She Dances On The Sand

Religious nuts whine about the holidays, as usual.

2009-11-10T01:31:00.005-05:00

http://tinyurl.com/yetxzf7

So, JUST LIKE EVERY YEAR FOR THE PAST FEW, even during the Bush years, the criteria for submissions includes not having religious themed ornaments. Which, hey, whatever, considering the stated THEME is ‘Arizona’s Gift, from the Grand Canyon State.’” It is also stated that the ornaments “will provide wonderful opportunities for Arizona school children to demonstrate what Arizona means to them… Whether they represent our world-renowned landscapes, our diverse cultures, or other aspects of our state, the ornaments will help convey the particular beauty that is Arizona.”

But, whining fundies can't deal with that. And one little snotnosed brat gets used as a pawn by the ADF because he is throwing a temper tantrum about wanting to submit JEEEEEEEEEEESUS themed ornaments:

ADF attorneys sent a letter to state and federal officials demanding that they abandon the prohibition of religious viewpoints so that the child may participate in the unique opportunity. One of the ornaments will read “Merry Christmas,” another will say “Happy Birthday, Jesus,” and the third will portray a manger scene with the baby Jesus.

Really? So Jesus was born in Arizona? What does any of that have to do with Arizona? If I'm taking a class, and my teacher tells the class to write an essay about baking a cake, I am going to get a big fat F if I write about how much I love Jesus. And I'll completely deserve it, because I didn't stick to the assignment.

Your kid is free to make whatever ornament he wants. The government does not have to provide a public place to display it. If Christians want a tree with religious-themed ornaments displayed in the Capitol, then they can do it at one of their churches, and invite the public to view it. In fact, I think that would be a really great opportunity for them! They can say, hey, we're rendering unto Caesar, now let's render unto our god and celebrate in our own faith. By opening their doors and inviting people in, they'll promote their own interests in whatever way they want, without having to get lawyers and whatnot. Maybe families will travel to DC to see their kid's ornament displayed. Wouldn't that be cool? After a couple of years, they can do a "best of" tree with ornaments from past years. Perhaps the #1 ornament on the "best of" tree could get reproduced the following year as a fundraiser.

Why the hell do these people not hire me to take care of their PR problems instead of foaming at the mouth and screaming incoherently? WTF man.

The neocon principle of debate: If it disagrees with you, maim it, kill it, or rape it

2009-10-16T18:27:00.000-04:00

When I saw this comic, all I could think of was, hey, there's a man intimidating a woman with a knife while dictating his political views to her--not allowing her to actually be a part of the discussion. She even expresses her apprehension of his knife pointing at her with uneasy humor. It is also not lost on me that the creator utilized a man of color to be the vehicle for this implication of violence, but that's a whole other can of worms I'm not going to bring up here.

I doubt Muir intended this, but it probably came out subconsciously. It seems to me to express that the idea of health care reform (and, for that matter, any liberal ideas) are the product of silly emotional girls who need a MAN to tell them what's what, and then make sure to dominate her and show her who's boss; perhaps the knife, along with symbolizing the desire to do violence to liberals, also symbolizes the desire to use one's masculinity to dominate them through sex (regardless of whether there is consent involved, of course--even if there is "consent" in this kind of sex, it's often someone either too intimidated to say no, or someone complicit in their own oppression, which can happen for a variety of reasons).

Is the Fourth Amendment nothing but a pile of ash?

2009-10-16T13:44:00.001-04:00

http://mediastudy.com/articles/av9-15-09.html
Feds bust Twitter Tweeter, Impound Curious George and Buffy Videos in Terror Probe

(not a joke)

Madison spent his time in Pittsburgh monitoring police calls and using Twitter to report real-time police movements around the G-20 protests. In one contentious tweet, Madison reported on a police order closing a street near the protest and ordering everyone on that street to disperse. Anyone subsequently on that street would be arrested, whether or not they were informed of the closing. People monitoring the Tin Can tweets or subscribing to Tin Can text messages knew to avoid the closure area and hence avoid arrest by eschewing lawless behavior they otherwise might not have known was lawless. MSNBC and local news organizations also provided live coverage of the demonstrations.

[snip]

Madison's tweeting came to an end, however, after the Pennsylvania State Police stormed his hotel room, guns drawn, and, according to the New York Times, arrested him for "hindering apprehension or prosecution," "criminal use of a communication facility," and "possession of instruments of crime." The hindering charge stems from the tweet in which he essentially acted as a reporter, reporting real-time news about the police dispersal order and street closure. By reporting on the closure and hence dissuading people from breaking the law, Madison allegedly hindered prosecution; thanks to him, there were no laws broken and no one to prosecute.

One could charge a high school guidance counselor with a similar crime if she convinced a student to forgo illicit drug abuse and hence avoid prosecution as a drug offender.

So if it's five minutes before the alternate side parking begins on my street, and I notice my neighbor's car still on the wrong side, with a parking enforcement cop just waiting to slap a ticket on it at the stroke of nine, should I get thrown in jail for knocking on their door to remind them? The cop might be pissed at not making his quota, but he has no right to arrest me. Isn't law enforcement about prevention, not to give the officers the thrill of arresting people or ticketing them? Alternate side parking, for example, is supposed to be about making room for the street cleaners (even though that purpose has been twisted into revenue generation). Did these officers feel impotent as they went to beat down some hippies, only to find their prey vanished?

Madison was eventually released [...]—except one week later the FBI and the Joint Terrorism Task Force stormed Madison's Queens home at 6am, knocking down his front door with a battering ram and raiding his home with over a dozen officers, guns drawn.

After searching Madison's house for 16 hours, police carted away and impounded a Curious George doll, passports, computers, Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVDs, refrigerator magnets, a needlepoint portrait of Vladimir Lenin, letters, tax records, books, phones, flags, photos, and, according to the New York Post, gas masks, hammers, triangular pieces of metal, some kind of ammo, and about a liquid ounce of mercury. [emphasis mine]

(and I don't actually think it's illegal to possess mercury...a lot of weird men like to have it because it IS a neat, albeit dangerous substance)

I find it frightening that police think it's okay for them to take things like books, flags, Buffy DVDs (how much you want to bet some idiot was a fan and wanted them for himself?) and STUFFED FRICKEN ANIMALS. And I also find it scary that they will take ANYTHING that is legal to possess--hammers?! Do you have any idea how many hammers are in my house? And sure, okay, you don't like Lenin. I don't like Lenin. But this guy's freedom of expression allows him to have a portrait of Lenin in his home. You know what you do about it? You don't visit him or be friends with him if that bothers you. But the police have NO right to confiscate it. Ammo, but no weapon for it--it sounds to me like this guy collected war memorabilia or something, and these cops picked up ancient shell casings, but even if it were live, usable ammunition, it is generally legal to have it, and where the hell is the NRA on this one?

Of course, I question everything they confiscated because I do not see anything remotely resembling probable cause.

I feel I should post this, just to remind us:

The Fourth Amendment to the United States Constitution provides that:
"The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized."

The War On Drugs has shit upon this amendment for decades. The Patriot Act took laxatives beforehand, and had a good wank all over it for good measure. I'm disappointed in the current administration's continuation of these policies. Tea protesters complain about taxes being used for health care reform, but it'd be nice to see them protesting the incredible waste of dollars funding operations like these. Aren't YOU angry that American taxpayers' money went toward bagging and logging a Curious George doll as evidence? That they went toward arresting this man because his free speech prevented a potentially violent clash between police and protesters? I'd rather my taxes go toward helping sick people get well rather than this kind of insanity.

Diversify or...demand your customers pay you for what they're no longer buying? What?!

2009-10-14T20:12:00.003-04:00

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/14/business/energy-environment/14oil.html?_r=1&hpw

Saudi Arabia is trying to enlist other oil-producing countries to support a provocative idea: if wealthy countries reduce their oil consumption to combat global warming, they should pay compensation to oil producers.

If you are selling a product that becomes obsolete, you don't get to stamp your feet and demand you get paid for the drop in your product's sales. You certainly don't get a gold star for refusing to even recognize the clear signals that your customers were looking to find alternatives to your product since it is damaging to the environment and would eventually run dry anyway. One commenter in a friend's livejournal said, "That's bloody brilliant. Are we going to compensate the Medellin cartels if cocaine sales drop, too?"

Big oil producers have, for decades, resisted the necessary and inevitable transition to renewable energy sources, not only by putting mere token efforts into researching new products themselves, but also by actively working to shut down research and work by other companies and organizations. After all, if they did enthusiastically pursue "green" energy, that might indicate some small acknowledgment that they know their current product is damaging and nonrenewable.

Yes, lately, these companies have been frantically investing in alternative energy research, because the tide is changing, and they're now realizing that they may not have the power to stop it. Now, they can claim market forces are the reason they're changing instead of having to admit that fossil fuels are problematic for long term, widespread use. You know, "Hey, we don't necessarily believe this is better, but since people want it, we'll provide the market with products."

But of course, for the oil producing countries in the article I quoted, the old business maxim, "Diversify or die," would require actual work. You know, what the rest of us have to do if our products or services become obsolete. I myself run the risk, in my small business, of market saturation, of everyone having seen what I have in to short a period of time, so I have to make sure I maintain a variety of programs, and services that evolve over time. If I hand out the same goody bags, the same postcards, the same stickers, and perform the exact same programs (with the same jokes and scripts), I will lose clientele. Do I get to go to my former clients with a hand out if they decide to stop booking me after several years in a row? Of course not--the onus is on ME to keep them interested enough to invite me back. It's on ME to make sure my material is up to date with the latest research so I don't spread misinformation. It's on ME to market myself and search out new clients. And if, by some bizarre, unforeseeable fluke, it is discovered that being within two feet of a program like mine causes cancer, it's on ME to find a new line of work.

Asking your customers to pay you because they don't want your product anymore is real chutzpah. It's also pretty asinine. I'm sorry that the Saudis have become so desperately dependent on their customers that they feel they have to do this, but the writing's been on the wall for decades. The need for green energy is not a surprise that has caught them with their pants down. It's not their customers' fault that Big Oil has, instead of acknowledging, exploring, and providing for this need when it became apparent, they fought it tooth and nail, deliberately choosing environmental destruction and corporate stagnation over environmental protection and diversity.

In my opinion, this thing that they are doing, this asking to be paid because their customers have decided to reduce their use of a globally destructive product, is evil. Evil, sick, and wrong. They do not even deserve an explanation for a refusal to pay; what they deserve is a slap in the face for even asking.

Thanks to Andrew K for alerting me to this article.

Library-hating creep gleefully makes little girls cry

2009-10-08T04:17:00.004-04:00

Note: I am going to be writing future posts about anti-library rhetoric both in the past and now currently spewing from the teabagger I-got-mine-screw-everyone-else contingent. I am starting with this incident because it is a powerful lesson in just how mean-spirited and selfish these people really are.

A wealthy suburb's village board decides to fire most of its library's staff, including the head librarian. A brave 11 year old girl stands up during a council meeting to report that her library use has become much less beneficial without the assistance of educated, experienced staff.

A very nasty, wealthy, 69 year old lawyer, a Mr. Xinos, responds to her in an incredibly rude, hateful way that makes her and her friend cry--and then later brags, "I wanted that kid to lose sleep that night," because he wanted to teach a little girl a "lesson".

He is extremely bitter that the library even exists; he had sued to stop it from being built, and was unsuccessful. So he ran for a seat on the village board in order to do something about the evil, terrible library--and lost. So he has been working to get other people elected to the board who are anti-library.

Xinos has also shown what a totally awesome person he is by successfully fighting against a plan to bring subsidized housing for seniors into town by declaring, "I don't want to live next to poor people. I don't want poor people in my town." Yeah, those senior citizens are really going to wreck the neighborhood, what with grandma prostituting herself on the street corners and gramps selling drugs and spraying graffiti on every possible surface.

Xinos' roots, surprisingly, do not involve a silver spoon or trust fund. He himself grew up poor, worked in a cafeteria, and joined the Marines before becoming a lawyer and making money. He's also quite the classy sort; the Daily Herald stated that he "sprinkles the F-word throughout his conversations. He dismisses a recent library event involving dogs with a blunt three-word rant in which he bookends swear words around the word 'that.'" This poor guy's delicate sensibilities are going to be terribly marred by the presence of senior citizens, educated children, and a library.

A fairly important piece of this puzzle is that Xinos does not actually have children of his own. He seems to believe that because he is childless, he derives no benefit from the children (and adults for that matter) in his community becoming educated or having a safe community space for them to go outside of school. Xinos declares that the government should only build roads, fight fires, and have a police force, but fails to understand that the workers providing these services do not spring forth from the womb in full uniform, ready to fight crime and put out fires. Nor does he acknowledge that all of the people he receives services from on a daily basis, from his secretary, to his favorite restaurant's chef, to the mechanic who maintains his vehicle, and let's not forget the medical personnel needed to keep his senior-aged body working--all of these people have likely required the use of library services during their formative years, their higher education, and their continuing education.

Each of us relies on a number of other people in the world to do their jobs every day. Despite his attempts to live in a bubble (via gated community), even Xinos needs other people for his daily life to run smoothly. He seems to think that his wealth gives him independence, but I am going to go out on a limb here and say that it actually makes him more dependent on other people--those who don't have money have to do things for themselves; Xinos likely has a support staff that may include a maid, secretary, landscaper, personal assistant, and similar service personnel that do the things Xinos feels are beneath him. I'm also going to guess that he'd pitch a toddler-worthy tantrum if one of these people quit on him and he had to pick up his own dry cleaning for once, or wash a dish. Being able to throw money around does not mean you're not part of a community; it does not mean you do not rely on that community, and it does not mean you have no responsibilities toward that community.

A minor note I wanted to cover here is that, while Xinos is whining that a head librarian is making $98,000 a year, he fails to realize that librarians have to go through a significant amount of schooling (Andrew K, you can back me up here?). Do a web search for "Library Science" to understand just how much there is to becoming and being a librarian. There's also the consideration of the cost of living in that area. A librarian in my small hometown could live quite comfortably on half that, but $98K does not stretch as far in an affluent area like Oak Brook.

Sources and discussions:
http://slog.thestranger.com/slog/archives/2009/10/07/the-evilest-man-in-illinois

http://sirriamnis.livejournal.com/1898157.html

http://www.dailyherald.com/story/?id=325508

Guest Post: on lynched Census worker Bill Sparkman

2009-10-07T17:22:00.005-04:00

Today's post is a guest post from ms_daisy_cutter of livejournal regarding the sickening death of a census worker.

A census worker responds:

I work in the field for the Census Bureau in western North Carolina, deep in the mountains. There are certainly meth labs and grow ops in the areas where I've worked, but the greatest fear for my team and myself comes from the angry and the ignorant.

The overwhelming anger is directed straight at the President. No question. Fear and racism at the core that has manifested into anti-government radicalism. We're threatened and intimidated almost daily, just for trying to earn a days pay and uphold the Constitution. I've been called an "employee of president nigger" and team members have been bitten by dogs and threatened with shotguns.

The Glenn Becks and Michelle Bachmans give these nutjobs legitimacy and a voice. They're bringing this madness into the mainstream fold of our society and stoking the flames of misguided fears.

And a former FedEx driver who worked in "extreme northeast Tennessee/southwest Virginia - same cultural heritage as these Kentucky and North Carolina areas" — was warned on his first day on the job that he might get shot at because the locals didn't know the difference between FedEx and the Federal government. And that was back in 1994.

I agree with this commenter: "If the red-state rednecks in the backwoods are seriously undercounted in the 2010 census, and consequently lose Congressional representation and federal funding, they'll have Bachmann, Beck, and their own stupidity to blame. I'll try not to lose sleep over it."

But I don't want to see them kill or hurt any more innocent people. :-/

------------
ms_daisy_cutter later comments:
if local law enforcement cannot secure the safety of census workers, then census workers should withdraw and count an area as ZERO, with all the consequences that entails. They used to do that in inner city areas torn by crime and gang strife, they should do it again here.

------------
Rio's Comment:
If your views are in such a minority in this country that the only way you think you can get what you want is through terrorism (and what happened to Sparkman was terrorism, plain and simple), then maybe what you really need is to put down the weapons and check yourself into the psych ward.

The most important epidemic

2009-09-27T20:44:00.002-04:00

"Cholera and typhoid," [South African Sanitation Minister Ronnie Kasrils] tells me, "kill so many million kids a year, which amounts to two jumbo jets full of children crashing every four hours."

As long as this is going on in the world, we need to stop spending even a single public cent worrying about fat people, and work on making these kids safe.

I'm also thinking that, if these were white kids, it wouldn't be happening.

A quote regarding the glorification of pain

2009-09-26T03:36:00.000-04:00

I have no patience these days with the Nietzschean cliché, “That which does not kill us makes us stronger.” I’ve found that the deepest pain holds no meaning. It is not purifying. It is not ennobling. It does not make you a better human being. It just is.

All the worst pain does is reduce us to our most primal animal. We want it to stop. We want to survive. It short-circuits any sense of self, diminishes us to a bundle of biological reflexes.
- Dana Jennings, Source

To be a woman who is nothing without her husband

2009-09-26T00:58:00.003-04:00

http://ahthelife.blogspot.com/2006/09/bringing-home-rebecca.html
This vomit-inducing blog post describes the "liberation" of a poor, downtrodden woman who has been a "wage slave" in an office. Her "liberators" are her family and husband, come to take her out of her job forever so that she can be a housewife. Aside from the grotesque appropriation involved in using the terms "slave labor camp" and "concertina wire" (there isn't any of either; they're being facetious, but it really isn't funny), these disturbed cultists spew out their fervent belief that women are actually not worth anything--at all--outside of how they can serve their husbands. This is not a joke, and not an exaggeration. The quote:
"Eve did not have a seperate function apart from Adam. Eve's function was defined perfectly in terms of Adam's function. When we understand what Adam was doing then we can understand why Eve was created...The purpose that God had in bringing Eve out of the side of Adam was so Adam would have a helper for his job, for his vocation...not a seperate vocation of her own."

There's no mention of Adam having no purpose without Eve, of course; he is valuable in and of himself. She's just there as a bonus for him. Isn't that nice?

Now, some people in this LJ post figured that as long as these women are happy, then it's not that big a deal, right? If what you really want in life is to be a stay at home wife and mother, and you really don't want to be working a crappy, dead end job, then you should have that choice. And I agree--women (and men, for that matter) should be able to choose to be homemakers while the spouse has a job. But the keyword here is choose. And this "women belong in the home" subculture doesn't give its women a choice. Their females are raised in a way that drills into them that they are worthless without a husband, that having a vocation of their own is an affront to their deity. They're "happy" to not have a choice because they've never been allowed to even entertain the thought that they could possibly have fulfilling careers that have nothing to do with their spouses.

In the thread here: http://james-nicoll.livejournal.com/2003297.html?thread=35004257#t35004257 --when I read this comment by user pir_anha, "but compare a horrible job to a good marriage -- then the choice isn't at all clear anymore," I felt frustratingly infuriated.

The "rescued wife" in the blog entry had a job she hated, sure, but no one points out that jobs don't *have* to be horrible. However, this woman was more likely to have a job she hated because her religious upbringing didn't include a goal of becoming educated in something more fulfilling for her.

I have to wonder if women in this subculture are kept ignorant and encouraged to work miserable jobs for a while so that they actually set up the "hero husband" rescue situation. Show the little lady just how terrible it is to work for a living, and she'll cry tears of relief when she no longer has to do so--never knowing that not every job is like that, and that many women work fulfilling and interesting jobs that they love.

Growing up in a very secular household, I was encouraged to pursue my dreams, and gained the education and experience to do the kind of work that I truly love. I would be enraged if my family tried to take my work away from me so that I can worship at the altar of my husband's supposedly superior genitalia. I would leave him, leave my family, and live my own life if they pulled a stunt like this, if they dared to imply that I and the work I do had no value outside of how it glorifies my husband.

People can argue that "it's their culture," and "it's what she wants," but these women are groomed from early on for this to happen. They never had the chance to decide for themselves that they are worthwhile and can contribute meaningfully to society all on their own, regardless of their marital or motherhood status. And the very worst part is, some of them are going to have daughters of their own whose wings they'll carefully, deliberately, and smilingly clip out of "love".

Let's find real solutions to the impending doctor shortage

2009-09-25T04:53:00.000-04:00

One of the most common arguments I see in opposition of healthcare reform is that there are "not enough doctors" if everyone in the USA were to gain access to health care.

This argument irritates the hell out of me. What this really boils down to is, if those who currently do not have health insurance are, by way of reforms, finally able to access affordable (for them) health care, then those who are currently privileged enough to have health insurance may have to wait longer to get an appointment with a doctor.

In other words, "I got mine, screw everyone else, and don't you dare try to inconvenience me so that others can receive care."

Instead of trying to address the actual problem of potential doctor shortages, these people would rather deny healthcare to less privileged people. They will also say things like, "They should get a job and get health insurance like I do, by working for it*," all the while blinding themselves to the obvious fact that if that happened, there would still be the problem of not enough doctors; how those doctors are paid--by insurance companies or by single payer--is not going to matter a whole lot when there still aren't enough of them to care for all of our country's citizens. But of course, the teabaggers are counting on a significant portion of US citizens remaining in the position of not having health insurance. They aren't forward thinking enough to try to work on ways for the doctor shortage issue to be addressed, they just want to make sure they keep the status quo.

So what are some real solutions to this impending shortage of health care professionals (and, actually, despite our having the oh-so-fabulous system we have now, we actually have shortages right now, especially of general practitioners)? Now that we've established that denying health care to a large portion of citizens is NOT an acceptable solution, I have a number of suggestions for both increasing the number of physicians, and for reducing the demand on them:

1. Medical school enrollment hit an all time high in 2008. Obviously, there isn't a lack of interest in the medical profession. However, this makes me wonder how many well-qualified candidates didn't get accepted. Somehow, we need to increase the capacity of our medical schools so that many more good students are able to attend. I feel that anyone who feels a true calling to the profession, and who is intellectually capable, should have access to a spot in a medical school.

2. We also need to de-privilege medical school enrollment. Applicants who show great promise should be admitted regardless of their socioeconomic status, and we need to find ways to help less privileged applicants fund their education.

3. Regions that are experiencing the most severe shortages could offer grants to help a local student pay for medical school, with an agreement that they will return to the region to practice family medicine for a specified time period.

4. These same regions could ease family practitioners' overhead expenses by providing a city- or county-owned clinic facility. They would have an incentive to make these facilities comfortable and attractive so that the physician(s) will want to work there. I have seen some of the incredibly ornate and beautiful public libraries in some places, so why not create similar places for public clinics?

5. Offer similar incentives and opportunities to educate and recruit more nurse practitioners and physician's assistants; they can take a huge load off the doctors by serving patients. For those who are not in the US, people in these two jobs are able to see patients and perform most of the things a family practice physician does, but must practice under a supervising physician.

6. Adopt a single payer healthcare system! Our doctors currently spend an obscene amount of time and money trying to get insurance companies to pay their bills. Insurance companies currently spend an obscene amount of time and money trying to avoid paying doctors what they are due. Between arguing on the phone, filling out and faxing a ludicrous number of forms, and writing a bunch of letters explaining WHY Mrs. Jones really DOES need her lifesaving medication, doctors are cheated out of time spent with their patients and families. They either find themselves rushing through a double-booked schedule and not getting the chance to really connect with their patients, or they are cheated out of the income they would get by booking more patients in the time wasted wrangling with insurance. Many doctors report that Medicare and Medicaid don't give them the same headaches and runaround as insurance companies, and doctors in the UK and Canada often say that the single payer systems in those countries leave them with more time for patients and less overhead spent on staff needed to sort out insurance snafus.

7. Improve our education system so that gifted and talented kids of all socioeconomic backgrounds have a good shot at becoming doctors if that is their dream. Find more ways for our best and brightest to get into college and on the right track to med school. It's ridiculous that we have college recruiters for sports teams, but not for academics. Why isn't there a recruiter sitting in the back row of a biology classroom to pick out the best and brightest, to offer them incentives to pursue a pre-med career? Isn't creating more health care professionals more important than winning a few ball games?

There are surely countless other ideas out there to ward off the physician shortage that don't involve telling 47 million US citizens to suffer and die. What are your ideas?

---
* There is the fact that many people have jobs that don't give them health insurance--to which the teabaggers will often respond that it's the person's own fault for not pulling themselves up by their bootstraps and getting a better job. There are countless problems with that, however, with just a few of them being:
- Not everyone has the ability to become an engineer, or a lawyer, or some other profession that has decent benefits

- Teabaggers are anti-union, so they're actually against workers gaining access to better benefits

- They also vote for the corporate whores who send jobs overseas and sacrifice lower level jobs for CEO and upper management bonuses and (temporary and unsustainable) inflation of stock prices (which often end up eventually gutting the corporations for the sake of making a quick buck for investment bankers--and by the way, studies show the seven percent rule is a myth; GE and P&G pulled it off, but they're the exception, and companies trying to emulate their layoff tactics are not getting the results they wanted)

- There are not enough of these health-insurance-providing jobs for everyone; if there were, we'd all be working them

- Regardless of anything else, SOMEONE has to do the "less desirable" work that currently doesn't provide health insurance, and you know these selfish teabaggers are going to be the first to whine when there aren't enough checkout lanes open at Wal*Mart for their liking

- It's inhumane for a person to have to choose to stay with an abusive employer (or an abusive spouse whose employer provides health insurance) because they've got a health condition that would be impossible to manage without insurance (and impossible to get insurance coverage for outside of employer-offered).

A labor of love

2009-09-22T02:42:00.003-04:00

Janie L was in pain every single day. She had undergone a major back surgery that stood a chance of paralyzing her forever. She can't get out of bed some days, but she isn't paralyzed.

Janie was also deathly allergic to cats. A couple of hours visiting her sister, who had two cats, would often give her bronchitis and stuffed up sinuses for two days after. Still, she adored animals, especially cats. So when the weather was turning cooler, she felt she had to do something about the tiny black and white cat who had spent the summer in her neighborhood's lawns, chasing squirrels and avoiding humans. Janie got a hav-a-heart trap, and soon she had a very frightened little cat trying frantically to escape from it!

Janie's sister came over to help get the little one into a large kennel; the cat had never been touched by humans before, so this was a real challenge that got sis scratched up. But the cat was safely ensconced in the kennel, with a cozy bed, plenty of food and water, and a litterbox. The two sisters could not tell what gender the quivering furball was, but they did determine (correctly, it turned out) that kitty was deaf.

Janie called every rescue she could, but all were full to overflowing. Her sinuses grew more and more clogged, and she knew that she couldn't keep this up for long--but she could not bring herself to put the kitty back outside, especially now that she knew kitty was deaf.

As luck would have it, she called the rescue I volunteer for while a particularly soft-hearted volunteer was on phone duty. This volunteer felt drawn to the situation, both by the cat's desperate need and by the woman's kindness and courage in trying to help a creature that was making her physically ill.

So I, the volunteer, was able to somehow convince the foster coordinator to let me take on this challenge. I called Janie to arrange for us to come and meet the kitten. Brian and I arrived around 7pm with a carrier and towel. I had Brian hold the towel at first while I removed items from the kennel to get them out of the way. Once the way was cleared, I reached in to see how the cat would react to my trying to pick her up. Janie and her sister were amazed that I would just reach in like that, but I could tell from the cat's behavior that it was afraid, but not aggressive. After it pulled itself back into the corner, I took the towel from Brian and used that to wrap her up and pull her out.

I had Brian hold the wrapped, trembling kitty while I looked it--her!--over. Janie and her sister wanted to pet her before we put her in the carrier, so we let them stroke her head. It was a huge thrill for Janie to touch the scared little kitty she'd rescued! She told me that she had tried every rescue, and that she was crying and praying, asking her mother's spirit to help her find someone to intervene for the kitty. They'd been calling her Oscar, and she is about six months old, short haired, black and white, and POLYDACTYL! I'm a sucker for extra toes.

So we said goodbye and took Colette (we named her that night) home with us. Brian took her straight up to the bathroom while I put together my foster intake kit. Brian sat with her on his lap, a towel underneath her, while I sat on the floor in front of them to do the procedures. Colette was amazingly calm the whole time, and let us do whatever we needed without a peep or struggle. I think her being deaf helped; strange sounds seem to be the most stressful things for scared kitties.

First, I had to trim her nails so she wouldn't shred us if she resisted. She calmly let me trim each claw. When I got to her right rear foot, I was appalled to find that the extra toe, which was halfway up the foot (if it were on your foot, it would be on the inside of your foot, right at the point where the arch is at its highest point), had overgrown the claw all the way into the pad. Cat claws grow in a curve, and regular wear and shedding usually keeps them from overgrowth. On a toe that does not touch the ground, the outer layers don't shed, and the claw doesn't wear down, so it keeps curving around until it grows into the flesh of the toe. I've seen it on polydactyls before; in Colette's case, it was a matter of being a stray who'd never had anyone to groom her, whereas the previous case was a person who was not diligent about nail trimming. Colette did not react at all as I trimmed the overgrown nail, removed the bit from her paw pad, which started to bleed, and then cleaned and disinfected the wound. Luckily, it was not full of pus or necrotic tissue; she will be just fine as long as we keep her claws trimmed!

After the claws, I had to dredge an appalling amount of clotted black goop out of her ears. I was pulling chunks out of her poor ears, and she just sat there and let me do it. It took a long time to get them cleaned; I flushed, I rubbed with cotton balls, and I pulled bits out with swabs. I treated both ears for mites as well; I'll probably have to repeat the whole process in a week or two.

Then came the easy stuff; worming medicine down the hatch, a quick distemper vaccination (she didn't even notice), flea treatment, eye drops for her conjunctivitis, and the first dose of Doxycycline for her URI. She's a bit snuffly, but she's alert, bright eyed, inquisitive, and energetic, so I think we got to her just in time. After that, we just petted her and let her get to know us for a bit before putting her out on the front porch with food, water, and litter box. The front porch is our "extra" foster room when we have a cat that needs to be quarantined.

Janie is going to sponsor Colette's spay, which is scheduled for Tuesday, 9/22. Colette will be tested for FIV and FeLV as well, and I am hoping that she is negative for both. She will be socialized here, and then when we feel she is adoptable, she will go on the rescue's website so we can find her a home.

I don't know what drew me to this cat, but I am grateful to have the opportunity to help her.

Revisiting the "Lucky Ducky" mindset

2009-09-19T05:18:00.001-04:00

"Lucky Duckies" may seem like old news, since the term came about in 2002, but I think it's vital that we revisit it at this very moment, because we need to be reminded exactly what we are up against. We need to always keep in mind that the neocon point of view is horrifically sociopathic, and that we are dealing with people who are so mentally ill that they believe people who live below the poverty line are fortunate to be doing so. This may seem ludicrous to you, but it is not a joke, and it is terribly, disturbingly unfunny--made even more so by the fact that this point of view actually instigated policy changes.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucky_duckies - Lucky duckies is a term that was used in Wall Street Journal editorials starting on 20 November 2002 to refer to Americans who pay no federal income tax because they are at an income level that is below the tax line (after deductions and credits). The term has outlived its original use to become a part of the informal terminology used in the tax reform debate in the United States.

Here are some excerpts from articles about the "Lucky Duckies" discussion that came about when the term was coined:

http://www.gregsopinion.com/archives/002640.html

Carping critics of the conservative movement have been known to say that its economic program consists of little more than tax cuts, tax cuts and more tax cuts. I may even have said that myself. If so, I apologize. Emboldened by the midterm election, key conservative ideologues have now declared their support for tax increases ? but only for people with low incomes.

The public debut of this idea came, as such things often do, on the editorial page of The Wall Street Journal. The page's editors, it seems, are upset that some low-income people pay little or nothing in income taxes. Not, mind you, because of the lost revenue, but because these "lucky duckies" ? The Journal's term, not mine ? might not be feeling a proper hatred for the government.
The Journal considers a hypothetical ducky who earns only $12,000 a year ? some guys have all the luck! ? and therefore, according to the editorial, "pays a little less than 4% of income in taxes." Not surprisingly, that statement is a deliberate misrepresentation; the calculation refers only to income taxes. If you include payroll and sales taxes, a worker earning $12,000 probably pays well over 20 percent of income in taxes. But who's counting?

http://archive.salon.com/news/feature/2002/12/21/duckies/print.html
Chait and countless others pointed out that the Journal's argument was both factually wrong -- it considered only the federal income tax, not all the taxes that poor and middle-class people pay, in particular hefty payroll taxes like Social Security -- and culturally out of touch. Had the editors ever met a person of little means? Did they realize that being poor, while perhaps an attractive tax shelter, tended to come with such hard-to-bear downsides as not knowing where your next meal will come from?

http://writ.news.findlaw.com/commentary/20070423_buchanan.html
Buchanan makes a GREAT point here:
Unfortunately, because tax issues are all about numbers, it is far too easy to introduce confusion into the debate. And conversely, it takes a bit of effort to unsnarl the arguments. But when the facts are laid bare, the brazenness of this new attack on fundamental American notions of fairness is simply stunning.
Indeed, the proponents of "Lucky Duckies" will hurl numbers right and left, but can we honestly say that we need to "unsnarl" those numbers to understand that it sucks to be poor? That having food security and shelter is better than not knowing if you'll have enough to eat today, or whether you'll be evicted from your home at the end of the month? That Joe being able to keep his modest roof over his head is more important than George buying a fifth Mercedes? And, probably even more importantly, that George's fifth Mercedes was paid for by laying Joe (and fifty of Joe's coworkers) off?

Buchanan continues:
The zero bracket is simply a matter of humanity. If someone is working but unable to earn above a basic minimum, then they should not pay income taxes.

EXACTLY. Humanity--the keyword here, and what the neocons seem to be sorely lacking.

He continues, with some more common sense:
in reality, are we anywhere close to such a situation? In 2005, total income reported to the IRS rose by nine percent, but all of the gains went to the richest 10% of the population. Incomes for the remaining 90% actually declined. Every day brings news of ever-greater income inequality, with measured inequality reaching levels not seen since the Roaring Twenties and the Gilded Age.

If we have a redistributive system, therefore, it is not having any noticeable effect on the party in the penthouse. Any concern that our political system is somehow excessively responsive to the poor, and deaf to the cries of the rich is, moreover, hard to take seriously.

Finally, this Ruben Bolling cartoon is an eloquent illustration of the neocon point of view regarding how "lucky" people living in poverty are. I just wish there were some way for Bolling to illustrate how long Ducky had to stand in line at government offices and agencies to receive the meager benefits he got.

Bad Benches

2009-09-02T08:09:00.004-04:00

I'm looking at these benches...

And I have to say, the slanted one? Pisses me off. The Nike "wet paint" ones are also dickish, but at least they're usable.

For those who don't want to click the link, basically a gym company advertised by putting these benches in public places. The benches were designed so that the seat was tilted so far forward that no one could actually sit on them, the implication being that you shouldn't be sitting down, you should be omg exercising.

The Nike benches had fake wet paint stickers on them to "promote running"...basically to remind us all that we shouldn't be wasting precious exercise time sitting down and relaxing.

Another advertiser placed decals of bathroom scales so that when someone sat on the bench, their feet would be right on the scale. The decals said, "Burn Calories" and were advertising a gym in India. Oh, and the scale's dial registered a horrifyingly OMGFAAAAAAAAAAAAT weight of 95 pounds. You know, if I'm tired and need to sit down for a moment? I don't need eating disorder triggers shoved up my ass for the horrible crime of sitting down.

The latter two suck, but the first one is a kick in the teeth to those of us who have disabilities. If I'm out walking somewhere, and I have a real, sudden need to sit down for a little bit (often my back will be spasming, which is excruciating), encountering one of these useless, mean-spirited benches would probably make me dissolve into tears of pain and frustration. And then I'd probably have to sit down on the ground...which may be muddy or wet, and is not as easy to get up from as a working bench.

I am so damn tired of the neverending "Burn more calories" propaganda. We are cajoled and coerced into engaging in more and more strenuous physical activity, and guilt tripped if we do not. The gym companies barely even need to do their work in this anymore, because they've now got plenty of exercise zealots who LOVE showing off how morally superior they are to people who choose to spend their free time doing other things, or to those of us whose bodies are not able to engage in strenuous exercise.

The marketing weenie responsible for the slanted bench? I'd love to see that jerk get a badly sprained ankle, or come down with mono, and then be forced to replace all his furniture with slanted crap so he can't sit down or even sleep in his bed.

Kitty pee problems

2009-08-23T01:34:00.003-04:00

I recently had a friend ask me for help with a cat issue. It's a pretty common one, so I want to post this to help out others with the same problems.

Hey, I'm writing for my roommate who's having cat pee issues to see if you have any ideas. He has an 8-year-old male cat that's peeing on my friend's bed constantly. He never did this at my friend's old apartment, but he didn't start until 6 months after we moved, so it's not moving stress. He has a history of liver problems (doubt that's relevant). We brought him to the vet, who prescribed antibiotics for a bladder infection (10 days of something) but that didn't take care of it, so not sure it's that. He only pees in the one spot on my friend's bed and he obviously washes the comforter every time it happens. He's had it with this cat, so I'm trying to see what it could possibly be! Thanks. :/

My response:
First: Rule out physical causes
Get the vet to take a urine sample (with a needle) and check it for bacteria, blood cells, and/or crystals. Rule out physical causes. Sometimes a cat will urinate inappropriately because they do not feel physically well, and engage in litterbox avoidance. Once the urine is checked, the vet will be able to prescribe special foods or medications to help; kitty may still pee on the comforter while he isn't feeling well. (Note: If he DOES have bladder/urinary tract issues, get some Glycoflex to give him daily, as it has helped my ex's cat immensely with her interstitial cystitis).

Second: Get that odor OUT.
Cats can smell even the faintest traces of urine. Get your hands on Simple Solution Cat Odor Remover--not the regular stuff, but the cat specific kind. And then:
1. Launder the comforter, then spray the peed on area with the Simple Solution, let it sit for about half an hour, and launder again (don't bother drying inbetween washes)

2. Do the same for the sheet beneath the comforter.

3. Use the spray on the MATTRESS too, liberally on and around the spot. The odor penetrates through, so he's probably still smelling it there. Let it sit for about fifteen minutes, and then blot as much as you can with a towel. Repeat once, and then set a fan blowing over the top of the mattress to dry it out. IF you have a steam cleaner (they are indispensable here), use the upholstery attachment to clean the mattress area both before AND after the Simple Solution treatments. If you don't have one, see if you can borrow one, or rent one.

Third: Replace the "territory" pheromone with a "calming" one
Get your paws on a bottle of Feliway spray. It's expensive, but it WORKS. Spray the mattress with ONE squirt on the spot where kitty pees. Then spray the comforter as well, again ONE squirt. Do this once every day for a week, then space it out to every other day, then two days in between...then go down to once a week.

Fourth: Figure out non-physical causes
Now, if kitty does not have any physical issues? Try to sort out what may be stressing him. What's changed? Is there a new smell or sound in the house? New animal? New person coming over? If you need help figuring this out, after physical health problems are ruled out, we can chat and come up with what it might be. If you think you know what it is, let me know and I'll tell you the strategies I know for dealing with different stressors. If the cat is experiencing anxiety issues, and the cause cannot be found or eliminated, anxiety medications are actually very useful in helping with inappropriate urination behaviors.

I also recommend, for strategies in solving cat behavior problems, the following book by Dr. Nicholas Dodman:
The Cat Who Cried for Help: Attitudes, Emotions, and the Psychology of Cats

Some thoughts on bullying

2009-07-13T14:01:00.002-04:00

Edited to add:
It's interesting to note that the bullies who inspired this post have actually come here and left hateful comments filled with abusive language. Of course, they are outraged that I just reject their comments--how dare I "censor" them! They are even more outraged that the incidents that led to this blog entry culminated with their actions being reversed by those in charge; what was stolen from me and the other person involved was restored to us. If you steal something from someone, and then the authorities take it away from you and give it back to the original owner? You're not being oppressed.

Someone in a livejournal community I'm in noted that bullies almost always have a persecution complex. When their victims protest, or fight back, the bully reacts with extreme outrage that would be out of proportion even if they'd just been attacked without provocation.

I've come to believe that at least some of them are bullying because they *want* someone to fight back and put them in their place. Perhaps they had absentee or ineffective parents that gave them no structure, or an unstable structure, and they are seeking someone, anyone, that will teach them some boundaries. They constantly test boundaries until they find someone fearless or fed up enough to draw a line and push them away and back over it.

I'm wondering if some of the severe acting out and bullying I see online, including those who engage in a great deal of trolling, are the result of the "self esteem" style of parenting, when many parents failed to teach boundaries and respect to kids because they were fearful of stifling their children's happiness. (Please note that I don't think you should beat your kids, or break their spirit--but kids need reasonable rules and structure.)

Boundaries are very important to self-esteem. They give you a map of where you end and others begin, and vice versa. Without knowing this, it is difficult for a person to have a sense of self without constantly seeking that line by testing boundaries. Unfortunately, the testing usually consists of striking out at other people and seeing what you hit. The seeker then starts to create an identity based almost entirely on the reactions of other people to them; their identity cannot stand alone, but instead is reminiscent of sonar--they send out signals, and get a picture of who they are based on what comes back to them. A healthier person is more able to be comfortable with who they are without needing constant feedback from other people.

A decent person who needs feedback (I will not comment on whether or not this makes them healthy or not, because it's of course variable from case to case) seeks positive feedback from others by doing nice things and helping people. If I cook you a nice meal, and you thank me for it and tell me how good it was, we both feel good and derive benefit. A bully will insult or hurt someone, and derive benefit from their negative response. It's easy to see which way is better--and not just better for the recipient, but for the giver. The question is, what makes a person choose bullying over kindness in their attention seeking behavior? And then, what can be done to get them to choose the latter when they have spent so long doing the former?

Living with Deaf Cats

2009-06-06T10:14:00.000-04:00

Varjak Paw* was one of our foster cats. He was a kitten while he was here, and we had his mom, sister, aunts, uncle, and grandmother as well. His mother and sister, like him, are white with blue eyes, but being female, did not develop the deafness associated with that color combination (link goes to excellent article about cat genetics). Varjak, however, is deaf, and that makes him a bit more challenging to live with.

While he was here, he was a kitten, and he was no more a handful than any other kitten of the same age. We had to be careful not to step on him while he was sleeping, since he couldn't hear us coming, and he did scream his fool head off at the spay/neuter clinic (the vet said he drove them all NUTS--he woke up from the anesthesia almost immediately), but he was small and stumbly and still learning about his world.

Last week, my friend asked me to catsit for him for a little while, and she brought me this huge white cat that couldn't possibly be Varjak! He looks just like his beautiful mother, Cyrene (formerly Snowflake, adopted by my friends Catt and Ken), but he's got that big, strong male cat body. He's also got a new name, Max. Max was stressed out by the new surroundings, and by the fact that there were over a dozen unfamiliar cats all around him. So there has been a lot of yowling and hissing coming from him. For their part, my own cats are all saying, "Meh, so what, another cat."

One of the things about having a deaf cat is that they can be VERY LOUD. They don't have any feedback to tell them they are being loud, so they make their sounds without knowing they're being obnoxious. Having to pick Max up and remove him from, say, the counter, the refrigerator, and other situations, I realized that I might have to go tell my neighbor that no, we are not torturing cats here. The blood-curdling shrieks are very much like the ones we've gotten out of feral or abused cats. He isn't THAT mad, but he has no idea he's being that loud.

Another thing about him is that, when he IS being a troublemaker, I have to physically remove him from the situation. Almost all of my cats respond to verbal commands, which is very useful when I'm not feeling well. Max is usually visually focused on the trouble he's causing, so the only thing we can do is make physical contact to get his attention.

And he does like to get into stuff. Most cats would knock stuff over, and then scare themselves off with the crashing sounds. Max is currently pawing at a spoon that is next to a glass object, and making a racket; I don't think any of my cats could stand the noise he is making, and would quit because of it. So he just keeps doing noisy things because it doesn't affect him. He's also more easily bored because he needs more visual and tactile input than a hearing cat, so he seems to go looking for stuff to do.

Having him here has been an educational experience, and while he has been a handful, he is also a very loving, snuggly boy who is a pleasure to cuddle. I hope that as our limited time with him goes on, I will understand his needs better, and be better able to serve a future deaf cat's needs.

* Named for the title character of the books by S. F. Said. His sister was Sally Bones, and his aunt (who passed away) and uncle of the same age were Holly and Jalal, all characters from the Varjak Paw books. Varjak's mom renamed him Max, but Sally's adopter kept the name and actually got interested in the books!

Stretch's story

2009-05-20T05:06:00.004-04:00

Friday night, I got a phone call from K, who lives a block away. She LOVES cats, but is almost dangerously allergic to them. She has done a lot of TNR (trap/neuter/release) for the neighborhood ferals, and she has feeding stations in her back yard that allow her to monitor them and see who is coming and going. If a cat is missing around here, she's the first person to call. She knows the long time residents, both owned and stray.

She had a new one coming to her house, but he refused food. We're still not sure why he was there, since he wouldn't eat, but she found that he was willing to drink cream or milk, so she gave him a dish of that morning and evening. She was able to coax him into letting her pet him, but she wasn't sure how he'd react to being picked up. When she did reach down to pet him, he would stretch his neck up to rub against her hand, so she called him Stretch.

Friday morning, Stretch had a seizure on K's back porch.

She called another local rescuer to ask her opinion, and it was determined that the cat at the very least needed to be captured and examined. It was suggested that he be euthanized immediately, but K would have been a long time in forgiving herself if she had done that without at least knowing for sure that there were no other options; she would have been wondering and agonizing, worrying that she made the wrong choice. She needed to know for sure.

The biggest obstacle to start with was that she needed to get him into a crate, but she didn't know how badly he'd react, and she can't get scratched or bitten without it requiring a doctor appointment afterward. So she called me to see if Brian was "brave enough" to snag the cat and stuff him in the crate. I told her that I'm actually very good at doing that without getting bitten or scratched, so I went over on Saturday morning to do that. I had K meet me at the front door to hand me his dish of cream, and I crept around back to meet him and give it to him. He was happy to slurp it up--he was very hungry. Stretch allowed me to gently pet him, and when he was done with his treat, I quickly but calmly scruffed him firmly and got him into the carrier. He was pissed, but not nasty.

I went back home, and K made some phone calls to see if she could get him a vet appointment. I told her that if she was able to do that, I could house him overnight so he wouldn't have to stay out in the cold (it was chilly this weekend!), and to spare her allergies. She was able to get the appointment, and brought him over a little later.

He stayed on our front porch, which is enclosed; this is where we keep potentially questionable fosters in quarantine (no other fosters are kept there--tested/healthy ones go into our foster room). I let him out of the carrier, and he walked around, looking out windows and examining his surroundings. He seemed to find them acceptable. I also brought him some milk, since he was unwilling to touch real food.

Throughout the day, I went to pet him and talk to him while he was on the back of the love seat, and he didn't mind. I was able to gently lift his upper lip to look at his teeth, and they were really bad. From the tartar buildup and gum pigmentation, my amateur estimate was that he was at least 9 years old. I didn't open his mouth to see if he had sores, because I wanted to be gentle with him. I just let him have some milk to get something into his tummy, and let him enjoy his stay at Casa Rio. He did get a gentle brushing, because he had some stuff stuck to his fur on top, probably gunk from the bottoms of cars. I think he liked getting brushed, and liked the feeling of being cleaner afterwards.

On Sunday morning, I scooped him up, put him into a pet carrier, and said goodbye. I was pretty sure that the vet's assessment would not be a happy surprise, so I was prepared to not see him again. K picked him up and took him to the clinic (she has to put a sheet over the cage and drive with the windows open because of her allergies), and then we both had to wait. It was the spay/neuter clinic at the shelter; Dr. J is absolutely amazing at diagnosing and surgery, so the shelter got super lucky that they were able to hire her. She had 24 cats to spay or neuter that day, so it was about 3:30 before she was able to talk to K about Stretch's condition.

The diagnosis was end-stage FIV, with concurrent infections that included sores inside his mouth. His teeth were in terrible shape; if he were to have any quality of life, he would need twelve of them pulled out at the very least. She felt that the recovery from his infections and dental care would not be easy or even guaranteed, and that he would probably suffer quite a bit before (and if) he was well enough to have a good life. B, the Robin's Nest volunteer who works the spay/neuter clinic, said she would adopt him and pay his vet bills herself if it would give him a good life, but Dr. J was very compassionate and clear on the fact that it probably would not.

Stretch was euthanized at 4pm on May 17.

I don't know how he knew to go to K's house for help, but he did. He didn't go for the food, because he couldn't eat it. But he seemed relieved to be in the care of humans who could do right by him. He was beautiful and sweet, and I wish his life had been better, but it wasn't.

Stretch's life and death could have been made much kinder if whoever owned him in the past had done one simple thing: Had him NEUTERED. A neutered male cat, even if he is outdoors, is far less likely to contract FIV because they aren't engaging in tomcat fights; FIV, like HIV, is relatively fragile, and requires special circumstances to transmit, usually blood contact. Your cat won't get FIV from hugging, sitting on a couch with, using the same doorknob as, or sharing a toilet seat with a cat with FIV. Your cat CAN get FIV through sharing needles, having unprotected sex, and fighting with FIV-infected cats. While the needle sharing is wholly dependent upon humans being careful to use fresh syringes for each injection on a cat (cats don't become heroin addicts on their own or vaccinate themselves, you know), the latter two are pretty easily curtailed by removing the organs responsible for driving those behaviors: The testicles. One very minor operation, and Stretch would have preferred long walks on the beach to Feline Fight Club or wild cat orgies. He also might have been kept indoors, since neutered males smell less pungent, and don't tend to hose down the walls with pheromones.

Please...neuter your cats. Neuter other cats, too. Neuter your neighborhood strays, and offer to get your mom's cat, your friend's cat, and your worst enemy's cat neutered. The cats won't miss those two bits of tissue, and they will live longer, healthier lives. If you run up against some weirdo who projects his own testicular hangups onto his cat's furry little privates, show him Stretch's pictures, and tell him that Stretch would rather have been healthy and neutered than have a mouth full of rotten teeth and sores, starving to death, and who knows what else pains and miseries that he could not give voice to (and we could not begin to guess). To believe otherwise would be nuts.

Here are photos of our dear one, who was with us for but one day...Stretch was a polydactyl cat, meaning he had extra toes, one on each foot, just like our Ptera. Ptera and Stretch both had the same foot structure; one extra on each front paw, making them look like they had "thumbs", and one extra on each rear foot, halfway up the foot so it looked like a dewclaw.

The Invisible Crutch

2009-04-23T19:25:00.000-04:00

The Invisible Knapsack of White Privilege, conceived by Peggy McIntosh, discusses the many things a white person takes for granted, in list form. As a white person, many of these things were uncomfortable to read, but I also saw reflected in them the things that men, wealthy people, and non-disabled people take for granted.

I've decided to build an invisible crutch from things that constitute abled privilege, without repeating too much of what is in McIntosh's list (so read her list, and substitute "disability" for "color" for many of those things).

1. I can, if I wish, arrange to attend social events without worrying if they are accessible to me.

2. If I am in the company of people that make me uncomfortable, I can easily choose to move elsewhere.

3. I can easily find housing that is accessible to me, with no barriers to my mobility.

4. I can go shopping alone most of the time and be able to reach and obtain all of the items without assistance, know that cashiers will notice I am there, and can easily see and use the credit card machines.

5. I can turn on the television and see people of my ability level widely and accurately represented.

6. I can be pretty sure of my voice being heard in a group where I am the only person of my ability level represented--and they will make eye contact with me.

7. I can advocate for my children in their schools without my ability level being blamed for my children's performance or behavior.

8. I can do well in a challenging situation without being told what an inspiration I am.

9. If I ask to speak to someone "in charge", I can be relatively assured that the person will make eye contact with me and not treat me like I am stupid.

10. I can belong to an organization and not feel that others resent my membership because of my ability level.

11. I do not have to fear being preyed upon because of my ability level.

12. I can be reasonably assured that I won't be late for meetings due to mobility barriers.

13. I can use most cosmetics and personal care products without worrying that they will cause a painful or dangerous reaction.

14. I can usually go about in public without other people's personal care products causing me painful or dangerous reactions.

15. My neighborhood allows me to move about on sidewalks, into stores, and into friends' homes without difficulty.

16. People do not tell me that my ability level means I should not have children.

17. I can be reasonably sure that I will be able to make it to a regular job every day.

18. I know that my income can increase based on my performance, and I can seek new and better employment if I choose; I do not have to face a court battle to get an increase in my income.

19. My daily routine does not have to be carefully planned to accommodate medication or therapy schedules.

20. I can share my life with an animal companion without my ability to care for them being called into question due to my financial and ability situations.

21. If I am not feeling well, and decide to stay in bed, I will likely be believed and not told that I am lazy and worthless.

I am sure there are more that I haven't thought of. Do keep in mind that I've tried NOT to copy Ms. McIntosh's work, because there's no need--most of what she says definitely applies to this list as well.

A short one

2008-12-10T14:24:00.001-05:00

Ill people are not obligated to be brave, cheerful, or optimistic for the sake of preserving the feelings of well people.

Fat Positive book

2008-12-10T14:11:00.004-05:00

A friend of mine has edited a fat-positive anthology of stories about fat men. You can order it here. It is available either as a download or as a paper copy.

A brief conversation

2008-11-07T15:50:00.000-05:00

My friend: Why is it that ANY time an actress/celebrity gains a tiny bit of weight everyone thinks she's pregnant?

Me: Because that's the only socially acceptable excuse for gaining weight.

My friend: Oy.

Hateful, stupid bigots

2008-11-05T19:38:00.003-05:00

I am utterly disgusted that Prop 8 passed in California.

Look, you wack-jobs, keep your religion to yourselves. You are free to practice your religion. When you force others to follow YOUR version of morality, you are infringing on their freedom of religion.

But, really, I want to address the, "OH GROSS" crowd here more than anything.

Does the idea of two men being in a relationship disgust you? Or two women? Well, you know what? GROW UP AND GET OVER IT. You probably don't want to be reminded that your parents had sex, or your grandparents, but when you look in the mirror at the living proof, you manage to keep THAT information from whirling through your dirty little mind, right? So work on your perceptions a bit so you don't have to imagine things that disturb you.

Additionally, I believe that part of the REASON such things disgust you is because you are wired such that you prefer the opposite sex. And that's okay! You know what? Gay people are often grossed out by the idea of heterosexuals doing it! That's right, what YOU do in bed is repulsive to THEM. You know what they do about it? They don't think about it, and try to avoid situations where they would have to see it (by staying out of your bedrooms! Imagine that! Wouldn't it be cool if you could do the same for them?).

The "sick" people aren't the gay ones. They are the immature brats who squall and wail when asked to share something that they won't even have to give up. "WAAAAH Timmy's wearing red and I should be the only one to wear red NO FAIR WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Grow up, you babies.

Guest Post: Sizing in Stitchery

2008-10-30T10:57:00.004-04:00

This piece is reproduced with permission of the author, who has been a good friend of mine for years. Please note that I know NOTHING about sewing, so I'm taking her word for all of this :)

Most of you know that I frequent estate sales fairly regularly. I do know that some people get depressed at the thought; I figure the things they're leaving behind were things that these people loved, and would have preferred to see them loved by another generation, rather than ending up in the local land-fill.

I don't collect Hummels. I don't collect depression glass, or milk glass, or cigarette lighters. (It's hard enough to walk past a smoke house, much less if I had a couple of hundred old lighters begging to be used...) I collect pre-1900 sewing machines, fountain pens, antique medicine tins, and free-range wads of cat fuzz. I have yet to find the latter at any estate sales, but my collections of the previous three are growing.

Inadvertently, I am gathering a fairly substantial collection of old sewing patterns.

Now I don't know what rock y'all have been hiding under, but in case you were unaware, over the last ten years at least there has been a great deal of complaint over the Sudden Expansion Of Waist Lines. "Sizes haven't changed! People are getting fatter! It's an epidemic! Pandemic! OMG!FATTEEZ are taking over!"

I do not have the Current-Accepted Build. I am finding that as I attempt to find period-correct costuming for the mid- to late Victorian period, or the range between 1850 and 1890. For that period, while I am considerably taller than the accepted norm, my proportionate sizing is not at all unusual. (Well, it wouldn't be if I hadn't gained about fifty pounds.)

In looking for a pattern for a Berlinischer woolwerk handbag, or specifically the instructions for assembling said handbag, I came across a bag of patterns I had picked up for a dime apiece at the same sale I got the parlour-cabinet White.

The White was in the possession of a very elderly woman who had gotten the 1924 machine as a present new and continued to use it until less than a week before her death, though she had a newer one. (Her grandchildren got it for her. She took it out when they were visiting, sewed a couple of buttonholes with it, then put it right back in the closet when they left.)

In addition to that machine, she had patterns that dated from the late 20s up to the 80s. All of them had been used to make a muslin; most of those were included in the individual envelopes.

And, for those of you who do not sew, on the backs of those envelopes were the approximate expected measurements of the wearer.

One of the most common things I see listed on current pattern sites is "I wear an 8! How come I wear a 12 in your pattern?" with the response Sewing patterns are sized smaller than off-the-rack clothing.

The rack-stores, anything from Sears up to Neiman Marcus, say The old sizes were too small for modern women, prompting a complete re-vamp of size numbers to today's current sizing. These are more natural to the size of the modern woman, and should serve her well.

Oh, yeah?

Head yourself out to one of those stores. Take a tape measure with you, and start grabbing Size 8s off the rack. Take down the waist measurement of each, noting the manufacture of each. There is consistency within the individual manufacturer, but not across the manufacturers themselves. The waist size can be anything from 24 inches to 28, keeping in mind that the so-called waist is actually three or four inches below where your natural waist actually is.

Don't believe me? Take a strip of 1/4 inch elastic, and tie it around your middle. Stand up, sit down, dance around the room. The elastic will end up not two inches above your hips, but right about where the short-ribs are. That, ladies and gentlemen (and d0nn13), is your natural waist. What the modern sizing is actually measuring is almost onto the hips.

Then go to your local fabric and crafts store. JoAnns, Hobby Lobby, Wal*Mart, or whatever your equivalent is, and start pulling out patterns. You should be able to get a hold of McCalls, Butterick, Simplicity, and perhaps Vogue or Burda. Note the New And Improved Waist Sizing here? Here is a pointer to Simplicity's version of Standard Sizes By Inches.

Note anything interesting? About, say, how a woman's 18 is virtually the same size as a Plump Girl's? And a size 8? Why, it's the same size as a girl's 14.

I don't know about the rest of you, but I wore a girl's 14 when I was in junior high school. No boobs, no waist, no hips; all the curvature of a yard of pump-water. When I was at Arizona State, I wore an 8 everywhere but the bust. I was a lot taller, and had defined curves.

Apparently, the New And Improved sizing means that once you have hit the age of ten, you are supposed to stay the same size as that ten year old.

This is "healthy"?

Now we drift back toward those patterns. Here, I know. We'll grab one. It's a business-suit type pattern, what would later become known as a Power Suit. The copyright date on it is 1967, and along the back envelope flap, we have the ubiquitous Range Of Sizes.

This pattern is a Misses 16. A larger-than-normal but not grossly obese size.

The measurements for a 16 are 44-1/2" bust, 39" waist, 46" hips.

Not a size twenty-six, but a size sixteen.

My God. If I add about ten inches to the bust, I could fit into a size sixteen!

Okay, let's slide that one back into the box, and pull out another one. This one's for a nice formal dress. It's dated from 1952, and it's a Vogue pattern. Now keeping in mind that Vogue ideally mirrored the haute couture of the day, the pattern in question is definitely fitted. The instructions, in fact, suggest that you try on your muslin wearing the appropriate foundation garments, meaning that it was designed to be worn with a corset. Oh, not one of those ungodly pigeon-breasted S-form jobbies from 1910, but something that would provide firm support from beneath.

Again, we are looking at a size sixteen.

And again, we have measurements of 44" bust, a 36" waist, and 46" hips. Vogue makes it a bit harder to find their sizing, but here, again, is a link.

Neat, huh? Admittedly the Today's Fit is a bit closer to their original, but their Vintage Vogue patterns are all sized with the New And Improved sizing.

Butterick? Same thing, if not a bit worse; their patterns used to run small in the original.

Well, thinks I, sliding that one back in, too. Interesting, hey?

The oldest pattern I have is from 1946. The sizes are still consistent. But never fear! There are sites on the 'web that have original patterns! And I went to look at them.

Sizes - such as we find above - are not widely used until the mid- to late 40s. Prior to that? Waist and/or bust sizes, depending on the garment. Skirt patterns from 1890 - yes, I found some, and no, I'm not buying 'em (at least not yet) - are grouped by size. The smallest I found in a woman's size was a 24 - that was the finished waist band size, which meant that the prudent woman would be corsetted in to a 20" - and went all the way up to a 52.

Fifty-two.

That's inches, lads, lasses, and d0nn13.

And no, not those are not Maternity Measurements. Maternity was a completely different department - the waist was not bound at all; you wore a Maternity Corset (which was sized according to your hips, and tied almost up by the shoulders, so the baby was held up by the thing) and your gowns were basically prettily printed sacks; the skirt hung from straps over the shoulder, and the blouse hung loosely over it. That was, of course, when you weren't simply in a "Maternity Wrapper", which had an interior lacing, so that even if you were overwrought by your condition, your modesty was still preserved.

Imagine that. They had fat women - and presumeably men, though their shirts were constructed very differently, buying fabric strictly by width and sewing selvage to selvage and gathering at the neckline - during the Civil War! And afterwards!

Okay, let's go back to the patterns. Now we'll start leafing forward. Here, we'll stop in the 1970s (oh my God, please tell me I never wore my hair like that).

Pattern sizes in 1972 are roughly the same as 1967.

My collection is not complete; there is not another pattern until 1979. Here, there is a drastic difference.

On the McCall's pouch, there isn't even a size that permits anybody to have a bust measurement bigger than 40 inches...and that is a dreadfully unfashionable Size twenty.

Waists are six inches smaller than bust, and the hip measurement is five inches larger than the waist. This, then, would be when the style officially dropped waists from the natural waistline down onto the hips. Anybody but me remember the Empire Drop-Waist? Here it is, gals, guys, and d0nn13!

1983 had a resurgance of the high-necked blouses of the 1880s, including the tight waist, modified Gigot sleeve, and ruffles to emphasize the gazongas. Probably the only point in current fashion that I could actually buy something off the rack, though mostly I filled the thing out the way they weren't supposed to be. (And I sure as hell did not need the ruffles.)

Still, though...a 22 inch waist was a four. And a forty-four inch bust was an embarrassment, only to be seen on porn stars.

In the mid-90s, Neiman Marcus had an Italian plus-sized model bring her line of clothes into the Newport store. "Real clothes," she said proudly, "for real women." The garments were beautiful. They were well-made, they were well-designed, and they took into account that not everybody can, or indeed wants to, spend four hours a day on a treadmill and eat a half a cup of vinegar-soaked raisins before every meal.

The complaints were overwhelming. "You're saying that all women are fat," was the most popular whinge. "Real women don't look like that! Real women are proud of how they look! Nobody wants to spend their money on clothes for fat people, we want to look beautiful!" Neiman Marcus stopped carrying her clothes after six months. The line was picked up by Saks, and may well still be there. Including some absolutely delectable wedding and black-tie formal attire.

Neiman Marcus, meanwhile, doesn't even carry anything larger than a 48, and that's for men. And you'd better believe they're slim-fit, too.

Because, after all, in order to have money, you must be anorexic, or damn' near to it.

To use a horribly over-played phrase, "Fascinating."

...the short short version...
The current, common scream seems to be naught but "People are getting fat now! Clothing sizes prove it! You're all too disgusting to be seen, and you can't even buy patterns big enough to cover you!"

Research and factual evidence seems to prove to the contrary.

I'm almost masochistic enough to try and find out how the protesters would change their stories were the physical evidence placed before them?

Bootstrap B.S.

2008-10-06T21:50:00.001-04:00

For all those who exhort the disadvantaged to "pull themselves up by their bootstraps", I ask that you take your damn bootstraps and shove them up your nose.

If you examine the origins of the phrase, they are rooted in variants of a tall tale (generally the Baron von Munchausen stories) where the protagonist finds himself in over his head, either in quicksand or a body of water, and he saves himself by bending down, taking hold of his bootstraps, and lifting himself up and out of his predicament. In other words, because this is a tall tale, he is doing something that is physically impossible--just like the actions of one Australian folk hero who cuts up mine shafts and sells them as post holes.

Telling someone who is in a disadvantaged state to "pull themselves up by their bootstraps" is demeaning and dismissive. It assumes resources not in evidence, and places blame upon the person for their status. I see these assumptions made all the time, and it annoys the hell out of me. Let me share one small anecdote that illustrates why I feel this way:

Client T is a disabled woman in her fifties. Her monthly benefits are so low that she can only afford to live in an area that has high levels of crime. Because she is disabled, small-bodied, and female, she has been the target of robbery at least twice--and was beaten up both times, once very badly. When applying for a program that would help her pay for something she needed, she was asked to submit a photocopy of some paperwork.

It may be difficult to imagine that a photocopy would be a sticking point, but think about this:
- She is disabled, and cannot walk to the nearest place that has a photocopier--even if there were a place close by, which there isn't.

- She does not have a car, as they are expensive, and she is legally blind regardless.

- Take the bus?

- Okay, so how does she know the bus schedule?

- I've heard people say, "Oh she can go online". No, she can't. She's destitute. She doesn't have a computer nor could she afford internet even if she did.

- She can get them at the library, of course, but how does she get to the library? The bus? And thus we have a repeating loop. Yes, she can call the bus office and ask them; my personal experience with doing that was pretty frustrating, though. And she still has to come up with the money for the bus.

- Cabs are RIGHT out. She takes a cab, she doesn't eat that week.

- And, leaving the house can be problematic for her, because she is fearful of and at risk for being robbed and beaten again.

One solution, of course, is for the agency requiring the photocopy to acknowledge that it isn't a completely simple matter for everyone, and to help her in getting that photocopy, either by sending over a social worker with a portable copier (as my friend Nancy does when she helps people do their HEAP applications), or by simply requesting a fax or digital copy from the paperwork's originating agency.

Sometimes, folks, we need to lend a hand to people instead of kicking sand in their faces when they are down. We need to acknowledge that taking care of disadvantaged people is not a waste of resources; it is what makes us human. Survival of the fittest is NOT a human trait; it is beastly and cowardly. It is when we care for one another that we advance and evolve.

Book Review: Galatea 2.2 by Richard Powers

2008-10-04T04:40:00.000-04:00

I finished Galatea 2.2 by Richard Powers today. Now that I'm done with it, I can honestly say that I really wish I'd just looked up the ending on Wikipedia and given up on the damn thing less than halfway through.

I don't like to read book reviews, because so many of them contain spoilers--including, perhaps even especially, the "Editorial Reviews" on Amazon.com (Publishers Weekly, I'm looking at you). However, had I read them in this instance, I would have found that those who praise this book highly are doing so primarily on the rich vocabulary used by the author. They also praise his "well turned phrases". I'm sorry, folks, but knowing big words and being able to design a clever sentence does NOT make a novel worthwhile. If I want to see a bunch of big words and clever sentences, Roget's Thesaurus makes for more interesting reading of the former, while Bartlett's Familiar Quotations provides a more enriching dose of the latter.

Galatea 2.2 could have been a sly, thoughtful take on the meaning of intelligence and awareness. Instead, it is a long-winded self-referential wank of the highest order.

The protagonist/narrator is a novelist by the name of Richard Powers. Yes, that's right, he doesn't have the decency to disguise that it's an autobiography; he really is so full of himself that he thinks that his dreadfully boring mid-life crisis should be inflicted upon the reading public. Woven through the moderately interesting plot of creating an artificial intelligence is Powers' uninteresting life story, complete with failed relationships--starting with disappointed daddy on his deathbed, then dragging us over the coals of his painfully stilted, cold relationship with "C.", and ending with the fact that he couldn't even keep his artificially intelligent machine interested enough not to commit suicide.

Another irritating habit of Powers' is his inability to come up with invented names (or just use the real ones) for many of the characters and places; he instead abbreviates them to A., C., B., and so on. Some drooling sycophants gushed about this, simpering over how clever Powers is for using the old Russian style in this regard. I personally believe that it is distracting and unnecessary. If he's referring to real live people and trying to spare them the notoreity, why not just come up with a different name?

Powers would have benefited from a heavy-handed, strong-willed editor, a firm but kindly psychologist, and a huge kick in the ass. The 50% of this book which details the relationship with C. reads like a therapy journal, and it should never have gone any further than that. Powers obviously had a deep-seated need to write it all out, but it was unseemly for him to take it to the public, let alone pass it off as a "novel".

Also, anyone writing science fiction should get some Theodore Sturgeon under his/her belt to see how it can be written without making the technology eye-rollingly dated five, ten, or more years down the line. Powers probably thought he was impressive with his technical descriptions, but computer science has changed exponentially since 1995. He didn't really allow for that, so the "science fiction" reads more like "been there, done that".

In short, I really wish I hadn't wasted my time with this; it made me feel as if I were a voyeur to Powers as he masturbated to his own image in the mirror. This is no Pygmalion; it is a self-loathing yet self-obsessed Narcissus, except the Echo(s) in this tale drop Powers like a hot potato once they realize he'll never love them more than he does himself.

A little update on my personal life

2008-09-19T00:13:00.002-04:00

I've been writing less than I'd like to; I have loads of notes and ideas, but when I have the time to write, I don't have the energy, and vice versa. Hurricane season is always a rough time for people with problems like fibromyalgia, arthritis, and similar issues, as, even up here in New York State, we experience the rapid progression of pressure changes that wreak havoc with joints and sinuses.

Additionally, I've had a very busy month with my business; when I'm not directly involved with a client, I still have to do promotion, taking care of the animals, and fielding requests to adopt unwanted reptiles. We JUST took in a beautiful adult Savannah monitor, and while I'm glad we will have him for presentations, it means I have another cage to build or buy, another type of food to keep on hand, and more poop to scoop (and boy, is it some nasty poop!). We also adopted some blue-tongue skinks, and we'll be working on a breeding project for them, and we've been asked to take in an adult boa constrictor, which I may decide against.

Of course, we're still fostering cats and kittens, and at one point in the past month, we actually had eleven fosters total, including the family of cats and kittens mentioned in this post. I am very happy to say that the situation discussed in that post worked out very well. The head of the rescue bent a few rules so that we could help those cats, and we were able to find homes for all of them! The family did want one of the cats returned to them after her kittens were weaned and she was spayed, which is something we don't usually do, but that particular mama cat really wanted to be with her original family anyway--she was very happy and relieved when I brought her back to her people. One of the kittens turned out to be deaf (as are 60-80% of white cats with blue eyes), and was adopted by a wonderful young woman who has experience living with a deaf cat. Two of the cats were adopted by another friend of mine, and they integrated very nicely into her family. The remaining kittens were adopted by great folks, and it's all worked out very well.

There have been ups and downs, of course. In the past week, both I and the foster coordinator ended up with FIV positive cats in end-stage liver failure. If we hadn't been there for those cats, they probably would have died alone and outside, slowly and painfully; instead, we were there to give them loving hands until the very end. Our boy purred from the moment we met him to the moment he passed, despite the fact that he must have been feeling terrible. We gave him love, and received his love, and that, really, was all he'd wanted in his last moments. I have no regrets about meeting him and being there for him; our time with him was a gift to both him and us.

Finally, we currently have five very crazy, bouncy, purry, adorable kittens. We kept them for an extra few days to make sure they were healthy; I don't like sending them out for adoption right after they're spayed and neutered if I haven't had them in my care before--I'd rather hang on to them and wait to see if they have an upper respiratory infection or some other issues, than send them home with an adopter potentially ill. So, until Saturday, we have some WILD THINGS in the foster room!

Things here have been busy, but not really bad, just lots of stuff going on. I've been neglecting my poor camera, so I don't have any decent pictures of the babies to share. I do have a lot on my mind to write about, and when I've got my head together, I'll put together some decent blog posts for y'all. I hope everyone is doing great out there.

2008-09-15T23:45:00.000-04:00

Fibromyalgia is usually associated with "tender points", which are specific areas around the body that respond with an inordinate amount of pain when pressure is applied to them. Researchers are beginning to accept that these are not necessarily a good diagnostic criterion, and that the tender points appear to be areas that are particularly sensitive for all people; they are just more so for people with fibromyalgia, who experience a greater level of pain with less pressure than people without the condition.

Even so, since I started to become ill, my upper arms have become so tender that I can hardly bear to even have someone brush against them--and if more pressure than that is applied to them, it is agonizing beyond description. Blood pressure cuffs are torture devices to me, and tourniquets used for blood draws are even worse. I've had people playfully punch my arm, and then get indignant when I start to cry because it hurt so badly. "I didn't hit you THAT hard!" Most don't believe me when I explain that my arms are insanely sensitive, but they do tend to refrain from repeating the gesture when I explain that the pain is probably similar to getting hit in the testicles, and that, if they do it again to me, I'll be happy to demonstrate to them how badly it hurt me.

The arm-punching scenario happened often enough that I now have panic attacks sometimes if someone looks like they are going to touch my upper arm. Usually I move out of their reach, cross my arms, and place a hand on each upper arm for protection, then explain to them why I reacted that way. I've gotten pretty good at anticipating people, so I haven't been hurt in a while by a person, thank goodness.

But the rest of the world isn't foam padded. I'm sure my blood pressure readings (which are usually very good) are higher than what my normal state would be because of the pain, and the anticipation of the pain. Short sleeves with elastic gathers are abhorrent to me. Sometimes ANY fabric touching my arms is intolerable (I wear a lot of sleeveless shirts). I sometimes bump into objects or get jostled in a crowd. There are many days when they hurt and throb even if nothing at all is touching them. It feels like the whole surface of my upper arms are very nasty, very fresh bruises all the time. And when something DOES apply pressure to them, the pain lingers for a short period once the stimulus is gone.

I don't know what mechanism of my illness causes this excruciating arm pain. If I did, maybe I'd have some idea of how to lessen or even eliminate it. This is just one small aspect of the myriad symptoms I deal with on a daily basis, and I thought that elucidating upon this one aspect might give others some insight on just how difficult it can be to face this in addition to the crushing fatigue, widespread body pain, sensitivity to aural and visual stimuli, and all the other things that my brain fog keeps me from enumerating. Not all of them can be managed or reduced with treatment or drugs, and just being alive and conscious is a painful chore some days.

Just a quick one today

2008-08-30T11:11:00.001-04:00

Telling someone with fibromyalgia that "everyone has aches and pains" is like telling a hemophiliac "everyone bleeds when they get a cut".

A day in the life

2008-08-28T20:26:00.000-04:00

Today, I had a booking for my small business. I awoke with my alarm, and took a pain pill, resetting my alarm for half an hour later, so I could get up once the pain medicine kicked in. Without it, I have a hard time getting up even to use the restroom, and I usually hold it as long as I can just to avoid the pain of getting up and going.

Half an hour after the first alarm, the second one goes off. I can get up now; it still hurts, but not as much. I pull the clothing I want out of my closet and dresser, but don't put them on right away; clothes are actually painful to me, and I'd rather get some other things done first (I bathe/shower at night, so that my hair will be dry by morning). Using hypoallergenic cosmetics, I put my face in order so I no longer look like a painting from Picasso's Blue Period. I pull on part of my clothing, and go downstairs to pack the rolling rubbermaid bin I need for my gig.

Using a written list, I make sure I haven't forgotten anything important; I've done this many times, but I still need to make sure the brain fog doesn't make me omit a key part of my repertoire. The bending and lifting I have to do for this is causing my lower back to protest, but I keep moving, grabbing a small bit of food on the way out.

I have to load the bin into my car, which I can do--I'm strong--but it hurts. My lower back feels like a knife has twisted in it, and it continues broadcasting pain signals even after I've settled into the driver's seat. Driving is a particular nuisance; the use of my body in this way often gives me leg cramps, a spasming back, neck pain, and a headache. Fortunately, my drive today is less than five minutes, and I arrive at my destination no worse for the drive, for once.

I haul the bin out of the car, along with a couple of bags that had been on the front seat. I try to pick up the bin's handle, but my purse is on that shoulder, and it slides down. Stupidly, I slide my purse back up and try to pick up the handle again, repeating this three or four times before my logic circuits burn through the brain fog and tell me to put the purse on the OTHER shoulder.

Once at my gig, I set up quickly, then use my spare time to read the novel I'd brought along. The time comes, and I perform well, as usual. This is the easy part for me; it comes naturally and easily. After I'm done, I receive applause, and many audience members come up afterwards to personally thank me, and to tell me how much they enjoyed it. I accept their compliments graciously, and then thank them for being there.

I leave some literature with the person who organizes events for that client, then pack up and haul the bin back out to my car. It feels heavier than it was before, even though it's technically lost some mass. My back can't take much more than this, and when I get home, I feel my abdominal muscles giving way this time as I lift the bin back up to the porch. I'm still not done, though; I have to get its contents put away--it's not a task that can be left until later. More bending, kneeling, lifting, and it's done. And so am I.

It's about being civil

2008-08-27T23:52:00.002-04:00

Even IF it is true that fat is unhealthy... (and it isn't)

Even IF lifestyle is the sole cause of being fat... (and it isn't)

Those are STILL not acceptable reasons for the things people say about and do to fat people.

Christopher Reeves' horse riding lifestyle choices resulted in him becoming a quadriplegic, yet it would have been socially unacceptable to scream insults at him about horses or paralysis. That's because it's asinine to do so. Well, it's also asinine to be nasty to fat people, regardless of their health or lifestyle.

Brief book reviews

2008-08-27T23:51:00.000-04:00

Stations of the Tide, by Michael Swanwick. I was irritated with it at first, and while it did become more coherent, I just found it to be a fairly pointless book. The plot was sketchy, the characters were cardboard, and the Christian allegory trite. The idea of a tidal world is very interesting, but it wasn't developed very much; in fact, there were a number of neat little notions here and there, but most of them were briefly touched upon and then forgotten. I didn't hate it, but it's not a book I'd recommend for most people.

Cloud Atlas, by David Mitchell. Now THIS book is one I'd recommend--and probably give as gifts to people. It consists of four stories, each nested in one another. They are tied together by a common thread, as each is a depiction of rising up against slavery, past, present, and future. The stories each have a character with a birthmark; Mitchell has said that the birthmark indicates that the possessor is the reincarnation of the same soul. There were a number of delightful concepts that led me to fill the book with page flags so I can go back through and write about them later. I have done part of it in a private entry; when I finish, I'll post it so everyone can see it. For now, I will just say that Cloud Atlas is a beautiful, incredible novel that I could NOT put down. I checked it out from the library, but I definitely want a copy of my own so I can flip through it again and again.

Hyperion, by Dan Simmons. This is an epic adventure tale, with many characters whose interwoven stories become part of a larger picture as they learn more about one another. The separate lives they had been leading were not as separate as they realized. Essentially, seven people are making a pilgrimage to a dangerous place on a planet that is under attack by barbaric enemies of mankind. There is a deadly foe, The Shrike, that has power over time, and can kill people in an eyeblink, with no one even seeing it arrive or leave. Simmons has a compelling storytelling ability, and it was tough for me to put the book down even when I needed sleep! It ends in a cliffhanger, though, so make sure you can get your hands on the sequel when you're done. I'm making myself wait, because I have a bunch of library books to work through first.

How are you? Don't ask!

2008-08-25T23:33:00.001-04:00

My aunt, who is only two years older than I am, has been undergoing chemotherapy and radiation treatments for an inoperable brain tumor. The treatments are not going to be life-saving; they will, however, lengthen her remaining time and stave off the loss of function for a while. Of course, the treatment has the expected side effects of feeling really sick, hair loss, etcetera.

When the family was informed of her diagnosis, I made the decision to start writing her letters--real, handwritten letters, sent through the mail, which to me are so much more personal and dear than email. I wanted to make sure I said all the things that I wanted to say, but, more importantly, I wanted to give her something to enjoy and look forward to. She knows that I know she's ill, and that she's suffering, and all that, so I ignored those topics altogether, instead focusing in my first few letters on the things I admired about her.

After I had gotten the "have to say this" stuff out of my system, I then focused my writings on good things that were happening here in my world. We both love animals, so I wrote about my foster cats, my own cats, my reptiles, and some of the volunteer work I was doing. I wrote about my garden as spring arrived. I told silly stories about my husband and roommate. I shared experiences with favorite restaurants and recipes, talked about art museum visits, and whatever else was going on that was positive. I made sure to tell her that I was perfectly okay with her not responding, that I figured she would want to spend the bulk of her energy on enjoying her family.

At some point, my mother had a chance to talk to her at a family gathering, and she told my mother that she was really enjoying my letters, especially because they focused on the positive things. So I kept writing, and at some point, I called her to answer a question she'd had about a bird. She commented on how irritating it was that people kept asking her how she was feeling. I told her I absolutely understood--that even though my condition is not as serious as hers, it still makes me feel like crap all the time, and so I never know whether to answer the question, "How are you feeling?" with honesty or not. I'd rather not talk about how I'm feeling, because it's always bad, and if you are always answering honestly in that way, people start to get annoyed with me for never feeling good.

So what should you say to a person who is ill, in lieu of "How are you feeling"? Train yourself to ask a different question. Ask if they've seen any good movies lately, read any good books, that kind of thing. Whatever common ground you've had with them before? Now's the time to draw upon it and talk about those topics. And, if the person is actually wanting to discuss their illness, let them guide you to that topic. I know that I sometimes do want to talk about mine, if only to share experiences that might be helpful to others, or when I need a little support, but a most of the time, if I have the energy for socializing, I'd just rather focus on other things, and I'm grateful to folks who allow me to do that.

My Fatifesto

2008-07-28T16:49:00.000-04:00

I strive toward a world in which:

- People are treated respectfully, regardless of their body shape or size,

- Medical personnel treat a person's actual medical problems and behave as professionals who set aside personal aesthetics when treating and diagnosing a patient,

- The answer to every problem does not involve weight loss,

- A person's body size or shape does not reflect their morality,

- Fat people are not scapegoated for all the world's ills,

- Fat is not an epithet,

- My body's shape or size is regarded as my business and no one else's,

- The life-giving act of eating is not regarded as shameful, weak, or dangerous,

- A fat person can be in public without fearing they will be abused in some way,

- The abuse--physical, verbal, emotional, psychological, or other--of fat people is regarded as morally wrong, with no exceptions or excuses,

- It is acknowledged that no one needs to "do something" about their body's shape or size,

- It is acknowledged that most fat people cannot significantly change their body size or shape, even if it were beneficial to do so,

- Fat people are not subjected to hard-sell, dishonest marketing tactics that shame and scare them into purchasing products and services they do not need, and which do not work,

- A food's merits are based on its nourishing qualities and good flavor, not on how few calories it has,

- Fat people are not discriminated against in the job market.

And now, the hard part, part II

2008-07-27T23:56:00.003-04:00

We are currently fostering some mothers with nursing kittens. One of the kittens, a tiny orange tabby named Holly, was rejected by the mothers, and by the time she came to us, she was skeletal. Brian and I did what we could, giving her formula with a syringe, which she lapped up eagerly. Within a day, she recognized us as food-bringers, and would run to us when we came in the room. If we didn't feed her right away, and had to leave the room (such as, refilling the water dish in the room), she would sit at the door and give a tiny mew.

Mother cats often reject a kitten because they know something is wrong, even if we can't tell. When Brian and I went in for her 6pm feeding, she was on her side, listless, with agonal breathing. Not long after, she passed, cradled in his hands. She was such a tiny baby, weighing only half a pound, and adorably sweet. Lots of "ifs" go through my mind, including wondering if we'd have been able to do better if she'd come to us sooner, but I don't think so. I am reflecting on her short life, and thinking of the good we did for her, while she was with us.

If we'd never fostered Holly at all...

...she would never have known a moment's peace from the fleas that covered her body in angry, red bites. She instead had nearly a week of flea-free living, enough for her skin to heal, and for the painful bites to cease.

...her last days would have been with an empty belly. Instead, she was fed to satiation by humans to whom she was so grateful, she came running to them whenever they came into the room.

...she wouldn't have been cuddled and stroked in her last days, because her mother didn't want her. Instead, she was held and cuddled by the humans who filled her belly.

...she would likely have died alone. Instead, she passed in the gentle hands of a human man who loved her dearly.

...she would have died nameless. Instead, she was carefully named with great love and consideration, and there are stories to be told of her short life with us.

...there would have been no one to remember her with love, and give her a shady resting place after her body failed her. Instead, she is immortalized in my foster diary, and she has a grave which will have a namesake bush planted in her honor. She is also near another kitty's resting place, so she is not alone (Teya, we miss you).

God hates McDonald's

2008-07-25T00:32:00.002-04:00

So, the religious right is boycotting McDonald's because they are supportive of gay rights.

Not only do I have a problem with people who fight tooth and nail for their "right" to treat an entire demographic as subhuman, I also have a problem with hypocrisy. The catalyst for the current whine-fest is McDonald's being listed as a "Corporate Partner" on the webpage of the NGLCC. You can see this list here:
http://www.nglcc.org/corporate/partners

They are targeting McDonald's, yet there are quite a few other partners listed that are not getting so much attention. One major example that stands out in my mind includes a few pharmaceutical companies, including Pfizer, Merck, and Johnson & Johnson. I don't see these bigots going without their Viagra, Zithromax, or Zocor. Or, in the case of Johnson & Johnson, their band-aids, baby shampoo, or Tylenol.

Other companies include airlines (Southwest and American), hotels (Hyatt, Hilton, and Wyndham), credit card companies (American Express, Capital One, and quite a few others), quite a few grocery chains (including Acme, Shop n Save, and Albertson's), realtor Century 21, and that obscure little shipping company, UPS. In fact, it seems that quite a few of the corporate partners are providers of services that most people would be hard pressed to do without.

McDonald's has taken a beating for years over many things, including environmental issues, health concerns, and not disclosing that their fries are not vegetarian. Now that they've done something right, something that promotes justice, I really hope they stand their ground against the bigots. It might even convince me to occasionally patronize them, even if it's just for a pie and iced tea once in a while, and I am going to roll my eyes at the hypocrite fundies who think that boycotting one corporate sponsor of a civil rights group is going to help them in their fight to keep gay people from being treated as human beings.

I watch these people freaking out, as if they are terrified that gay people are going to...what, exactly? Break into their houses and make them engage in gay sex? Wave a rainbow flag in their faces?

No, really, I want to know why people are so terrified. If gay people are allowed to live their lives without being harrassed, discriminated against, or otherwise treated like crap, what are the consequences homophobes are so afraid of? Gays currently are able to do many of those things in certain parts of the US, and it is very clear that they aren't out raping heterosexuals en masse.

Why are they so concerned with something that is none of their business, that doesn't affect them?

Educating with Animals

2008-07-18T15:28:00.002-04:00

My favorite assistant (Brian) and I did a reptile show for a daycare's summer camp today. The kids were mostly between 5 and 7 years of age, and there were very few who were afraid of any of the animals. I tell the audience before we begin that, if they don't feel comfortable touching an animal, they may tell us, "No, thank you," and hold up their hands, palms forward, to make sure we understand. I tell them that it isn't fair to them for anyone to make them touch an animal they are afraid of, and that we will not tease them, pester them, or otherwise give them a hard time over it.

Once they realize they have a choice in the matter, the majority of initially fearful children will ask to touch the animal once they have seen some of their peers doing so. It's absolutely rewarding to see a terrified kid become brave and curious, especially when dealing with a snake--an animal that they have been conditioned to fear by their culture. I make sure that all the snakes we use are very even-tempered so they don't make sudden moves to frighten people. I also tend to choose some of our more "cuddly" snakes that enjoy being held--Tez, my Honduran milk snake, will often slide himself into the pocket of his handler and contentedly rest in there for as long as we'll let him.

The most fearful people we encounter are adults. They have had a long time to build their phobia, and, unfortunately, when their phobia is revealed to certain types of people, those types will worsen the phobia by tormenting the fearful person with it. Whether it's attacking them with rubber snakes, making hissing sounds, or just describing unpleasant encounters with snakes, the tormentor delights in freaking out the phobic, so that by the time I get to them, they are desperately afraid that I am going to shove a snake in their faces, chase them around with it, or make them hold it against their will.

We will do none of those things--my preferred method for dealing with phobic people is to allow them to watch me handling the snake, talking to the snake, and demonstrating that it is harmless to me. I tell them the snake's name, since names tend to make them more personable and less scary. I talk about how long the snake has been in captivity, and where it came from. I also explain that almost every one of my ill-tempered snakes (which never go to shows) was abused by a human, and they learned that our species can't be trusted to do anything except cause them suffering. Most people don't even think about a snake being abused, but when they are faced with that notion, are better able to relate to them.

So today's show involved two snakes, two lizards (including Spinner, the legless lizard), Blinky the frog, and our redfoot tortoise. There were two fearful teachers, one of whom was so afraid that he couldn't even look at snakes on television. We had a handful of kids that were initially afraid, but once they saw their classmates touching the animals without fear, they mostly came around and wanted to have that experience too.

I feel it's important in what I do to give young people a familiarity with these animals so that they don't get saddled with an irrational phobia. It's absolutely delightful when they overcome their initial anxiety to reach out to one of these creatures. If what I do in these shows prevents at least one young person from killing snakes on sight out of fear later, I will have done good to the future snakes of the world.

Cat rescue and low income families

2008-07-17T22:55:00.003-04:00

Our newest foster kitty is a six-month-old white short-haired kitty named Sunshine. She came from a home where her mom and another female cat are now raising fresh litters of kittens. The family is very poor, and they were not able to purchase cat food for the past few days, so they'd been feeding Sunshine and the rest fish sticks* up until today.

The family had agreed to give up the kittens so they could be fostered, altered, and rehomed, but they don't want to give up their adult momma cats because they are their beloved pets. The solution we are trying to come up with is to have me or someone else foster the moms and kittens until the babies are weaned, then get the moms spayed and returned to their family, along with some education and access to resources in case of future crises. The purpose of fostering them is to keep the moms confined so that they don't get pregnant again, and to make sure everybody is safe and fed for that time period.

Someone in a livejournal community had commented that they didn't understand why the rescue would get the momma cats at Sunshine's former home spayed, then return them to that situation afterwards. I gave her a very long answer, and thought I would share it here.

-----

The goal is to try to find solutions that are agreeable to the family. Otherwise, if their animals are simply taken away, they'll just go and pick up a "free kitten" elsewhere and start the cycle all over again.

Ptera's mom and dad were in a similar home. She and her sisters were removed for fostering (by me--they were my first fosters, and I kept two of them, haha), and L, the coordinator dealing with that neighborhood's poverty-level families with cats, got the parents spayed and neutered so that the family wouldn't end up having more kittens. They received some education and advice, and now they have two loving feline companions that aren't going to increase the unwanted kitten population any more. They also now have access to resources if things get tough again.

The rescue also has a low-cost spay/neuter program for people to get their cats fixed even if they don't have a lot of money. Those who are on public assistance of some kind (medicaid, welfare, food stamps, social security) can get theirs done for free if they provide us with proof of their being on programs or low income. The cost is covered through the rescue by donations and grants. For $70, they get a spay/neuter, a rabies shot, a flea treatment, and a vet exam (where the doc can find other problems that need addressing and make them aware of it). For another $4, they can get the cat wormed. Again, low income families can get it done for free; we do a maximum of four free procedures each clinic, out of a total of 25 cats done that day--and the clinics are done every Sunday. It's a great program.

Even though the situations are not ideal for the animals, we have to acknowledge the reality that people are going to make the decision to acquire the pets anyway, and so we come up with realistic solutions, whether it's getting the animals spayed or neutered, removing kittens for fostering and rehoming, or helping them to budget for food and medical care, or find resources like food banks that carry pet foods.

I'll be very honest and say that, if I were in their situation, I would not want to live a catless life. When you're already down and out, the comfort an animal companion can bring is invaluable. The elderly are especially helped by their feline companions, but I also believe that it's valuable for children to be able to grow up with animal companionship, and it's rewarding to be able to give them that opportunity when they wouldn't otherwise have it.

Now, because I know you want to see them, here are some photos of Sunshine, some of them with her near-twin Ptera!
n my lap:

Getting sniffed by Ptera:

Ptera: This better not be my replacement!

* Yes, fish sticks may be pricier than cheap cat food, but you can't buy cat food with food stamps.

Ahhh-choo

2008-07-10T09:44:00.003-04:00

So it's that time of year where I'd love to tell the trees and other plants to go **** themselves, but that's exactly what the problem is. All these plant gametes floating around in the air, stirring my immune system into a frenzy. I am grateful that Benadryl does NOT make me drowsy, because it keeps me somewhat functional--it just quiets down my overexcited immune system so I can go about my day. I need to be able to answer my phone without sounding like Alex Olsen (google it :P) because I've had a LOT of calls for my business lately (go me!).

This is what it's like, sort of:

Me: Excuse me, but this itchy eyes, runny nose, sneezing thing is really annoying. Is this really necessary?

My immune system: OH MY GOD yes, there are all these INVADERS and they have to be DEALT WITH!

Me: Yeah, um, about that...seems most OTHER people are able to get along with the same "invaders" without all that nonsense.

MIS: Maybe THEIR immune systems don't know the TRUTH!!!!!!!

Me: Riiiight. Just like the "truth" about peanuts, and how they must be fought to the (as in, my) death?

MIS: You mock me, but if you knew what I knew about peanuts... *looks shifty-eyed*

Me: That's what you said about my thyroid. And my joints.

MIS: LIKE YOU'VE NEVER MADE A MISTAKE BEFORE!

Me: Okay, okay, chill the **** out already. Here, have a Benadryl.

MIS: Ohhhh *nom nom nom* My favorite! Sleepy now, will be taking a break.

Me: Thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster for small miracles. Now if I could only train it to react with as much gusto to ACTUAL diseases, like the flu...

MIS: I HEARD THAT! *gets red and angry*

Me: Here, have another Benadryl, and STFU already.

MIS: Ooooh....ZzzzZZzzzZzZZ

Mart Cart, Revisited

2008-07-10T03:15:00.002-04:00

There is SO much vitriol directed toward "Mart Carts" (motorized scooters in stores) and their users, especially if those users happen to be fat. I wrote about it here, back in April 2007, but I wanted to revisit the subject, especially now that I have more experience with them, and because I have seen more and more nasty things being said on that topic.

The usual hate-speak is to complain that if the person would "get off their ass and walk", they wouldn't be so fat. That, and referring to the carts as "fat carts", accompanied by outrage at the very existence of those carts. Many of these people seem to think that the carts are an accommodation just for fat people, and complain that fat people are being mollycoddled because stores have them.

First of all, those carts aren't for "fat people", they are for disabled people. And while complainers frequently whine that they "only see fat people" using them, I have to wonder how they got their marvelous psychic skills to determine that those people aren't disabled. Yes, it IS possible for a fat person to be disabled. A fat disabled person can be (and usually is) disabled by conditions that are not caused by their fat--and, in fact, the reduced activity levels caused by the condition may result in weight gain.

Disabled people DO need accommodation, if we are going to allow them some dignity and independence. When they are accommodated, they are able to go out in public and do some things, such as shopping, that they would never be able to do otherwise. This makes those people more visible in the public eye, of course, when they would otherwise be stuck at home doing nothing. Most of our public non-work activities include shopping and dining, so yes, you're going to see a fat disabled person using a cart in a store to do those activities.

Now, the major point I want to make here is that, even though the carts are a benefit to disabled people, and they DO offer a greater level of freedom for disabled people, no one who's used them more than a couple of times would, in their right mind, choose those damn things over walking with a regular shopping cart anyway. They aren't a fun toy; they are a pain in the neck. Those who use them are doing so because, while it is not an ideal way to shop for an abled person, it may be the best available option for a disabled person.

The carts are slow and bulky. When using them, a person's reach is VERY limited--it's hard to get stuff off of top and bottom shelves, it's hard to open freezer cases, and it's hard to put things on the belt at the checkout stand--and god forbid the person should stand up for a second to do ANY of those things, because that's the moment where people will say, "LOOK! She can stand up, she has NO right to use a cart!" The carts are also often dirty and/or smelly, they run out of electricity, and they don't hold very much compared to a regular cart.

Additionally, they can be a challenge to maneuver if the user isn't feeling great. Those are the days when, if the disabled person has a partner to help, a wheelchair can be really helpful. Unfortunately, most store wheelchairs seem to be in disrepair, they're uncomfortable, and they're usually filthy as well.

So if you think that someone is using the cart because they are lazy, I challenge you to give the cart a try yourself. Go through the store without an assistant. Remember that you are NOT permitted to stand up for any reason. You want something off a top shelf? Too bad; you have to ask a store employee for help, or a fellow customer (and hope that neither of those folks sneer at you or makes a snide remark). You aren't allowed to stand up to get something out of a freezer, no matter how damned frustrating it is to have to reach and maneuver the cart so you can open the door, then try to get the door to stay open while you maneuver close enough to get the item you want. If the cart smells, too bad; use it anyway, because it might be the last one left for someone who doesn't have a choice. Give it a try, and then get back to me on how much "fun" it is, how much "easier" it is. We aren't using them because it is easier, we are using them because our bodies don't work right. If you have a problem with that, why don't you get over yourselves and be glad that you have the ability to shop normally, in a store that is clearly designed for able people?

Edited to add: This is not the place for you to post hate-speech, especially personal attacks on people in the FA movement. Also, just because someone can go into a store under their own power does not mean that they can comfortably do all of their shopping that way; the fact is, you don't know ANYTHING about that person's situation, and it's none of your business. If they feel that they are better able to do their business using a mobility aid, then that is entirely their decision. Using a cane, wheelchair, or motorized scooter is not some "fun" thing people do because they are lazy.

Dealing with fatophobe trolls is like this

2008-07-03T02:46:00.001-04:00

I have come up with the following to demonstrate what it is often like for me when people "challenge" the things I say in my blog.

Me: I have discovered that 2+2=4

Them: Wow, you're ignorant. Everybody knows that 3+8=11.

Me: I'm not denying that 3+8=11, but that does not have anything to do with 2+2=4.

Them: Oh my god, you are SO stupid for saying that 6+1=12!

Me: I never said that! All I said was 2+2=4!

Them: There you go again, trying to say that 7+6=147.39!

Me: What the hell are you talking about?! All I said was 2+2=4!

Them: Don't try and change the subject--why don't you just admit that you were wrong when you said that Hawaii was in France?

Me: What?! Are you on crack?!

Them: Oh there you go with ad hominem attacks, the last resort of an ignorant fool who thinks that horses are reptiles!

Me: OMGWTF?!?!?!

Them: Why are you getting so emotional? Maybe if you calmed down, you could think more clearly, and then you'd see that I'm right.

Me: Why don't you fuck off and die so I can have some peace?

Them: What are you doing? Help! This woman is crazy and should be locked up, she's trying to kill me for no reason!

Later, Them: You know, you should have been more polite and tried to educate me about 2+2=4 instead of flying off the handle. You win more flies with honey than vinegar.

Me: *banging head against wall until it mercifully explodes*

Them, smugly: See, she was obviously unstable. I knew it from the beginning.

2008-06-25T22:59:00.003-04:00

That dude with his article on depression being caused by feminism...well, we all know it's a big pile of shit, but this comment got my attention:
No need to wonder why men are running for the borders and dating foreign women and eventually moving to paradise to raise *happy* families with happy women. Even IMBRA, a law promoted by obviously depressed women (aka feminists), cannot stop this trend.

You mean this IMBRA?

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

IMBRA, the International Marriage Broker Regulation Act, is a United States federal statute that requires background checks for those using international marriage agencies. The impetus for its introduction was several high-profile cases (including the Susanna Blackwell case in 1995 and the Anastasia King case in 2000) in which women had been abused and/or murdered by men using these services.

Yep, those god-damned feminazis, it's their jealousy of mail-order brides taking up all the good men that made them want to create a law that banned mail order brides from coming into the USA, and make all such marriages illegal.

Er, what?

You mean the law just requires that these guys get criminal background checks before they become a client of mail-order bride companies? And this is because women were being murdered by abusive husbands whose criminal records would have revealed them as abusers, had those women been able to see the records ahead of time? And because according to a federal court , "the rates of domestic violence against immigrant women are much higher than those of the U.S. population"?

And this was signed into law by known feminazi sympathizer George W. Bush?

Yes, obviously, a feminist's objection to mail-order brides is that they are jealous and can't get a man (isn't that the biggest reason these bitches are angry?), not because they feel it's not in a woman's best interest to be motivated by poverty and fear to ship herself away from her home and family to submit herself to some man who not only couldn't find a local woman who was willing to put up with his shit, but also who will have total control over her, because he holds the key to her green card and visa. And this man will obviously be so well-adjusted that he will let her know that she has the right to not be beaten, raped, or otherwise abused by him--in fact, he will definitely not prefer that she come from a country where women submitting to those things are "traditional values", right? Because he's such a good guy.

The Blue Jay and the Box Turtle

2008-06-25T18:12:00.000-04:00

In a forest by a river, a blue jay and a box turtle met and became friends. The blue jay could look around from the treetops and report on any gossip in the area, while the box turtle had a good sense of smell and strong front legs and claws to dig up choice morsels to share with the blue jay.

Because the box turtle sometimes needed to get the blue jay's attention when the jay was high up in a tree, they developed a semaphore system so that they could ask simple, short questions without either of them having to leave their immediate location. The box turtle used this system more frequently, because the blue jay could simply fly down to wherever the turtle was to talk.

Well, one day, the blue jay gets a question flashed at him from the turtle. He wasn't at the treetop; he was on a lower branch, so he begins to berate the turtle. "I hate it when you use the semaphores when I'm not at the top of the tree!"

The turtle was very confused by this. "What did you want me to do, scream from down here? I thought that would be less polite than using the signals."

The jay hopped angrily from one foot to another, fluffing out his feathers self-importantly. "I am really tired of using the semaphores. If you need to talk to me, the least you could do is come up and speak to me in person!"

If the turtle had eyebrows, one would have been raised at that moment. "How do you expect me to do that, exactly? You do realize that I am a BOX TURTLE, and therefore I do not have wings? And I can't climb like a fox or bear!"

"Well I don't know. I am just sick and tired of using those semaphores!" The bluejay fluttered off in a squawking huff, shitting as he went to express his displeasure.

The turtle sat at the bottom of the tree, aggravated, and muttered, "Why should I dig up grubs for him, if he's just going to be like that?"

"Hey hey whatcha doin?!" said a chirpy voice. Box turtle looked up to see a dear treefrog friend, who had just awakened as the sun was setting. The little gray frog blended perfectly with the bark of the tree, but hopped around, eyeing the air for flying insects.

"Hey, frog. Blue jay's been kind of a jerk to me today."

"Yeah? HEY LOOK A LACEWING!" The frog flicked out his tongue and swallowed a bright yellow insect. "Tangy!"

"Yeah, he thinks that, if I want to talk to him, I should come up into the tree instead of using semaphores."

"I don't really deal with those semaphore things; they aren't too visible at night," the frog replied, snatching a silent-winged moth with lightning speed. "So I can understand how he feels."

"Er, right, but we are using them during the day, so that isn't really a problem," the turtle said, sniffing at the ground and digging up a fat earthworm. "I'm not too hungry, you want this?"

"Ohhh!" The frog slurped it down voraciously, stuffing the worm into his mouth with his forelegs. "I guess that makes sense; when females communicate with us, they don't use voices, which makes it hard--only our males can talk."

"Yeah, that is a totally different situation. He seems to think I can just climb right up into the tree and talk to him instead."

"Well, it is not fair for him to expect you to climb all the way up there, but can't you just meet him halfway? That's what I'd do." The frog clambered over the tree's trunk, snatching up ants and eating them like popcorn. "Not as tangy as lacewings, but close! That formic acid is delish."

"Halfway? You're a treefrog, you CAN meet him halfway. I'm a turtle. I don't have wings. I don't have sticky toe pads. I don't have agile limbs like a fox."

"Right, but don't you think that you'd eventually be able to do it if you practiced?"

"How is practice going to change the very nature of what I am?"

"I don't know. I'm sure there has to be a way to work it out. I gotta go, I hear a bunch of flies across that glen; I bet they're chewing on something delicious and dead! Bye!" The frog hopped onto the turtle's shell for a quick hug, and bounced away.

The box turtle withdrew into her shell and tightly closed it up, annoyed with the entire world. A couple of hours later, she felt something nudge her. Cautiously peeking out, she saw her best friend in the world, a handsome fox, with flowing tail, wide grin, and crafty eyes. "You okay, turtle?" he asked.

"No, Blue Jay is making me really mad." She told the fox her experience with blue jay, and what the treefrog had said. He licked her nose sympathetically.

"I know I can climb trees, but I also know that some cannot climb trees. By the way, there is some really tasty looking fruit up that tree over there. You want me to climb up and get you some?"

The turtle nearly cried with relief at having someone as understanding as the fox. "Yes. And next time you see Blue Jay, would you eat him for me?"

The fox laughed. "I'll see what I can do. For now, why don't you dig up some worms for us, and I'll go get that fruit, and then we can take a nap together.

"That would be great, Fox. I am so lucky to have a friend like you."

News tidbits

2008-06-10T09:51:00.002-04:00

Hey y'all, I am going to continue the "Fat is a symptom" series soon; I went through a few days of not feeling too great after hauling up the AC from the basement. Apparently, this person who could carry 120lbs without thinking about it much has a problem now with 50lbs. I CAN do it, but I pay for it later.

I knew that it might flatten me, but I was really getting sick from the heat, so I figured some muscle soreness would be better than nausea and dehydration. I am quite happy with my decision.

Our kitty situation is pretty good. We had Cyrene and her three kittens; the kittens are all adopted, and we're just waiting for room to open up at the adoption center for Cyrene. She is beautiful and very loving to people. Unfortunately, we've got a lot of cats at the center right now that really don't like other cats. Since one of them, Silver, looks like Cyrene, we are waiting until he is adopted before we stick her in the center.

Silver, by the way, is one hell of a great cat. When I was staffing the adoption clinic last week, he climbed up into my arms, wrapped his front legs around my neck in a hug, and proceeded to lick and nibble my earlobes. The other volunteer told us to get a room! He purred so loudly that it tickled my neck. He is beautiful, cuddly, and would definitely have come home with me that night if we didn't have any cats at home!

We also have Ziggy as a foster; she is a mama that raised her own kittens, then nursed someone else's, and came here to dry out. We're one of the very few foster homes willing to take in adult cats, so we were happy to give Ziggy some space.

Other than that, I've been reading a lot, trying to stay cool, and spending time with my wonderful spouse. I'd love to hear what you folks have been up to, and how you've been keeping cool, if you're in a place that's suffering a heat wave like we are here!

For the love of snakes

2008-06-06T22:28:00.001-04:00

A few days ago, a gentleman in Texas had his beautiful boa contrictor stolen from his car. After searching high and low, and offering a reward for her return, he received an anonymous phone call that led him to her destroyed body. She had been bludgeoned with rocks, then torn in half.

I'd imagine that whoever swiped her had no idea what they were stealing when they grabbed the bag from the seat of the man's car. He'd left the window open as he went into the Circle K to get a coffee. Less than two minutes passed betweent the time he parked and the time he came back to his vehicle. It was probably some stupid piece of shit looking for guns, money, or drugs. Instead, the thief opens a bag containing an 8-foot-long albino boa constrictor. I suppose for a non-snake-lover, that is probably shocking.

However, no matter how much you fear snakes, the entitlement a person feels to kill someone else's beloved pet simply because they didn't know what they were getting into when they ROBBED that someone's car, is really galling. They had choices they could have made at that point--they could have closed the bag and dropped it somewhere, snake intact. They could have anonymously left it on the doorstep of a pet store. Instead, they CHOSE to torture and kill it, for no reason except perhaps their own fear, or their own amusement.

I know that many people do not understand that some of us really love and have relationships with our snakes. Maybe you're afraid of them, and you don't like them, but we do not feel the same way you do. We have invested time, and love, and care into making these animals a part of our lives. We know their individual quirks, their personalities (yes, they DO have personalities), and the physical things that make them different from others of their kind. I look into Julian's yellow eyes, and watch his black tongue flicking, and I feel warm and fuzzy inside. I watch someone hold Tez, my Honduran milk snake, and they soften from anxiety to delight, as they enjoy his gentle movements over their arms, and they realize that they have overcome some of their deepest fears. I have seen Gregor go from terrified face-biter to simply wary and mildly trusting, after he learned that we, unlike his previous owners, meant him no harm.

They do have personalities. We DO love them. Even if you can't imagine that, at least respect it--snakes don't deserve abuse and destruction any more than other, more "charismatic" pets, and their owners don't deserve to suffer their loss, no matter how weird or creepy you think liking snakes is.

Fat is a symptom, not a disease, Part Five: Ovarian cysts

2008-06-03T07:59:00.001-04:00

When I went to university just after high school, I met a very nice young woman who had a very rounded abdomen that looked like a near-term pregnancy. I lost touch for a while, but a couple years later, I saw her, and her belly was nearly flat. Still young, and not yet introduced to FA, I asked her about her weight loss. She told me that a volleyball-sized ovarian cyst had been removed from her body.

I was absolutely stunned. It was the first I'd heard of such a thing, and it horrified me to know that her cyst had gone undetected for so long--that she had spent so much time and effort trying to lose weight, when it wasn't weight that could be lost without surgical intervention.

Of course, not to be spared any of life's most wonderful experiences, four years ago, my own body decided to produce several cysts, one of them quite large, necessitating the removal of an entire ovary, the fallopian tube next to it, and a chunk of uterus, all of which had been engulfed in the cysts and could not be salvaged. It was an emergency surgery, due to the cysts being previously undiagnosed, and growing to a point where they suddenly caused acute, unceasing abdominal pain that landed me in the ER.

Ovarian cysts often go undetected because the women who have them are blown off as lazy overeaters. Instructed by doctors to "diet and exercise", patients can become frustrated and stop bothering to get medical care. The cysts continue to inflate--they fill with fluid, and can reach some mind-boggling proportions. A Texas woman had a 156-lb cyst removed in 1994. That pales in comparison to the world record, a 328-lb cyst removed from yet another Texas woman (what's in the water there?!) in the early 1900s, but a 156-lb cyst, as well as a 93-pounder and 66-pounder, are still problematic.

A woman carrying around a large ovarian cyst may experience disabling pain, and she may have her activity levels severely curtailed. With a reduction in activity, her metabolism may slow down, causing her to gain weight on top of having the weight of the cyst. By the time she finds a doctor willing to treat her actual problem (instead of berating her for being fat), she may have developed additional health problems related to being sedentary.

No amount of diet and exercise is going to make the cyst disappear. The rest of the body may lose mass, but the cyst will not shrink. There are generally only a couple of options for treatment; one is surgical removal of the cysts, and the other is hormone treatment in the form of birth control pills. Generally, most cysts will go away on their own once a woman starts taking birth control pills. Of course, weight gain is also a symptom of taking oral contraceptives; it would be great if fatophobes would understand that sometimes gaining weight on a medication is better than not having the therapeutic effects of the medication.

So the next time you see a woman that you think is OMGFAT, and you think it's somehow your business to get upset about that, consider the fact that the above is just one of many medical conditions that can make a person appear to be fat, and it is often one that goes untreated far too long because too much attention is paid to making people thin instead of making them healthy. You might also consider that she is on a medication that is keeping her healthy, and being fat is a side effect of that medication. Asking a woman about the status of her reproductive system, though a favorite hobby of aunts and mothers-in-law, is generally considered to be a gauche thing to do, so the best thing to do is assume that her health and reproductive system are private matters between her, her physician, and possibly her significant other, no matter how badly your screwed-up, bigoted aesthetic sense is upset by the sight of her.

Fat is a symptom, not a disease, Part Four: Drug side effects

2008-06-02T04:38:00.001-04:00

Many pharmaceuticals have weight gain as a well-documented side effect. The weight gain can be due to a variety of factors, including, but not limited to, lowering metabolic rates, causing hyperinsulimia (especially in anticonvulsants like neurontin and depakote), and many other biochemical effects that are not easy to put into layman's terms. To put it simply, these drugs work because they have a specific chemical effect, but they often react with other biochemical processes in ways that are either not anticipated, or are considered to be less important than the intended therapeutic effect.

To put it simply, a living animal is not a laboratory calorimeter, where calories in and calories out are a simple function. We are infinitely complex, and adding a molecule to the living system can help some problems, but modern medical science is not yet fine-tuned enough to successfully target one tiny process. Our SSRIs and other antidepressants are often like taking a blunderbuss to a rifle range--you will probably hit the target, but you'll hit a lot of other stuff too.

That's what progress is all about, though. A hundred years ago, you probably would have died if you had an acute gallbladder, while today a doctor plucks the quivering organ from our innards with a watchmaker's precision, making a cholecystectomy a very simple and survivable surgery, with smaller and smaller scars as tools and techniques sharpen. When I was a teen, I waited anxiously at a hospital in Milwaukee, five hours from home, for my grandfather's quadruple bypass to be completed. Today, he probably would have had stents neatly slipped into his blocked arteries, with only a pinprick on the surface of his skin to show for it.

Before we had antidepressants and other mental health drugs, we had some of the most inexcusably abusive quackery inflicted upon the mentally ill. Historically, mentally ill people were often just dumped in prisons and jails (and guess what--we're still doing it; ask any social worker). Some were treated to cruel, sometimes deadly exorcisms. Women were presumed "hysterical" and went to doctors for vaginal "massage" to induce orgasm as a treatment. Lobotomies became all the rage in the late 1940s, with frontal lobes scrambled with an ice pick through the eye socket. Asylums were often notorious for their squalid, cruel conditions, with many exposed by family members who were horrified at their relatives' treatment.

In the 1950s, the advent of psychotropic drugs was the first ray of hope for mentally ill people. I feel that we're finally seeing the tail end of the birthing pains of psychopharmaceuticals, with more solid research and standards being applied. The system is obviously not yet perfect, but important lessons have been learned, with our ancestors' brave--albeit not always informed--foray into citizenry as research subjects.

So, today, instead of a schizophrenic being shackled into a cold cell, at the mercy of potentially abusive captors, that person may be able to function normally with the help of a drug such as Risperdal. They may be able to work, have a family, and enjoy their lives. If the drug that enables them to function also causes them to gain weight, I question those who wring their hands over the weight gain. Surely the fact that they can live their lives independently is a pretty good trade-off for the potential stigma associated with the weight gain? And, if it is indeed the stigma the hand-wringers are concerned about, what is preventing them from working toward a better world, one where a fat person is not subjected to social stigma? Is their aesthetic sense so deeply rooted that they can't stand to see a happy person who happens to have a body shape that is not attractive to them?

Some of the best-selling drugs today are antidepressants, especially the SSRIs. They have helped millions of people become reacquainted with life, to poke their heads out of the steep-walled pit that is depression. Anxiety, another condition treated by SSRI, can be so disabling that its sufferers sometimes cannot even leave their homes. I think it is absolutely ridiculous that anyone would be so upset over the associated weight gain, when the drugs often make a person feel as if his or her life is worth living again. I'm tired of hearing the fatophobes shrieking about it, trying their damnedest to drag down those who have finally been able to stand up again, just because their bodies are different.

So tell me, fat-haters, are you really so shallow and juvenile that you would rather see someone institutionalized than fat? Hanging themselves instead of fat? I've really begun to wonder if the fat-hate is not just about fat, but about an excuse to be misanthropic to anyone who is socially vulnerable. After all, the mentally ill you used as a punching bag in ages past have now become functional fat people, so whom are you going to punch in their place? My suggestion to you is to find out why you need a punching bag at all, and then fix it, rather than continuing to delude yourself into thinking your victims deserve your abuse. Maybe you could even try one of the above drugs--it might even be good for you to see what it's like to gain weight without changing your eating or exercise habits.

Interesting passage from a book

2008-06-01T15:01:00.001-04:00

"Vagina Ecologist."
"What?"
She repeated it.
"You mean a gynecologist."
"Yes and no. Gavin prefers to break it into the root words to capture a meaning he feels is lost. The ecology of the vagina, the vagina as environment, rather than just negative space."

-- Jonathan Lethem, As She Climbed Across the Table

Feminism and the Draft

2008-05-31T00:02:00.003-04:00

Note to trolls: The obscene and threatening comments flooding in from the post on reddit will NOT be approved. I suppose you think it's clever to try to make a woman afraid of you, or to try to hurt a person with words, but your presence here is not welcome. Also, a two year old blog post? Are you seriously that hard up for recipients of your bullying and hate? I truly fear for the emotional and physical safety of the women in your lives.
----
This will probably offend people who think terms like "feminazi" are reasonable and proper. And that's okay with me.

Opponents of feminism often bring up the subject of the draft--if women want equality so badly, then why aren't we asking to be included in the draft? After all, how fair is it that men have to be forced into combat, while women are excluded by default?

My answer to this is actually very simple: When women are represented in a realistic proportion in government, instead of being a token minority in a good ol' boys' club, we can talk about the draft. Until then, it is unconscionable to forcibly send women off to fight men's wars. The fact that women are not adequately represented in proportion to our demographics tells me that leveling the playing field in a negative fashion is not yet a fair thing to do. Additionally, I truly feel that, if our elected government were 50% women and 50% men (and, this would still give men an edge over the demographics--the population is about 49% male and 51% female), we probably would not even be doing this Iraq nonsense.

The fact is, only 16% of all convicted felons in State courts (in the USA) are women. A disproportionate amount of crime--especially violent crime--is committed by men. Yes, men are also crime victims, but they are most often victims of other men. For whatever reason, women aren't usually the ones responsible for rape, abuse, and murder, and they are quite a bit more often the victims of many of those crimes.

So, until women are making an equal wage, not disproportionately abused, raped, beaten, or murdered, and not disproportionately treated like sex objects, and adequately represented in all three branches of federal government, and in state governments, I don't want to hear whiny ass anti-feminists complaining about the draft. Sorry boys, but you just seem a bit too eager to send us off to die for your bullshit, and that is most definitely not okay.

Fat is a symptom, not a disease, Part Three: The 300-lb malnourished woman

2008-05-30T23:11:00.001-04:00

All right, before I start talking about fat, I want to talk about a little economic conundrum. So bear with me; it's relevant.

So, there's this island. We'll call it, say, Nes, for the sake of expediency, but its name isn't important. Now, the island's dwellers survive by getting regular shipments of supplies. Because of unknown circumstances, these shipments are always exactly the same--the contents never change, although the frequency can alter according to the islander's needs. Within each shipment, there is a particular necessity that comes in red boxes. No matter what, the shipping company can only send six of these red boxes per shipment. Now, that's okay, because that's all the islanders need in proportion to the other stuff they get, so nobody's got a problem with this.

However, the shipments start arriving with less than six boxes. They have the same amount of everything else, but they show up missing some of those red boxes. They complain to the shipper, who responds by saying that the shipments leave their port with all six boxes. "Okay, but we really need more red boxes," the islanders say. "Then you're going to just have to order another entire shipment to get the boxes in it," the shipper responds. They don't have many options, so the islanders increase the frequency of their shipments. They get half as much of the red-boxed stuff as they need, which means they have twice the amount of other stuff--an amount they cannot use.

Well, what would you expect these islanders to do, exactly? Throw away the extra stuff? Or store it, in case the shipments are short on those items at a later time? So they store it, and store it, until the warehouses are crammed full, and everyone has an attic crammed with it. And then, they have to build docks and floating warehouses to store it all, because they don't want to throw it away.

Along comes a guy, however, who says, "I think I know exactly what your problem is..." He points out that, for the time being, they can slow down their other shipments, and order just the red boxes from another source. However, that's a short term solution--the real problem is that, en route to the island, pirates are attacking the ships and robbing them of the red boxes. They don't take all of them--if they did, then the shipments might stop entirely until the pirates are dealt with--but they take about half. The real solution is to eliminate the pirates so that regular shipments can go through unmolested.

So, that brings me to our malnourished 300-pound woman. We'll call her Myra. Myra is a big woman, and she is very hungry, all the time. She also has skin problems, her hair's falling out, and she feels tired and sick a lot of the time. Lots of doctors have told her to stop being such a fatty mcfatty moo cow. Stop eating so much, exercise more! But the hunger is unbearable, and her fatigue is crushing. Myra gets sick and tired of her doctors having no real help to offer her, so she does her own research and finds some doctors that have compassion and the ability to see and hear patients, due to NOT having their heads rammed up their rectums.

Myra and her medical team finally figure out that she has severe auto-immune problems, including some nasty food allergies. Basically, when she eats gluten, her digestive system becomes so inflamed that it cannot properly absorb many of the nutrients she eats--but does allow the calories to be taken in and stored. Because she is low on vitamins and minerals, her brain sends out FEED ME signals that drown out pretty much any semblance of sanity she has. So she eats more--and the calories get absorbed and stored, while the vitamins and minerals pass right on through her ravaged system.

And, the previous solution to this has been, don't eat so much. For someone who is literally starved--not of calories, but of other nutrients--this is a cruel thing to prescribe.

So Myra, now that she has sorted out her food allergies (and hypothyroidism at the same time; autoimmune stuff is harsh), she takes a megadose of certain vitamins to "catch up" until her body has recovered enough to get enough of those things from the food she eats. She's finally recovering, and, surprisingly to her, the stored calories are now being utilized as her body balances itself and goes down to her natural setpoint--through no effort of calorie restriction at all.

I haven't even gone into the biochemical feedback loop that creates even greater cravings (inflammation -> adrenalin -> hunger), but there is quite a bit going on that most of us don't even realize or think about. It's awfully easy to point fingers at someone for eating "too much" or being too sedentary, but unless you have lived inside that person's body, you have no idea what their situation is like. Mistreating someone for being hungry, fat, or sedentary is arrogant and ignorant--and it doesn't do anyone any good. If you truly want to help people be healthier (not "lose weight", but "be healthier"), you should advocate for better education about things like hypothyroidism, celiac disease, and other things that can create situations like Myra's. If you're not interested, however, then learn to mind your own business regarding other people's health and bodies.

Fat is a symptom, not a disease, Part Two: Hypothyroidism

2008-05-30T02:43:00.000-04:00

About five years ago, I started developing severe symptoms consistent with hypothyroidism: crushing fatigue, widespread pain, weight gain, and other issues. I'd had them to some degree for several years before that, but for the first time in my life, the symptoms were interfering with my ability to work.

My doctor at the time, we'll call him Dr. H, did blood tests, and he told me that my thyroid levels were "normal". With every other thing ruled out, and some other things ruled in, he finally concluded that I had fibromyalgia, and got me started on some medications that were supposed to help. These medications helped the pain and depression somewhat, but I was still exhausted most of the time.

A few months later, I asked him to do another thyroid test. He told me that it was a good idea, since the standards for "normal" had been changed, and that my previous test, while "normal" at the time, now was outside of that range. The phlebotomist took a few vials, and I heard back a couple of weeks later that my levels were "normal". Now, at the time, I had not done my homework. I was still not fully aware of the extent to which I had to advocate for myself with doctors. Too trusting and naive, I didn't actually get told what the numerical results of my test were, only that they were fine.

Fast forward to a year ago, when I changed my primary doctor to someone I'd met through work, a very intelligent man who was very knowledgeable about hypothyroidism and fibromyalgia. Dr. D was of the opinion that, even if the test results appear to be normal, when a patient exhibits symptoms of hypothyroidism, it may be beneficial to treat for it anyway. He said that about half of the people in such circumstances show improvement with the thyroid medication.

Additionally, my previous doctor only tested for TSH, the chemical your brain sends to your thyroid to tell it to make the thyroid hormone. Basically, if you aren't making enough thyroid hormone, the pituitary gland keeps pumping out TSH, which reaches a high level because it's the equivalent of the pituitary gland screaming at the thyroid to step up production. So a high level of TSH will show that the thyroid's not responding enough to shut up the pituitary gland. In my opinion, that's a bit like determining if someone is deaf by whether or not their spouse is screaming at them to be heard. Maybe you can draw some conclusions from it, but it doesn't necessarily mean anything if the spouse isn't shouting.

In many people, the TSH test will not show hypothyroidism; people with fibro especially seem to be harder to test because of a biochemical feedback loop (and no, I don't know where my source for this is; I had it in a newsletter or something) that results in a normal-appearing TSH level. So, to see if there's enough thyroid hormone being produced, the most accurate way is (and don't be shocked here) to test for the actual level of thyroid hormone. Now, to me, that seems kind of common-sensical, but I guess it's more expensive to do the full testing.

The long and short of it is that, once Dr. D did the full panel of tests, it showed that I was, in fact, not producing enough thyroid hormone. He had already started me on the medication, however, preferring to begin treatment immediately instead of waiting. It can take a long time to get up to the proper dose, because you start very small and work upward toward the dose that works for you, so he didn't want to make me suffer any longer than necessary.

It has only been in the past couple of months that I've finally been up to the right amount of medication. My energy levels have noticeably increased--I can actually feel that my metabolism has revved up a bit. I feel cheated, though--I could have been feeling like this four years ago if my last doctor had been doing his job and using his brain. I don't know how much the years of hypothyroidism have actually damaged my body, and if I'm going to recover somewhat from that, it could take a very long time.

Left unchecked, hypothyroidism can damage the heart, kidneys, and mental state, and can cause osteoporosis and anemia, among many other problems. Because of the metabolic effects, it causes weight gain, and makes weight loss, even through intense dieting and exercise, nearly impossible. Hypothyroidism is NOT difficult to test for--and is fairly simple and inexpensive to treat. As such, there is NO excuse for anyone with the condition to remain untested and untreated; anyone exhibiting symptoms should be taken seriously by a doctor, instead of being treated like they are not worthy of medical assistance until they lose weight.

Educate yourself on the symptoms, and don't accept no for an answer if a doctor doesn't want to do the tests. Make sure you know what tests are being run, and if they aren't the full panel, ask why--insist that it be done. Don't accept a qualitative answer like "normal"--get numbers, and compare them to the latest medical literature. If your literature shows a result different from your doctor's qualitative answer (outside the normal range, when the doctor's said you're normal), find out why your doctor's opinion is different. If you find that you're not getting straight answers or considerate treatment, get another doctor. Remember, it's YOUR body, YOU have to live in it. It does not belong to your doctor, and you don't have to accept your doctor's word as gospel.

I sincerely hope that my experience can help others get the treatment they need.

Fat is a symptom, not a disease, Part One: Medical Malpractice on a Victorian Scale

2008-05-29T05:03:00.000-04:00

One of the most irresponsible things about the "obesity epidemic" is that weight gain and fat tissue is often treated as a disease instead of as a symptom. As such, fat patients are instructed to lose weight, sometimes by way of surgery, without any exploration as to how or why they are fat, and whether they are actually experiencing health problems as a result of it.

In the next few entries, I will discuss some of the conditions that result in weight gain, including my personal experiences with those conditions, and how medical personnel seem to have a blind spot regarding those conditions. I will also explore some hypotheses regarding why those blind spots exist, and what can be done to get past them.

It is my belief that many of the health problems attributed to fat may actually be the result of overlooked and untreated issues--issues which, as they continue to be untreated, can result in even greater weight gain. As the frustrated patient continues to be told "lose weight" in lieu of actual medical treatment, they may lose confidence in the medical establishment, not only refusing to go to the doctor when they really need to, but becoming depressed as a result of being essentially told that they are not worth the trouble of medical care due to their being fat.

This entrenched, dogmatic system of medical malpractice, seemingly based more on "common knowledge" than science, needs to be attacked, denounced, and demolished. It needs to be relegated to the status of quackery, where it belongs on the same shelf as "humours", phrenology, and hysteria--all obsolete ideas that, when in vogue, caused immense suffering and death, and often justified maltreatment of other people. Humour-balancing, often in the form of bloodletting, caused a great deal of physical damage. Hysteria diagnoses allowed men to treat women as fragile children, resulting in "treatments" that would be viewed today as sexual assault and false imprisonment. Phrenology, though less damaging, was still a quackery used to make value judgements based solely on a person's physical characteristics.

Today, the quackery of the obesity epidemic is resulting in the same abusive, damaging treatments that humour-balancing and hysteria treatment did long ago. We're given dubious medications that kill us (Fen-phen), encouraged to undergo inexcusably dangerous surgery, and treated to verbal abuse and shaming for the "crime" of taking up too much space--verbal abuse that is lauded as necessary and even beneficial. We're told that we deserve to be sick and/or dead because we are fat. We're told that we have ourselves to "blame" for any and all health, emotional, or social difficulties we have, regardless of their cause, because we are fat. Most obscene, however, is that we are promised that, if we stop being fat, all of our problems--health, social, emotional, and otherwise--will go away. We're told that, until we stop being fat, we aren't worthy of medical care, common courtesy, or even a single bite of food.

Fat is NOT the cause of all these problems. Often, a fat person's emotional and social problems are the result of unwarranted maltreatment by others. Often, a fat person's health problems are not the RESULT of their fat, but the CAUSE of it. It's a pretty damn big cultural meme we're fighting against here, but when so many people are so abominably ignorant, it doesn't make their misconceptions true by consensus. So that's what I'm here to do: Tell my stories, and hopefully change a few minds.

Next up: Part Two: Hypothyroidism

Keep your imagination out of my pants

2008-05-23T03:35:00.001-04:00

Irmo High principal announces resignation over Gay-Straight Alliance

A quote from the principal: I feel the formation of a Gay/Straight Alliance Club at Irmo High school implies that students joining the club will have chosen to or will choose to engage in sexual activity with members of the same sex, opposite sex, or members of both sexes.

You know, I'm glad he's removing himself from the school instead of sticking around to be the nookie police. It's not surprising to me that, when people like him think about gays, they automatically make the mental leap to imagining gays having sex together, and then getting all offended. I wonder, do these same folks immediately imagine a man-woman couple having sex if they see those people holding hands in public? I would imagine that they don't, usually, yet they make that mental leap when same-sex couples are holding hands.

So we have silly Mr. Principal here, who, because it's a club involving gays, is now suddenly imagining this club apparently engaging in mass orgies, both hetero- and homosexual, and it makes him feel funny inside. I have a tip for him, though: Keep your thoughts out of other people's pants, and you'll live a more comfortable life. I am wondering what he'd do if he were running a nursing home, and then suddenly discovered that some of the old people actually have sex with each other. "Ew, yuck, omg"? I don't know. I also wonder if he banned prom night, since pretty much everyone gets laid on prom night...

Focus on other people's genitals

2008-05-22T09:39:00.002-04:00

So the gay-hating group Focus on the Family is up in arms about where people are using the toilet.

Not only are they fearmongering about "sexual predators", most of whom are heterosexual family members of those whom they assault, they are obsessing rather unhealthily over how and where people are using their genitalia.

To put it simply, if you are aware of what sex organs are possessed by the person in the restroom with you, then maybe you need to mind your own damn business and keep your nose out of the crotches of perfect strangers.

As a woman, I am going to be using a toilet in a stall, with the door closed, just like the other people in the stalls around me. If I am minding my own business, as I should be, then I will have no idea whether or not the person in the neighboring stall has a penis. The only case in which that would not be true is if that other person were engaging in harassing behavior, an instance already covered by existing laws.

Furthermore, if we're going to piss and moan (no pun intended, honest) about what gender is in what restroom, then I would like for someone to ban the little bratty boys from the women's rooms--I'm talking about the rotten little monsters that run wild, peeking under stalls at strangers. But that's just a minor point, really.

These "Focus on what's in everybody's pants" folks like to claim that the sexually oppressed are seeking "special" rights. "Well goshdarnit, they already gots the right to go into the bathroom that matches their DNA" is what they want us to believe. Transgendered people are not looking for a "special" right to go into all the restrooms; they are seeking the right to use the restroom that is proper for what they perceive to be their own true gender.

There is no "special" right about it; this is a matter of allowing people to decide for themselves what their proper gender is, according to how they feel about themselves. And that is the real problem, now, isn't it? It's something that a lot of people cannot really relate to, and therefore, it is regarded as wrong, or perhaps as purely imaginary.

What I really want in this world is for people to realize that, just because a characteristic is the result of neural activity, that doesn't make that characteristic not real. Whether we are talking about cisgendered people, neuropathic pain, depression, addiction, or sexual preference*, it doesn't matter. We have this overwhelming cultural meme which tells us that we should just be able to will ourselves to change these things, especially when the characteristics are inconvenient or upsetting to others. Well, it doesn't work that way, and even if you can make it appear to work by coercing or oppressing people with inconvenient or upsetting characteristics, all you're doing is damaging those people and marginalizing them. Stop--there is no excuse for doing so, and the sooner we accept people's differences, the better life will be for everyone involved.

* Please note that I am NOT implying that being cisgendered or having a minority sexual preference is a negative thing like depression, addiction, or other things. I am trying to say that these things are often perceived as choices--either a choice to consciously live in a depressed/pained/homosexual/addicted state, or a choice to refuse to change that about oneself (and by change, I am referring to people who just insist that depressed people "get over it" or "just be cheerful"). I do NOT consider sexual preference to be something that can or should be changed.

Busy busy busy!

2008-05-22T09:36:00.002-04:00

I haven't abandoned my blog; I have just been very busy! My small business is taking off, and I am also finding venues for selling my art. It's great! I do have some topics coming up to write about, so stay tuned.

Meanwhile, I wanted to invite blog readers to join my reading club on LJ, here. I've read some great stuff lately, and I don't have much of an outlet to discuss it. It's a zero-pressure club, so if you don't have time to read the book of the month or whatever, no big deal.

SAVE TEH MENS!

2008-05-14T18:37:00.002-04:00

Now that they've linked HPV to cancer in men, it's suddenly more important to get people vaccinated.

When it was only linked to cancer in females, it was, "Those dirty whores deserve it for being sluts! No vaccines for you!"

Fostering pets

2008-05-12T14:31:00.002-04:00

I wanted to talk a little bit about fostering pets. Most of the fostering I do is for homeless animals; my home is a way-station for homeless cats while they are given the care they need before they can be adopted. Most of the cats that come to stay with me are here for at least two weeks while they grow enough to be spayed or neutered, have their illnesses treated (I had poor little Salvador for three weeks because of his URI), and have intense socialization work (such as what Calvin, Ansel, and Owl needed).

There is another kind of fostering, however: Taking care of someone's pets while they are unable to do so for a little while. There is an organization called Guardian Angels for Soldier's Pet; they help find foster homes while soldiers are deployed so that our brave men and women do not have to go through the heartbreak of giving up their pets forever. Foster homes may care for the pet in an emergency situation that lasts 3 to 6 months, or for a full deployment that may last for two years.

My cousin Kurt just left for Iraq yesterday, and he really loves animals. He's a big, strong man (I feel so old calling him that!) with a real sensitive spot for dogs and cats. Fortunately, he is married, so his family dog is cared for by his wife, but I would like to think that if his situation were different, a kind soul out there would ease his heart by caring for any nonhuman companions he had.

Another situation of temporary fostering that I find is equally important is finding a safe temporary home for pets when a person is leaving an abuser. I have known many women who stayed in abusive relationships because they didn't want their pets to go to a shelter, or to be left behind with the abuser.

I am currently working to get two cats in such a situation transported to me; a friend was in an abusive relationship with someone, and needed to get out very quickly. I've agreed to foster her cats for as long as she needs to get back on her feet, but the crimp in our plans is getting them from Wisconsin to NY. As soon as the money is raised, they will be put on a plane to Albany, where I will pick them up at the airport. If anyone is interested in helping with this situation, drop me an email and I will send you the paypal link.

I am wondering if there is an organization out there to help abused people find a temporary home for their pets so that they are better emotionally prepared to get out of their abusive situation. If anyone knows of such an organization, please leave me a comment.

And, while I am at it, I want to say that yes, fostering can be hard. It can be hard to give them up. However, it's very rewarding, and there's nothing to bring tears to your eyes like a letter saying, "Thank you for our lovely family member, we love him so much!" I'll dedicate a future entry to some of the emotional aspects of being a pet fosterer.

Goodbye to a family member

2008-05-06T03:44:00.003-04:00

Please note: This was written a couple of days ago. My uncle's body lost the fight yesterday morning, on my one year wedding anniversary. Some of the information here has been changed for the purposes of privacy, so events may vary slightly from reality.

J's ankle was really bothering him. It hurt quite a bit, and wasn't getting any better. He got the brush-off from doctors who said the x-ray was fine, so there's nothing to worry about.

My aunt (J's sister) and her husband had a feeling that it was something fairly serious, and they suggested that the doctors test for infection--specifically a staph infection, because that was what his symptoms pointed to. My uncle's doctor did a CT scan on the ankle, and declared that there was nothing wrong. My uncle grew progressively worse, and started to have some back pain as well.

As you may know, you don't diagnose a staph infection with a CT scan. The usual method is to sample blood or fluid from the suspected site or do a nasal swab and run a culture--which can take 2 to 3 days to give results. I'm not exactly sure how they finally manged to talk the doctor into doing the test, but he finally did. The results revealed that my uncle was infected with MRSA, Methicillin Resistant Staphylococcus Aureus.

MRSA is living proof of the existence of evolution. It is a strain of bacteria that has evolved to become resistant to many antibiotics, making it very difficult to treat, especially in already-compromised individuals. It kills more people in the US per year than AIDS, and it is a lot easier to transmit than AIDS. It is a very nasty microbe.

A few months ago, my uncle was hospitalized and very ill because he has liver disease. He was not expected to survive, but he rather miraculously pulled through and was able to go home. It was predicted that, as long as he never took another drink, and didn't take drugs (legal or not) that were damaging to the liver, he could expect to live a fairly normal lifespan. He had just enough liver function remaining to survive and eventually get well again.

The problem is, most of the antibiotics used for MRSA are also pretty harsh on the liver and other organs. Not only does the liver get damaged and possibly shut down, but the lack of liver function leads to shutdown of other organs, especially the kidneys. My uncle's kidneys began to fail; he retained a great deal of fluid (over 50 pounds of it), and metabolic wastes were building up in his system. When my mother called to tell me this, my first question was, "Why aren't they doing dialysis?" She didn't have an answer for me, except to call later and tell me that they decided to try it.

Now, the whole time he's been in the hospital, my family--grandma, aunts, etc.--has had to pretty much be there in the room non-stop. Not just because they wanted to be there for J, but because the staff kept doing idiotic things like giving him the wrong medications, refusing to do proper wound care (they passed the buck to about four different departments before the radiology department finally did it because they were exasperated at his dire situation and lack of care), and a lot of other little things. There were several instances where my grandmother had to interrupt a nurse who was beginning to administer a medication and ask her what it was, and who prescribed it, and the nurse looking at the chart to see that she was not giving him the right thing.

J had been struggling pretty hard, but Sunday afternoon, the doctor decided that he isn't responding to treatment, and so they are switching over to palliative care only. Color me cynical, but I wonder if he would have had a better shot at survival if they'd started dialysis sooner instead of waiting until the last possible minute.

His fight has reminded me all the more painfully that we must be vigilant and well-educated in regard to our health status, and that we need to have the courage to strongly advocate for ourselves and our loved ones, even when medical staff don't want to hear disagreement. Dr. Ego may feel a little bruising to his pride when we do so, but his mistakes and pigheadedness affect OUR bodies, to the point of possibly maiming or killing us. If you are not getting anywhere with a medical problem because a doctor is brushing you off, talk to another doctor. If that one won't listen, get educated about your possibilities, and then make them test you for what you believe is the most likely problem. Know what those tests are, and be specific--MRSA is not detected by a CT scan, and brain tumors are not found in pap smears. YOU live in your body, and YOU know better than anyone else what you are experiencing. Don't let someone belittle your experiences and blow you off. It could save your life.

The nulliparity epidemic

2008-05-04T05:50:00.001-04:00

We are currently facing a nulliparity epidemic of previously unseen proportions. More and more women are choosing not to have children, or are having them rather late in life when they do choose to have babies. Now, you'd think that this is nobody's business except the women involved, but let me give you some facts about nulliparity and cancer risk:

* The younger a woman has her first child, the lower her risk of developing breast cancer during her lifetime.
* A woman who has her first child after the age of 35 has approximately twice the risk of developing breast cancer as a woman who has a child before age 20.
* A woman who has her first child around age 30 has approximately the same lifetime risk of developing breast cancer as a woman who has never given birth.
* Having more than one child decreases a woman’s chances of developing breast cancer. In particular, having more than one child at a younger age decreases a woman’s chances of developing breast cancer during her lifetime.
* Although not fully understood, research suggests that pre-eclampsia, a pathologic condition that sometimes develops during pregnancy, is associated with a decrease in breast cancer risk in the offspring, and there is some evidence of a protective effect for the mother.
* After pregnancy, breastfeeding for a long period of time (for example, a year or longer) further reduces breast cancer risk by a small amount.

As you can see, this is everybody's business, because it's cancer. Women who claim they don't want to have babies, or who want to put off having them until later in life, are obviously very misinformed about their risks. They need to know that their irresponsible lack of pregnancy, childbirth, and breastfeeding is dangerous, and it is an unfair burden to taxpayers to shoulder the health insurance needed to treat breast cancer for nulliparous women. Additionally, it's pretty disgusting for these women to think they should be able to enjoy sex without the responsibility and consequences of having babies.

In order to combat this epidemic, I propose that the government step in and do some or all of the following:

1. Make it illegal for nulliparous women to obtain and use contraception. Responsible people (those who are mothers) should still be permitted to obtain and use it, because they've demonstrated that they care enough about their bodies and society to have babies.

2. Force insurers to pay for IVF for socially awkward girls who may not be able to get pregnant the traditional way--and for girls as young as 13, so that they don't get sexually transmitted diseases or pick up the bad habit of enjoying sex. Even though there may be health complications for younger girls having babies, it's more important that they not be excluded from having babies when their peers are doing so as well. It's also necessary to get their cancer risk as low as possible, and since having children and breastfeeding before the age of 20 lowers that risk, starting as young as possible is a smart thing to do.

3. Launch a massive marketing campaign with billboards, magazine ads, tv commercials, and viral ads to really nail it into women's heads that they NEED to have babies, as soon as possible, and that not having them is shameful and makes them a terrorist.

4. Push through as many fertility drugs as possible, even if they aren't known to be completely safe, because time is of the essence--we need women to get knocked up and FAST, before their nulliparity costs the nation billions of dollars in cancer treatment.

5. Set up pregnancy clubs all over the place, where people go to talk about their attempts to become pregnant, get called out by their peers on why they haven't gotten pregnant yet (shaming is a great tool), and where personal trainers can work with women on their techniques for getting pregnant.

6. Force employers to dock employees' pay if they have not yet had a baby or become pregnant. That, and give huge bonuses to those who do.

7. Discreetly encourage verbal and physical abuse of women who continue to defy the moral imperative to have babies.

8. If all else fails, put the bitches in concentration camps and repeatedly inseminate them until they are knocked up. Make sure they are interred long enough to birth and breastfeed the child for the amount of time required to reduce the cancer risk. Yeah, they'll bitch about "freedom", but they would expect the rest of us to pick up their health care tab when the time came, so fuck 'em. That, and it's just plain disgusting to see a woman not sacrificing herself to a life of motherhood; who the hell do these bitches think they are anyway? No one wants to see that shit.

I am a person, not an epidemic.

2008-04-30T00:10:00.001-04:00

I am offended.

I am offended by the constant Chicken-Little shrieking in the media about "obesity", and what "is to be done" about it.

If you are one of the people running around, waving their hands in the air, getting all worked up over the "obesity epidemic", I want you to do me a favor: Sit down, and shut up. And listen.

When you talk about "obesity", you are using a word that is cleverly designed to remove the humanity from the equation. If you say "obesity", you don't have to face the reality of living, breathing, feeling people who happen to be fat. I think it's about time you face reality.

So here I am. I am a fat person. I'm right here, right now, and there YOU are, saying you have to "do something about" me. You can no longer hide behind your abstract concept of "obesity". What you are really saying is that you want to "do something" to change my body. MY body. And you know what? I am standing here, and I am telling you, "NO."

You are claiming to do this for my "health", but you aren't even asking me if I want it done. You see my body, and because you don't like what you see, you think that it is okay to shame and coerce me into making my body into your ideal.

This is not about "health", it is about freedom. I am not obligated to look the way anyone else wants me to look, and I am not obligated to work toward an arbitrary "health" goal that may or may not actually benefit my health anyway. But you would deny me the basic human dignity of deciding for myself how I want to live my life. And to that, I say, step off.

Answering the wrong question

2008-04-12T01:01:00.001-04:00

An article from BBC News announces that eating breakfast "keeps teenagers lean", quoting one anti-fat proponent as saying this revelation is "ironic". The researchers noted that those who ate breakfast were less likely to be lethargic and inactive, so their higher activity levels resulting from this morning fueling compensated for the calories eaten, and then some, leaving the breakfast crowd thinner than those who avoided eating breakfast.

What bothers me is that they were looking at how thin the subjects were, instead of how healthy they were. The message of "eating breakfast will make you thinner" is less important, in my opinion, than "eating breakfast makes you feel more energized, and lets you do better in school and other activities." The fact that they need to use the carrot of thinness to grab peoples' interest makes me very sad, because I know that, even if the researchers felt that feeling better is more important than being thin (and that's a BIG if), our anti-fat atmosphere really promotes thinness over actual health and well-being. In fact, thinness seems to be regarded as shorthand for health and well-being, even though that isn't really true.

What researchers really need to be looking at is whether or not something makes people feel better and live more fulfilling, productive lives. I can definitely argue that eating breakfast DOES do those things, which is a good reason to eat it. Instead, we're worried about what will make people thinner, and it's a neurotic obsession that drives people to waste their lives weighing food, deliberately going hungry in an atmosphere of plenty, and eat foods they don't actually enjoy. Even when we ask about quality over quantity, those seeking thinness claim that there can be no quality of life without being thin--and I, and all the other FA bloggers, want them to know that it is simply not true.

Believe me, I do understand that discrimination and cruelty affect quality of life--I do! But instead of torturing your body in trying to make it more acceptable, which is usually an exercise in futility, join us in fighting for social change. Know that you've got a whole group of smart, strong, outspoken fat folks who are ready to support you. Know that yours is a shared experience.

So ask this question when a new study comes out: How will this make my life better? Don't worry about whether it will make you thinner.

Still alive, still fat, no worries :)

2008-04-08T01:28:00.002-04:00

I've been super busy with projects--including a photography project I'm working on for the cat rescue's fundraiser! It's going to be really sweet.

We've also had good luck with fosters lately. Ansel was adopted, and Graycie was spayed this past weekend--she tested negative for feline leukemia, thank goodness! Little frightened Clarence makes progress every day with his confidence, and I have high hopes for his eventual adoptability.

I hope everyone is doing well, and I will get back to writing soon; I just need to have some more time and energy to put into it.

Foster kitty news

2008-04-03T05:37:00.003-04:00

We've had a decent week here in our foster home. Sweet little Salvador got adopted by a very loving young woman. He had been so very sick and thin that I had her wait a couple of weeks while he was recovering. We had to switch his antibiotics to fight the infection. I also had to treat him for ear mites a couple of times. He was under four pounds at over six months old, and I am proud to say that he gained over a pound under our care! His new mom reports that he has stayed healthy, and she is absolutely in love with him!

Ansel, our black and white kitty, was very shy and skittish. He was especially afraid of hands, and he would flinch and cringe if we went to pet him near his head. One day, about a week ago, I was hanging out with him, and something just "clicked". I can't even describe it, but it was like he had some kind of epiphany. The trust barrier was broken in one instant, and he became a purring ball of love who wouldn't leave my side after that! He flirted, rubbed against us, threw himself on the floor and showed his belly until we rubbed his belly, and velcroed himself to my side at bedtime. He was a new cat!

Ansel is currently at the adoption center, waiting for someone to notice how wonderful he is. I visited him last night, and he was so happy to see me that he leapt into my arms when I opened the door to his enclosure. He then snuggled with me and flirted with the volunteer that was on duty! When he threw himself at her feet and looked up at her, I said, "He is asking you to rub his belly!" She replied, "Really? Cats don't normally do that!" So she gave him what he wanted, and he responded by being totally in love with her.

There was another cat, Onyx, out of an enclosure and getting exercise at the same time. Ansel was very polite and walked up to Onyx, rubbing against him and occasionally giving Onyx a gentle, friendly lick on the forehead. Onyx was pleased to have a nice friend, as was Ansel! They played together a little bit, but Ansel was mostly busy getting snuggles from his human friends.

Little Ianto got neutered on Sunday. He continues to have bad mood swings, but he's improving. He's attached to me and follows me everywhere, even to the bathroom. He wouldn't leave when I was taking a bath earlier, just curled up next to the tub and waited for me to finish. He's a sweet baby most of the time, now that he knows we are going to feed him and not abandon him. He is kind of growly when there is food around, though.

Poor Clarence is still afraid. The people who'd adopted him and returned him undid a lot of the trust I'd built with him. It was like they didn't touch him at ALL. He has certain "safe spots" where, if he's curled up in them, he will be just fine with me petting him. He is scared, though, if he's approached when he's walking around the house. We're working on it, poor baby. I can now scoop him up and hold him on my lap while I read, and he purrs the whole time instead of acting like I'm going to eat him.

Owl's not improved at all. All of the work I did just vanished after his adoption and return. Not only did they traumatize him; he also just seems to have some developmental delay issues. Not sure what's going to happen with him as he gets older, but I'm going to have to just ramp up my approach with him.

We have a new foster, Graycie. She was caught as a stray by a lady who brought her in to an adoption clinic. Brian and I were there to bring Ansel in, so it was kind of fortuitous for Graycie. She's six months old, and was being mounted by a male at at the time of her capture. We don't normally just take in cats that people bring us without warning, but the volunteers staffing the clinic were kind of at a loss as to what to do, and were on the phone with the director. We can't just have random untested cats in the center, in case of pathogens, so I told them that if the director was okay with it, we could take her and isolate her at our foster home. The director said that, as long as she wasn't feral, we could take her. I assessed her and determined she was not feral, so we kissed and hugged Ansel goodbye, put him in the enclosure reserved for him, and put little Graycie in the carrier. She's tiny, slate grey, and was really mad at us the first couple of days. She is a lot happier now, and she will be spayed on Sunday as long as her FeLV test is negative.

Yesterday, I visited a fellow foster mom, and I gave her some tips for dealing with a particularly difficult kitty. The first step was to trim kitty's claws, as it's hard to work with a creature that is capable of shredding you! It's the very first thing we do with new ones in this household, because they will tear us up even if they don't mean to. I also loaned her my Feliway plugin for her foster enclosure, and told her that kitty needs to be picked up and held, even if she doesn't want it to happen--she'll get accustomed to it once she realizes that kicking and fighting doesn't work anymore. My last email from the foster mom indicates that things are going pretty well, so that's good :)

So that's the state of things here. I've been putting a lot of effort into my business, my fosters, and my marriage the past couple of weeks, but I do have some blog ideas to write about, so hang tight during this little hiatus :)

My sweet love

2008-04-03T05:35:00.001-04:00

I have been very busy of late. Last week was spent preparing for a surprise birthday party for the love of my life. It went perfectly, and he was quite happy. I wanted to talk about how much I love him, because I don't say it enough.

Brian works from 10am til 2am with a two hour break inbetween.

When he comes home, I like to watch him sleep, because he is so beautiful, and I like to look at him. I don't see him very much anymore, so every moment I get to be in his presence is precious to me. I don't want to sleep through those moments. I kept him up a bit late last night, first by having him help me clean Graycie's ears, then by making love to him, so I let him get to sleep right away tonight (he took a few minutes before going to bed to say hi to Graycie. She loves him).

I love to see him sleeping, so peaceful and lovely. His face is just so endearing to me, and I love cuddling up to him, sliding my hands over his smooth skin, feeling his muscles, stroking the little patches of body hair. I especially love the patch right below his navel; his body hair is very fine and smooth. He also has a patch right on his sacrum that I enjoy petting. Of course, I also play with his long, lovely head of hair, stroking it back from his face and clutching a lock of it while I press myself against him.

He's so warm and smooth and soft, and he smells so good. He doesn't understand that part; he isn't very big on smells, but his natural scent is intoxicating to me. I've never been able to date someone who didn't "smell" right to me, even if they were perfect in every other way. I also love to nuzzle my cats, enjoying their individual scents. Aakhu smells like a dry, dust summer breeze. Dom smells kind of like a fresh bandaid out of the package. Ptera, oddly enough, has a sweet vanilla odor--one that even Brian was able to detect.

Nuzzling Brian's back, neck, shoulders, chest...the scent of him just makes me want to eat him up. I have to restrain myself from nibbling on him when he needs to sleep; I want my sweetie to be rested enough to work safely, although I do want him to know how much I love him, and how much he turns me on.

And his sweet sleeping face, so guileless and relaxed. I adore his face, the strong nose, his full, well-defined lips, the high cheekbones, the naturally arched eyebrows, and, most of all, the beautiful smile. The smile is the first thing I noticed about him, so sweet, charming, and friendly. It reflects his kind, gentle heart. If I kiss his cheek, forehead, or, best of all, that little birthmark on his temple, he smiles in his sleep. That gives me a little thrill, a shiver that feels like it's deep in my body.

And then, there is his tendency to be surrounded by the feline family. His sleeping form is a cat magnet. They love him so very much; they see him as I do, as a gentle, tender soul who can be trusted not to cause harm. At the moment, little Ianto, just a troubled child of a cat, is pressed against Brian's hip, sprawled on his back, with a paw covering the face. Morgan is in her usual spot, tucked into the bend of his knees. Earlier, Dom was on Brian's pillow, a plush, purring hat, and sweet little Anya was snuggled against Brian's back. Ptera, at least, prefers me, and is frequently curled up in my arms, or under my blanket, pressed to my side. If she were here right now, she'd be in my lap, between me and the keyboard.

We all love him so much. His gentle touches, his harmonious voice, his snuggly body. He is so willing to cuddle and be cuddled. He is so unwilling to cause harm, purposely or inadvertently. He is always eager to use his hands to soothe aching muscles, give loving caresses, provide food and water and shelter to all of us. He is the most generous man I have ever known--generous with his material possessions, his body, his strength, and his feelings. I am the most fortunate person in the world to have chanced upon him; I could not ask for more, except to wish I'd met him sooner.

Scentsible and considerate

2008-03-26T22:08:00.001-04:00

Imagine, for a moment, that you live with a semi-deaf roommate. This roommate really enjoys music, but has a hard time hearing it, so he cranks up the volume to a level that is comfortable and enjoyable for him.

You, as a person who is not hard of hearing, have a much lower threshold for what is comfortable and enjoyable. Roommate is rocking out while you are rolling on the floor, clutching your head in agony. The sensory overload is causing you real pain. When you ask if the roommate can turn it down, he looks at you incredulously. "It's not THAT loud, hell, I can barely hear it!" You try to explain that, because his hearing isn't as acute as yours, your volume tolerances are different. He scoffs at this, telling you that you're making it up, and to stop being such a sensitive goddamn pussy, and to stop trying to control him with your stupid hypochondriac bullshit. He then turns it up even louder, flips you the bird, and subsequently refuses to ever turn the stereo off at all, just to spite you.

That, my friends, is what it is like to have a very sensitive sense of smell in a world where everyone and their dog is slathering on several layers of perfumed products.

Maybe you don't smell it quite as acutely. Maybe you think we're making this up. But when someone is trailing their cologne behind them like Princess Diana's bridal train, for some of us with sharp noses, it's the equivalent of someone screaming in your ear at the top of their lungs. The sensory overload hurts. It gives us headaches, just like the aforementioned roommate's music would give most other people headaches. Just because you aren't able to smell things as well as we do, doesn't mean that we are imagining this.

The overload of our olfactory senses causes a reaction--our sinuses fill, our noses run, our eyes water. This is a neurological reaction that is designed to reduce the waves of sensory input entering our noses. In fact, there is a certain nerve, the trigeminal nerve, that, if aggravated, can actually cause the nostril on the afflicted nerve's side of the face to run, the eye to water, and the sinuses--just on that side--to fill (this can be trigeminal neuralgia, or a cluster headache)--just from a nerve going haywire!

So, yes, when we get too much olfactory input, there is a PHYSICAL reaction, just like when your pupils constrict and your eyes hurt if you are in light that is too bright. If we are in a place that we cannot leave, such as our own homes, or a workplace, we are subject to pain and discomfort that cannot be mitigated. This is why many of us are sensitive to perfumes, and why we ask that others be more subtle with their scents. We're not trying to be mean to you, or to control you, we are trying to save ourselves from terrible headaches. Why is that too much to ask?

The coldest day of my life

2008-03-26T03:06:00.002-04:00

I haven't written much lately; been busy with things. I thought I'd tell a story, just to keep things interesting.

November 2003, Fish Hatchery Management class.

We were on a field trip to the Adirondack Hatchery, way up near Lake Placid. It's damn cold up there in the North Country in November. The usual thing for this field trip was camping out by the hatchery, but we were looking at single-digit temperatures, a first for the trip. There was a dorm-style facility, but they weren't permitted to let us stay there overnight because it was above a garage, and some regulation said that we could get carbon monoxide poisoning. Instead, they were willing to let us freeze to death.

We arrived at the hatchery after a five-hour drive from Cobleskill, NY. The trip started out ominously, as our rented vehicle hit a deer less than a mile away from the campus, but the vehicle was fine, and the deer leapt up and dashed off toward some woodland. Most of my classmates slept on the trip. Two of us, myself and N, had a tendency to get godawfully carsick, so I had loaded up on the Dramamine, sharing with him, and he gallantly offered me the front seat--which we both found reduced our motion sickness a great deal.

The Adirondack Hatchery spawns and grows land-locked Atlantic Salmon, big silvery beauties with a row of black X's down their sides. Salmon really like their water to be as cold as possible, so the hatchery itself was the same temperature as the air outside. In fact, the tall windows lining each side of the hatchery were fitted only with screens, which allowed air flow while keeping out insects and birds. The water in each of the circular tanks was kept solid only through kinetic energy--fast-flowing pipes dumping spring water right into the tanks, keeping that water moving. A good thing, too, as the air temperature was no more than 20ºF.

So we walk in, and get the basic idea of the spawning process going on, and we're heaved right into the thick of it. The process basically goes like this: Net salmon out of tank, put into anesthetic bath (MS-222), take salmon out of anesthetic bath after it's knocked out, squeeze the eggs out into a container (this takes practice; I'm not too shabby at it), put fish back into tank, in a separate section, so you don't grab the same fish twice. While this is going on, which takes about three people, someone else occasionally takes the eggs, mixes them with milt stripped from fish trapped out of the lake, and lets them fertilize before taking them off to the incubator room.

This whole process is very wet, obviously, and when it's already freezing cold out, your hands turn into claws of ice and agony. We were all well-clothed in long underwear, warm clothing, and rainsuits (rain suits keep the water OUTSIDE your clothing), but that didn't help our chilly faces or frozen hands much, and it wasn't long before we were all just chilled to the bone.

That night, we made dinner in the dorm area, had a party and warmed up, and then got permission from the hatchery manager to stay in the visitor's center! Now, that would have been really great, but he turned OFF the heat in the center so we wouldn't "roll up against a heater and burn" ourselves. The center was bitter cold, because they had a display pond of salmon, which was kept freshened by a constant flow of chilly water. I found out that night that my sleeping bag, rated for 0ºC, was indeed enough to keep me warm, even in 15ºF conditions.

The next day, we went out to the lake, where a boat brought in salmon that had been trapped on the lake. We stood on a dock and took turns stripping eggs and milt from the trapped salmon. All of the milt used to fertilize the eggs, even inside the hatchery building, were from trapped males. On the dock, we were unprotected from the chill wind, and there wasn't enough shivering, foot stomping, and running in place to keep us from becoming agonizingly cold.

At this point in my life, I had not developed fibromyalgia. I had, however, already developed arthritis in my hands, wrists, right shoulder, and ankles, especially the right one. By the time we were done with this field trip, I was in more pain than I probably had ever been. I do like to tell people that, after this experience, I will probably never be truly cold again in my life--but I have no desire to work at a salmonid hatchery, EVER, because they are such painfully cold places.

Kitty picture Sunday :)

2008-03-23T20:04:00.001-04:00

You can see my pics of kitties on the petfinder page here.
Specifically, I did Prince, Plum, Raven, Rosa, Belle, Wilma, Gina, Alicia, and Onyx. I obviously took Ansel's pictures, too, since he's my foster ;)
Some of them still have their old photos in addition to the new ones, but not all. :)

From Gibson Girls to Photoshopped Perfection

2008-03-21T00:44:00.001-04:00

In Gina Kolata's Rethinking Thin, I was reminded that the feminine ideal of the early 1900s was just as unreal as today's photoshopped magazine covers. The Gibson Girls were drawings of otherwise slender women with large breasts and lush hips and buttocks. Their waists were tightly cinched to form an hourglass figure, and they were tall, with bouffant updos that further increased their statuesque heights. Women did their best to emulate the Gibson Girls, despite the fact that they were drawings--idealized versions of a man's vision of feminine beauty. Kolata also claims that flapper girls were a similar invention of artists, leading to the teenage-proportioned body (small breasts and hips) being the new ideal for that era.

Here we are, a hundred years later, still being mocked with unreal images of beauty that we are expected to emulate. Even women who already conform to the ideal are photoshopped to remove the tiniest details, until their faces resemble porcelain dolls. Not only are blemishes, wrinkles and other "flaws" removed, the very proportions of a woman's body and face are altered--eyes made bigger and moved to a different position on the face, lips plumped, widened, and repositioned, waists whittled down, breasts pumped up and lifted. It's ridiculous.

Manufacturers of beauty products absolutely rely upon women's low self-image to sell their products. While I enjoy putting different colors on my face, as humans have done for millennia, the cosmetics industry goes far beyond that. If we are not panicking over every pimple, freaking out over each wrinkle, and becoming hysterical at the sight of a gray hair, they aren't making money. These "too perfect" magazine covers are absolutely designed to shame us, to make us hate ourselves. There is BIG money to be made on our self-hatred.

We bind ourselves in Spanx, strap ourselves into tight bras, slather eight kinds of goop on our faces, pay for the privilege of having someone tell us how and what to eat (and shame us when we haven't lost weight), run on human sized hamster wheels (big big bucks there), dye our hair so we don't look old (instead of for the fun of, say, having purple hair), and then continue to buy the magazines that make us feel like we HAVE to keep doing these things, because we still don't look like the photoshopped cover girl, even though the magazines never actually say anything new (and trust me folks, Cosmo never has any real new sex tips, no matter what the cover hype says).

Well, screw that. I'm sorry, but I don't have the money to support low self esteem. If I felt like I wasn't good enough to be seen in public without buying all of the stupid crap these companies are selling, I wouldn't be able to afford the "privilege" of leaving my house.

Throw those damn magazines out. Stop buying them--they are preying upon you; they are deliberately designed to make you feel bad. Who needs that nonsense? Unsubscribe, and either find a less damning periodical (Bon Appetit, Cat Fancy, Aquarium Fish), or invest your money in some good books instead. If you're a feminist, or at least have feminist leanings, I can highly recommend the works of Sheri S. Tepper, and many of her books can be found for super-cheap used on Amazon. Or, build up your FA library with Gina Kolata's Rethinking Thin, Paul Campos' The Obesity Myth, Roberta Pollack Seid's Never Too Thin (note: Get this one while you can; it's out of print, and only available used), and Barry Glassner's The Gospel of Food.

Ianto the foster kitten

2008-03-19T01:42:00.004-04:00

On Monday, we got a new foster. His story is REALLY sad, so get out your tissues. Oh, and "Ianto"? Yes, I was letting the boy name cats again. Yes, it's after the Torchwood character. It's better than naming them after dinosaurs, which is what he did with our first litter (Ptera-dactyl, Charlotte Bronte-saurus, and Anyankalosaurus--they are Ptera, Charlotte, and Anya, because I restrained him).

My friend Laurie was driving in the grocery store parking lot, when she noticed a cardboard box in the way. She didn't want to damage her vehicle, so she avoided the box, then stopped her Jeep and went to move the box so other people wouldn't be inconvenienced.

Within the box were three kittens, about 4 months old. One of them was dead. Laurie took one home, while another customer in the parking lot adopted the other. They were absolutely covered in fleas, which climbed up Laurie's arm as she was pulling them out of the box. She took the little guy home, treated him for fleas, and tried to integrate him into her household. She would have loved to have kept him, because he's really cute and playful, but her other cat just absolutely hated him.

So, when I emailed Laurie recently to ask her to buy stuff to support the rescue, letting her know that I was fostering and volunteering for them, she asked if I could help her by rehoming the little guy, whom she'd been calling George. I got permission from Robin, who is the rescue's namesake, and Brian and I picked him up on Monday (and sold Laurie some of the cranberry sauce).

When we got him home, I gave him a distemper vaccination, wormed him, and gave him Advantage. Today, he got his FeLV and FIV test, which was negative for both (hooray!). He also got his new name, so that he would be more unique and memorable. Ianto is due for neutering on the 30th of March, and will be up for adoption very shortly after that.

He is an exceptionally pretty cat; he reminds me of a lynx-point Siamese or something. I am sickened and angry that his former owners didn't even try to drop them off at a shelter, or somewhere they could get proper care before the sibling died. What kind of person does this?

Anyway, here are photos of Ianto:

By the way, if you are in the Capital Region of New York, and you are interested in adopting Ianto, or any other foster I've written about, please send me an email and we can discuss it.

If you are interested in helping to support the rescue with donations, you can do so via the Paypal link on the homepage here. Robin's Nest has programs to help feral cats, low-cost spay/neuter clinics, and adopts out only cats that have been spayed or neutered. This all takes hard work and money, so they can use every bit of help you can spare. Also, I have set up in my Etsy shop (on the right) a way to purchase cranberry sauce, which is our current fundraiser. It's delicious, and a great price.

Also, most of the cats I photographed for the petfinder page are actually adopted now! And, our foster Leonardo just found a home yesterday. Congratulations to them :) If you visit the page, check out Rosa's photos; she was a willing and wonderful subject for me.

Good Fatty/Bad Fatty

2008-03-19T01:21:00.002-04:00

Well, y'all, I covered that particular topic over a month ago, but it seems to be all the rage now. So let's do this thing.

Dividing people in acceptable and unacceptable examples of their oppressed demographic is a time-honored tactic by oppressors. If you can get at least part of the group to turn its back on the rest, by way of convincing them that the oppression is somehow their own fault, and that it can be relieved by behaving in a particular way and alienating those who do not, well, doesn't that seem a perfect strategy for not just getting as many of them to behave the way you want them to, but also to assist you in oppressing their own demographic?

This is a well-beaten path, and we need to look to the experiences of those who have gone before us in pursuit of human rights to guide us. Civil rights activists have long known that when oppressed persons engage in behaviors (such as "acting white") to please their oppressors and mitigate their circumstances, the only thing that changes is the form of oppression. You are not truly free if you must behave in particular ways in order to avoid being abused.

We must also not fall into the trap of believing that those who abuse us have our best interests in mind, no matter what they claim. The abuse is easier to accept when we believe we deserve it, and abusers frequently try to convince their victims that the abuse is the victim's fault, and they wouldn't be abused, if only they would have done certain things. The truth is, abusers have no right to abuse, and they do so because it satisfies some desire or need in them--NOT because their victims deserve it. If the victims did not have a certain behavior or quality that the abuser focuses upon, there would be some other behavior or quality that the abuser would use an excuse.

None of us deserves the poor treatment we get for being fat. Every single one of us deserves basic human rights and dignity. What we eat, how much we exercise, our vital stats? Those aren't even a factor. Being a living, feeling being should be enough to warrant dignity. Don't stand for any less.

Big Buts, Part Eight: Pee-yew?

2008-03-19T01:02:00.000-04:00

"But Rio, fat people smell bad!"

I would not even dignify this with a response, except that I have heard this nonsese far too often to let it go.

First, I want to say that I have an extremely sensitive sense of smell. This is a blessing and a curse, depending on the situation, but it allows me to create exquisitely spiced dishes, among other great things. One of the curses of this sense of smell is that people with unpleasant odors are often more detectable to me than to those around me. So, let me give you my PERSONAL experiences with people and odor.

Looking back on my friends and acquaintances, I can honestly say that I cannot recall a smelly fat person in my circle, but I have had many, many unhygienic thin people. I'm not saying that thin people stink, but that body size does not determine odor.

S was a year ahead of me in collage. He was well over six feet tall, and probably only weighed about 120 pounds. S was very cute, and he had a huge crush on me. He might have stood a chance, but S was not acquainted with deodorant or toothpaste. Friends had tried many times to introduce him to the substances, both tactfully and directly, but it just never sunk in for very long. I'll give S the benefit of the doubt and consider that he might have been allergic, but he remained single until an equally unhygienic girl of average size decided to date him. I'm glad that they found each other, but I hope I don't have to be in a room with both of them ever again.

X and Y were both attractive young men of slender, but not skinny, build. X and Y seemed okay on the surface--they used deodorant, brushed their teeth, but when the clothes came off, intimacy revealed that both had some kind of aversion to washing their nether regions, especially in the rear. Despite being tactful, and eventually direct, neither would ever start washing their ass cracks during my time dating them. I mean, honestly, guys, dingleberries are for furry animals, not humans.

M was a young woman of average size. Because her parents never had decent hygiene (and her father was missing most of his teeth by the age of 50), she didn't know any better. Her hair was always unwashed, hanging in greasy clumps. Her clothing was never washed either.

C was a very tall, thin girl with whom I went to university years ago. C was very sweet, but she had a tendency to wear very short skirts, and she never washed her nether regions. She smelled like a walking yeast infection, and so did her whole room. It was really hard to visit her sometimes, because the smell gave me a headache, but I wasn't really prepared to talk to her about it.

T is a 350-pound woman. She take a shower, using soap on all of her parts. She uses a long-handled scrubber to get all the nooks and crannies. She washes her hair, brushes her teeth, and does her laundry regularly. At the end of a long workday where she has done physical labor, she gets onto the bus to go home. Because she's worked all day, she's somewhat grimy and sweaty, just like the lean guy sitting next to her. They both have a little bit of body odor, but because they are looking for the fat woman to be smelly, other people on the bus only notice that she smells a bit, shutting out the rest of the laborers whose bodies they aren't conditioned to think of as "disgusting".

This is a perception issue, one that does not resemble reality. Hygiene can be neglected in all types of people, especially those who did not have as much education (in M's case), those who had weird religious aversions to touching themselves in certain places (X and Y), and people who don't have their medical problems properly treated (C, for example). In some cases, there are people who cannot help their odors, either because of a medical condition that makes odors more prevalent, or because they have allergies to things like deodorant and certain soaps. There are also underprivileged people who do not have access to laundry facilities, a change of clothing, or shower facilities, especially if they are homeless.

So what I'm saying is, body size has nothing to do with a person's odor, and a person's odor does not determine their value as a human being anyway. If you're on public transportation, going home after a work day, everyone is more likely to stink a bit, because they have been working and sweating all day. That's life.

Hatred becomes violence

2008-03-19T00:59:00.001-04:00

According to Gina Kolata's Rethinking Thin, a survey indicated that 25% of fat men and 16% of fat women reported being hit or threatened because of their weight.

If you are one of the people who is against Fat Acceptance because you believe it is unhealthy to be fat, I really want to know whether you think it is okay or not to hit and threaten fat people because of their size. I also want to know how many people think that the solution to being abused for being fat is for the abused person to lose weight.

I often hear people telling others to lose weight so that they can fit in better socially--to gain a spouse, to have more friends, to get a better job. Do these fatophobes realize that condemning fat people to a lower social status can and does result in real physical violence? Once you accept that a demographic is not worthy of basic human dignity, you accept that demographic's inevitable mental and physical abuse. If you have ever vocally taunted a fat person, you bear some of the culpability when that person is eventually beaten by other hateful individuals, because you had a hand in fostering an environment of bigotry and hate.

There is no excuse for this. Change your attitude; don't become involved in verbal abuse of other people, especially when those people are an oppressed group. Speak up when you see other people engaging in the abuse. An environment of hate is no good for anyone, not even for those in the privileged group. Base your self-worth on your positive qualities, not on your imagined superiority over others.

Another one back, after a month :(

2008-03-17T03:00:00.004-04:00

Some of you might remember that Owl was returned to us after a month at his adoptive home. He's weird, but he's mostly doing okay here.

Clarence, who was Calvin's brother. was returned by his adoptive family because they said he was unfriendly, refusing to be held or cuddled by them. They said he would hardly even allow them to touch him. Over a month ago, Clarence and his sister Chloe came to us so we could work with them and help them overcome their fear of people. Chloe adapted very well, but Clarence was a tough little nut to crack. We got him to come to us and curl up on our laps, though, and he purred for us a great deal. So I was overjoyed when he was adopted to the same family as his sister--they love each other very much. Unfortunately for the kitties, the family returned only Clarence and kept Chloe.

We got Clarence home tonight, and we are still reeling from the damage done by this savage, feral monster. The third-degree burns on our laps from his warm little body curled up on them, and the shattering of our eardrums from his horrific purring--which also gave us severe bruising from the vibrations--all necessitated a visit to the ER. When I attempted to clip his very dangerous, pointy talons (because, such a vicious creature's scimitar-bladed paws could hardly be dismissed as having mere "claws"), Clarence's calm acceptance of our ministrations was so terrifying that we both fainted dead away.

Or, maybe, he spent the whole evening cuddled on our laps while we watched DVDs and read books, getting traded back and forth when one of us had to get up. He's not happy, but he was doing the best he could, I think.

On Brian's lap:

On my lap:

Meanwhile, you want to see a cat that hates me right now, my sweet, angelic little Ptera needed a bath tonight due to some litterbox clumsiness. She didn't utter a peep, but she broke free several times, sliding around on the bathroom floor and landing on her face. She also refused to make eye contact with me during and after. I look forward to being forgiven. She'd also climbed up on the bed prior to the bath, so we had to change the sheet. This all happened after we had retired for the evening, so that just made it all the more special. I did not do her the indignity of photographing her in her full drowned-rat glory, but I did snicker a bit between kisses and apologies while I dried her off.

Sunday Kitty Love

2008-03-16T20:49:00.000-04:00

I took a ton of photos today at the adoption clinic. I wanted to have photos that really captured the cats' personalities for the petfinder page. I know some of these aren't my best work, but I was trying to be quick, and while I was in the middle of it, some people came in and crowded me out of the room for a while so they could put a ridiculous collar on Trump that looked like a tie, and take pictures of him. He was uncooperative, because he has some dignity.

Jeeves is a fairly serious cat:

Plum is sweet and playful:

Rosa is dignified and calm:

Karma is a bitch (not kidding):

Trump is VERY sweet and innocent. He's gentle and cuddly--he is declawed on all four paws, and was picked up as a STRAY. He deserves better than that:

Animal compassion

2008-03-14T00:15:00.000-04:00

A few years back, there was a wonderful story about some elephants that very deliberately and cunningly freed some antelope that had been captured and penned up by humans. I won't rehash the whole thing, but the elephants waited until the humans were settling in for the night, circled the enclosure, and waited while the herd's matriarch figured out the latches on the gate. They waited until every antelope was out, then walked away.

There are many tales of elephants doing compassionate things like this. One story describes an elephant that was trained to place logs into holes for building a structure; the elephant balked at one point, and the mahout giving commands discovered that the elephant was avoiding harming a sleeping dog. There are plenty of stories of elephants being kind toward injured or helpless humans. They are also exceptionally compassionate toward one another, and become deeply grief-stricken when one of their herd dies, visiting the bones for years after the death.

They aren't perfect, of course. Elephants that have been treated badly by people sometimes snap and cause injury or death. They are fiercely protective of their young, and have no problem stomping someone who messes with a calf. Most cases of "killer" elephants that I have seen involve stressed out, abused, or sick animals, though--elephants treated respectfully are generally much kinder toward our species.

So why am I bringing up elephant altruism? The main reason today is that I want to point out that they make us look like savages. Yes, some of our kind help other species, some of us treat each other kindly, but there is a disturbingly high number of cruel people as well. When we spew hate at members of our own species over something as trivial as how fat they are (and that's just one example), I have to wonder why so many of us believe that humans are better or more important than species that display a greater level of compassion--not just toward their OWN kind, even, but toward other species, even ours!

But then, I remember that the elephants who don't behave this way are usually sick, abused, or protecting their young. The tremendous pressure our society puts on people to look and act a certain way can create insane amounts of stress. I can only explain some of the disturbing, hateful things said and done by fatophobes as the result of a mind that has been badly damaged by the cognitive dissonance that occurs when the messages being programmed into the populace's brains are at odds with what they perceive to be true.

Let me take a moment here to explain what I mean. For whatever reason, we are being endlessly told that food is a poison, that people eat because they are mentally ill, not because their bodies need fuel, and that death is right around the corner unless we lose 15 more pounds (and then it's fifteen more after that, and after that, too). What we perceive, however, is that "bad" foods aren't causing us to die, that we eat because we are actually hungry, that our bodies are run down and less functional when we don't eat enough, and that the never-ending demand that we becoming thinner and thinner can never resemble the reality of our bodies' autonomic management of our weight and metabolism. Some of us see the naked emperor and decide to live in reality. Those who have thoroughly bought into the myths, though, have too much invested in the fantasy of being thin, and thus cannot tolerate anything that rattles the foundation of their fantasy. They're stressed out, they're sick, and they react accordingly.

It's still no excuse.

An elephant that acts this way is frequently a prisoner of its abusers. Zoo and circus elephants snap and kill a keeper or trainer. People who have invested themselves in the fantasy of being thin, however, have a bit more choice. It's an uncomfortable choice, sure; it's hard to accept that the system that gives privilege to thin people is wrong. For thin people, they stand to lose all that they have acquired through that privilege. For others, they lose the (albeit misguided) hope that all they have to do is lose weight, and they will become a privileged member of society. They lose the idea that they have control over their status--or they lose an excuse for not developing themselves in other ways. I really do understand that it is hard, but come on already--it isn't doing you or anyone else any good. Try to be at least as good a person as the average elephant, would you?

Big Buts, Part Seven: Do I Hate Thin People?

2008-03-13T06:31:00.000-04:00

"But Rio, why do you hate thin people so much?"

...

I get this a lot. I really do not understand it. I challenge anyone to look through my blog and find anything saying that I hate thin people, or that they suck, or anything of the sort.

I believe in fat acceptance. Accepting fat people does not mean that you then hate thin people. I can't imagine how someone would believe otherwise, unless they're the type that, when they lose one outlet for their hatred and venom, they must immediately transfer it to another target. Being a feminist does not mean someone hates men*, it means that they want women to be treated like human beings, equal to men. You don't have to sacrifice one group to give another group rights and respect! As a fat person, I want to be treated as respectfully as a thin person is treated in our society. As a woman, I want the same rights and respect as a man.

Imagine this:
Two people, Casey and Dana. Casey is standing up on a platform, while Dana is down below. Casey has access to a bunch of rocks to throw at Dana, while Dana has none, and would not have the strength to throw them high enough to hit Casey anyway. Now, there are several options we could take here:

- Dana climbs up to the platform where Casey is, and knocks Casey off the platform, switching their roles. Now Dana is privileged, while Casey is not. This results in an endless struggle where the two switch places in a cycle of vengeance.

- Casey climbs down to where Dana is, sacrificing privilege to gain equal footing. This doesn't benefit Dana that much, except that Casey isn't throwing rocks, but because Casey resents being lowered to Dana's situation, there are fistfights and discord between them.

- Casey lowers a rope and helps Dana up to the platform, putting them both on equal footing. This DOES benefit Dana, of course, and Casey has to sacrifice very little to do this--and may even benefit from Dana's experience, ideas, and companionship.

It is not necessary to tear down one group of people in order to put a less privileged one on equal footing. What we DO have to sacrifice in order to do this, though, is the idea that we need to have someone beneath us in order to feel important. Finding your self-worth is pretty hard, and we are unfortunately taught the dirty shortcut of ranking ourselves over someone else. Dehumanizing other people, however, is harmful to everyone involved in the long run--when you throw rocks at someone (metaphorically or literally), you create a cycle of hatred and vengeance that can be very difficult to break. Admitting that you were wrong in the way you treated someone is really, really tough, but it's absolutely necessary if you want to find your true self-worth, which is independent from someone else being inferior to you.

So, in short, no, I don't hate thin people. Thin people who read my writings and believe otherwise may want to examine why they are reacting this way; I believe that it is probably because I'm refusing to acknowledge their "superior" status. That's really uncomfortable, obviously. It probably stings a bit when I say things like, "Yes, you have worked really hard to become thin, but that doesn't actually mean anything to me," especially when those who have lost a lot of weight are accustomed to high praise from just about everyone else. There's also the upsetting idea that putting a lot of effort into something doesn't make that something valuable to everyone else. What you did to lose weight was for your own benefit; it is not some kind of heroic, humanitarian task, no matter how much people piss and moan about health care costs.

On a final note, I want to mention that, if I hated thin people, I wouldn't have married one. In my social life, I don't treat thin friends any differently from fat friends. I don't tell thin people to eat more, to gain weight, or anything of the sort--because a person's body size is none of my business. No, I don't hate thin people. No, I don't want you to go and gain weight if you're thin. I just don't think your body size has anything to do with your value as a human being, and I won't accept it when others behave as if it does.

*This does NOT mean that there are no feminists who hate men; it means that hating men is not a requirement of feminism.

She Dances On The Sand Postcards

2008-03-12T21:37:00.003-04:00

My postcards have arrived! I have mailed them out to everyone who has so far donated or made a purchase, but I have lots more. I will send one to anyone who donates $2 or more (on the right), as long as you provide your mailing address in the paypal info.

They are really cute; I have two styles, and I'll send both if you like!

Cranberry Sauce for Kitties!

2008-03-11T21:45:00.000-04:00

I have been volunteering for a local cat rescue, Robin's Nest Rescued Cat Adoptions. I help staff adoption clinics and spay/neuter clinics, and I also foster cats. Every cat that is adopted from Robin's Nest is spayed or neutered, treated for fleas, de-wormed, and given a rabies vaccination (if they are over 3 pounds) and their initial distemper vaccinations.

All of this veterinary care takes money--money that is only partially covered by the very low adoption fee ($80.00). We rely on the kindness of others to help with the rest, including cats who need more than just basic care, cleaning supplies, and all kinds of things like that.

So, I'm pestering you, because we have a huge pile of donated Wild Thymes cranberry sauce to sell. It normally goes for $5.99 on the Wild Thymes website, but we are selling it $3/jar, or 2/$5.00. It is absolutely delicious, and I can provide local folks with a taste before they decide to buy. If you are not local, I have made purchasing easier via my Etsy shop:
http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=10200927

If you're just interested in making a donation without purchasing anything, you can find a donation link on the Robin's Nest website:
http://nest.petfinder.org

Also, if you visit the "Cats for adoption" link on the site, you can see my current foster kitties, Salvador, Ansel, and Leonardo! They are fabulous boys, and I love them to bits.

Fight homelessness, not homeless people

2008-03-11T10:28:00.003-04:00

But, no, homeless people are icky, and dirty:

So let's screw over a church that shelters them...

...and let's ask volunteers to do something EXTREMELY useful with their time: sitting on benches for three hour stretches of time to keep homeless people from using them!

I was wondering if April 1st had come early, but no, there are actually people out there who are this hateful and stupid. Instead of contributing toward constructive solutions, they seem to think that further marginalizing these folks will make the problem go away.

Too little time

2008-03-10T17:08:00.002-04:00

I grew up with an aunt who was only a couple of years older than I. We played together when we were young, but had different interests as teens. As we entered our twenties, I didn't spend a lot of time with her, but always admired her for having the emotional fortitude to work at the local humane society, a kill shelter that euthanized a large number of animals.

There was a day when I had kittens to vaccinate for distemper. The vet showed me how to do it, and gave me the pre-filled syringes. When it came to it, I had a hard time, so I boxed up the kittens and went to my aunt's house, where she did it for me. She told me that the vet had provided needles that were too large to easily and (for the kittens) comfortably give the shots, and that they were probably used to draw the shots, so were already dulled by at least two sticks. She quickly and skillfully injected them, and gave them some cuddles before sending me on my way.

The shelter valued her so much that, when their mascot, a sweet, adorable dog named Shannon, was retiring, she went to live with my aunt. Loving and working with animals has been the one main thing that we have in common, but I didn't spend nearly enough time talking to her about it.

And now, she has been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor.

I've been trying to make up for lost time by sending her letters. I know that this is a difficult time for her; she is having chemotherapy and radiation to extend her time and give her greater function for what is left. So I write often, telling her about my foster kittens, my own cats, funny, happy stories to hopefully provide a few moments of distraction. I also express my admiration for her work with animals, something I should have done long ago. I don't expect replies; I would rather she use her time to be with her husband, and do the things she really wants to do, and have my letters just be something good and fun that arrive once or twice a week. I hope she looks forward to them, at least.

Whom have you written to lately that really needs to hear what you have to say? Do it while times are good, and you can enjoy each other fully.

Reading comprehension

2008-03-07T06:16:00.001-05:00

Some of the more idiotic troll comments I've gotten have been along the lines of, "Good luck finding someone to be attracted to you!" and "Tell yourself it's okay to be fat, but you'll be alone your whole life unless you're thin!"

These comments just tell me that the people making them are not very bright. I've made no secret of the fact that I am quite happily married. I have not mentioned that we have sex, lots of it, with both parties thoroughly enjoying it. No, my being fat does not make it difficult for us to have sex. We do it like most other people, penis in vagina (not penis in a "fat fold" like fat hating idiots often claim). Sometimes he's on top. Sometimes I'm on top, and no, it doesn't suffocate him or hurt him; he often requests it, in fact. Yes, he does perform oral sex on me; he really enjoys doing it, and no, I am not unsanitary down there or anywhere else--I bathe just like thin people do. (Sorry you had to read this paragraph, mom)

I mean, really, people. Is that what this is about? Is it like homophobia, where people get all upset because their dirty little minds go right to imagining the BUTTSEX involved, and get mad at two men who are doing nothing but holding hands in public, just because the homophobes have overactive imaginations? You see a fat person, and you don't have enough of an understanding of the mechanics of sex to keep your little mind from running ridiculous scenarios of how they would be having sex? Or is it the fear that these people, whom you don't find attractive, are going to make you have sex with them? That a fat woman or a gay man won't be able to control themselves around your oh-so-thin-and-sexy body and rape you? There is an easy solution to this: Grow up and stop making everyone around you into sex objects, and stop acting like you are the center of the fucking universe. I swear, it is so fucking ridiculous to see people having a hissy fit when they aren't the object of desire of people they aren't actually interested in, yet getting equally offended when they are.

Oh, and, as for me being fat and lonely, I present to you Exhibit A:

Attraction isn't just about appearance

2008-03-07T02:31:00.000-05:00

When you tie your worth to your appearance, you are obligated to maintain that worth by ensuring that those of "lesser" appearance remain devalued. Those who could be allies and support become enemies.

When your self-worth depends on attracting men--and lots of them, what happens when you stop attracting them? Also, will you be able to remain faithful in a monogamous relationship if you constantly crave attention from multiple men?

Here's a (not so) secret: Fat acceptance proponents aren't seeking to force all men to find us attractive. Or any men. We ARE trying to keep those who do find us attractive (yes, folks, they do exist) from being shamed and ridiculed. Tell me, why DO you care so much what your buddy's girlfriend looks like anyway? Leave him alone, and let him be happy. Maybe you can't imagine being attracted to that person, but that doesn't matter. His preferences aren't your issue; your friends don't have to date people that you are attracted to. Hell, they're better off NOT doing so, for that matter.

It surprises me when haters go "Neener neener good luck having someone be interested in you, like I have got!" I'm married, you know. I was fat when we got married, and fat when we first met. I am very happy with him, and he is happy with me. I have no reason to attract "all men in the world" because I only care about one man being interested in me--and I've got him. He didn't have to be "forced" to love me, or clubbed over the head, or drugged, or anything; he was naturally attracted to me, and we happened to be compatible in other ways as well.

If anything, the fatophobes would seek to force him to NOT be attracted to me, because it upsets them to know that there's more to it than being thin.

Etsy update

2008-03-05T20:58:00.004-05:00

I just noticed that a huge number of my items had expired listings. That has been corrected, and I have added the two fully framed items to the shop as well.

If you looked already, you might find it worth your while to take another peek and see if something else strikes your fancy. :)

Maybe it's not the weight!

2008-03-05T20:54:00.000-05:00

From Rethinking Thin: The New Science of Weight Loss--and the Myths and Realities of Dieting, by Gina Kolata:

By then he was truly fat, weighting 202 pounds...he was only 5 feet 5 inches tall..."I have been compelled to go down stairs slowly backwards, to save the jar of increased weight upon the ankle and knee joints, and been obliged to puff and blow with every slight exertion, particularly that of going up stairs."

Okay, look:
I am fatter than that. I am shorter than that. I HAVE ARTHRITIS! And I do not have to "go down stairs slowly backwards to save the jar of increased weight" blah blah blah. If the guy quoted was having those issues, it wasn't his weight causing it. It's said that he changed his diet, and "began to feel better immediately". Well, he cut out starches and sugars. He probably had diabetes (this was in the 1860s, so no insulin or blood sugar testing), and once his diet change got that under control, the symptoms of joint pain and shortness of breath went away.

I love how people talk about fat people's joints getting so much damage from omg fat. Your joints are MORE at risk if you're engaging in a lot of athletic activity; doctors started seeing a huge increase in sports-related injuries, and I've seen some say that they are seeing 70-year-old joints in 30-year-old people because of our national obsession with vigorous exercise. (I am sorry that I don't have a link for that; I thought I did, but can't find it now). It's funny, too, because when I look up information about this, they talk about how "All of that running, jumping, and pounding can easily damage tendons, cartilage, or bone", then, invariably, add "but omg don't be fat too, because fat is bad" as almost an afterthought.

(But wait, I thought we were all supposed to exercise ourselves to death so we didn't get fat, because fat is bad? It looks like you're doomed either way, and, honestly, I'd rather take the less painful route to bad knees.)

I have a better idea than all of these dire warnings: How about, in each individual case, we determine the actual cause of the joint pain, and deal with it that way? And, by actual cause, I mean, the doctor doesn't look at a fat person and say, "Your joint pain is because you are disgustingly fat. Eat less and exercise more. Goodbye," without so much as an x-ray or even looking at the joints in question. I wonder if my aunt could have been spared knee replacements if the doctors had caught her rheumatoid arthritis before she entered Stage IV, and had the cartilage in her knees completely destroyed--not by her being too heavy, but by her immune system going haywire and eating up the cartilage. I am just thankful that they caught it when they did, before the RA caused her organs to fail, but still.

As for being out of breath? I had asthma when I was a skinny child and teen. Because it was unmanaged, I had to deal with asshole gym teachers screaming insults at me for not being able to run a mile without wheezing and coughing. Now that I'm fat, of course, people will tell me I'm "out of shape". No, dumbasses, my airways are inflamed, and I need medicine to open them up. Asthma affects people of all sizes. If someone makes a dietary change, and their breathing is improved, don't be so quick to assume it's fat-related. My asthma improved remarkably when I cut certain allergens out of my diet (and I haven't had a major emergency since I eliminated peanuts from my life).

It just annoys the hell out of me when people assume that TEH FAT is causing the problem, when it isn't the only factor involved.

All things in moderation

2008-03-05T14:44:00.002-05:00

...including comments here.

I have left up troll comments in my post called "The 'O' Word" to be an example of the disgusting, hateful words that are directed at people who dare to not hate themselves for being fat. I don't want such ugliness to mar my blog, but I think it's important for others to see it.

From this point forward, however, I am moderating comments and removing the spew. Sorry, trolls, but if you want to piss and moan about us, you'll have to make your own blog to do it. Nothing's stopping you.

I do want to say that, given the cruel, hateful nature of the things that were said, I don't believe that this shit has anything at all to do with concern for our health. So take your patronizing bullshit elsewhere; we're not falling for it.

Donations

2008-03-05T04:21:00.002-05:00

I would like to remind readers of the Paypal donation button in my sidebar. I'm bringing this up because I have acquired (at no cost to me) some gorgeous postcards that I'd love to send to anyone who donates at least $2 (and who includes their address in the paypal information).

Additionally, anyone who purchases an item from My Etsy Shop will have one of these postcards tucked into their order! I would actually prefer that you purchase an item than just donate, so that you get something for your money. If there is a particular subject you would like to see photographed and in my shop (no nudes of me, folks, sorry), please let me know; I love doing commissions! I also have the photo of me in my profile matted and ready to sell, so if someone's actually interested in it, I'll be happy to put it in the shop.

Those who donated in the past received a handwritten thank you note; the note will be written on the back of the postcard for future donations, while supplies last. I am really excited about the cards, and I am eager to share them with others!

For those who are unaware, I am currently not able to work a "regular" job. I do occasional reptile shows for classrooms and birthday parties, but I have not had enough appointments to make ends meet. My husband makes almost enough to pay our bills, but I have a difficult time getting enough to pay for things like medication.

Thank you for your support, those who have already donated; I appreciate the help so very much.

It's about health, you know

2008-03-04T01:25:00.000-05:00

I have been reading Rethinking Thin: The New Science of Weight Loss--and the Myths and Realities of Dieting, by Gina Kolata.

One of the things she mentions early in the book is, right around the turn of the 20th century, upper-class woman would corset themselves into 10-inch waists, then carefully cultivate an image of illness and frailty. The fashion of being invalids who were sickly and swooning all the time, pale and thin, was unattainable for working-class women, who needed functional bodies to survive in the real world.

A "functional body" is one that is not corseted to a diameter of 18". For a woman to have the strength and endurance to work and raise her family, she needs to eat and breathe well. A woman who has servants and wealth may have the luxury of voluntary debility, but for such a state to be a desirable trait that a man would seek in a potential spouse? He isn't interested in a healthy, happy partner; he wants a living decoration, a waiflike doll to control and use. Working class men did not have as much "luxury"--they needed strong, healthy spouses for their families to succeed, and therefore needed to accept that they would not have as much control over their wives.

The craze for thinness, especially in women, has its roots in keeping women subservient to men. If we are hungry, undernourished, and sickly, then we are easier to control. Fat is a feminist issue.

The hardest part

2008-03-02T10:49:00.005-05:00

The hardest part of fostering cats isn't giving them up to their new families. I thought that WAS pretty hard at first (and I kept Ptera and Anya because of it), but it got easier as time went on.

No, the hard part is when you have to let them go, and it isn't to an adopter.

Pretty Lady, our beautiful calico girl, went in for her spay surgery today, and instead of having surgery, she was euthanized due to feline leukemia.

We are very sad, but we are trying to look at the positive side: She was living on the street, with a deadly illness, in the winter. She would not have survived long, and she would have suffered immensely. We gave her a few days where she was warm, sheltered, well-fed (she gained weight while with us!), and, most importantly, loved. She had none of those things before coming into our care. She also was very dirty, and I could tell that she felt so much better after her bath. She was so grateful and loving toward us. Her tail curled in a unique way, and she would arch her back and walk up to us purring when we came in to say hello. She was a sweet, patient, loving kitty who just wanted someone to love her back, and I am glad we were able to give her that, if only for a short time.

The vet who does our spay/neuter clinic was Aakhu's vet ten years ago before we changed practices (not because of her, but because the other vets there weren't very good), and she is a very compassionate, kindly person. I am sure that Lady's last moments were painless, and that Dr. J was respectful of her. Dr. J was also very compassionate and kind to me on the phone, and I appreciate that.

I am also glad that, fortunately, we kept her separated from the other fosters, and the boys all tested negative. They were neutered this morning, and we will be picking them up, plus an empty carrier, this afternoon.

A telling quote from "Rethinking Thin"

2008-03-02T04:27:00.001-05:00

From Rethinking Thin: The New Science of Weight Loss--and the Myths and Realities of Dieting, by Gina Kolata:
"Baumann, of California Medical Weight Loss Associates, said that doctors there prescribed [phen-fen] for people who were at least 20 percent above their ideal weight. 'A lady who weighs 120 and should weigh 100 pounds is obese,' he said..."

I'm sorry, but NO. First of all, this "should weigh" bullshit is so subjective that it is practically meaningless. A woman who "should weigh" 100 pounds, even according to the b.s. Met life height weight tables, would have to be under 4'10". So, okay, it's a bad example--but, the fact that he uses that particular example tells me that this has absolutely jack and shit to do with health, and everything to do with making women conform to some insane, unattainable, unsustainable ideal. No adult woman of a normal height* is "obese" or even "fat" at 120 pounds, no matter how much self-deprecation individuals of that size heap upon themselves.

This "20%" rule quoted by the doctor is clearly used to justify making money off of people for weight loss treatment who did not need to be losing weight. Putting a 120-lb woman on phen-fen so that she doesn't eat as much makes absolutely NO sense. If someone is not naturally 100 lbs without having to diet, then they should not try to force themselves to be that weight.

I understand doctors freaking out about those of us who are 220 lbs, because they've been brainwashed into thinking that someone of this size is inherently unhealthy. It's based on incorrect information, of course, and we are working to change it, but I understand it. I DO NOT understand a doctor encouraging a slim woman to lose even more weight, though, except that the woman herself is dissatisfied with her size and asks for help. I think the appropriate thing in that situation, though, is to tell the patient that they do not need to engage in weight loss to the point that they are "underweight"--but how often do you think doctors do that?

It's also quite interesting to note that no one is ever satisfied with their size. If a 250-lb person loses 100 lbs, down to 150, they are not likely to be satisfied; they will move their goal to a lower number. The 120-pound woman wants to be 100 pounds, and at 100-pounds will then want to go below three digits. And so on. And, no matter what you do, it won't ever be enough for some of these fat-hating doctors. Sure, you made it down to 120, but you COULD be 100, so here, have some pills. Have some surgery.

My final observation: The example was a woman. I'm dismayed at how women are so often targeted for needing to be thinner, thinner, thinner, especially by male doctors. Call my cynical, but I really believe that Dr. Fathater's personal aesthetics are more important to him than women's health.

* By normal height, I mean above 4'10", as people under that size may qualify as Little People, depending on other medical factors.

Four foster kitties at once!

2008-03-02T03:41:00.004-05:00

We picked up three fosters this weekend, making our total fosters in house four, as we'd picked up a girl earlier in the week. We've had as many as six before, but all six of those were young kittens, while these are all adults. The new ones are all boys, and all from the warehouse situation where we got Isaac. The female is a stray that was trapped in our neighborhood by a kindly older woman; I happened to be the volunteer that was willing to take in an adult cat at the time, and the location (four blocks away) was simply a bonus, especially in the snowstorm we were having at that time!

Salvador, who is a tiny guy, very underweight; his growth seems stunted:

Leonardo, who is very regal, quiet, and sweet. Docile as can be:

Ansel, who's friendly, but fought like a demon when getting his claws trimmed. He forgives us, but is a little wary yet because of it:

Ansel again:

And the three of them (left to right - Leonardo, Ansel, Salvador):

Salvador is very goofy and friendly; he tries to run out the door at every opportunity, and will roll around ecstatically while being touched. He seems to have sexually matured, but he weighs a little over three pounds. His feet are also very oddly shaped. I am going to have the APF vet, Julie, tell me if she sees any developmental problems with him. She's also going to have to give me an age estimate on everybody, including Pretty Lady, the girl we picked up earlier this week:

Her white parts were BROWN; I had to give her a bath when we got her, and her rinse water was brown and gritty, poor baby. She was super docile for her bath, and for pretty much everything we had to do to her (Advantage, worming, vaccination). She loves people and is a HUGE flirt.

Foster kitty news!

2008-02-28T04:30:00.003-05:00

Our last foster, Isaac, was adopted on Thursday of last week. His new family is very nice, and I hope that everything works out for them. They had a few issues with him interacting badly with their other cats, but I think he just needs more time in isolation, with some smells transferred back and forth. I recommended this book by Nicholas Dodman, as he has some good methods for introducing cats who don't initially get along.

On Tuesday afternoon, SP from the rescue called me and asked me to pick up a cat that had been trapped as a stray. Ms. G., the elderly woman who trapped her, lives four blocks from my home, so I drove over right away and picked up a lovely calico whom Ms. G. had named Pretty Lady. Pretty Lady was out in the cold, and had been taking shelter on the woman's porch, where Ms. G. had put a blanket out for her. Having no cats of her own, this kindly lady had fed the kitty a can of tuna while waiting for a volunteer to come over. As I was leaving, Ms. G. told me that she might be interested in adopting Pretty Lady after she is vetted and spayed.

Pretty Lady was absolutely filthy; parts of her looked tan where they were actually originally white. I let her settle in for the night after giving her a nail trim, to which she only objected vocally. She tolerated the trim with grace, not even needing to be restrained. I was able to take each paw and gently clip the claws. Pretty Lady purred and nuzzled, enjoying the attention. She was deeply grateful for the food I gave her, and also seemed grateful for the shelter and warmth.

On Wednesday, I gave her a bath. She vocalized her displeasure, but was otherwise docile, just like when I trimmed her nails. She actually seemed more annoyed by the drying off (with a towel) than by the bath itself. It's amazing how having the water warm enough can make cats less upset about baths. The bathwater was seriously nasty when I was done, and she smelled a lot better.

I really miss giving Teya baths; before she passed away, Teya was not able to groom herself properly, so I gave her occasional baths. I made sure the water was very warm (cats have a higher body temperature, so if the water is not warm enough, it's as uncomfortable to them as taking a lukewarm bath is to us), and she actually seemed to feel good as the water warmed her limbs and body. After the bath, I would comb her thoroughly, toweling her off as I combed. Once dry, she was extremely happy and comforted by being clean again. She appreciated my grooming, and, between that and the brushing I frequently gave her, we bonded very closely. She was chilly to me when I first moved in, being a one-person cat, and that person being Brian, so it was absolutely gratifying to have her finally warm up to me.

So, onward to the photos of Pretty Lady. In the first one, you can see how filthy she is:

And post-bath:

Her delightful personality will make her very adoptable, I think, and I am looking forward to her finding a good home!

300th post! Hooray!

2008-02-28T03:57:00.005-05:00

Dear friends,
I have not yet worked on the blogroll expansion. If you would like to be added to the list of blogs in my sidebar, please leave me a comment with a link here.

To celebrate my 300th post, I want to share with you the snow sculpture I made yesterday while I kept my snow-shoveling housemate company.

My husband appreciated the surprise when he got home that evening. Don't worry; it's in the backyard, and the neighbors are all young non-childed folks like us :)

Guest Post from Down Under: Size doesn't matter

2008-02-28T03:34:00.003-05:00

From Jes, in Melbourne, a good friend of mine on livejournal (by the way, Jes, if you want me to publish your username, I will be happy to edit this to do so; I didn't want to link to you and get you bombarded with trolls):

You know what I'm really over? People thinking they're something special because of what they look like.

No, seriously. It's stupid.

I mean, fine, yay, have body confidence, look after yourself, take a bit of pride in your appearance if it makes you feel good, keep up with the personal hygiene thing because that's a good idea-- but beyond that-- so what? Once you've slapped on some makeup and gotten some surgery, there's going to be a truth remaining-- whatever you are on the inside is still you. Same stuff that's going to be there as if you're several dress sizes larger or not wearing any makeup.

I'm sick of the "weight debate." I'm sick of the hysteria crisis about ZOMG Childhood obeeesity!OHNOEZ! I'm sick of being spammed for weight loss drugs whenever I open my email. I'm sick to fucking death of people who don't fall into the conventional standards of attractive not buying into the bullshit hate-your-body machine and then being paid out for it. I'm sick of watching people be bullied and shamed about food on The Biggest Loser, and then seeing the whole thing hailed as "healthy" and "inspirational."

I'm also sick of the misguided notion that being a certain size frees you from ridicule from the general public and internet trolls. I'm sick of seeing activists assume that unless you're over a certain size, you've never experienced crap about what size you are. I'm sick of the idea that only some people have been conditioned to hate their bodies. I'm sick of someone posting a rage about fat hatred and then some skinny person nosing in going, "Don't hate on skinny people," when it wasn't anything to DO with skinny people, but to do with discrimination and hatred. Thinking that larger people deserve to be treated like human beings, and raging about when they're not does not equal hating on skinny people.

And you know what else I'm sick of? Smugness about body size. Believe it or not, your body size does not define who you are. It says nothing about how much intelligence you have, what your feel passionately about, who you love, how you treat people, what you do for a living or how your family is. It doesn't define your worth as a human being. It isn't something to be proud of, just like being tall or white or a blonde isn't something to be proud of.

I mean, every time I hear someone smugly point out that they're some conventionally-revered body size, I think, "Congratulations! You fall into the socially-acceptable guidelines either because you conformed and dieted, or because you were blessed with genetics which no one had any control over! GO YOU!" I mean, really. Boasting about conforming doesn't make you anything special, and boasting about your luck in the genetic lottery is just stupid. It's like the idiotic little snobby fuckers who I went to school with who used to brag about their parents' cars, like those cars were their achievements.

So yeah, I see "Look at me, I'm a size two!" following a bunch of insults levelled at larger people a completely petty comment. Why show off about your size like it matters? Evidently, if you're leaving rude comments on someone's blog because they dare question the mindset of a society which rewards you for being a size two to the detriment of others, you've already proven yourself to have a pretty pathetic personality. And no diet, or genetic luck, is going to get rid of that.

And no, it's not about body pride. It's one thing to say, "I'm a size two and I like my body and I feel good," it's another thing to use it like it's some sort of insult or leveller after paying out larger people. It doesn't strike me as the behaviour of someone who feels good about themselves to do that shit, either... generally people with confidence don't go out of their way to find people to bully.

I think it's, that, for a lot of people, "size two" is all they have. They can be ugly or stupid or dislike themselves a lot, but if they're a size two, that's their inch, their piece of power in a world that they don't hold many cards in. Why shouldn't it be-- look how revered the size two body is.

And the thing is, if fat people start liking their bodies and feeling okay about themselves and not caving into the diet/hate-yourself industries, what happens? Suddenly size doesn't matter anymore. Suddenly your being a size two doesn't count for shit. It's just another body size, nothing special, you're not a unique and beautiful snowflake and all the rest of it.

And no, this isn't an attack on people who are size twos. (What is that, anyway? ...That's a six in Australian sizes, right? I'm currently in size eight Aussie clothing. And if I was a size two, I'd still feel the same way, btw.) It's an attack on people who think that "I'm a size two!" is a wonderful way to put someone else in their place, and that it makes them more worthwhile than someone who isn't a size two. It's an attack on "body pride" that only comes with insulting other people about the size of their bodies, as though being thin rocks because there are people bigger than you and you get to pick on them.

It's body size. Unless you're living in a society which tells you yours is wrong, wrong wrong, or you're a professional athlete or a bodybuilder or something, what is there to be proud of? (I can totally understand people who have the body pride thing in spite of being ostracised for what they look like, in the same way I can understand, say, gay pride. It's having pride in who you are in a world that doesn't want you to. I think that's cool.) But-- and this isn't an attack on thin people-- we need Thin Pride just like we need White History Month and The Penis Monologues and the Miss Able-Bodied Pageant.

Jes is responding to some comments I received from a troll, comments that I will leave up so that people can see just how cruel and disgusting our detractors can be. The troll had mentioned being a size two, as if that actually makes him/her/it superior. I'm sorry to say that a size two friend was upset when Jes mentioned that being a size two wasn't something to be proud of. Her intention was not to say that thin people are bad, but that your size doesn't mean that you are better than someone else, just like being white, able-bodied, or male shouldn't be a point of pride. It's especially offensive when a person is proud of the trait that puts them in the privileged class. To that person, I apologize that you misunderstood her intention, and I want you to know that I do not think ill of thin people--and I will be covering that subject in a future post.

Open Letter To Those New To The World of Chronic Pain

2008-02-27T22:19:00.000-05:00

Dear New Chronic Pain Sufferers,
Welcome to the world of chronic pain, a dark place where you may or may not get a definitive diagnosis or find treatment that helps.

I want you to know, first of all, that you are not alone. There are lots of us out there who have gone before you into this realm, who have been in it for years, and who have done our best to pave the way to make it easier for you. As you may be discovering, we have not made as much headway as we'd like. This is a difficult road, one where we have only just begun to be taken seriously, to have research done, and to have some therapies that work for some of us.

We still have a lot of lousy doctors out there who are either not well-educated, or not compassionate. Most of us have been through several doctors, usually around 7 or 8, before finding one that is willing and able to help us. You may have to do the same thing, and while that is a huge pain in the butt, it is not worth your time to continue seeing someone who treats you poorly, doesn't take you seriously, or doesn't know what the hell s/he is doing. If your doctor is unable to help, and unwilling to learn more about your condition, then find a new one. If that one fails you, move on to the next one. Remember, you are not there to be a good, passive little patient. You have to advocate for yourself, and if the doctor expects you to just suck it up and do what s/he says? S/he does not deserve your time or money.

There's also an immense amount of quackery out there. Look out for doctors who promote snake oil or weird therapies. Especially look out for claims of a "cure"--that's the clearest indicator of bullshit. Guaifenesin, for example, works no better than placebo, yet there's a doctor out there making tons of money off of fibromyalgia patients with his quacky book that claims to cure the condition with guaifenesin. Look out for vitamin pushers; a multivitamin isn't a bad thing to take, but don't throw your money away on one that claims to be designed for your condition. Avoid magnetic products; they are quackery as well. Your best bet is to find a good online forum and communicate with other sufferers. Most veterans can tell you what works and what doesn't, which is very helpful in a realm where hucksters prey upon our desperation to make the pain stop.

Also know that everyone has a different set of symptoms, and different therapies work for some, but not others. It's important to have a lot of tests done, including Vitamin D levels, thyroid panel (full panel, not just TSH), Lupus and Rheumatoid Arthritis screening, and things like that. Rule out everything you can, and treat what you test positive for. Some people find that their pain is caused by celiac disease, and is helped by going gluten free. We all have to go through periods of trial and error to see what works and what doesn't. For example, many people get relief from Ultram, but it does absolutely nothing for me. I get relief from opiate pain medication, but that doesn't work for everyone. It takes a lot of time and effort to find the right diagnoses and therapies. You also will have to advocate for yourself a LOT, asking the doctor to let you try this or that, and if they refuse to listen, time to fire them and find someone who wants to help you.

Your family and friends are probably going to treat you badly over this. They may accuse you of being lazy, tell you that you just need to lose weight (chronic pain afflicts people of all body types), to suck it up, or that you're imagining it. They'll offer tons of unsolicited advice, and probably even get mad at you for not paying $100/month for a random herb that they read about in Reader's Digest. You do not deserve to be treated this way, and you do NOT have to apologize for your pain. You might just have to let go of some people, if they cannot get over your life change. You don't have to yell at them, but feel free to tell them that you are dealing with your condition, and it is between you and your doctor what therapies you try. If they can't handle that, then do your best to ignore them when they are behaving badly.

Finally, don't give up. Your pain is real. There is research showing the biochemical differences between us and normal people, and more going on even now. Therapies are being developed and improved every day. Keep a journal, either online or paper, and make it private. Write about your pain, your experiences, and what works for you. The information may help you or someone else someday. Network online with other people and share your experiences in communities; you will learn valuable stuff this way. Find a source of comfort, be it a spouse, friend, support group, cat, or dog; you need someone to hug you and be hugged by you. Finally, remember that you are not a bad person, and you don't deserve this. It's just a bad thing that happened to you, and, while it seriously sucks, there are more of us out here to help you find your way.

Welcome to chronic pain.

Love,
Rio

The O word

2008-02-27T01:16:00.000-05:00

I hate the O word.

"Obesity". Yuck.

I had an instinctive reaction to it of nausea and anger. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, though, until I was reading Gina Kolata's book, "Rethinking Thin." I had to view the O word a couple hundred times, and it was making me more and more annoyed, so I examined the context in which it was used, especially when she was quoting anti-obesity proponents.

I realized that it's because it takes humans right out of the equation. Obesity is a "problem", an "epidemic". But, you see, chunks of fat aren't floating around out there on their own, pouncing on innocent thin people and eating them. It's not a parasite or microbe that is attacking people, either. It's a state of being.

You can have influenza without people, in a test tube. You can have arsenic and mercury in a test tube as well, with no people. "Obesity", however, does not exist separately from human beings. It is nothing more than a person having more fat tissue than some arbitrary cutoff point. You never see the panic-mongers say, "obese people" or "obese person", however. Yet, when they talk about fighting obesity, or obesity being a problem, they conveniently dehumanize the people that they're referring to.

I am a person, not an epidemic. Not a problem. Not a crisis. A person.

Nearly 100 years of fat panic!

2008-02-26T08:34:00.003-05:00

From Rethinking Thin: The New Science of Weight Loss--and the Myths and Realities of Dieting, by Gina Kolata:

In her columns in the 1920s, Peters warned that three out of four Americans were seriously overweight.

Now, wait a second. If 75% of Americans were overweight in the 1920s, and the CDC is saying that 64% of Americans are overweight or obese now (and they are), then we're actually getting thinner, not fatter.

Or, maybe, like most fearmongering, this particular panic has been going on for decades, and, like many "the end of the world is nigh" cults tend to prove in the long term, time has demonstrated that fatphobia is baseless.

Indeed, throughout Kolata's book, she demonstrates how one diet craze after another proves to be at least worthless, and, sometimes, even harmful, but sanctimonious finger-wagging by elitist thin people keeps the sturdy-bodied masses running in circles trying to be socially acceptable.

How about we don't worry about what percent of the population weighs more than is socially acceptable--and instead, treat people as individuals instead of statistics? After all, the excessively adored BMI calculation is known to be flawed as a tool for determining who is fat. It does not distinguish between a fat person and a heavily muscled one, making it a fairly useless tool for its intended purposes of data mining and discriminating against fat people.

It makes a lot more sense to me for a person's health to be managed based on their individual needs; I can't see any real benefit for me to go to my doctor and have him tell me I've got to start dieting because 64% of Americans are considered overweight. My being fat isn't going to affect someone else, no matter what bullshit studies come out saying it's omgcontagious. My being fat isn't going to bring thin people over to bump up that 64% number. This is not an "epidemic", and it is not a NEW situation, and we need to stop acting like the sky is falling.

Kids & WLS, Part Three: Informed Consent

2008-02-26T03:53:00.001-05:00

One of the biggest problems I have with WLS for children is that they cannot give informed consent. Not only can a minor not give consent, legally (their parents have to do it for them), but I don't believe that young people have the life experience and knowledge base to make that kind of decision.

There are a number of things that minors are not permitted to do, even with a parent's permission. They cannot get tattoos, drink alcohol, see certain movies, and, in some cases, have sex (especially with a partner who is not a minor). There are very good reasons for age limits on these things. In the case of tattoos, and some kinds of piercings, it is a way to protect that young person from doing something to their bodies that cannot be undone, and which may have negative consequences in the future.

Does that sound familiar? Now, to be fair, a tattoo is hardly comparable to WLS. After all, a tattoo is highly unlikely to leave you with diseases associated with malnutrition or kill you. Tattoos can be removed, albeit expensively, even years later. And, a tattoo does not require you to adhere to a strict daily dietary regimen that may be difficult for a young person to stick to. So, even if your mom gives you permission to have Tweety Bird tattooed on your ankle, it's only logical that you should not be legally permitted to do so until you are an adult, while she can happily sign off on getting your stomach amputated. Right?

Other types of legal restrictions exist to protect children from themselves, or from negatively impacting others around them. Young people need time to develop their bodies and minds. A 13-year-old who gets pregnant is more at risk than an 18-year-old, whose body is more prepared for pregnancy and childbirth. Young people need their decisions tempered with guidance, with veto power by a mature person, so that they are not punished for life by consequences of immature decisions (such as the aforementioned barely-teen mother). The same 13-year-old is also more at risk for getting an STD from a sexual partner, because she is not yet experienced or educated enough to take precautions. Why is it that these types of things are widely recognized as not age-appropriate for young people, but it's regarded as a-ok to have children undergo high-risk surgery to "solve" a problem that is not an emergency? If your daughter came home and said, "All the other girls are getting pregnant, and I want a baby of my own," you would do everything to dissuade her, and tell her that bowing to peer pressure to do dangerous things is a bad thing in the long term. Actually, you'd say, "If they were all jumping off a bridge, would you do it too?"

"Informed" is a key word in informed consent, as well. Not even adult patients get a proper education about the risks. WLS proponents are so gung ho to make a buck that they don't want to scare off their gravy train by telling them how it is. And while they can explain it to the parents, it isn't fair to foist the procedure on people who are too young to have the education and experience to put the information into context and understand the ramifications of WLS. A young person who is dealing with the social stresses of being fat will also be very eager to do anything to change that situation--even claiming that they are ready to make the rather intense lifestyle changes necessary to survive, but these same kids told mom and dad that they really truly would feed the hamster/dog/parakeet and clean its cage--and we all know how that turns out.

Simply put, it is not right or fair to have children undergo WLS when they are not even able to properly consent to having a tattoo because it is assumed that they might regret it later. I guarantee that if the tattoo and piercing industries started lobbying to eliminate age requirements, people would be in an uproar. WLS can have much scarier consequences, and the industry behind it is pushing hard and fast to get their hands on kids' bodies. If you are a parent, you SHOULD be in an uproar over that.

Kids & WLS, Part Two: Psychological considerations

2008-02-25T19:11:00.001-05:00

Do kids really want bariatric surgery? A friend asked me this, and I was able to point to Meowser's comment on a previous blog post:

*I* probably would have wanted the surgery from the time I was 12 or 13 or 14 -- it will get me to stop eating so much! I'll be skinny! I'll be pretty! I'll have a boyfriend! A BOYFRIEND WHO LOVES ME!!! Where do I sign up? And I wasn't even "obese" then, just chubbier than what was considered "pretty," and I wanted "love" SO BAD, and I was utterly convinced that it was my fat ass standing in the way (noooo, it had nothing to do with the fact that no boy I had ever met then was capable of loving me the way I dreamed of, fat or thin).

Some of them DO want it, and who can blame them? Fat kids are ostracized by just about everyone around them--peers, families, teachers, even other fat kids (who'd rather be seen as trying really hard not to be a fat kid than teaming up with other fat kids for solidarity). Every waking moment is filled with reminders that they are less than human because they are fat. They are bombarded with media telling them that they are GOING to die ANY MINUTE NOW unless they become thin. With the cruelty they face every day, and the hysterical messages they don't have the experience to filter out, who can blame them for wanting a procedure that promises to give them the one quality that keeps them from participating normally in society, when that procedure's slick marketers hype the positives and downplay the very real and dangerous risks?

Before, I discussed the physical health concerns unique to growing bodies; now I am going to discuss the possible psychological problems that would be especially influential on youthful minds.

For a young person, WLS prevents the development of a healthy and normal relationship with food and eating. If a child's eating patterns are disordered in the first place, such as binge eating disorder, then inducing the other end of the spectrum in disordered eating does not really address the core problem; it simply trades one form of disordered eating for another. To survive after WLS, the patient's life MUST center around food--planning meals at certain times, figuring out what foods don't make the patient ill, and making sure to get enough nourishment to maintain basic function. This is not a responsibility a child should be dealing with, especially when mistakes can be harmful or deadly. Disordered eating patterns should not be dealt with by physically changing the body to keep a child from binge eating; such problems should be dealt with by mental health professionals with experience in helping young people overcome eating disorders.

The pervasive idea that worth is tied to physical attractiveness is reinforced by WLS. The "Fantasy of Being Thin", in which the fat person imagines becoming thin will make them more valued by society, and will result in having friends, boy/girlfriends, and stopping bullies from torturing them. What happens when being thin does not change their social stigmas, though? What happens when a young person comes to believe that they only need to change the way they look, and they don't mature emotionally or mentally because they are tied up in their quest for external beauty? Furthermore, what happens when, after they lose the weight, and have their dreams come true, they regain it, bringing back the "old self" they never learned to accept? It is completely unfair to ask young people to undergo the risks of WLS just to receive social acceptance; it would be far more fair to end tolerance toward bullies and shaming.

Kids are so frightened of being fat that they would rather lose a limb (there's a study...I'll find it and link to it) or die than be fat. Rather than caving in to this phobia by carting them off to the surgeon to have their guts rearranged, it seems more reasonable to have a phobia treated as a mental health issue. Instead, fatphobia is encouraged and legitimized by the rabid "health" officials who are selling a disease and procedure--the same people who give us ridiculous "good food/bad food" video games to install in school computers, and show us headless fat bodies on television, along with video footage of fast food on trays.

WLS is an expensive, and, in the long run, ineffective way to protect children from the growing fear of being fat. Fat happens. WLS patients regain the weight. People have genetic predispositions, and many medical conditions and medications can cause weight gain. Rather than responding to the potential of becoming fat with terror and shame, children would be better off if they were taught coping skills, tolerance, and self-worth based on things not related to physical appearance.

Finally, I want to say this loud and clear: WLS for kids is child abuse.

For already abusive or controlling parents, WLS can give an even greater degree of control. Perhaps it is too horrible for most people to even consider, but knowing what I do, I can envision abusive parents withholding food from their de-stomached children, making them eat food that causes them to vomit, and forcing them to eat more than they are safely able to eat. Of course, that is the extreme example, but there are less direct forms of abuse that I can imagine arising from approving WLS for kids. For example, what if the parents want it done, but the child says no? Who wins? It can be used as a threat to punish kids for not losing weight, or for not getting good grades, or, well, use your imagination. In just as bad a scenario, a child could be opposed to the idea, but too fearful of the parents to say no. Also, if the kid DOES want WLS, the promise of bariatric surgery (and thin fantasy fulfillment) can be used to torment and manipulate, even when the parent has no intention of allowing it to happen.

WLS is a last resort for people who have no other options left, and who truly feel they are unable to otherwise have any quality of life. As long as any underlying health problems are being concurrently treated, and the person is able to make the decision with all of the facts, it really is a matter of personal choice. What we're seeing, however, is WLS foisted onto young people as a solution to their social problems and psychological issues--young people who can't even consent to a tattoo, yet are expected to undergo a major irreversible rerouting of their internal organs. I do not believe that this is a wise thing to do.

Kids and WLS, Part One: Introduction, and Physical health concerns

2008-02-22T00:38:00.002-05:00

There is a growing movement on the part of the bariatric surgery industry to get approval for performing weight loss surgery on children in the US--and to get insurance companies to pay for it. Currently, if a minor wants WLS, they go to Mexico and pay thousands of dollars out of pocket for the procedure. I am going to state unequivocally that I believe that performing bariatric surgery for the purpose of weight loss on children is physically and psychologically harmful, and its approval in the US could lead to disturbing social implications. Because this topic is so involved, and so important, I am going to break it up into separate articles dealing with the various factors.

Physical health is the most tangible reason to oppose WLS for kids. Disturbingly, while it is potentially very physically harmful, WLS is frequently regarded as necessary for a fat person's health. Fat people are told that they will die unless they get bariatric surgery. Parents are told that their fat children will die before they grow up unless they receive bariatric surgery. Not only is this just plain bullshit, it's deadly bullshit.

First, there's the possibility of death and complications arising from the surgery itself. I am not going to rehash everything that Sandy wrote, but I want to say this: Considering that nearly five out of every one hundred people who get bariatric surgery die within a year afterwards--five people that would have been alive a year later (barring accidents and other random factors) had they not been convinced that it was better to be dead than to be fat. Maybe an adult can make the decision to take that risk for his or her own life, but allowing a child to take that risk is abominable.

Let me put this very, very simply: Children are not going to die "of fat" before they reach the age of consent.

"But, Rio, what about the 300-lb eight year olds we heard about on the news?"
What about them? For a kid that age to be that size, there has to be an underlying factor that caused them to be that size. Bariatric surgery is NOT going to solve that problem, and will likely just complicate their health problems further. Why are doctors so eager to carve children up and wreck their digestive tracts instead of, oh, I don't know, testing them for celiac disease, hormone problems, kidney disease (which can cause fluid retention--no amount of bariatric surgery will stop you from retaining water), or any number of issues that can cause abnormal weight gain? And if the child is found to be healthy, then why are we chopping out healthy stomachs because the children aren't the "right" body size?

So, let's set aside the problem of WLS itself being inherently dangerous, and the reluctance of doctors to see past fat tissue and find real medical conditions, and think about growing children.

Kids grow. At least, they should--and if they aren't growing, most people would regard that as a serious problem. Children who has been malnourished are often stunted and have developmental problems. Girls who don't get enough to eat often don't have periods, because their bodies are trying to conserve energy for survival purposes, saving their lives during a famine so they can reproduce when there is plenty of food. Also, if adult WLS recipients have a high rate of osteoporosis (and they do), then what do you think happens to children whose bones are still growing? Do we need to induce beriberi, chronic vomiting, peripheral neuropathy, and malnutrition, all possible consequences of WLS, in children?

Next, I want to tell you that you are a fathead. No, really: Your brain contains a great deal of fatty tissue--about three pounds of it, in fact. The neurons in your brain have protective sheaths made of fatty tissue, and that's just a part of the fat content up there. Research is indicating that deficits of certain fatty acids in the brain (DHA, for example) can lead to mental imbalance, brain diseases, and impared cognitive ability (that means lower IQ, y'all). Babies who are breast-fed get more fatty acids in their diet, and studies indicate that they tend to have higher IQs and better problem-solving ability.

Your brain, all by itself, has the capacity to burn up to 2000 calories per day. (Edited to add: That is a high estimate, please read comments) Imagine, then, a young person who has undergone WLS: They are not only getting enough food to fuel the continuing growth of their brains, they aren't even getting enough for proper functioning of their brains. How do we expect them to learn and grow on the miniscule amount of calories a WLS recipient can ingest? I suppose, however, given the current climate of "Intelligence isn't important; only people with perfect bodies have any value", having underdeveloped and undernourished brains isn't considered to be a negative thing.

Long story short, the physical risks of performing WLS on people who are still growing and learning are much too high to warrant the relatively superficial benefits. Kids aren't going to die from being fat if they don't get WLS, and any doctor who says otherwise is looking to make a buck off of the parents. Kids do have a serious increase in their risk of dying young if they get WLS, though, and that should be enough to convince parents to say NO to WLS for their kids. It isn't, though, and that's why I will continue on with this series. Next up:

Psychological health concerns.

Rape can happen to anyone, and it isn't the victim's fault

2008-02-19T21:52:00.004-05:00

A powerful guest post from livejournal friend aebhel, on physical appearance and rape:

Seriously, if I hear the phrase "too ugly to get raped" one more time, I am going to flip the fuck out.

For the all the ignorant misogynist morons out there,

1. Ugly women get raped. Pretty women get raped. Toddlers and grandmothers, women in wheelchairs, women with mental handicaps, bitchy women, smart women, stupid women, drunks, sluts, and nuns--they all get raped. Rapists do not go after women because they were so overwhelmingly turned on that they just couldn't help themselves. They go after women because they hate women and want to humiliate them, and raping a woman is a pretty good way of telling her that she's worthless as a human being.

2. Every single rapist is capable of stopping. Whether it's the stranger who jumps out of the bushes or (more likely) the guy who's had a few too many getting his date alone, they're all capable of stopping. If a policeman or the girl's parents wandered onto the scene, you can bet your ass he'd be able to stop. The fact that he doesn't stop when he's told to means that he doesn't want to, not that he can't.

3. Pretty women don't deserve to get raped because they 'must know they turn guys on'. Ugly women don't want to get raped because 'there's no other way they're going to get laid'. Having a rape fantasy does not mean that a person wants to actually be raped, any more than being into BDSM means that a person actually wants to be tortured.

4. You cannot and should not try to define a woman's worth on the basis of whether or not complete strangers are interested in jerking off to her pictures.

5. And finally, even handsome men can be rapists. They don't rape women because they can't get laid in other ways (many of them have wives or girlfriends), they do it because they're sick, fucked up individuals.

I can't believe any of that actually needed to be said, but the evidence all suggests that it did.

Meow! Fabulous Foster News!

2008-02-19T12:36:00.003-05:00

Our foster kittens Chloe and Clarence were adopted on Saturday by a wonderful family! The two siblings were much happier together than they were apart, so I am so glad that they were adopted together. Clarence, who was painfully shy, actually came out of his shell more by watching more-confident Chloe interact with us. We brought them to the adoption clinic at noon on Saturday, and when we were on our way out (after shopping for some items), we noticed some folks cuddling the two of them. Being nosy about my little darlings' future, Brian and I went over to talk about the sweet babies.

The folks were dealing with a terminally ill cat, and they weren't sure if it was right to bring home kittens yet. We related our experience with Teya in December. We were fostering Ollie, Kukla, and Fran at that time, and Ollie and Fran actually curled up with and gave comfort to Teya when she was ill and in pain. They knew she was dying before we did. She was normally a bit short with kittens, but they made her feel better with their love and purrs. The family was glad to know that it wasn't disrespectful to adopt the little ones at that time, and Clarence, who never liked being held, was cuddled right up in the woman's arms like he never had a problem with it. Meant to be.

So now we have Isaac, an adult male tabby who was one of eleven cats living in a warehouse. An elderly gentleman was feeding and looking after the little colony, but he recently passed away. The property owners enlisted the rescue in helping to get the cats vetted and rehomed, and I was one of the few foster parents willing to take in adult cats. Isaac is an intact male, so the room is pretty musky (and he is good about the litter box), so I can't wait for his neuter appointment, which is tomorrow.

Isaac's petfinder page is here.