Mommy Goddess Wanderings and Wonderings

tales of a shrinking fat lesbian mommy goddess as she navigates this thing we call life.

Location: North Carolina, United States

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

twiggy the psychotherapist

I’m going to see my crazy doctor this afternoon. She called me last week to see how I was doing since I haven’t seen her in over a month and mentioned that Duke requests follow up on all the patients that they’ve referred…so yippie for me…doesn’t seem I’m getting out of it. As part of my participation in the weight loss surgery program I had to agree to enter and continue counseling pre-op and for 1 year post op. In and of itself I do think that this is a good idea, but I’m just not clicking with her. The sessions just feel fake…I feel fake, she seems stiff, and it feels like a chore to me to get through them. I’m not relaxed or open. I just don’t feel comfortable talking to her about how I feel or things that may be going on. We talk about life after surgery and my stress level but nothing gets too real. I just don’t feel like it with her. And she’s skinny. Really really really skinny. Like size 2 skinny. It’s kinda hard to talk about fat issues with twiggy even if twiggy is an eating disorder specialist.

I don’t even like the idea of having to go to therapy. To me it feels like a weakness to need to talk things out or need that kind of support. It’s part of my super womyn complex. I know whatever happens, whatever I go through, that I’ll survive. That I have the strength to pull through and buck up and journey on. Though I do think if I could find someone that I ‘clicked’ with that I could get a lot out of it. I know I should look for someone else, but I’ve just been too lazy and putting it off wondering if I can just make it through this 1 post op year and say bye-bye.

On another note, my love and I received our picture in the mail yesterday from the semi-formal weight loss surgery reunion. I actually like the picture. I don’t love the way I look in it, but I don’t hate it either. The photographer was good and took it from about the waist up which I’m sure is why I don’t think it’s too bad. From the waist up I feel okay; it’s from the waist down that I feel I look like a train wreck. I hate that I feel such a slave to body image. Like I’ve really bought into it. I’ve always wanted to be thin, to be ‘waify’ or slender or willowy. The whole idea of being a size 10 or 150 pounds or something like that just has a magical quality about it. The last time i remember being 150 pounds i was in 5th or 6th grade...

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

the biological connection

I have been antsy all day looking for that space of time when I would be able to finally write. I’ve spent most of the day so far finalizing technical documentation for the release of our two software applications. I hate tech writing. It’s basically been I task that has fallen back into my lap since the previous tech writer left….which was really a blessing, she sucked. I’ve also absorbed complete responsibility for the help desk, which I also did in the past, and our help desk guy left…also another blessing. Oh, and add to that maintaining the website. Yeah, I’m a little over tasked and currently way under focused.

I’ve wanted to write about susan, and tony, and skeet. I’ve wanted to write about my mom. Trying to pick something to focus on for a bit…either for therapy and cleansing or pondering or simply trying to figure out what I feel. I guess I’ll start with tony.

Tony (daughter goddess’s biological other half) and his mother came over to visit us for a while on Sunday afternoon. With lofty notions that there are actually people reading this, let me give a bit of background. I conceived my daughter through known donor insemination. I was single, ready to be a mom, and found the perfect guy. Tony is the ex-husband of one of my best friends who came out as a lesbian about 5 years ago. They were still married when I met them and I instantly clicked with both of them. They continue to have a close relationship.

I have always known that I wanted to be a mother, and since I’m gay, I have had my eyes open for potential donors for some time. Sperm banks are too impersonal (or that’s my impression from never even going to one), and the stuff ain’t exactly cheap either. After they were divorced I first approached my best friend to see how she felt about it, and she was very supportive and thought it was a great idea. Even though they are both great with kids they never wanted to raise any on their own. So, I had her break the ice with Tony and he turned out to be receptive. We talked over dinner at Sushi Blues and it all just seemed so natural and easy. We have always connected easily and naturally on an energy level and combining genetically just seemed like some oddly logical progression. I was pregnant less than a month from sushi night.

I had been charting my cycles for months and he came over to my apartment on what I had estimated were the magic nights. He arrived after 10 pm all three nights since he was in a night class, and we would talk for a little bit and then I would go out onto the porch with my book, close the sliding glass door and tony went into the guest bathroom. I just sat outside with my head and nerves spinning pretending to read a book. When he was done he would come and knock on the sliding glass door and I’d come in. we’d maybe talk for a few more minutes, hug and then he would leave. It really wasn’t uncomfortable though it seems like it should have been. We just seem to have an ease with each other. A contract.

I hate the word donor. It seems so impersonal and distant. I don’t know how to accurately describe the way I feel towards Tony. It was the two of us that brought daughter goddess into being. She amazes me everyday. I feel a connection with Tony. A trio with the biological connection that exists. It’s not romantic feelings but an energy connection. We have shared conversations about the way we perceive and experience the world and in those ways we are both awakened. I wonder how he feels towards daughter goddess. We haven’t really talked about what this whole experience has been like for him. To have entered an agreement with me to produce a child to which he has no legal rights or responsibilities but still stays in contact. To have both of us be completely open about the arrangement to everyone we know and it will never be kept from daughter goddess. He has given me the greatest gift, there is no way I can define the way I feel towards him.

Monday, October 04, 2004

wallowing in fatness

i spent a few chunks of my weekend simply wallowing in my fatness. just wallowing and feeling crappy about myself. daughter goddess woke up around 6:30 a.m. and began our day with a stereotypical toddler grouchy-butt mood, so by the time my love rolled out of bed (after 10 a.m.) i was ready for a few relief moments. so, i took the most recent copy of obesity help magazine that i hadn’t had a chance to read yet into the bathroom…which all moms know is the only place we even have a chance of a few moments of peace and quiet. i closed the bedroom door, then the main bathroom door, and finally sequestered myself behind the final closed door of the toilet room. i turned on the bathroom fan in part to deal with my odiferous post op bowel movement and in part to drown out the squalling of daughter goddess playing with her other mama. as i was flipping through my fat magazine i really found myself focusing on my body hatred. on how slowly i feel i’m losing weight. on how much embarrassment has come from my weight.

i ended up sitting on the rug on bathroom floor in the toilet closet smoking and in a sense ‘searching my inner fatness’. just thinking about my size, and weight loss and weight gain. just wallowing in my fatness. i hadn’t yet stepped on the scale for the day and had managed to work myself up so much that i was convinced that the scale was going to be evil this morning. when i stepped on the scale the night before it was up 3 pounds. but it was at night, not too long after dinner. getting on the scale at night is just stupid. perhaps it can actually even been categorized as a masochistic tendency. i managed to convince myself in the wallowing moments that the scale was going to still be upsettingly high this morning. and when i finally stepped on it, it wasn’t. it was the same. not higher, not lower…just the same. it feels like it’s not even moving. i’ve only lost 11 pounds in the last month. but at least it is moving in the right direction.

i took a long shower after my toilet closet smoke fest and even ended it with a short bath soak. i lay back in the tub and touched myself. i haven’t felt sexual for such a long time, but every once in awhile i can find these moments. i wasn’t all the way relaxed, i felt as if my hands rushed, i didn’t really come but do feel like it was somewhat of a relief. i’m looking forward to rediscovering the sexual realm hopefully sometime in the not so distant future with my partner.

Friday, October 01, 2004

feeling beauty

it's amazing how many womyn feel so terrible about themselves. or who feel so trapped or unhappy with their physical bodies. i have always hated mine. i look forward to a new plastic surgery body with its scars. to normal on the outside. this quest for prettty, drive for sexy, yearning for normal.

i was listening to talk radio in the car during my lunch break. first i drove to the little park down the road, but since there were too many cars, i ended up a few blocks down the road in a residential area just parked on the side of the road. one of the clips mentioned how only 2% of wimmin around the world think they are beautiful. only 2%. they also mentioned how if these wimmin's significant others were asked, it would be a suprisingly higher percentage that thought their partner was beautiful. and it's true. i don't think i know any wimmin who think they are beautiful. i think the influence of the 'beauty' aesthetic is so much stronger than we want to acknowledge. i know i have been caught up by it. have hated this body and wanted more than anything to be pretty and thin. brains and wit don't make me feel pretty. don't make me feel sexy. they just make me feel like i can engage in stimulating conversation.

we are so hard on ourselves. why can i manage to rationalize and soothe away all of the physical idiosyncrasies and shortcomings of others, but i can't look beyond my own fat ass?

standing naked posted a comment about how weight is not something she discusses. i feel like i've been a closet fat girl for years. no one really ever talked about it. i just was. i avoid pictures and video cameras. reflections in mirrors or windows of me next to 'normal' size people. i've watched my adult clothing size range from 14 to snug 26/28's and i often feel as if in some acutely aware yet denial twilight. just diffferent ranges of fatness at which i still hated my body. heavier i have more fluff, lighter i have more skin.

so i too am hoping to rid myself of this fat soul. i want to be able to dance in a body in which i'm not mortified of others watching my jiggling flesh...i want to dance in a body that feels like me.

fat soul

i posted this comment to another blogger's site this morning. i've been reading her blog for almost the past year on a daily basis and have caught up with all her previous writings. She has also had gastric bypass surgery and has written very candidly about her experience and her life. I have found comfort and a kinship in her writing. this bizarre one-sided world of relating to another human being as a blog reader...

wow. i am so thankful that i am able to sit here and read your words and know that you are preceeding me in this journey and succeeding. by sharing your learning i feel less alone and more prepared.

i am at the point where i cannot imagine my life without a fat soul. i can't imagine my view of life and my experience of life to originate in a small body. no matter what my final size maybe, i think mentally i will always be a fat girl. The emotional journey and baggage with weight has affected everything in my life. i wonder how much different my life might be if i would have been 'normal' in high school and college. what things would i have done and tried? how many limitations, exclusions and embarassements might not have ever existed?

things i don't talk about since my weight and body are the sources of the biggest embarassement and feelings of self loathing.

i pray that my daughter doesn't have weight problems.

Wednesday, September 29, 2004

the context of breasts

my boss told me yesterday i should get implants. breast implants. out of context this may seem completely inappropriate so let me set the scene. i adore my boss. she’s a strong leader, excellent communicator and moderator, and i think we relate very well on a professional and personal level. i believe we have a contract, which i’ve spent some time thinking about. if i’ve ever had a mentor, it’s her. we were pregnant at the same time, and our daughters were born 2 weeks apart, my daughter on valentines day and her daughter on 3/3/03 which was actually my due date…and 2 weeks late for her. i’ve had a sense of being a mini-me. or at least aspiring to be. she has let me explore, take whatever training i’ve expressed an interest in and has encouraged me into project management (though I originally resisted) including getting my PMP certification.

so, that background aside, i enjoy her company. we were sitting in her office chatting with a closed door and i was talking about all of the plastic surgery i plan on having done when i have lost all of my weight. stomach, thighs, arms and breasts. cringing over the idea of the extensive surgery, and the aspect of having to have the nipples grafted with a breast lift, she mentioned implants instead of having to have the nipple grafting. and my saggy balloon breasts truly could use implants and i know they will only continue to deflate as i lose weight. now my kindred boss has some incredible breasts. i’ve had some mind wanderings along those lines which I have mused over sharing one day over wine and giggly conversation. i won’t of course…but it makes me smile from time to time nonetheless.

Monday, September 27, 2004

animal cruelty

the weekend had an element of surreal. Heightened animation and emotions, but moving quickly enough to keep me from settling into any of the moments. A neighbor shot our dogs on Saturday. He killed our puppy. The mother dog was shot in the backside and legs, and after an emergency trip to the vet, will be okay. The neighbor was arrested and released on $20,000 bail and he should be officially charged today. No remorse. It was shooting for the sake of shooting. I feel my family’s safety is compromised. Living out in the woods away from everyone makes me uneasy about pulling up to my house at night. Random acts of cruelty…this kid is a serial killer in the making…and he lives a few houses down.

In my tears and tumbling emotions I drove with my daughter in the backseat of the car away from the sheriff and family members giving the reports and recovering our poor puppy Millie to bury her. I called a friend on the phone and sobbed about how unsafe I felt. About the mental instability of this crazy neighbor, and how I felt the sudden foreign need to have a gun and learn how to shoot. I’ve always hated guns, but now I feel that if my family ever felt threatened by this evil incarnation that we would be able to defend ourselves. He is a hunter with numerous weapons and even now with 2 charges of felony cruelty to animals he will still be permitted to shoot firearms on his property, the guns just cannot be registered in his name. I pray he doesn’t become vengeful, I already feel unsafe.

There were good moments this weekend, the lesbian baby shower, the weight loss surgery reunion and the joined family birthday party. More to come later.

Friday, September 24, 2004

the writing continuum

now that i've started something resembling writing again for the first time really since before daughter goddess was born (and she's 19 months now), all i can think about is all of the things i want to be sure to write about. stories, experiences, thoughts that i want to be sure to capture. something about the need to be able to preserve the moment. hold a slice of life suspended without the affects and judgement of passing time. i have pages upon electronic pages of journals, musings, letters and whatnot randomly cluttering up hard drives, disks and cd's. journals in boxes and in bookcases and scraps of paper tucked into books and nooks and crannies, half filled spiral notebooks, and long lost poetry. i don't know what it is about the acting of putting something in writing that somehow ingrains it into ones memory differently. identifies it, defines it, makes the abstract concept of time and experience into something tangible.

i have always been drawn to journals and letters as a glimpse into someone. just the way we experience the world or segments of it. though i've read many published collections of letters and journals as well as online blogs, i usually choose not to share what i write. occasionally i'd share a piece with someone if and when i found an applicable moment, but for the most part my writing has always been mine. private mind moments that can recreate for me a moment in time.

i have dreamy thoughts of virginia wolfe and anais nin of sappho and of anne frank. of our foremothers and sisters and daughters who came before and have left pieces behind to withstand the passing of time. to share a perspective and an interpretation of the world. i have a post-mortem objective of my writings in print. something mysterious, words transcending the constraints of modern day reality and time. being able to connect to a future generation of daughters, and artists, and dreamers. To find its way to those with neptune rising and contribute to the continuum in which we all flow.