Plus sized clothing sucks. Not just because it's plus sized, but because all plus sized clothing manufactures and designers think women who need that size are amazons. I see lots of women who are under 5'4" who shop in the BBW area of clothing stores but all of the pants, blouses, pajamas and dresses are made for large and tall women. Don't they realize that there are some big squatty bodies out there? If skinny chics can have a petite category then fat chics should have one too. How about a plumply petite size?
The other problem with plus sized clothing is that it is usually trendy or geared for young women. I don't mind having a few trendy items in my wardrobe but if I want something timely and classic my only choice is a pair of jeans or pants or a dressy suit. Newsflash to plus sized designers, I don't want to wear huge bright flowers on my blouses nor do I want street scenes from Paris or any other crappy graphics, save that for the fat juniors.
My other clothing pet peeve is cap-style sleeves. Most large women also have large arms and, while I'll say "more power to ya!" if you are one of those women who doesn't mind showing off your flabby upper arms, I think large women should be wearing either three-quarter-inch or long sleeves (at least in public). There is nothing less appealing on a big girl than that flab just above the elbow. And to let you know I'm not a sexist, I think it looks bad on men too. And please make clothing out of material that doesn't cling to my body. Fat rolls are not a pretty sight and while I know we shouldn't be ashamed of our bodies we also don't need to flaunt the fat. I like that phrase "flaunt the fat", I should make some t-shirts.
Now, don't get all bent out of shape for my use of the word fat. I'm fat, and if you wear the same size or larger clothing than I do then you're fat too. We need to stop shying away from words, but that is another topic.
I recall my mother and her girdles. There is a new product out for fat chics that mimic our mothers girdles but is supposed to be more comfortable. I'm sorry, anything that binds your boobs and stomach can't be comfortable and probably isn't good for your health. Remember when Scarlett has Mammy tie her girdle so tight that she can't eat? Not happening in my lifetime. The new term for girdles is "body-shapers" and one product is called "Spanx". The weird thing is that skinny girls are flocking to Spanx like a sub to a dominatrix. Heaven forbid if one ounce of fat can be pinched under that little black dress. Apparently, getting the thing off so you can use the toilet is quite a trick. Suffer skinny bitches.
I like comfort but I draw the line at muumuus. My mother wore muumuus or something like that for awhile. I refuse to wear a dress that makes me look like a tent. She also wore stretch pants that looked like stretch pants (the kind with the permanent pleat) and blouses made of some kind of awful material. Ah, those were the days.
Okay clothing stores and clothing designers, get busy and let us fat women wear your clothes proudly. And don't forget the little people.
September 26, 2009
September 12, 2009
Bitter About Litter-boxes
I hate litter-boxes. For years my cats did their business outside, with the exception of really nasty snowy days when my orange cat would demand some kind of potty box inside. Oh, then there was the tabby cat who took to pissing behind my kitchen counter, which is an old beautiful woodworking bench, because she was old and getting senile. I have a cat door for chrisake! There is absolutely no reason for my cats to demand a litter-box, but they do.
I believe that demand stems from the mountain lion that may have killed my two male cats. The remaining cats must have been traumatized by the murders and now refuse to spend more than a few minutes out in the yard. They never wander far from the house and that includes Afina, the cat who spent years down at the neighbors house and only came home to eat. It's not like they would have a hard time finding the cat door, it has a blue carpeted ramp with a huge flamenco pink arrow pointing to it. I believe they do this just to aggravate me.
I will say it again, I hate litter-boxes. I know that cats are particular about their boxes so I have tried a few kinds. First came the huge open box with the clumping litter. That only produced tons of litter being scattered during scratching and litter being tracked all over the house. I then tried the same box with feline pine but got the same results. Then I bought a covered box with a cat door that swings (just like the door they used for years to get in and out of the house) but the cats wouldn't go through the door. Thankfully, the domed lid to the box can be raised so that the front is completely open and the rest of the box is surrounded. This works to some extent and when the cats scratch they no longer hurl litter all over the place. This particular box has what I call a trough whose function is to act as a litter-tracking guard. Well Assisi, the tortie cat, uses the trough as a urinal. She will scratch in the box, position her bottom over the trough and pee. This same cat will defecate inside the box but refuses to pee in the thing. I have placed a plastic place mat in front of the box for those times when she decides she doesn't even want the trough and would rather piss on the floor. I can't tell you how many times that place mat as saved her life! For awhile Assisi urinated on the place mat every time so I switched to clay litter thinking that she didn't like the clumping kind. For about a week she was a really good girl and actually pooped and peed inside the box, then I came home one day to urine in the trough. I am now going to switch back to the clumping litter to make my life easier which will allow Afina and Assisi to live another day.
I believe that demand stems from the mountain lion that may have killed my two male cats. The remaining cats must have been traumatized by the murders and now refuse to spend more than a few minutes out in the yard. They never wander far from the house and that includes Afina, the cat who spent years down at the neighbors house and only came home to eat. It's not like they would have a hard time finding the cat door, it has a blue carpeted ramp with a huge flamenco pink arrow pointing to it. I believe they do this just to aggravate me.
I will say it again, I hate litter-boxes. I know that cats are particular about their boxes so I have tried a few kinds. First came the huge open box with the clumping litter. That only produced tons of litter being scattered during scratching and litter being tracked all over the house. I then tried the same box with feline pine but got the same results. Then I bought a covered box with a cat door that swings (just like the door they used for years to get in and out of the house) but the cats wouldn't go through the door. Thankfully, the domed lid to the box can be raised so that the front is completely open and the rest of the box is surrounded. This works to some extent and when the cats scratch they no longer hurl litter all over the place. This particular box has what I call a trough whose function is to act as a litter-tracking guard. Well Assisi, the tortie cat, uses the trough as a urinal. She will scratch in the box, position her bottom over the trough and pee. This same cat will defecate inside the box but refuses to pee in the thing. I have placed a plastic place mat in front of the box for those times when she decides she doesn't even want the trough and would rather piss on the floor. I can't tell you how many times that place mat as saved her life! For awhile Assisi urinated on the place mat every time so I switched to clay litter thinking that she didn't like the clumping kind. For about a week she was a really good girl and actually pooped and peed inside the box, then I came home one day to urine in the trough. I am now going to switch back to the clumping litter to make my life easier which will allow Afina and Assisi to live another day.
Labels:
cats,
litter,
litter boxes
September 11, 2009
Funky Town
I have been dragging around for the past month and can't seem to come out of my funk.
It has gotten so bad that I won't allow anyone to come over because my house is so awfully nasty. Gawd, I sometimes hate this place. The unsealed cement floor downstairs is hard to keep clean, especially for someone like me who is not the best house keeper in the world.
When I get into this funk I don't have the energy or sedulousness (new word for me) to even bother with vacuuming, let alone mopping, so the grime is out of hand. Of course, as I let the funk take over it puts me in a deeper funk and the cycle spirals downwards.
You dear reader are thinking, "Hello! Depression!".
Now, I don't think I'm depressed but I'll bet a psychologist would think otherwise.
I remember when my marriage was falling apart and my ex decided to get counseling for himself (not marriage counseling, no he had no desire to "save" the marriage he just wanted to know why he was staying in the relationship) his psychologist told him that I was depressed even though she had never met me. Fucking bitch.
Here's the deal. I have wacky thyroid. About five years ago I began having insomnia. Then my hands started shaking so bad that I could not write well. I felt so weak that my legs would even shake. When I was in bed I would dream that I was running and wake to find my heart pounding so hard I could hear it. Well, it turned out that I was hyperthyroid (runs in the family) which can cause horrible mood swings. Let me tell you, I was the bitch from hell most of the time.
I know, hard to imagine.
Wacky thyroid can also cause/contribute to high blood pressure. I'm surprised I didn't have a heart attack as my pressure was so high.
After taking the three hundred dollar radioactive iodine capsule my thyroid was effectively killed and now I am on thyroid medication for life. I'm also on blood pressure meds but that's probably because I'm so fat. Not only do I have wacky thyroid, I'm also over fifty and both factors make it especially hard to keep the weight down. Of course, I don't try very hard so I can't really blame my weight on that.
Why did I tell you this? Because I went to the doctor for my yearly medication refill exam and lab work and it turns out that my thyroid medication was not right and my thyroid levels were low. No wonder I've been in such a funk!
In two weeks, according to my doctor, I should be as good as new when my thyroid levels are back where they should be. That will be just in the nick of time for that is when Matthew is coming over to install my new kitchen sink cabinet and I will need to get to work cleaning under the existing cabinet and getting all of the junk out of his way.
Get me out of Funky Town!
It has gotten so bad that I won't allow anyone to come over because my house is so awfully nasty. Gawd, I sometimes hate this place. The unsealed cement floor downstairs is hard to keep clean, especially for someone like me who is not the best house keeper in the world.
When I get into this funk I don't have the energy or sedulousness (new word for me) to even bother with vacuuming, let alone mopping, so the grime is out of hand. Of course, as I let the funk take over it puts me in a deeper funk and the cycle spirals downwards.
You dear reader are thinking, "Hello! Depression!".
Now, I don't think I'm depressed but I'll bet a psychologist would think otherwise.
I remember when my marriage was falling apart and my ex decided to get counseling for himself (not marriage counseling, no he had no desire to "save" the marriage he just wanted to know why he was staying in the relationship) his psychologist told him that I was depressed even though she had never met me. Fucking bitch.
Here's the deal. I have wacky thyroid. About five years ago I began having insomnia. Then my hands started shaking so bad that I could not write well. I felt so weak that my legs would even shake. When I was in bed I would dream that I was running and wake to find my heart pounding so hard I could hear it. Well, it turned out that I was hyperthyroid (runs in the family) which can cause horrible mood swings. Let me tell you, I was the bitch from hell most of the time.
I know, hard to imagine.
Wacky thyroid can also cause/contribute to high blood pressure. I'm surprised I didn't have a heart attack as my pressure was so high.
After taking the three hundred dollar radioactive iodine capsule my thyroid was effectively killed and now I am on thyroid medication for life. I'm also on blood pressure meds but that's probably because I'm so fat. Not only do I have wacky thyroid, I'm also over fifty and both factors make it especially hard to keep the weight down. Of course, I don't try very hard so I can't really blame my weight on that.
Why did I tell you this? Because I went to the doctor for my yearly medication refill exam and lab work and it turns out that my thyroid medication was not right and my thyroid levels were low. No wonder I've been in such a funk!
In two weeks, according to my doctor, I should be as good as new when my thyroid levels are back where they should be. That will be just in the nick of time for that is when Matthew is coming over to install my new kitchen sink cabinet and I will need to get to work cleaning under the existing cabinet and getting all of the junk out of his way.
Get me out of Funky Town!
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