I’m a diehard fan of Krampus. I think “Elf on the Shelf” is way too soft for kids. Why make them think a creepy-looking doll is spying on them when you can use a terrifying half-goat/half-demon creature to scare them into behaving? If you don’t know the story behind Krampus, he is basically one of Santa’s buddies who punishes misbehaving children. His origins draw from German and Alpine origins. He carries chains and birch sticks to literally beat kids into shape. Some other variations include Krampus sticking children in a sack or basket, dragging them to hell, or just beating them with the birch sticks while they’re in the sack/basket in the process. Basically, I would behave if I knew Krampus was waiting in the wings to kick my butt. By the way, Krampusnacht is December 5th.
But…Krampus isn’t alone. There is a female counterpart to Krampus that is much more terrifying than our male half-goat/half-demon hybrid. And she’s much more terrifying than you can ever imagine.
Don’t like to read? Check out this video instead!
The History
Let me introduce you to Frau Perchta. She comes from Eastern Europe, German and Alpine lore, and famously known as the Christmas Witch.
If you’re into the old school fairytales, like the Grimm Brothers, then you might already know about Frau Perchta. She came into prominence thanks to the eldest Grimm brother, Jacob. According to him, Perchta was originally known as Berctha, or Bertha in the 10th century. She is believed to be the female equivalent of Berchtold, who is the leader of the Wild Hunt, a group of soldiers of mythical creatures like spirits, fairies, and elves.
Frau Perchta’s Traditions
But why exactly should we be fearful of Frau Perchta? She is the upholder of cultural taboos, like the prohibition of spinning during the holidays. During the 12 days between Christmas (12/25) and Epiphany (1/6), Perchta would roam the countryside in the middle of the night. She enters people’s homes and knows immediately if the children have been naughty or nice. She also required that the women had the flax spun by the 12th night of December. Perchta would also know if you adhered to her traditional meal of fish and gruel on her feast day.
Frau Perchta bears a striking resemblance to the Scandanavian goddess, Frigga. Both entities obsess over spinning as well as whether or not your house was clean. Jacob Grimm was convinced that Perchta was Frau Holda since she is also into spinning as well as wearing white robes.
Frau Perchta’s Appearance
Frau Perchta has been known to appear as a beautiful young woman in white robes, or an elderly and haggard-looking woman, depending on which culture you are studying. What is notable about her appearance is that she has a foot that is larger than the other. It has been known as a goose or swan foot, which could indicate that she is a shapeshifter of some sort. If you behaved, you would see Perchta as a beautiful woman. But if you weren’t, then you saw her scarier side.
If you did what you were supposed to do, then you might get a nice coin the next morning. But if you neglected to be a well-behaved child, spun your flax, and ate your fish and gruel, there was certain hell to pay. Frau Perchta would slit your stomach open and stuff you with straw and garbage.
Krampus is sounding a little more PG now, doesn’t he?
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Did you know it’s been four years since my last book? That’s a long time. I’ll try to go into details as to why without the intention of giving excuses. The reason why I wanted to write this blog is that authors will so often beat themselves up over not producing content. Then months turn into years, and before you know it…years have gone by. Or, in my case, four years.
I can’t really pinpoint the catalyst for my lack of writing. It could have been very well due to the fact I was writing for a living for a very well-known YouTube channel. We’re talking 5,000-6,000 words per day on various topics. By this time, my book, “The Haunting of the Tenth Avenue Theater” was already written, and I was playing the waiting game for it to get published nearly a year later.
Then my mom passed. Writing did become part of my grieving process, but the content will never be seen by the public. Before my mom left this world, I already struggled with depression and anxiety to an extreme amount. I had also just had surgery to remove cancerous cells in a vulnerable part of my body. I was a wreck. And side note…the grieving process for a parent never ends. Even as I approach the fifth anniversary of my mom’s death, I still miss her…maybe even more so.
For the sake of avoiding gory details, my mental health took a dive. There were stories I wanted to tell, and knowledge I wanted to share, but I couldn’t get the words out. Then, responsibilities for my paranormal team grew exponentially, and I didn’t have the help to make it function the way the team wanted to. In short, I was burning out really quickly. Due to other things going on in my life, it wasn’t long before the words dried up completely.
It also didn’t help that I was surrounding myself with toxicity, and I didn’t see it. But it took a massive event to make me realize that my current situation was unhealthy, if not borderline unsafe. That was what made me realize I had lost myself and who I was. I also wasn’t taking care of myself both physically and mentally.
I also had to forgive myself and take responsibility for my own actions. I also had to cut myself some slack. Okay, a lot of slack. For the sake of my health and my existence, I had to start taking it easy on myself. Before I could even put words down on paper, I had to do this. I had to look at those in the eye who made me feel like less than human and say, “No more.” I had to put down boundaries and make decisions for my own benefit instead of that of others, because the latter was not only getting me nowhere, it was killing me.
It wasn’t long before the words came back. I started off simple; if I got 100 words per day, that was an accomplishment. Then, I built back up to about 2,000 words per day. It didn’t happen overnight. I also allowed myself to have breaks. I wasn’t competing with anyone, and I could finally write under my own [lack of] rules.
Before I knew it, my book was done.
So, here I am…another book out. My next writing adventure is diving into a world that I’ve spent years creating…and finally making that leap into fantasy. I can’t wait for you to meet these characters!
This may come across as a surprise, but I love watching beauty pageants. From Miss USA to cheering on my friends in the local pageant scene, I’ll support my friends and the incredible women that grace the stage. Organizations like Miss USA and Miss America have come a long way since they started. But they still have a long way to go. Are these pageants perfect? Definitely not.
When I reveal to people that I watch pageants, I’m usually looked at with a decent level of shock. Why am I interested in something that is unaccessible to me? The short version of my explanation is that they’re fun. We’ll get into the long version of my story in a moment. I’m hopeful that pageants will continue to evolve, since I’m all for pageants where all the contestants are behind a curtain and they’re judged on merit.
Do I have an issue with the common criticisms? You bet. For example, the ever-so-popular argument:
They judge women based on appearances
Um…doesn’t the rest of society? Pageants are a reflection of society. You make first impressions and judge others every day. It’s in our nature. People judge others for their hair, their clothes, their life choices, the list goes on. Of course theses pageants judge on appearances because that is what we have become as a society.
If we’re going to go based on the judgement of appearances, then we also can’t ignore how plus size people, such as myself, are treated by mainstream society, in the workplace, hell…just going out in public. As a society, we judge by appearances varying from body type, what we wear, etc.
If you are withholding support from beauty pageants based on this, and yet you’re watching Disney movies and worshipping princesses…pot meet kettle. For the life of me, I will never understand this argument. If you’re only hating on beauty pageants, and yet supporting other areas of society where not all women are accepted, then maybe it’s not this particular argument that is bothering you, and there’s a deeper resentment going on here.
Here’s the thing I will never stand for, and that is using my weight and my position as a plus size person to try to pigeon-hold me into agreeing with you. That’s wrong and manipulative.
But as I said, pageants aren’t perfect. There is still a certain body type that is only accepted on that stage right now when it comes to mainstream pageants. Yes, we have plus-size beauty pageants, but also consider we have plus-size clothing stores. Shouldn’t I be happy and satisfied with that? Not in the least. Until women of all shapes and sizes are on that stage, SHARING the stage, will we arrive to a new era of beauty pageants.
Okay, I’ll give you this one. Beauty pageants are outdated, and if they are going to continue to exist, they will have to evolve in the next few years.
More than Pageants
But we can’t place all the blame on pageants for becoming what they are today. We have to look at other non-pageant venues, like clothing stores that even have a size 18. But they won’t accomodate a size 26.
Torrid is great if you can afford it. Walmart doesn’t always carry bigger sizes on a regular basis (and I live in the South). No chance on Target. I’m lucky if I catch Ross or Mervyn’s on a GOOD day. Not every plus size person can afford Torrid, not everyone who is plus size has the financial privileges.
But I won’t stop watching Disney because they lack plus size presence, nor will I stop watching Miss USA (I’m not a fan of Miss America because of other politics right now). The fact that a woman with a disability made it this far in Miss NC USA shows there’s strides being made.
I can’t even shop in store at Old Navy and I have to go online. I can’t shop at most stores. Thin privilege is a thing. People look at thin people and they automatically pass the society test. Obese people, especially morbidly obese people, do not. That’s just a given. I and many others are working to absolve that.
There are plus size pageants and LOTS of them. Do they have the air time of Miss USA or Miss America? Nope.
So before going after pageants, make sure you have enough stones for:
Disney (no plus size princess or prince yet)
The film industry (a romantic comedy where weight and looks aren’t a punchline if a plus size person falls in love)
Theme park rides
Clothing industry
Sports industry
Any NFL cheer and dance team
Majority of news stations (plus-size female anchors are slowly becoming a thing)
These are just to name a few.
I will celebrate these incredible women, and hope that one day that someone plus size will grace that stage in the next 20 years (it’s going to happen).
Did I say these organizations were perfect? Nope. Do they have room to make changes and make some progress? Hell yes, and they have a long way to go. But are they open to change? Yes. Will it happen immediately? Nope.
Feminism vs. Beauty Pageants: A Middle Ground?
As a fellow feminist, I’m also aware that women can make choices to go into whatever hobby or career they want to, whether it’s sex work, beauty pageants, law, etc. It’s fantastic that women can make these choices in these professions that have greatly evolved in the past 50 years. The fact that a woman with a disability made it this far in a mainstream pageant is great. A little girl, who is also in a wheelchair, can see herself represented. And I’m fairly confident that a plus size girl will also grace that stage in the next 20 years on national TV.
I think pageants are harmless for the most part, when compared to reality shows that depict women as nasty and dependent. It’s harmless compared to how plus size women are portrayed in the entertainment industry, especially fashion.
I won’t stop watching Disney because they lack plus size presence, nor will I stop watching Miss USA (I’m not a fan of Miss America because of other politics right now). The fact that a woman with a disability made it this far in Miss NC USA shows there’s strides being made.
Speak your mind: What do you think of beauty pageants?
Live in NC? I’ve been nominated for Best Blogger for WRAL’s Voters’ Choice Awards! Click here to vote for me, and you can vote once per day!
From 1986 until 2013 – My home was San Diego, California.
Moving to Raleigh, NC in 2013 was one of the biggest changes of my life. I won’t lie, the transition was really hard. I longed to return to San Diego any chance I had. In short, I didn’t see Raleigh as “home.”
I considered moving back, but the cost of living in San Diego was rising fast and I didn’t have job prospects to help me return. In other words, I was stuck in Raleigh. I then considered moving to another city to see if that felt more like home.
Each year, I watched the seasons change and I was still feeling very much like an outsider. In fact, I took pride in the fact that I was a “California Girl” and this was a temporary stay. I had a hard time connecting with people and finding new friends. I was completely starting from scratch.
Thankfully, being a theatre kid, there was always a new family waiting for you. I got heavily involved in the theatre community, and that was a good stepping stone. I quickly found a second family that continues to be there for me through thick and thin.
And yet, I still felt like an outsider.
I kept trying my hardest to live Raleigh, let alone North Carolina. I had multiple people try to show me around their favorite spots and where they found their place to call home. Again, I struggled. I was also dealing with guilt that I couldn’t find my place here. By this time, I had already been living here for a few years. And yet, I still wasn’t settled in. Was it time to move?
I decided to explore Raleigh for myself for a day. But this time, without anyone telling me to like Raleigh, without anyone giving me their preconceived notions about Raleigh. I ended up coming up with a short list of the things I did like about Raleigh and I went from there.
In case you’re curious, here was my list:
Four seasons
Lots of history
Driving distance or a short flight to my favorite east coast places
I joined several families in North Carolina from theatre to the con scene
Then, I decided to sign up for Great Raleigh Trolley’s “Hidden History” Tour, led by Heather Leah of Candid Slice/Hidden History. I often used Heather’s articles as a jumping off point for my own research, so I knew she was legit. Combining my love of history with my current residence seemed like the thing to do to really help me connect to Raleigh.
And it worked.
Taking a history tour seemed like something small, but it was something I was truly interested in. I saw that Raleigh belonged to others beyond the people I knew (many of who took ownership of it and really made me feel like I was violating some territory-based treaty).
What also helped tremendously was that I found my dream career in Morrisville. I had another reason to be in the area besides the one I originally moved for. I found a sense of purpose by living here. I also started engaging with the community, even on days I really didn’t feel like it. I went to the Japan Summer Festival, went to concerts, watching local theatre more than being on stage, and of course, found local haunts that were available to me.
I finally found a reason to fall in love with Raleigh. That tour was the start of me making multiple connections with the community around me. I finally saw Raleigh and its surrounding communities as a part of my world, and no longer was I standing there as an outsider.
San Diego still has my heart, and always will. I still want to move back eventually, but I’ve found a sense a belonging here in NC that I’m so grateful to finally have.
What is even more extraordinary is that I was nominated by the community as a WRAL Voters’ Choice Award for Best Blogger in the Triangle! . If you’re a resident of North Carolina, be sure to vote for me here. I’m so honored and this is truly symbolic of the community embracing me as their own.
When did the social media giant become the enabler of harassment?
I’ve been on Facebook for over a decade now. I’ve seen watched it evolve from “The Facebook” in college to what it is today. I remember freshman year of college when my friend told me how I needed to join this awesome website. I remember I had to use my college email to sign up and I was able to reconnect with my friends from high school who had moved out of San Diego for school. I look back at some of my first posts thanks to Facebook Memories and cringe at how cringey my 19-year old self was.
But now, I cringe for another reason. After my swimsuit pics went live on my Facebook profile and page, friend requests started flooding in. Thrilled, and after looking carefully at each profile making sure they were real people, I went through the accept and decline process. It didn’t take long to get the hang of it.
It was only a matter of time before the harassing messages started coming in. I had men messaging me filthy things, asking me for pics of my private parts, and then threatening me if I didn’t oblige. I have also been sent countless photos and videos that I can only describe as pornography and dick pics. Obviously, the block button was used. And the messages were reported. The profiles were reported.
Guess what? These guys still have profiles. They are still messaging unsuspecting women photos of their privates and messaging them threats of sexual assault and rape. They still have active accounts and profiles. Let that sink in. Facebook also doesn’t give you reports on what happened to the message you reported. It’s like it disappears into an abyss of identical reports, never to be checked or followed up on. Facebook seems to selectively decide what derogatory comments and posts stay up.
Ironically, Facebook took down a screenshot of a censored dick pic I had posted on the offender’s timeline, saying it violated their community standards. But they didn’t take down the original post the offender made on my profile, nor did they do anything about the dick pic he sent me. So, is Facebook is willing to protect the offenders but not the victims? I can’t tell you how many reports I’ve filed on Facebook in the past few months. I can guess that the number is well over the triple digits. I’m not alone. Ever since I started sharing (censored) screenshots of the messages I’ve been receiving, hundreds of women have reached out to me to share their own experience and how this is a regular occurrence for them. This is absolutely unacceptable.
What is interesting is that I don’t have the same experience on Instagram or Twitter. When I report, the offender’s account is gone in a matter of hours. I know others have had differing experiences, so maybe I was just lucky. As noted in my blog, You Should Be Grateful for the Attention, there was a convicted pedophile who had his profile up for weeks after it was reported for sending unsolicited derogatory photos. His criminal record is accessible, and there were reports sent in about his harassment of women…and yet, Facebook dragged their heels on this.
I get it…going through these reports have to suck. But it’s necessary. At this point, Facebook is merely slapping the wrists of these people, which empowers them to continue doing what they’re doing. Social media is already becoming a cesspool of negativity thanks to people using their keyboards as a security blanket. If an offender flashed someone on the street, they would be arrested. In most cases, we have a name and a location for these offenders, and yet there are no consequences. Because there are no consequences, the behavior continues in this vicious, sick cycle. It must stop.
Bill Maher is in the headlines for more insensitive comments, this time against overweight people. His idea of how “fat shaming needs to make a comeback” as a way to combat the growing obesity epidemic isn’t a solution. It’s perpetuating an ongoing issue that fat people need and deserve to be bullied and harassed.
Last month, I was thrilled to take photos in a two-piece swimsuit. I got some amazing feedback and responses from other people who could relate to my story, were also victims of fat-shaming, and felt uncomfortable in their bodies. I was sent hundreds of photos of people in their own crop tops, two-piece swimsuits (or shirtless swimsuits from the fellas), and other revealing styles while thanking me for inspiring them to take that step.
There was another response that I had anticipated, but I was caught by surprise at the sheer volume of it all. I had men messaging me, and let’s just say what they had to say wasn’t rated G. I think I’ve received more unsolicted pics of men’s junk that I ever did while I was the dating scene. My inbox was blowing up to the point I had to uninstall Facebook Messenger. When this happened, I usually blocked and reported the offenders.
What surprised me was that the men who sent me photos of their genitals still had their Facebook profiles up. I even received reports back from Facebook that the message didn’t violate their “community standards.” I’m sorry, what? What was truly troubling that one of the senders was a convicted child rapist. Like, he was on the national offender registry for sexual assault against a child. It took almost a month for his profile to be taken down.
There were other men who had sent me photos, and I would go to their profiles to see that they had done similar, and to minors, as noted in the comments on their public posts. People are trying to report these profiles to Facebook, and when the social media giant fails to remove the profiles, people are taking to the comments to publicly declare the bad behavior (with screenshots).
I thought I reached my threshold of being shocked, I was then told that I needed to be grateful that I was getting all of this attention from men because fat girls like me don’t get “compliments” like these often. It’s like, because I’m overweight, that I need to just take the harassment and accept it. Not only that, but I’m also supposed to enjoy it? No. Actually, hell no. I know this isn’t an issue exclusive to overweight people. It’s definitely a problem within humanity.
Because I’m an analytical person, I also looked at the types of people that were harassing me. What I found interesting was that these folks were geographically in similar locations (small town America), they were typically men who were not college-educated, and they were conservative. They also had the same empty look in their eyes, and their posts indicated that they likely used illicit subtances. I don’t want to draw stereotypes, because I was harassed by a few wealthy executive-type men. This behavior isn’t exclusive to a single type of income, personality, etc.
I will admit that I found this response overwhelming because it brought back a lot of memories of being sexually assaulted. The men who hurt me told me that I needed to just appreciate and be grateful for the experience because no one else would give me this attention or want me in this way…because I was fat. When I reported my rape, I wasn’t taken seriously because surely no one would do this to a fat girl.
I find these days, being complimented on my appearance makes me cringe. I would almost prefer to be called names in regards to my fatness. Sure, the compliment-giver may mean well, but when I don’t know the person and I can’t gauge intention, I am reluctant to even say, “Thank you.”
I had to make a decision as to whether or not I wanted to continue my social media presence. I had to make a decision on how to respond to these messages and whether or not I still wanted to “call out” the men that were harassing me and sending me inappropriate photos. My method isn’t perfect. I pick and choose which ones to respond to. Most of these messages are being ignored, the sender blocked and reported, and I move on.
Today, I’m still troubled by how my assault was handled. The fact that I was told to appreciate and be grateful for the assault because it would be the “only time a man would touch me” was almost as bad as the assault itself, if not worse. What is even more troubling is watching the segment Bill Maher recently recorded and said that fat shaming needed to make a comeback. Again, it opens the issue of how just because someone is overweight, they need to be subjected to bullying and abuse because it will help them. This is only adding more poison to the mindset that justifies the rape of an overweight girl and the harassment of a human being on the street. It needs to stop.
From the time I was little, I was always aware that I was overweight. Well, that’s what it was called when I was younger. Today, I look back at photos from the time and thought, “I really wasn’t fat.”
As my body grew and changed, I knew I had to cover up my thighs, my arms, and my stomach because “No one wants to see that.”
I’ve never worn a two-piece swimsuit that exposed my stomach. I have always wanted to because I wanted to know what it felt like to be completely out there with my body.
To be completely present with myself and my body.
Origin Story
Photo by Katlyn Wright Photography
My mom put me in figure skating in my elementary school and middle school years. I wasn’t as thin as the other figure skaters. I was always getting second place at skating competitions, and my mom told me that they didn’t give first place to “fat girls.”
After figure skating, I discovered theatre. When I decided to become an actor, I became hyper-aware of what my body looked like. I could tell you what my chin was doing when I spoke a monologue. I can tell you what part of my body jiggled when I sang.
This inhibited me as a performer. I couldn’t move like I wanted too because I didn’t want to look “fatter.”
Even with all of the dance classes I took to be more comfortable with my body, it only intensified what I already knew about myself; I was fat.
Growing up, I was bigger than the other girls in my dance classes. And I wasn’t as thin as the other girls in my acting classes.
In elementary school, I had a bully who called me “Fatsuo.” The crazy thing was that she was shorter than me. She was tiny. I could have stood up to her like a force.
But I didn’t.
She only validated what I was told every day by others around me. After my physical for cheerleading, the first thing my Mom looked at was my weight. I can still hear her voice in shock saying, “One-eighty?!?!” I weight 180 pounds at 14. But I had just come from years of ice skating, working out every day, and eating a reduced-calorie diet. I was a size 12 and doing it right. I had a lot of muscle. But it’s all a numbers game. I looked at the number on the scale instead of my measurements.
At one point, my father force-fed me broccoli and took away my cup so I couldn’t chase it down with water. Of course, weight was always a conversation peppered in with gym visits. My identity was surrounded by diet and exercise. It was like I wasn’t a person because I was overweight. I wasn’t his daughter yet, because I was overweight. It went against his healthy physique and lifestyle.
Bad Solutions
Photo by Katlyn Wright Photography
In middle school and high school, I went through years of yo-yo dieting, eating disorders, binging, throwing up, starving myself, water fasts, Hollywood juice cleanse…the list goes on. I did a lot of damage to my body to fit the mold I felt obligated to be a part of.
In college, I remember my Mom did a Google search on me and found a comment from one of my classmates on MySpace. He was responding to a photo of a morbidly obese woman that was posted in his comments. He said something to the effect of, “If you ever post a photo of Alex Matsuo again…”
Instead of sympathizing with me, or just keeping it to herself, my Mom called me and told me off. Apparently, Bobby was in the right, and this was my fault because I was overweight.
Today, I’m paying for that damage to my body.
Had I been able to enjoy myself and enjoy my body at the weight I was at, who knows what I would have weighed today.
What I would give to weigh 180 again and fit in a size 12.
The Cocoon
Photo by Katlyn Wright Photography
I also used my fatness as a defense mechanism. It was like a protective cocoon that made me feel safe. I was safe from the hurt, abuse, and any threats to my wellbeing. After going through physical trauma in my teen years and early twenties, my weight was a comfort instead of being who I was.
The only boyfriend that ever had a problem with my weight was always comparing me to his ex-girlfriends and how much skinnier they were. He actually convinced me to join Jenny Craig, and I had to report my weigh-in results to him. When he broke up with me twice, I was devastated. I had made so many sacrifices to fit into his definition of what beautiful was as a condition of our relationship. It broke me.
In defense of my Mom, it seemed that having a fat daughter was one of the worse things she could have. I don’t think she believed it, but I think she was so wrapped up with what other people thought of her, or what one man thought of her, she must have thought she failed somehow because I was overweight. Don’t get me wrong, my Mom loved me and she was very proud of me. She grew up extremely insecure about her body as well. A certain man didn’t help with her confidence either because he made comments about her body that destroyed her self-esteem. She wouldn’t ever move on from them.
I love my Mom dearly. I think a lot of how she treated my weight struggle was from her own experience with her own weight as she was navigating through her life. She didn’t want me to go through what she had to go through. She didn’t want me to feel the rejection and pain she felt. I’m so sad she felt so inhibited to open herself up to someone she loved because of a few cruel words. That was the turning point of my life.
Lessons Learned
Photo by Katlyn Wright Photography
That stuck with me. I’ve been with wonderful men and women since who reminded me that I was beautiful. We were in awe of each other. My relationships since the “Jenny Craig Ex” were beautiful. I’ve met and connected with extraordinary people in my life who didn’t see past the fat, they saw my fat as a part of me, which was beautiful. Why couldn’t I see myself in that way?
One day, I took off all of my clothes, and I looked at myself in the mirror.
This was me.
Even with all the angled selfies and different styles of clothes to try to hide my fat, this was who I am. This was what people saw all the time. People still cared about me…they accepted me for who I am.
So, why couldn’t I do that for myself? I didn’t want that mindset for the rest of my life.
Looking Forward with Fat
Photo by Katlyn Wright Photography
As I mentioned, I’m now paying for all I put my body through. Even as my body continues to change because of hormones and medication, I’m celebrating the person I am right now. If I don’t fall in love with my body now, I may never get a chance to. I’m eating healthier than I ever have in my life. I exercise and slowly falling in love with it.
Guess what? Still fat. So it’s who I am right now. Not every plus-size person is overweight because of food. It’s going to be a slow process. But instead of trying to lose weight, I’m trying to be healthy.
Probably the most incredible thing happened; once I started truly loving myself and my body, I started eating better for my health’s sake…not for the number on the scale. I want to keep my blood sugar in the normal range, so my eating habits reflect that.
So, if someone has an issue with my double chin or my flabby arms…oh well. That is their issue and not mine.
Just because someone is uncomfortable with my body, it is not my obligation to change myself for their peace of mind.
To mark this new mindset, I decided to do something I had never thought of doing at my current weight.
Wear a two-piece swimsuit.
I’m no longer going to cover up my arms for anyone. And I’m going to wear that two-piece swimsuit and show off a bit of stomach for this last bit of summer.
If anyone has an issue with that, you’re welcome to look the other way.
If you’ve been following my Facebook or Instagram, you’re probably aware that I’ve become more serious about a low-carb lifestyle. I suppose you could call it “lazy keto” since I’m only counting carbs and not worried about the macros (yet).
I’m not doing this because I want to lose weight. Nothing else was lowering my blood sugar. Being a diabetic, I was constantly in the 200s with medication, so something had to change.
I’ve learned that I do need to plan and prep if I’m going to stick to this lifestyle. It means looking at the menus ahead of time if I’m going to a restaurant.
It also means cooking. A lot of cooking. Luckily, I have my boyfriend to help shoulder the burden. But even so, I don’t like cooking overly complicated things. So, these recipes are fairly simple. It’ll require a trip to the grocery store, maybe a few. These are recipes that have honestly helped me keep my sanity as I make this transition.
Pizza Rolls
This was created by my boyfriend. So he gets the credit. These are delicious, and really simple.
You’ll need some mozzarella, pepperoni (or your favorite low carb topping), and some tomato sauce. Store bought pizza sauce has a LOT of sugar. However, if you buy the plain generic tomato sauce, it’s only got 3 carbs per serving.
You’ll make little piles of mozzarella of about 1 ounce on parchment paper. Bake at 400 F for about 10 minutes.
At this point, the mozzarella piles have melted down. Take it out of the oven, you can put about a teaspoon of sauce on it and your pepperoni. Put it back in the oven for 5-7 minutes.
I like to roll mine, but they can also be folded in half like tacos.
It should round out to about 1-3 net carbs depending on your ingredients.
“No Bake” Peanut Butter Balls
This recipe is great. Having these little balls on hand is great if I need a quick snack.
This one is DELICIOUS. I’m not a fan of eating vegetables, but I can tolerate mushrooms. This recipe had me wanting more mushrooms. It’s great over a bed of zoodles or spaghetti squash.
Heads up, this recipe isn’t really keto-friendly. But, if you have a craving for tomato soup, this will kick it while keeping your carb-count relatively low.
You’ll need a 6 oz. can of tomato paste, 1/4 cup heavy cream, beef broth, oregano, and your favorite shredded cheese.
The original recipe I found had one cup of heavy cream. I found this mixture to be way too heavy, so I diluted it with beef broth.
Play with the ratios and see what tastes the best for you.
This past weekend, I spent time with wonderful people at ConCarolinas 2019/Deep South Con 57.
I did something I had never done before. I got emotional during a panel.
The panel was “She’s Got Nothing to Prove” and I was one of several amazing women who participated.
Being a female in fandom is a wonderful thing…for the most part. It wasn’t always that way, and in some ways, it *still* isn’t that way.
My first exposure to the geek world was when I was a wee
little tyke and a very dear member of my family was a Trekkie. I remember
watching the original Star Trek (TOS) and The Next Generation. Well, I more so
remember flashes of scenes and moments. I didn’t really understand what I was
watching.
In elementary school, I fell in love with Power Rangers. But
I didn’t play Power Rangers with the boys at school. If I did, I couldn’t be
Jason, Billy, or Zack. I couldn’t even be Kimberly or Trini because I wasn’t pretty
or I didn’t look Asian enough. Such as life and finding my identity. Anyway,
that was light. It was easier for me to simply join the other girls and say
that Power Rangers was done and then run home after school to watch.
Flash forward to 2000 and 2001. My grandmother had recently
died and we were going through things in her house. My mom and I had found
boxes and boxes of VHS tapes that my grandpa had made from a friend. Most of my
earliest Disney movies were made from homemade VHS tapes…meaning…they were
counterfeit (sorry, Mickey). Among this collection were the original episodes
of Star Trek and Star Trek: The Next Generation. For the latter, at least the
episodes until my grandpa died. My grandmother watched the show too but not to
the extent as my grandpa. He was a big fan of Roddenberry. While I don’t know
why, I can imagine the connection of being in the Army in World War II,
interracial kissing (my grandparents were an interracial couple), and the
incredible vision and storytelling of the shows.
Anyway, I was a cheerleader in high school, and very much
into anime like Sailor Moon and recently discovering InuYasha on Toonami. I
found these VHS tapes and started watching. I wanted to connect with my grandpa
more and explore something that he enjoyed.
I didn’t really know anyone who was into Star Trek besides
my first high school boyfriend (he was more or less annoyed with me about it). I
took to the message boards to try to connect with others. This was early 2000’s
message board activities, so I wasn’t very conscientious about hiding my
identity.
In short, one of the Star Trek fans I knew in real life l was able to identify me and told his fellow Trekkies. These guys identified themselves as Trekkies and will use that terminology moving forward.
At first, he and his two other friends seemed excited that a
cheerleader was interested in Star Trek. They entertained my questions and geek
outs over episodes they bragged about watching dozens of time. I didn’t really
want to self-identify as a Trekkie,Trekker, or even a Star Trek fan so
publicly. This was mainly because I didn’t know who I was. Isn’t that just high
school in general?
However, they also grilled me on content that I frankly didn’t
keep track of. I was expected to become an encyclopedia of all things Star
Trek. I didn’t measure up, and I had to pay the consequences.
Without getting into too much detail, I got bullied by the
bullied. I was touched in ways I didn’t want to be touched. But I “owed” these
guys because they had “wasted” time on me. I wasn’t a true Trekkie. In their
eyes, I misled them and I had to be punished.
I was also dealing with a breakup and other issues surrounding that. After it was over, I remembered looking at his Star Trek keychain and just screaming at it and crying. Mom and I packed up the Star Trek VHS tapes and put them back into the closet, never to be watched again. It would be another six or so years before I would even watch another episode of Star Trek.
As mentioned earlier, I got emotional telling this story. I
also felt really bad telling this story because there were people dressed in
Star Trek costumes, and I knew there were several fans in the audience. I’m not
blaming this on fans, trekkers, or Trekkies. I’m blaming three teenaged boys
who didn’t have an outlet for their anger and they took it out on me. They wanted
me to feel as bad as they did.
And it worked.
I told my mom what happened. She decided to just keep it quiet and told me to do the same. I never went to any sort of therapy, and it honestly built up so much anger in me. I blamed myself for being so stupid and trusting. I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere.
I learned my lesson. In the future, I kept my identity hidden on message boards and other online communities. If anyone did find my “real” name, it was assumed I was a male, and therefore safe. Other women I know were not as lucky.
This wouldn’t be the first time I dealt with gatekeepers of
various fandoms. I was honestly terrified of reaching out into another
community of fandom because of my Trekkie experience. Luckily, I was able to
connect with wonderful people to contribute to my healing. From Star Wars to Disney, to anime,
Battlestar Galactica, Firefly, etc., I’ve learned that you’re allowed to enjoy
things even if you’re new. We all start somewhere.
This also stretches far outside into other areas like
gaming. I think GamerGate burst open the fact that women are not only being
shamed for liking a certain fandom or playing a game, but also they are being doxed,
harassed in real life, and being threatened on a daily basis. This underground
issue became a very public crisis and put the spotlight on the world of gaming.
If a woman has some cleavage while live streaming, she’s automatically labeled
as a slut or getting attention for the wrong reasons because she isn’t smart enough.
But gatekeeping isn’t just a male issue. It is a societal
issue.
Since being a “geek” or a “nerd” is much more accepting and,
dare I say, trendy these days, I see a few different reactions to it all.
The geeks who have been in it for decades and
are now annoyed with the newbies.
The women who were shamed for liking something
and then feeling the hurt when a new and “prettier” girl embraces their fandom
and gets more attention.
The new geek who doesn’t understand the trials
the veterans experienced being a geek and trivializing their struggles.
Lately, I’ve been trying to embrace the idea of letting
people enjoy things.
You don’t have to be an encyclopedia of facts to enjoy the
fandom.
Do respect the people who have been there before you. If
they’re willing to chat, pick their brain on how they got to where they are
today. They might also be trying to process this newfound acceptance of their
geekdom.
Women are constantly trying to prove themselves, their
credibility, and their worth in the world of fandom. It can be really hard,
especially when we’re asked to quote specific lines from movies, remember what
color a character wore from a Christmas special, or show off their collectibles
and then meet with aghast when said collection isn’t impressive.
The fact that there are numerous articles on how to be a “proper”
fan in various fandoms is nothing short of ridiculous. The fact that there are
posted lists on phrases you have to use in everyday conversation to prove you
are a fan that was just recently written proves we have a long way to go.
Granted, I also have to remember the quality of people who
are making our lives a living hell for doing what we love, watching what we love,
and playing what we love.
Can a female just enjoy things without forcing her to prove
herself?
You’re focused on a lot of things right now, like your next Disneyland trip, Hanson, figure skating, karate, visitations with dad, and Sailor Moon. I know you’re dealing with some really messed up things at home. If I could go back in time and give you this letter, this is what I want you to know.
Ask your grandma tons of questions about her life and your grandpa’s life while you still have time. I know living with her with all of her health problems is hard, but she won’t be around forever. Spend as much time with her as you can.
While you and Mom aren’t getting along, know that she’s going through a lot that she will never tell you about. Also, appreciate her too and spoil her on her birthday. Ask Mom to be more honest with you. She will not ask for help when she needs it, and it will end up causing more issues.
Take more pictures. While you might feel embarrassed to ask people to take a picture with you, it’s better to feel that temporary feeling than the lifelong regret of missing a photo with someone you love.
Go to Disneyland more often. Take advantage of the annual pass monthly payments earlier in college. Also, don’t let people make you feel bad for your monthly Disneyland trips.
Don’t let people’s fat jokes get to you. I know you have many people from all facets of life telling you that you’re overweight. Yeah, maybe you can’t run as fast as the other kids. But you’re strong. You’re athletic. You eat pretty healthy. Also, you’re not fat.
Wear that two-piece swimsuit you’ve been dreaming of. Go ahead and enjoy life. You will keep yourself from enjoying life because you will keep them as rewards for your weight-loss. Appreciate your body and love your body. Because 33-year old Alex wishes her body can still do what it did at your age. She will wish that she weighed what you weighed right now.
On that note, seriously…you’re not fat. You won’t be fat in high school either. Don’t pay attention to that number on the scale because most of that weight comes from the muscle you’ve built from figure skating and cheerleading.
Sign up for acting classes. That itch to perform will turn into something more.
Speaking of creative itches, don’t let your teachers tell you that you’re a bad writer. In fact, you’re pretty damn good at writing and research. Look out for a friend named Anneke, because she will give you that creative boost and tell you that you’re a good writer.
Eat more vegetables. I know you hate them, and Mom went overboard in forcing you to eat them. Tell Mom and Grandma to put more spices in the veggies and add cheese. You’ll be able to eat them. Ask to get your blood sugar tested, and often. Diabetes is already living inside you.
You’re beautiful. Tell yourself you’re beautiful every day, because you are. Be confident in who you are and love yourself.
Don’t let your 5th grade teacher change your name because there’s a boy who has the same name as you. “Alexa” won’t stick after 5th grade. Your teacher was awesome, but you shouldn’t have had to sacrifice your name.
Stick with the piano lessons. You’re musically gifted. Yeah, the lessons sucked, but you need a different piano teacher.
There will be people who will fat shame you well into college. Don’t give them the time of day.
Take the time to learn math.
Did I say you’re beautiful?
Take naps. As you get older, you will try to bank sleep. It doesn’t work that way. Your 33-year old self is learning the value of sleep after the damage has been done.
If someone stresses you out so much that you’re physically ill, and they’re not changing their behavior after years of you talking to them…let them go.
Challenge yourself. Sometimes you will be put in situations that you’re not a fan of, like remedial math. Know that it’s for your benefit and growth. Take punches in stride, and know it’s okay to cry.
Keep reading those books on the bus. Read as much as you can.
Keep singing.
Keep watching anime. And no, it isn’t from the devil.
Take pride in your Japanese heritage.
Take advantage of the travel opportunities you have. Tell Mom to let you travel to France with your Dad.
On that note, tell Mom that you want to study the arts with your Dad’s friends.
Speaking of Dad, he has a secret to tell, and it’s okay. It’s nothing to freak out about regardless of what religious bigots will say.
You have crushes on girls, and it’s okay.
Be proud of yourself and who you are. Can you tell there’s a self-esteem empowerment vibe here? That’s because I know how bad you feel about yourself, and it’s not your fault.
Be comfortable in being uncomfortable. Once you settle into this concept, it’s extraordinarily powerful, and you’ll be unstoppable in achieving your dreams.
Call people more. Write letters and postcards.
Ask Mom to have you see a therapist in high school. Those feelings you have weren’t just hormones. You will develop anxiety and depression. Take care of it sooner than later so you can enjoy life sooner. Medication is okay.
It will take you years to unlearn a lot of things. But trust me, it’s worth it.
Don’t let people disrespect you. It’s okay if people don’t like you. Self-respect is key.
Learn to walk away. Understand that there will be some people who will never see beyond themselves or the hurt they caused you.
Wear your retainer.
I keep saying this, but you’re beautiful. You will spend a lot of time on trying to make your body perfect that will hurt you. Just because you’re huskier than the other girls (let’s face it, you always have), it doesn’t mean you’re worth less or you’re not beautiful.
There is power in words.
Smile and be kind. Sometimes you can be a light not only to others, but to yourself.
You love cats, and it’s okay.
I hope you start loving yourself much earlier in age than I did.
Be a warrior instead of a worrier. Everything will work out in the end.
