Lonely

So busy, yet more alone than ever….

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Being an amazon in a size O world…

I am not a small woman. I never have been, not since before high school. Unfortunately for me I got bigger just when the trend in fashion, and what seemed like the whole world, got impossibly small. Size O small. What is that? How can you be a size O and still exist? Anyway, I spent many years trying to shrink, be thinner, be shorter, just be less me.

I come from a big family and for a long time I was the smallest, believe it or not. Now at 6 feet tall (6’1″ according to my BFF Holly) in bare feet with broad shoulders and a desperate need to buy all clothes in tall, I am a definitely NOT small. Finally I am starting to accept my size and be proud of it. It’s an ongoing battle for me. I am constantly reminded of how much easier it is to be pretty/thin/size O, but every day I get a little stronger and love the way I am a little bit more.

I can honestly give a huge amount of credit to Roller Derby. In that game girls brag about their muscular big size.  I don’t think anyone in that sport is a size O. For a girl who had never worn heels in her life, I spent time in front of crowds with skates that made me a good 3 inches taller.  I wore heels to after parties and towered over people. In celebration of my new love of my size I got my first tattoo. Nothing small either, I got a half sleeve of Wonder Woman, my muse. Every time I see her it reminds me to love being an amazon. Leave size O to the other girls!

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why a blog

So why a blog? I never thought of myself as the blogger type. I didn’t really understand the appeal of writing down your personal feelings for everyone to see. If not my feelings then my opinions, who wants to read that? Well like the cigarette ads of my youth used to say “you’ve come a long way baby”.

To date I have been unable to keep any kind of journal, and it’s not because I don’t have thoughts or opinions rolling around up there. I’ve just never been organized enough to sit down and consistently keep one. The whole ‘who would want to read it’ aspect doesn’t concern me anymore. Maybe no one, maybe just a few friends who know me so well anything I write will be something they have already heard me say. I’m not doing this for the attention. This I’m doing for me.

How about I begin with one thing, a proverbial toe in the water. I love India. I will go there and hopefully not just once. I actually have an uncle who is Indian and originally from Mumbai (previously know as Bombay) and I remember always loving his accent, his gentle demeanor, his charm, his mischievousness! Growing up in Buffalo, New York the hardest thing was the winter lasted too long and was way too gray. India is so sunny, so bright, so colorful it just seems to always be calling me. I am not naive about it’s harsh realities, some of which physically pain me, but I feel hope for it, I have faith in it… just like I do for my own homeland.

Ganges river

Ganges river