be cause it was "only for attention". She wont let me take pain medication.

I remember when she told me about being a child and drawing strange things, and saying that she always knew I would try to take my own life one day. So why didnt she do anything?

I try every day to love myself. She gained weight, and for once in my life, she admits she made mistakes, that she understands now. How people treat you when you're fat. How hard it is to find clothes, to feel good, to live your life.

She gets surgery. She gets thinner.

She will never be happy, and I realize that now. She has lost so much weight (and hair, and sleep). She complains about any bit of fat or skin on her body. Men pay attention to her again.

She says to me "Maybe if you got surgery and lost weight, you would start to love who you are as a woman."

I am outraged. I am shattered. Five years. That is how long it had been since I first told her I wanted to be called Nathan. I thought we were finally getting somewhere. I thought I was finally happy in my own body (maybe I still need to transition, but I want to be happy). I try so hard, EVERY. SINGLE. DAY to be kind to myself.

Then mom complains in the mirror.

She talks about how nice she looks now.

She can finally fit into clothes.

She points out actresses on the TV. ("She used to be so fat", "Oh my gosh, she's so thin", "She got a nose job, look how huge it used to be!")

I hurt. God, it hurts. I just want to be happy. I WAS happy. She'll NEVER be happy.

And now I dont know if I will be, either.

God damn it.

[middleagedshmoe-blog]

Bum-ass and Middleaged

If you're wondering why you're here, I can tell you.  Overall, I can only imagine you're here because asking almighty google the question "middle-aged loser" and got this blog as a top result (or, more realistically, the fifth result on the 3r ... ok, 8th fucking page).  And, really, for what it's worth, I'm glad for the views/readership in spite of my penniless, sometimes broken and but mostly fun existence.  

It's the endorphin-boosting recognition is the motivation I need;  a blog is a "blog", not even bush-league, without an audience.  Shit, I'm on a little bit of a ramble.  Let's start at the beginning.  Let's start about why you're reading the bitter-toned, jaded thoughts of a middle age guy with the sobriquet of bum-ass.  Enduring title?  Nope.  Not really.  So don't strap yourself in and don't bother awaiting the "bumpy ride" cliche nor is this an "edge of your seat" story.  This story is simpler than.  

Just some boilerplate shit, by the by, before we get rolling on; I'm not here to appeal to any one of you strolling on by.  If you're here, it's likely a coincidence and any offense you might feel is going to be on you.  That's what this blog is going to be about, in fact.  All that's described here - the events, the stories, the observations, the nitpickery - that's all just coincidence and happenstance pouring out because I'm an angry, passionate, aging man who lives and breathes every occurrent moment as though a savory holiday treat.  Some of it may be deep.  Some it may be shocking.  A lot of it might be the nostalgia I felt from the intense arousal a jiggling young girl's bare, fat ass brought me when I spanked her, hard, some time in my 20's.  You, you alone whoever you are, are not my target audience.  I spout no ideals, I follow only basic rules and there is no one, singular or plural, I want to impress.  I have particular tastes and opinions.  At times, yours and my sensibilities will be different.  Period.  Deal with it.  

I'm not going to stretch it here trying to put a magnifying glass to an objective truth to make a story-mountain of a molehill.  Even as a guy who has occasionally played the game of artificially-inflated confidence, I'm too self-aware for that.  I don't wear the Dunning-Kruger cap very well and I've always believed a healthy amount of self-doubt is always a good thing.  And, it's not nor ever will be my purpose to be impressive to everyone I come across; a life spent impressing others leaves little time to savor what it has to offer.  Being a hedonist by nature, time's better spent to find ways to be happy, healthy, smart and fulfilled.  I don't think to impress "my bros" or trying to get a hot girls cooch wet through posturing was a great use of time (besides being unnecessary since all I had to do was get to talking about politics, literature or even video games eventually lead to me getting laid).  I mostly have a knack for finding "my people" and building the experiences that are the meat of these stories.  As such, I've met a lot of people so there are lot of stories to tell.  I'm probably going to find a theme to talk about post-by-post when I write them here.  But, just to clear up, I'm a proud storyteller but I'm not here to be boastful.  I spare that for any role that calls for it in a community theater where I spend some of my free time.   And, yes, I'm in fact a bum-ass mothefucker who isn't working right now and hasn't held a steady job since the age of 20.  That part is fucking authentic.  I'm not a hardliner when it comes to sticking with a particular job.  Or, for that matter, relationship, family, group of friends or even hobbies.  As I've said, yet again, I like rich experiences and to savor ever moment of what I do.  Wretched boredom comes with that territory.  It seems pleasure is fleeting.  But I live for pleasure.  Much of my time I will go out of my way to find it and moreso to make sure I avoid the unpleasurable.  You know that expression, "I'm empty inside"?  Where most would treat that an intense spiritual failing I treat as a quality of character.  Being empty and "trying to fill the void" isn't a bad thing.  At least, it wasn't, isn't and likely never will be for me.  And, for the time being, I'm happy living this simple pleasure-seeking life unemployed.  After all, I've been employed before.  I'm likely going to fall into a new job again.

Still reading?  Good.  I think you're going to like it here.   There's much that gives me pleasure and excitement.  So, if you're enticed, you'll get the full gamut of what gives me thrills, motivation and, as was unsubtle above for a brief moment, orgasms.  And, if you're the type I think you might be, you'll enjoy it. 

Let’s leave it there for now.  Enjoy the show and we’ll talk again very soon.