When They Say “War on Obesity” I Hear “Casualties”

Beautiful. I love this writer. “A war on obesity is a war on fat people, and a war on people has injuries and deaths and collateral damage and that’s exactly what’s happening.”

Dances With Fat

Design by Kris Owen Design by Kris Owen

Twenty-one year old Eloise Perry bought diet pills on the internet.  The pills are believed to contain dinitrophenol, also known as DNP.  The UK government had warned people about taking pills with DNP because it is very dangerous. The pills killed her. Many people are outraged because “she wasn’t even fat.”  I am outraged at the idea that her size would matter.

At the age of 32, Christina Mettias was pushed by her doctor to have Weight Loss Surgery. She was in perfect health and didn’t meet any of the criteria for having the surgery – including the ratio of weight and height – but her doctor scared her into having the surgery.  After 14 additional surgeries to correct the problems that landed her in intensive care for three months, she still suffers from painful abdominal scar tissue, daily vomiting, chronic eating problems and intolerance to oral…

View original post 747 more words

Advertisements

When a 5% Deduction is 100% Awesome

April 26, 2015, 10:51 p.m. I'm a few hours into writing a seven-page final paper. It's due in an hour or so, but I won't be able to finish it on time. I'll have to take a 5 or 10% grade deduction for handing it in late. It's no big. For the first time in … Continue reading When a 5% Deduction is 100% Awesome

Poetry Friday: Stand

Stand You blend in, cottage, with your pastel friends. They dot the hilly landscape and brighten cloudy days. You stand firm in the winds and mists and webs and years, listening to the gulls call over hungry, icy ocean rolls. You can’t hear the trees, but they speak of you, whispering to me that you, … Continue reading Poetry Friday: Stand

Poetry Friday: Baby Words

Baby Words I thought my heart had reached its maximum capacity, little one. But when I saw you so tiny in your black and white world, I fell in love with a stranger. I don't know you but I can't wait to. I can't wait for all the hats I'm going to make you that … Continue reading Poetry Friday: Baby Words

Death Will Grow My Jasmine

Today I opened the door and was greeted with a hearty gust of wind. It tugged on my flyaway curls and buffeted my face. The walk to the bus stop was spicier than usual, bits of dirt and leaves and twigs scratching my calves. It was the first day I wore shorts to school this … Continue reading Death Will Grow My Jasmine

Don’t Believe Everything You Hear

Such a beautiful and complex piece. “You get so tired sometimes because there isn’t just one problem to tackle. There are unlimited problems.” Keep your hope, team! (P.S. it has a few F-bombs.)

Must Be This Tall To Ride

(Image courtesy of chadhyams.wordpress.com) (Image courtesy of chadhyams.wordpress.com)

A convicted child rapist’s face was being shown on TV.

He was 19, and convicted of molesting a 3-year-old girl (which is heinous and disgusting in every imaginable way).

The Orange County, California judge hearing the case reduced the convicted rapist’s sentence to 10 years, even though law mandates a mandatory 25-year sentence for child rape convictions.

I was sitting in the living room with my mom who was visiting. She joined the chorus of people absolutely infuriated by this judge’s actions.

“Doesn’t this upset you?” she asked. “What if that was your son?”

“Assuming it’s true, it’s troubling. Yeah. I don’t know enough to make a determination one way or the other.”

“He was convicted of rape, Matt,” she said.

“Sometimes an 18-year-old has consensual sex with his 16-year-old girlfriend and gets convicted of rape.”

“This is a child, Matt.”

“All I’m saying is I…

View original post 1,342 more words

Poetry Friday: Not Speaking

Not Speaking The sound of the rain reminds me of you; one arm around my shoulders, your head on mine. We are just standing, not speaking, because you understand how I feel about the rain. The rhythm is steady, yet unpredictable. Pat, pat, pat on the sidewalk, on the roof, on my outstretched hand, like … Continue reading Poetry Friday: Not Speaking