It's not what you are eating, it's what's eating you…

Archive for the ‘Target Corp’ Category

IF a picture is worth a thousand words…

Then lucky for you, my dear reader…….

This blog should then be 2,000 words less than what I’m kinda known for.

Anyhoo, my boyfriend and I were at Target yesterday and when walking near the Halloween section, I saw the most awesome thing ever, that can kind of convey of how I feel most of the time, without like using all these words…..

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Anyone who knows me really well, knows I HATE Halloween (you’ll havta read my blog on the “candy bandit” for more deets on that).

However I often use other people’s responses to me whether it be just normal folks or medical and mental health providers, about the look when I tell them the more unusual aspects of my life,  as “Imagine you were looking at a unicorn on CRACK!!!”..

HOWEVER, for someone who’s had some really “unusual” aspects in their life and HATES Halloween, I usually like having both devil horns and a halo, as an accessory at times.

I also find that I get less pestered in this big diverse city of mine, when I’m wearing devil horns on any day other than Halloween, I don’t get asked for money, smokes, drugs and/or  sex.

It’s also a good representation of what people get with me.

Treat me respectfully and I’ll do so in kind, but if you treat you me like crap, then I can sometimes respond (verbally) like a demon from hell, as exhibited in pic below.

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I actually did buy the “devil horns” that I’m featured wearing above, yesterday. And way to go, Target, as they were cool and fairly inexpensive, given the fact that “My Target” is their flagship store, right next to global corporate headquarters, and in addition to their costs being higher not related to just operating costs, because they lack competition.

EVEN after a 10 million dollar renovation, which included  a major grocery expansion, they still manage to run out of the 3 out of 6 things, I regularly wanna buy, but in the meantime I have about EIGHTY options for organic milk (ain’t an organic or milk peep) that drives me nuts.

But I digress…. Point I’m trying to make, is while I’m unusual, as well as my circumstances, I’m not the most unusual person on the planet.

I don’t know why it’s so hard to either treat people with kindness or apathy, which is HOW I choose to operate, unless I’m really being put on the defense (as exhibited in many blogs on here), which is exhausting.

Especially for someone who avoids social media and people in general but cares about human beings well being, with good intentions.

Anyways, wish me luck this Halloween season. While I was grateful to have a photo option to finally explain how I feel that I’m perceived, Halloween in general, especially in Minneapolis, is widely celebrated for many weekends leading up to it.

Fun Fact: The unicorn  costumed peeps will equally scare the HELL out of me, like the Zombies costumed peeps, will!!!!

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“State of Misgrace”……

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(pic of me taken at Downtown Minneapolis Target) 7-1-2017.

Here’s what Google and search engines terms on WP tell me what you wanna know about me:

IF you’re a fat person hater (more about that, in THIS blog), Yeah, I am fat as fuck, over 15 1/2 years after gastric bypass surgery AND my sentence syntax still sucks, as well as YOUR search engine skills (and YOUR psyche) really SUCK, as I’m not hiding on social media(um ever hear of Facebook where my profile and pics is public and there’s like 2 people with my name out of 2 billion and only one “unstapledlisa on the planet, you dumb hateful fuckers) , this is far from the first/current full body pic, that you’ve managed not to found out about me, or anything else “hateable” about me.

IF you’re a weight loss/weight loss surgery peep who hates on people in the community (many of you don’t, that’s why I still co-exist in the wls communities :)), I ALREADY know you won’t EVER be like me, with complications and more importantly, that you won’t ever gain ANY of your weight back, like me AND at 2 1/2 years status post of weight loss surgery of your choice( the average length of time post surgery of my community of wls haters) , you ALREADY know everything, so congrats on both your XXX lbs gone FOREVER and being a bariatric surgical PRODIGY!!!

And fucking FINALLY, if you’re a Fat Acceptance advocate, I still defend my right to lose weight and anyone’s elses and find thin bashing STILL just as repugnant as fat bashing and/or not accepting and being respectful of people’s right to do with their OWN bodies, their business, so yeah, I’m epically failing as a FA, too.

NOW that we got the fun of BODY POLITICS outta the way, wanna talk about just good ole fashion “normal” (heh!) politics????)

***Trigger Warning/s: Even though this blog is more of an update/personal nature blog than activism, because I talk about serious subjects, even when I’m venting/ranting, which if a picture explanation, is just THAT wordy and ranty, I have a feeling that this will be much more of a “fun” blog to write, than it will be to read.

It’s too bad  I can’t rent my blog/me out, as a sedative.

HOWEVER, even when “venting” , I talk about serious subjects and sometimes when NOT in “activist” mode, make a little fun of them (my own issues). IF you’re easily triggered by serious topics and/or are a danger of hurting yourself or others, PLEASE seek professional help in acute care facility for evaluation and treatment. Also, if you’re triggered by profanity, please don’t read. Thanks!!!!***

Okay, with above business being taken care, I’m kinda pissed that I couldn’t title this blog “Fuck You 2017 and Fuck You, 47th year”.  Like I did with my birthday blog from last December. Well, I mean I could, it’s still a free country (no,not really) and there is still freedom of speech (no, not really, EITHER).

It’s more like there’s consequences (depending on who you are and I think because of KARMA (which I’m still NOT sure I believe in) or not, depending on who you are, or who you aren’t.

Or a scary amount of disproportionate consequences (or not) from your actions or lack of actions, regardless of how well meaning, misguided, to the downright evilness of intentions, depending on the person.

That’s the FUCKING problem, I’m dealing with, nowadays. I know what my problems are, genuine and irrational. I know how lucky I am, in a lot of ways. I’m still ALIVE, everyone I love the most is still ALIVE and my life is NOT the LIVING HELL that it was in 2006 to 2011.

But as the oldest and ongoing winner of the Ms. “has a fucking frightening lack of responsibilities in the” Universe pageant, my life ain’t the fucking bowl of cherries, it should be.

Or it’s one that I keep choking on the pits, so to speak.

When I think of my life, exactly 14 years ago, I was a full time employed single Mom of 2, with a great new baby girl and an awesome almost 11 year old son, who just returned back to work, after a 3+ month maternity leave (DAMN, I USED to be really good with money, among a zillion other things, then) my life wasn’t anything resembling this fucking hard, as it is now.

While I count my blessings for what great people my children have turned out to be and how sad I am, that I had so little to do with that (if you’re a new reader, that’s covered in many previous blogs).

I’m just really sad that this just seems to be such a fucked up scary world for them to exist in. And I can’t do much to protect them from that, except warn them of potential hazards, not going overboard, as I really don’t want to sully any kind of more positive outlook on life, they may have, compared to my outlook, but at the same time, I don’t want life to give them a big ole punch (ok, many fucking punches) in the gut, that they will hopefully survive (as well as THRIVE)  better, than their mother seemed capable of.

I just don’t want that to be my fucking legacy to them, my legacy to myself and/ or the world, for the matter(s).

And while I’ve accumulated, some (ok, very little) wisdom that normally comes with age and know who I am and am secure with who I am, as well as messed up about how my life turned out, I don’t want my legacy and/or my current identity tied up as “the loving single mother who had the great life experience of having 2 great kids, sharing a plane with Princess Diana (in 1996, also in other blogs) and the screwed up luck of having mental health issues that I was unaware of at the time in 2001, going into a gastric bypass, that I was lucky enough to have a brilliant surgeon who performed a technically performed bariatric surgery that I responded physically HORRIBLY to and nearly died from, and lost my crap and nearly got committed (also in other blogs) who ended up needing a gastric bypass reversal and is now a very wordy medical and mental health activist”…..

YIKES!!! That was a mouthful!!! It’s also the reason why the owner of this brain is not on Twitter, very much. Let alone social media (which I’ve written other blogs about) very much anymore.

I get that in this wordy ranty blog of mine, it’s taking me now 1100 words to make a point/s.

And like no one, except for me (on occasion) has that kind of attention span in 2017. And most people don’t have the time or the inclination to dwell on matters of this nature, even though as UNRELATABLE as most of my blogs are, to most people, I apparently resonate with quite a few, as my blog has been read in 87 countries (fun fact!!!) and 6 continents (Seriously, WTF, Antarctica, don’t people dwell about serious shit at 3 a.m, too???).

Apparently, some of my blogs, such as my most read blog, to date which the “The Project Harpoon People Can GO Fuck Themselves” (way to go ME, for keeping it classy and concise, right??) that I wrote 2 years ago, which I found myself the target of a group of haters on a site called Voat called “FatPeopleHate”  that popped up after the Harpoon peeps got shut down on Twitter, that I found a few weeks ago.

It’s not the first time I had found myself a target of haters or Fat Acceptance hatred. It was the first time of being eviscerated by a large group of people (1100 to be exact, holy shit, right???)  too mean, stupid and hateful to find out anything other about me, than I am wordy blogger who blogs about Fat Acceptance and had a gastric bypass (that and a bunch of other stuff about me, was in particular blog) that I apparently epically failed and was a bitter, ugly, fat as fuck 500 lb ugly chick who can’t write a simple sentence. And was hiding behind a blog.

Cause it’s not like I have full body pics from different times in my life to current times that are PUBLIC and can be found in about 2 seconds, when doing a search engine on me or my blog name, which I actually do have. And it’s not okay to body shame anyone in the manner they shamed me, regardless of how much I would weigh.

I guess that serves me right for finding that group, when “Googling” myself at 3 a.m…

I’m at  almost 1400 words (FUCK!!!)  and I’m finally am going to make my points!!! YAY!!!

I still at rotten overripe,oversized  and old age and person (by weight and looks) at an average size 14 and 47 1/2 in age,  get judged way more for what I look like and what I weigh (depending how fat or not fat enough, depending on who you’re asking) than anything I ever fucking  did or anything I ever fucking said.

By both people who know me well and people who don’t fucking know me at all. Or people who’s responsibilities are to know me better and/or not judge me (i.e. medical professionals/see past blogs on “md-ptsd”, although I advocate for clinically trained medical and mental health professionals, as they are their essence, human beings).

I get my own barriers and my unique barriers in resolving some of my issues. I even have the understanding of others barriers. And have empathy for most people.

EXCEPT for fucking  murder/suicide perpetrators, rapists, pedophiles and people who hate on any class of people for any reason, whether its on me or others and I can live with that.

I’m just having so much fucking trouble adapting to a world, that seems as it gets so technologically advanced, people become more scary and uncivilized to me. And I can’t do anything about that, other than to bring awareness, that while I know my own issues, that it could help, with removing stigma about so many things, for others to be aware of their own issues that could possibly interfere with others right to a safe and peaceful enjoyment life, too.

Not just for my sake. But for those who I love the most (i.e. my children) and so many innocent others, where we at a time, never had so much that should unite us, but is also dividing so many, at the same time.  Or that HATRED is uniting people, way more than acceptance (and again, if that doesn’t work, try apathy, yes, I said apathy not empathy. you don’t have to like, let alone love on something you’re predisposed to hate on, but try to at least be indifferent, OK?) should be and how terrifying I find all of this to be.

(see, for the 2 of you, non-haters, the above 5 paragraphs is the worthwhile reason I wrote this blog/you were rewarded for your patience)

How the FUCK do we FIX that!?!?

If you know, feel free and tell me, so. Try to be respectful about it, though, OK? I don’t go either in others online or offline spaces to make them feel unsafe. Either intentionally or unintentionally (though you now have a current pic, of what I look like, if you see me out and about). I know that this obscenely overweight smoking redhead does her fair share of scaring people, unintentionally, when out and about, in Downtown Minneapolis where I reside (which if that’s the case, stay home, because I’m definitely not the scariest thing  that you’ll encounter down here), I respect the right of others peaceful and safe enjoyment of their own lives, both in their private, public, offline and online spaces.

And wish that fucking everyone realized that everyone has a right to that. And now, over 2000 words, later, I made fucking finally made my point/s.

Note: If the rantiness and wordiness of this blog didn’t give you the clue, that I’m absolutely not going to give a shit, let alone post anything that has no resemblance to my “agreeing to disagree” respectfully stance, don’t waste my time or your own, by sending me something that I won’t read and I won’t publish, both in hatred of me, or any other.

 

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