tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44541961482984227492024-03-14T00:58:38.135-04:00Ongoing Journey of Brown in a White WorldMe in my utter me-ness, showing you who I am.American Desi Redefinedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06657173152347319217noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454196148298422749.post-34706006005057687552021-03-20T17:15:00.002-04:002021-03-20T17:15:51.320-04:00Old Bitches, New Tricks, Paths Revealed<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBaN61icICcjkCukYpMU4Ex61Y7rufSi6BMe8dR3DP0uI3bBM1ozQDt-zSYpUxfJodL46vr3tXatmh1h1-KayfIyPO2pYLaBxxionletadGNOtYV92_hwXMCIf1Og5rDEc1mxD5hhA3Hk/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="624" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBaN61icICcjkCukYpMU4Ex61Y7rufSi6BMe8dR3DP0uI3bBM1ozQDt-zSYpUxfJodL46vr3tXatmh1h1-KayfIyPO2pYLaBxxionletadGNOtYV92_hwXMCIf1Og5rDEc1mxD5hhA3Hk/" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(I do love coming up with interesting titles for my blogs. I like
to imagine it's close to click-bait and also full disclosure, the pic above isn't one I took so I don't own it.)</span> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>What
seemed decades ago, a boss to me:</b> You should consider management seriously.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Me:</b> As a profession? Yeah, no thanks, I will end up killing someone.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Ex-Boss:</b> You're <i>actually</i> good with people. Maybe you'd maim, but no
more.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Me:</b> I think I'll stay where I am, happy and secure and not tempting a
stint wearing orange, which is not a flattering color on me.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Me 2020 version:</b> *After deciding to get certified
in management; beginning to take classes to prepare for the exam...screams into
the void...* <i>OMG I'M DUMBER THAN DIRT AND WILL FAIL SO BADLY THAT I'LL
REDEFINE THE VERY MEANING OF FAILING!</i><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Me 2021 version:</b> *After lots of roadblocks the
first attempt I think, maybe, possibly, this shiz is sinking in and I'll maybe
not fail as badly as I initially thought*<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I
don't know about any of you out there but personally, I suck at
classroom/formalized learning. Distraction is probably my worst enemy as well
as a good dose of natural antsiness. I can't sit still to save my life (unless
I'm reading although I can walk and read at the same time since my peripheral
is pretty epic) or do one thing at one time. I am compelled, always, to be
doing a few things in concordance to one other, probably in the process, not
doing any of it very well. But that's just how my brain seems to function. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">When
in school, I was a solid "C" student (nope, not ashamed of admitting
this). Sometimes I got worse, mostly in any sort of math, and sometimes I
killed it, usually in the realm of English or the arts. Of course, this all
flies in the face of my brownness where I should (generalization alert!!!) have
been getting straight A's in anything that had to do with numbers or equations
so that I would become a doctor or engineer. That didn't happen, much to my
parent's everlasting regret. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Couple
the zero knack for calculating with the inability to sit still and the result
is no real success to be had in the traditional school environment. Still, I
had hope that my lovely personality alone would get me into a good college (I
did go to college and it still shocks me that with my sad SAT scores I got into
anywhere) and after that? I had the absolute gal to dream of law school but
with an overall lowish GPA and LSAT scores which weren't quite abysmal but not
awesome, that idea was dropped. Instead, I went on to be a paralegal/legal
assistant at some big named law firms. I was good at that profession. In fact,
I kicked some major bootay; where I picked up on management skills as I was a
part of the Antitrust practice groups where we handled, specifically, mergers
and acquisitions. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I
almost reluctantly admit that I'm not much of a go-getter. Things fall into my
lap or a direction is often just there, and I take it. I work hard, don’t
misunderstand me, but probably when it comes to advancement, I don't work as
hard as I could/should. I watch others around me taking classes, reading
self-help books, attend motivational courses, really dive deep into figuring
out the next phases of their life while I sit around wondering why I would even
bother when I'm comfortable. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I should change the word comfortable to ‘a minion of the devil’
because when I get too much into this state of mind of contentment, it’s utter
inertia. I will do everything in my power to not disturb it. Nothing can get me
out in this thought process unless it’s a huge life event.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Also,
let me just say that there's nothing wrong with comfort. Nothing at all. Isn’t
that what most folks are just simply striving to do? I think so, but it’s
problematic when it becomes a way of life that lulls you into a belief that
that’s all there is to life and that nothing else matters hence no new
challenges, no new adventures, no new…nothing really. For me, what I really
didn't consider was that maybe I would benefit from something more?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">To
explain, in context, the kind of person I really am. A person said to someone
I'm close to, "she may not be terribly active or do much but when she
does, she really is pretty amazing."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The
first time I heard this I was completely insulted, outraged even, and had I
pearls on? I would have sure been clutching them. However, it took 5 short
minutes to realize that the comment wasn't completely off the mark. Can't hide
from yourself, kiddos, even while you try to fool everyone else. And I am not
an advocate of pulling the wool over my own eyes about myself hence why I can
admit that I feel like I'm legendary in my sheer laziness. Likely my biggest nemesis,
I've tried to slay this particular dragon so many times. Now, I'm still lazy as
the day is long, if I have the opportunity, I'll chose to do anything but what
I should be doing but I'm doing a bit better with it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Now
imagine the person I just described as the same who is presently working
towards getting certified, in anything, other than a slug? Yet here I am, with
eyes bleeding, gazing out windows wistfully, sobbing internally as I relearn to
study, educate myself, immerse. And in the process of this, I've wondered if
I'm not just really setting myself up for some big huge honking fail. I mean
that literally: fail the exam which is 4 agonizing hours long. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It
was told to me that this certification shouldn't be taken lightly, that it's
really, really hard (as if 1 really wouldn't have been enough for me to get it)
and that it required lots of study time. I damn near broke into hives when I
heard this. Yuck…studying. In the past as I asked supervisors if it would be a
good idea to go for it, I usually clung to those who said, "no, it's not
necessary" while dismissing those who said it would definitely be
beneficial long term. What the hell did they know anyhow?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">So
how did I eventually get here?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">After
a few years of consecutive unemployment, looking for a new path, trying to
redefine myself (lord, doesn't this sound like some new age bullshit?), and
coming to the understanding that I was most motivated, downright at my best, in
a fast-paced environment where I play some leadership role and work within a
team environment, the words of that ex-boss came back. That, coupled with a few
colleagues commending me for some projects I led, has me here, agonizing over a
pending exam that is literally consuming my every waking days and nights
including dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Here's the thing, my lovelies, and it goes way back to my title: I
can do new things and my age is not a determinant factor. I am able to
'learn' and not just life lessons, which I'm determined never to stop doing. I
can actually take on a whole new subject-matter, ingest a boatload of completed
unrelatable information and apply it to questions on a test and know the right
answer. Then, and this I found to be the trick, relate it to my own past
experiences. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Now, a manager in the making am I (sure, I've actually been one
before) as defined by a leading organization who tells the world I'm legit and
really know what I'm doing. Seems like such a joke in so many ways but
that’s the intended end to this path, a sense of legitimacy.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Y'all...revelations. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Truth
be told, there are times when I still wanna flip my computer over, throw shit
around, burn a few textbooks on a pyre and just go for a long drive, but I
resist that because I'm not an animal (I just resort to growling at the
computer here and there), instead plodding on trying to prove that I am not
obsolete. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Anyhow,
if you're out there wondering, take it from this old bitch who believed herself
to be doomed to relative obscurity in her career/life, never realizing any
dreams whatsoever, that if you want to do something, at least try. I bet you
didn't know there was gonna be an inspirational ending, did you? <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I
can also tell you that it's okay to hate every excruciating minute of it, to
want to give up, to want to curse the fates. Do all that but keep going.
Eventually, you'll get there or know when the best time to bow out is, which
would for sure be when you've given it your honest to goodness best shot, not
the type where you say it but didn't really do it (something I've been guilty
of in the past).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Anyhow,
thanks for reading, as usual. Show me some love, tell me what dreams you’ve
had/have and how you’ve gotten there or wish you had pursued. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p><br /></p>American Desi Redefinedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06657173152347319217noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454196148298422749.post-81194391781717018512021-03-09T15:02:00.004-05:002021-03-09T15:02:55.003-05:00The Toddler vs Me - IT'S ON!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXM8Gt_98l0BWerXKkY_E6czkozXDzPsHVpxm5Vuxwi58FC9u2xgAf_hZVjrW_RuIMr2nxv1iIQkZHT2kcIgBNdULOYS5D6j8sPVcgV5pulEM-_Sji2CXQGAJVRqnn2aqymY-AsOmTNHE/s2578/20210309_145753.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1220" data-original-width="2578" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXM8Gt_98l0BWerXKkY_E6czkozXDzPsHVpxm5Vuxwi58FC9u2xgAf_hZVjrW_RuIMr2nxv1iIQkZHT2kcIgBNdULOYS5D6j8sPVcgV5pulEM-_Sji2CXQGAJVRqnn2aqymY-AsOmTNHE/w400-h189/20210309_145753.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I tend to look at life with a mixture of uncertainty and hilarity. I get down into those dark spaces of my mind but in truth, I can't live there for long. Not that I cannot but I would rather not. Maybe it has to do with internal anxiety or that I'm not deep enough to constantly be doom and gloom? Whatever it is, you'll notice, as you follow me, that I will sometimes post something super serious and then the next could be about absolute nonsense. This helps to equalize me in a weird way.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Do you ever walk through your day looking for humor? I do. I think funny, overall, can be found in almost all situations. Okay, almost all but you get my gist. It may at times be obvious, other times it could be subtle. And because I am forever a writer, when it is totally not apparent to others at the hilarity of a situation, I'm filling in the blanks so when I repeat it, it's just a bit more giggle/chuckle-worthy.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">This brings me to a few days ago to aptly highlight my ability to find humor anywhere/anytime... </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The area I call home is beautifully diverse. An area that is represented by all nationalities and cultures, citizens inevitably have varied options for damn near everything. Whether you want Asian specific, European particular, or say you have the burning desire to be influenced by the continent of Africa, you got it. Stores, specialty shops, cuisines are all around so if one resides hereabouts and you have never experienced more than a diner (which are great so no hate here) and burgers, that's on you. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">One of the best things for a person who cooks international food as I do is the varying amounts of grocery stores. In abundance around every corner, you can always catch me at the markets loading up on interesting ingredients, some of which I recognize, others which make me arch an eyebrow. And it can be hours of perusing aisles before I leave. It's a totally different story as to what I do with ingredients once having procured. My culinary stories could be a whole blog unto itself. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">But I digress...it was precisely one of these grocery stores that I had an epic battle with a toddler. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">One doesn't hear this often and I'm not ashamed. I feel the need to share this story because the little tyke had what he got, coming. Oh yeah. That's right. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">So on a particularly 'who knows how to dress for this weather' day in beautiful Northern Virginia, I'm regretting former laziness and knowing that without cooking, there would be starvation up in the hizzouz. Thus I am at the market completely unprepared as to what I'll prepare but figure surely there will be inspiration once I'm faced with the options? By the way, that technique really never works.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Anyhow, I'm going up and down the produce aisles hopeful for some sort of miracle in the form of maybe an eggplant standing up, strolling over to me, pulling at my tee, and whispering recipes into my ears? But alas, it may come as zero surprises but that didn't happen. In a state of semi-annoyance, at one point I felt like I was being watched. Unsure, surreptitiously I glanced about only to come face-to-face with my nemesis in the form of what seemed to be a 2-year-old or thereabouts toddler. I can't say I would be able to identify the imp for s/he was bundled up as if we lived in the tundra. But the eyes...</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Ah yes, the steely gaze was steady, unblinking. And since that really was all I could see, they were everything. Big, round, and I think, judgemental. Do I sound paranoid? Well I mean, the look was enough to have me glancing down at what I was wearing which was a slightly stained burgundy sweatshirt (yeah, but it was clean and laundered), black leggings, and yellow sneaks (the same as Bruce Lee wore during "<i>Enter the Dragon"</i>). My hair was a haphazard unwashed mess and I think my eyeliner was a little smudgy, but not in a good way. Sure, the kid had every reason to judge the shit out of me but at that age?!? He had the nerve to continue to gaze at me in disdain without once batting a single eyelash. Didn't air dry his/her eyes out, I had wondered, turning away to continue to consider the produce in stacks before me.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">But here's where I felt like s/he was doubling down like some creepy kid in those horror movies, or maybe her/his mother was in cahoots because every few steps, there they were, him/her in the stroller, staring. Once hyper-aware of the watching imp, I would escape to another aisle and within seconds s/he was there again. If The Toddler suddenly began to levitate, I wouldn't have been all that shocked, to be frank. At every turn, the eyes were staring and judging my very existence. I tried to tune them out but my mind loves to mess around with me and thus ignoring her/him almost impossible. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Now the mother, or whoever she was, seemed oblivious. Maybe she didn't know her child was an embodiment of Damian from <i>The Omen</i> and while I would have loved to clue her in, she was way too busy on the phone talking really loudly. She gave zero fucks basically leaving me up to my own devices. I had to wonder if the kid was silently cursing me or something for even a display of sweets did not deter his gaze. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">How did this showdown come to a close? </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Well, approximately 5 aisles in, feeling slightly unbalanced as well as determined to go home and shower, dress, and put on make-up because for realz...I turned as if we were having a standoff at the OK Corral, I stared at them. They were about 25 feet away. She was super into her conversation which I didn't understand because I don't speak Spanish (I really, really need to learn) and of course the tyke was still staring, but now in chubby hands was clutched a juice thingie...you know the ones with two handles on either side. And the staring was still going but I was about to nip it in the bud. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Facing them fully, well her/him, hands on either side of me, one clutching the phone that was piping in some Bollywood song into my ears, the other one flexed into a fist, I did the only thing I could: I stuck out my tongue.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Bingo.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">His/her eyes flared in momentary shock. And before The Toddler could do anything further, I made a run for it.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Yup, I left, like a coward. Straight to the register, quickly I paid up and hustled the hell out of the store before s/he found me to lift me into the air with just her/his mind as s/he forced molten magma out of every orifice. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I barely escaped with my life. I probably have a curse following me so I'll have to take up sage-ing myself and everything I own.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Am I being dramatic? Mayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyybeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Did you laugh? I hope so.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Hey, do me a favor and look for funny in the humdrum/mundane. And feel free to share with me in the comment section. And laugh, apparently it's good for the soul.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Have a great day!</span></p>American Desi Redefinedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06657173152347319217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454196148298422749.post-29984124330427424392021-03-08T15:11:00.004-05:002021-03-08T15:11:37.306-05:00Chronicles of a Fat Woman - Intro<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Maybe you flinched at the title? Possibly you frowned in disapproval at the use of the word 'fat'? It's not very PC, nor nice in its abject truth. The very word sounds so...yucky. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">And it really is. Unless spelled with a "PH" in place of the "F", overall this particular word in itself really is nothing but connected with negative connotations. Sure, there are the fat sandwiches of the world which seems a pretty good thing (unless you're trying to lose weight in which case, not so much) but there are more not-so-great things associated with this simple 3-letter word. Take for example fat wallets or fat cats. If these two can be attributed to a person, it's not so awesome unless of course, you are one and in these cases, you probably won't care what others think anyhow.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Then why am I even using this very uncomfortable word and doing so this deliberately and in a blog post no less? </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">If you don't know me in person and decided that you need or want to connect a real person to the online persona via your own imagination (not that I'm insinuating you will but in case...), I want to make that mental picture as accurate as possible which starts with the body although I think for me personally if I'm going to imagine anyone at all, I begin to wonder about the features on the face but that's neither here nor there. I just want to let you know that as you wonder about what I look like, in your mind, make sure that I'm plenty circular...physically. Because I am. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In fact, I am fat.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">For those who have seen me, some may be rolling your eyes thinking, "oh you're not that big" but society and my scale tells me otherwise. And regardless of whether I am to any one individual, I believe it to be so hence this, and the following, entries.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Let me start by saying that typing out that word in connection to me is so not the easiest thing to accomplish. It's taken 48-years of revolutions around the sun to be able to type that one singular word. In the past when describing myself, I've used such terminologies as big, big-boned, large, plump, curvy, and the occasional 'no skinny mini', big but beautiful, all in hopes to be kind to myself and in honesty? Not to 'look so bad'. Think, "I'm big but I'm not <i>that</i> big" sort of mentality. It's stupid and unnuanced really. I mean who determins what is too big? Is there an exact science between one bigness to the next or after a certain weight, it's all huge? Here I'm not speaking scientifically but rather humanistically.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In the way I worded my own descriptors to those who hadn't yet laid eyes upon my person, the truth was that I was ashamed of myself, my body, and what it meant that I was fat. Nothing, as I stated above, seemed positive about being this size. My biggest fears being that I would be considered greedy, a glutton, unable to control my mouth and disgusting. I feared that my rolls would be all that I was as opposed to the woman who was inside.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhlljl8ETSxylIS8ZHYavnb7SWdd6J_LdcmIWQX0XhIfuVJO4llkeylJb-eo0CUxxQqBtZqWrCXwmKoRg82AIzpaQr0iE47eIU5BM0cWoIKmgctzuZZYuIBv-s3My9Yau4eUM1N_pTmI/s1303/IMG_5012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1303" data-original-width="456" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhlljl8ETSxylIS8ZHYavnb7SWdd6J_LdcmIWQX0XhIfuVJO4llkeylJb-eo0CUxxQqBtZqWrCXwmKoRg82AIzpaQr0iE47eIU5BM0cWoIKmgctzuZZYuIBv-s3My9Yau4eUM1N_pTmI/w70-h200/IMG_5012.jpg" width="70" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h4><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I wasn't <br />exaggerating</span></h4></td></tr></tbody></table>Now when I was a child, before menstruating, I was indeed skinny, all gangly arms and legs with a big ass mop of black frizzy hair. I have proof of this in grainy picture form, the kind that is fading in the corner and sepia in color due from age, not an app filter. Those were the days when I spent more time outdoors trying to prove that a girl could do anything a boy (in this case my older brother). I hated skirts and panty hose, I didn't understand why anyone would want to wear jewelry or comb their hair and I was absolutely not going to sit on the sidelines and act 'girly'. That little one of my past, she was a tomboy. Often arriving home with scraped elbows or bloody knees, I truly believe my mother, who was always absolute grace, beauty, and femininity, no doubt suffered from some sense of hopelessness as she tried to threaten, cajole, beg, plead with me to somewhat conform to those girl-esq traits that were the norm. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">But after woman-hood came a-knockin', I started to balloon. I don't know whether it was subtle or not. To be honest I saw pictures of me thin and then not. I just knew that in elementary school, I wasn't like the other girls (aside from being maybe 1 of 5 South Asians which held me apart anyhow) and the styles that were popular, didn't quite look good on me as they did on the others. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Eventually as a woman, I was diagnosed with PCOS which I'll explain in a bit more detail on another blog. The one thing that became clear knowing I had PCOS was that it wasn't as simple as not eating right or laziness that was/is the reason for the over-weight but rather, for me, a bit of genetics involved. It brought me zero relief and only added frustration and a sense of anger at my own body.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Since then, like millions of others can attest to who struggle with weight issues, I've tried all those crazy fad diets, avoided going out due to feeling ugly, fantasized endlessly that if I were smaller, life would be perfect. I've gone to stores and had tears in my eyes as I tried out a size I swear I thought would fit, but didn't. I've gone home and wanted to just stay there, letting the walls become my permenant companions alnog with the television. And the tears? Rivers. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">However, now what I want to do, for some of the blog entries to come, is share what it has been like, what it is like, to be fat existing within <i>most </i>(not all) societies which dictates that beauty should come in a slender package. I'm not fooling myself to believe that you, my dearest readers, haven't seen such similar thoughts on various platforms. In fact, I'm sure millions of articles, op-eds, posts, journals, articles, etc. of the exact same subject-matter are/have been floating around the universe for a long time.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">My writing will just be another bunch of those, I suppose, testimonials of the defeated, self-hating despite the fact that we want to be doing the opposite. And ultimately speaking, am I writing this just to add my voice/experiences to the millions that came before? I don't know but the assumptions seems reasonable. Or am I going down this road to maybe simply relay my story in the most honest, straight forward form that I can think of while every portion of my rather private nature tells me to not say a word? I want to pretend that things are great with me, that I reflect a modern day inner strength that is synonymous with the evolved. To express the struggles in personal, me-driven insightful ways is not going to be easy. I'm anxious about it but determined that in doing these posts, I'll be helping myself along with, possibly, others. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As I've been told, it's not about the destination, rather about the journey, right? Akin to restarting to blog all over again, this is another trip I'm willing to take, fully exposing myself, my doubts, my pains, and my hopes of what can be. At the end of this exercise where I end up, who knows. At least though, I'll have something to look back at when I'm older (well, older than I am now) and be able to say that I was somewhat clued into myself, the difficulties that I faced, that I had some work to do regarding my own emotional/mental state, and was indeed trying to address them and most importantly, accepting the weaknesses that didn't come out of nowhere but I was still trying to turn into strengths through acknowleding, sharing and controling.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Yikes, all that sounds rather hokey.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">If you're going to be following me, this will be a topic that will come up often with various shared memories. I'll warn you that these entries will probably be uncomfortable, saddening, a real downer. I'm not going to apologize for it simply because throughout my existance I've refrained from sharing due to not wanting to discomfort others but at this point, if you're going to click on my links, than you're going to be in this with me. I appreciate the companionship. Makes this seem so much less...dark. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Yet again, welcome to the ride which is my life.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">______</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Oh, also, my computer has been on the blitz for a few days hence the big delay between this blog and the last. I'm actually aiming to post 1 entry per week, if not more, but lord knows that often times despite best intentions what I want to do goes to the wayside of what I have to do. Therefore, if you see that I've been slacking, send me a message and I'll snap to...promise.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Thanks for reading! Make the best of this moment that you can. </span></p>American Desi Redefinedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06657173152347319217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454196148298422749.post-68848193274405068372021-02-26T14:21:00.002-05:002021-02-26T14:49:12.960-05:00Post-Orange Menace and What It Means<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3tVIn5ZAjxW5TseSOdBGVcCFnt2QnzqPO3BIeOGQ5nyqWgtECkn9tC-7a61B0rhVl8WmmeDMEUWaiE_xo9AYZSHmTAM1JLYmCEsBKfSUACSJWNs2ZD376AXZzvXygQW5Cs4ItLs8NH10/s640/IMG_4363.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3tVIn5ZAjxW5TseSOdBGVcCFnt2QnzqPO3BIeOGQ5nyqWgtECkn9tC-7a61B0rhVl8WmmeDMEUWaiE_xo9AYZSHmTAM1JLYmCEsBKfSUACSJWNs2ZD376AXZzvXygQW5Cs4ItLs8NH10/w301-h400/IMG_4363.jpg" width="301" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"> <span style="font-family: arial;">Two things I failed to mention in the first post I made to this shiny new blog:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">1. I am fairly political.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">2. I hate/d Trump.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">How will these two facts impact my musings overall? </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I don't know. I am fairly unsure about what will make me want to write so there's a chance I will blather on about the world in which we live in a rage-y manner or possibly not. I said I'm complex or sometimes bipolar (I'm not making fun of anyone who suffers from this so please know I'm lampooning myself.) </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">For the most part, there are way better outlets to get factual news other than my posts although I will not likely proclaim anything without facts to support my views. I still wouldn't recommend you to access my stuff to know what's what, particularly if you're conservative in your political views. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Now, I do have conservative views myself about some things but way liberal on others (such as overall human rights, go love who you wanna, be who you are supposed to authentically be, do what you will to your body as long as you don't harm others, yadda, yadda, yadda). In the past failed attempts of keeping a written journal of my life, I have tried to refrain from any over extensive commentary about politics unless it's at the point where not mentioning something would make me seem fully out-of-touch and downright daft. So that all being said...</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">DING DONG DON IS DEAD!</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">No, no, don't run to the headlines to see if Donny Trump kicked the bucket. I mean, let's not lie here, if I heard that he had gotten some sort of flesh-eating disease or consumed by a pack of rabid wild dogs, I wouldn't necessarily be wearing black to mourn him. None of these things, alas, happened. He's alive and kicking it in Florida, continuing to create havoc, spreading his fucktardery far and wide. Moronic pseudo-dictator that he seems to believe he is but in actuality is only a raving lunatic who attracts more of the same cray cray as he, is still trying to retain power even while staring down the barrels of various investigations/litigations. He's doing him. And his followers are still following.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Of course, it's now February of 2021 and he's been booted out of the Oval Office a few weeks back leaving Biden to pick up the pieces of the shadow-like democracy we once enjoyed. I could go on and on speaking as to how much I love Biden and this new admin but that's not really useful simply because, at this point, a paper hat would have been better than the orange-tinted buffoon. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">What's life like in a post-Trump America? </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">For me personally, I most certainly don't want to destroy the TV every other day anymore. I don't tune into the news obsessively just to witness the shitshow that America became nor marvel that we could have sunk so low as to have a leader like him, and more importantly, I don't have to regulate my blood pressure (no, I didn't really do this but it felt like it) anymore as I beheld the sheer glorious narcissistic incomprehensible ravings of that lunatic. Presently, I browse through headlines on my phone or turn on the news while folding laundry to catch up. It's kinda nice that I'm not always dealing with low-level anxiety in that form anymore. I mean, I have anxiety in all other forms but just not that.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">But he, the former Idiot-In-Cheif left his mark and it's not pretty. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As I said, being brown is an experience all unto itself and in the past 4 years, it's been so very disheartening as Trump gave space for such hateful rhetoric and actions. In darker moments, I looked around this country that gave me so much only to wonder how it had betrayed me so very badly. Those were indeed breath-taking moments full of tears and in a way, mourning.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">But I'm not totally mad at Shitler for this. Surprised that I say this? Particularly when at times I felt nervous to go beyond the very liberal area I live? When I knew, down to my bone, that there were swaths of this country that would be restricted for me, downright threatening to my very person?</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Truth be told, racism has always and always lurked in the dark recesses of this here great country. Um, let me backtrack, it's been pretty much out there front and center to be totally honest if one just looked. It never stopped existing despite the Civil Rights Movement. Ask any person of color you come across and they'll have a story or two for you regarding how they were treated like human garbage due to their color. Not fun (understatement of the year).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">But a lot of y'all are convinced racism died somewhere along the way. Not sure how nor why, considering we've had the internet around for quite a while so knowledge is at the tips of your fingers <i>if you want to know</i>. I mean some folks will look up a random recipe or pictures of nail fungus at the drop of a hat (me, I'm that person...) but when it comes to the ugly truths of the world? It's just too hard I guess because then caring will kick in or worse yet, guilt. Nope, racism is very present. What it did do is disguise itself as politically correct and socioeconomic chains. It has stayed alive in opportunities that POC don't have in education, work, life, etc. Thanks to cell phones, it's a bit more visible in the form of viral videos. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">But back to the Orange Shitgibbon...he gave free rein for closet racists to kick open the door, to be so comfortable with it, out loud, akin to a streaker during Sunday night football, and flash their hate alllll over the place. He lifted the proverbial rock to let them slither out. For the last 4 years, these bottom feeders roamed around freely feeling as if it was their time to shine while screaming, ironically enough, oppression and reverse racism. I mean...what? I mean white people...really? Oppression? Reverse racism? C'mon now.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">But wait, don't leave thinking I'm about to bash all of you. I'm not. That isn't the point at all of this. I'm also not going to go on and on in assuring that I have white friends (because I do) and how amazing they are (because they are) nor how much they stand shoulder-to-shoulder with POCs (again, they do). What I will explain here is that Trump magnified something that should have been obvious if one was to simply look past their own lives: racism is still quite alive, living and breathing, as sadly horrifically multiplying. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Post-Trump, we are a broken nation, without a doubt. Fractured and splintered. We are two sides screaming oppression at one another. Hate seems to live within our veins. And while this is terribly disheartening the very fact is, without bringing into the light the truth or acknowledging the problem, we will actually never be able to try and fix it. Am I silly enough to believe for a second that racism will one day disappear? Absolutely not. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">However, and here's where I reflect positivity, as the world continues to integrate, as people from different backgrounds continue to come together and create new colors in all shades in the form of procreation, the inevitable is that there will be more beige than anything else so racism will have less and less oxygen. Or maybe that's my hope. I do believe it'll be long after I'm but dust and one with nature for this to really happen. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Anyhow, I'm not sure how many of us survived these past years with McTurd. He did quite a number to us. There's a bizarre sense of PTSD as well for many. But I figured, let me get this post out of the way so that if you don't live here, and are wondering, now you know.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Sending you all good Friday vibes, wherever you are!</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>American Desi Redefinedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06657173152347319217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4454196148298422749.post-22918560475605844902021-02-24T15:41:00.001-05:002021-02-24T15:42:00.341-05:00I Lost My Blog (Dang it)<p style="text-align: justify;"> <span style="font-family: arial;">...Or rather I can't figure out how to log back in because Blogger made it damn near impossible to find it. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I suppose I could spend some time internet researching how to get back into my old account but then again that would mean expending energy, something I do not have in terrible spades to begin with, along with patience. The alternative is to start anew and refer back to my older blog (http://americandesiredefined.blogspot.com/) every once in a while with warm longing and love. I can also freely steal from it so this is a win/win/sin situation. I can also simply embrace</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> that I'm losing my tech mojo, no longer able to navigate the intricacies of a webpage. *Gasp* I refuse to believe this option because it would mean I'm old. Not yet, readers, not just yet. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Let's begin at the beginning (for that's the only place to start) with some facts about me, my life, my small little me-ness. My FB friends probably know a lot about me already so this is more for those who are just stumbling onto my post and decided to *click*.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><ul><li><span style="font-family: arial;">My name is Rubina but often I refer to myself as Rubes online. Yup, not giving the last name. Heck, even the last name on my Facebook isn't my real one. I have another name that my family calls me or my closest desi (a person of Indian, Pakistani, or Bangladeshi birth or descent who lives abroad) acquaintances. I'll eventually tell you all about it.<br /><br /></span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;">I live right outside of Washington D.C. in Virginia. <br /><br /></span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;">As you're reading this, I'm unemployed. As you're reading this, I'm trying to get a job. I will.<br /><br /></span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm 48. I have problems really wrapping my head around that number. It seems incredible that I've been around as long as I have. Not because I live some crazy on-the-edge sort of life thus I didn't expect to live this long. I'm not that badass. But you know, FORTY-EIGHT YEARS. Wasn't I 21 just a few years ago? I guess know. Just to be clear, while I'm slightly woozy about the number, it doesn't mean I do not love my age. I actually do.<br /><br /></span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm an American Bangladeshi. You will learn much, much more about this throughout the journey of my blogging. Actually, if I want to be super accurate, I'm an American Bangladeshi/Indian. For those who do not know where Bdesh is on the map:<br /><br /><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5gQ_U2ge8DZGGUhkNrg-EMsgMWA3JKJKqH7nFd1NQElBs4hPJpkZaV9cCTAuADNNOHZZWn70cfhNM2gr1S_w8ve3RqXRga5bmfHj__q_bDTW9lHEvJuWEyr2O_j2RFgIqsR3J1Q5R_Fo/s234/bangladesh_small_map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="156" data-original-width="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5gQ_U2ge8DZGGUhkNrg-EMsgMWA3JKJKqH7nFd1NQElBs4hPJpkZaV9cCTAuADNNOHZZWn70cfhNM2gr1S_w8ve3RqXRga5bmfHj__q_bDTW9lHEvJuWEyr2O_j2RFgIqsR3J1Q5R_Fo/s0/bangladesh_small_map.jpg" /></a><br /><br /></div></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;">I am Muslim. Again, way more information to come regarding this. Most of it will be stolen from that other blog I had because shoot, a lot of time went into crafting those. My theism is what has made me the person I am today. I will NOT be trying to convert you to Islam. If I speak about it, it will be in terms of how it has impacted me throughout life and created the blogger who hopefully you'll love and adore (and follow). <br /><br /></span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;">My personal situation in my life is just that, personal. I don't tend to share information such as displaying loved ones' names in my writing because to me that is an invasion of privacy and can make them feel ways that may not be good. I'm not about the whole calling-out thing unless it's truly necessary. Overall I just think that specifics of status take away from the overall message.<br /><br /></span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm a writer though one would wonder how much of it I do and do I have any formal writing to my name. For years the mojo disappeared and thus have zero clues as to how to log onto my blog account. But in my mind, I am constantly writing something. The disconnect is to transfer it to paper. As for the, "'can I read your writing anywhere other than your blog?" question...no. I'm a wimp and cannot find the gumption to get any of my work published.<br /><br /></span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm always open to comments and feedback. My life is not lived within a vacuum and I am always out to improve myself mentally, spiritually, emotionally. Be kind, be polite, feel free to let me know your thoughts.<br /><br /></span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm human which means I fuck up all the time. I will display this human side of me in ways sometimes which I even think are unnecessary. But I'm trying to be raw. Kinda. Sorta. Let's see how much of this rawness I can actually show.<br /><br /></span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>I am overweight</i>. Phew, to write this statement out is HUGE. I struggle with this a lot. I will be talking about it. Don't be uncomfortable about it. I don't hate myself. Well, most of the time I don't. But there will be times when I will speak of it in despairing ways. I probably will get dark. Those darknesses are apart of my overall light. Know that this has nothing to do with you and you don't have to pity me, neither do you have to be disgusted with me. Just read me. <br /><br /></span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm a brown person living in a predominantly white landmass (namely the USA). There's so very much to say about this topic, so much that has impacted me in my growth and overall outlook in life, so much that so many do not know/understand. All browns are not equal in experiences while we very well may share the same feelings. I believe expounding upon these things helps to help bridge misunderstandings/confusion. </span></li></ul><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">That leads me smoothly into my mission statement for this blog: To share experiences, thoughts, and overall life crap that will prove that while I look different, I am absolutely the same as you, no matter your skin color, race, background, socioeconomic status, sexual orientation, etc. In fact, whether you are sitting at the table next to me in this wonderfully socially distanced cafe or you're 15,000 miles away insomnia-ridden due to anxiety of some sort or another, we are more similar than dissimilar. We experience human emotions in common forms, we look for light, love, positivity within our own spheres, we want to be happy and included even as we may feel terribly, terribly lonely. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm sure overall I could be far more eloquent however the one thing I do strive for in my blog is to be real. Or at least I try. I mean, sure I fail but then again, failure is apart of the human condition, right? </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Oh, and I just started this blog. There are no bells and whistles on my page yet. I'll add them like color and layout along with other fancy stuff once I get my bearings and have time. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">So, as the kids like to say, "let's do this thing!" (wait, the kids do say this still, right?)</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Welcome to my world! <3</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>American Desi Redefinedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06657173152347319217noreply@blogger.com8