What My Mini Me Taught Me

Written by debo on December 6th, 2009
mini me

mini me

No, I don’t have a cute little miniature me; I have belly fat.  That’s what I call my Mini Me.  It has a life of its own.  It turns on the self-cleaning oven, keeps me from picking things up off the floor, gets caught in zippers and shoots buttons, like they’re bullets.

I know it sounds like I’m proud of my Mini Me and maybe in some way I am proud of her, since she’s taught me so many things.  What? You didn’t know that Fat could teach you things.  Oh yes, how about humility, respect, humor and despair.

Let me start at the beginning.  I didn’t always have a Mini Me; I started off with a typical thin teenage body, became shapely and worried that I was fat.  Of course I wasn’t fat but Society had planted the seeds of doubt early.  Remember Twiggy…..probably not, but she was so thin and everyone wanted to look like her.  Thin was in and Fat was disgusting.  I agreed, Fat was disgusting.  I had all the prejudices that most people are carrying around.  Oh, if you’re Fat, you’re lazy, dumb, smelly, and unattractive.

Being Fat is not something that you can just quit.  You wake up fat, it’s the first thing that you see in the morning, it’s the last thing you see  at night right before you go to sleep.  It’s like wearing a coat of shame that you can’t remove.  Everyone watches what you eat, what you wear, and how much you jiggle.

I work in an environment where exhibiting the illusion of control is the ultimate goal.  Thin women get promoted, fat women don’t.  Look around you.  How many fat people do you see in charge.  Yes, there are some, but the majority of the time, it’s the thin that get promoted.  The only thing that these power mongers can really control is their weight.  So, they have IV’s of Coffee, take mind enhancing drugs, which keep them from being hungry, and eat as little as possible.  You’d almost say that they have contests to see who can eat the least.  They pop chocolates, eat rice cakes, have high-colonics and as soon as I have a chocolate, they stop in their tracks and go tisk-tisk!

Here’s the thing, what’s Fat to one person is not Fat to another.  I thought I was fat at 119 pounds.  What an idiot!  Well anyway, after having a body that was perfectly proportioned and admired and courted and cajoled, I developed a thyroid disorder and started gaining weight.  No matter what I did, I couldn’t get the weight off and I’m still fighting the fight.

I noticed that people didn’t treat me the same as when I was thin.  Someone that would have listened to me before I was fat, in the hopes that I would grace them with a date, would not give me the time of day.  They would look right through me and past me to the thin person behind me.  I wasn’t cute or sexy any more.

One day someone that was angry and wanted to hit below the belt, ha, ha,; called me Fat and like a bolt of lighting; I realized what it was like to be the Fat Girl.  What a revelation!

I was humbled; I was humiliated, I was angry!  How dare people assume my worth by the amount of fat on my body.  People do this all the time, your color, your accent, your clothes. I guess its human nature to see what’s different and avoid it: its how we’ve managed to survive as long as we have as a species.

I’ve learned how to use a smile and humor to persuade, I learned to use my intelligence instead of my cute factor, to outwit the unkind and have developed a true compassion for the rest of the Fat Girls and Boys out here that represent 60% of our population in America..  I try a lot harder to look at every person as an individual and look deeply to really see who they are under that exterior which can be so deceptive.

My Mini Me has taught me a lot of lessons but boy; wait till I tell you what my Boobs have taught me!

Snatch you later,

Debo Ing


Where do eggs come from…

Written by debo on August 5th, 2009

Bunny Hen
Evidently people in Cary, North Carolina think that eggs come from Grocery Stores and not chickens.  They certainly don’t understand why anyone would want to raise chickens in their own backyard.  The Backyard Chicken debate is raging!

Cary is a progressive Town but it’s short sighted in many ways.  There are Signage Laws (you can barely find businesses, the signs are kept so well hidden), Bathrobe Laws (can’t go to your mailbox in your bathrobe), Leash Laws for Cats and Dogs (Have you ever seen a cat do a croc death-roll on a leash?), yet they still let people keep their dogs tied to trees 24/7; but that’s another story.

There are approximately three hundred families in Cary that want to raise Chickens in their back yards.  They’ve worked tirelessly to attain this privilege and yet the response that we get from the town council is a pat on our little heads, a dismissal that this is a phase which will pass, and the fear that children will see chickens being brutally murdered.  When you keep chickens, they quickly become your pets and part of your family and eating them is not on the menu.  Ha Ha, sorry, couldn’t help myself. 

I think it’s really funny that people think its okay to buy eggs, chicken meat, and compost but that it’s weird that anyone would want to Farm in their own yard.  You know what?  Cary used to be a Farming Community, well known for its Dairy Farms.  Milk comes from Cows.  Beef comes from Cows.  Eggs come from Chickens and most everything we eat is grown in the ground which is, OM GOSH, dirt.  Oh  NO, DIRT!

Do you remember Victory Gardens and people keeping chickens for Egg Money?  During the Depression, keeping Chickens saved a lot of families from starvation and from losing their homes.  During WWII, Victory Gardens kept fresh vegetables on the tables. Chickens are not just a way to have fresh eggs but also a way to stretch the dollar.

Get a grip people, all we’re asking is to have a few Hens, not (Roosters).  Roosters are not needed to produce eggs.  Hens ovulate every 24 hours, thank goodness humans don’t, which means you can have fresh eggs pretty much all the time.

 Eggs are good source of protein, raising your own is cost effective and in this time of job loss and foreclosures, raising chickens is one more way to make ends meet.

 Do you use a (Garbage Disposal)?  Do you know how bad it is for the water system to put all that food down the drain?  Chickens are garbage disposers.  They eat the scraps from your table, yes, even cooked meat scraps, unless you want your Hens to be vegetarians.  The poop that they produce is a perfect fertilizer which can be composted and used in a Garden which can also be in your back yard.  Do you see the Synergy?  Do you see the Living Green part of this?  Do you see how having Chicken/Hens can benefit your neighborhoods?  People are fascinated by these amazing birds.  Neighbors bring their scraps over for the birds, you get to know your neighbor better, and the neighbor gets fresh eggs.   Everyone benefits!


Cluck Cluck


Uber Secretaries

Written by debo on July 28th, 2009


Uber Secretaries Sounds really sexy doesn’t it?  Well it’s not!  It’s the name of the Virtual Personal Assistant Business that I want to create.  The idea is to make the image sexy and keep the work real.  A glossy rubber black dressed Vampire Chick with a pad of paper and a very sharp pencil, leaning on the edge of a desk.  “You Need Me!  I’m bringing back Sexy, to the Office.  Want your own Personal Assistant, give me a call.”  I’ll make you look good; I’ll be there when ever you need me.”

There are tons of Administration Assistants and Personal Assistants out in the world barely scrapping by.  My idea is to give them work, health insurance, and a life/work balance by having them work from home.  Just about everyone has a computer set up with a printer and a phone line:  if you have that you have a Business.

Actually what I really wanted to start was an Executive Spanking Business called Uber Secretaries but I thought it would be too messy, legally that is.  Society will pay $500.00 an hour to be spanked but won’t pay $50.00 an hour for expert administrative services.  Well, companies are outsourcing Admin Services to India and they are getting their just desserts. I laugh every day when they come to me bleary eyed, perspiration on their upper lips, trying to solve, yet again, a problem created by their very helpful Indian Admins.  Twelve sodas and six pizzas, not twelve pizzas and six sodas.  Oh, you’re going to take the Office Shuttle?  The Office Shuttle was decommissioned three years ago.  Oh, you have a Taxi for your Departure flight but it’s arriving after you flight has already taken off?  Oh, the PowerPoint that you asked them to format came back as a PDF not a PowerPoint, so you can’t make any changes? Oh, you spent forty-five minutes Instant Messaging with India trying to find a Conference Room?

It goes on and on.  By trying to save money, they are wasting money by using the time of very highly paid Management to take care of their own Administrative chores.  So, instead of saving money, they are spending at least three times what they spent previously, but of course Management can’t see this because it’s invisible.  On paper, they are saving, off paper; they are paying big time with employee frustration and reduced performance, a breakdown in work/home balance and dissatisfaction with the job for the employees.

You know, in Business they say give’em what they want.  I’m thinking Society is more ready for Spanking than Assisting

I’ll keep you posted.

Spank you later,

Debo Ing


If Wishes Were Horses

Written by debo on July 23rd, 2009


If wishes were horses my house would be filled with poop. Well, it would. I know it’s jaded and negative but life is like that.

Here I am having a coffee at my 1950’s plastic laminate table, listening to Psychobilly. I wonder how many other women have sat at this table with the very same thoughts and frustrations.

It’s so nice in the morning, listening to everyone else hurrying off to their world of urgent doom. Yes, I wish I had somewhere to go, only because a paycheck keeps the wolves from the door, no other reason. I love staying home along with the new mommies and the Neighborhood Watch Crones (NWCs). If anything is going on, believe you me that NWCs know what’s happening. Hubby, started working from home and one of the NWCs wanted to know if he was working from home now. I think she was fishing to see if he still had a job. Oh boy, want a busy-body.

Busy-bodies have their place. They keep an eye on your stuff! You know that life’s all about your stuff. Dragging your stuff forward is very tiring, so I’ve started a cleaning out. All closets will be empty! Well, that’s harder than it sounds. I’m having a love affair with a coat. I’ve been trying to donate my size 10 coat for the last five years. It doesn’t fit me, it’s out of style, and it’s mildewed. Who would want it? That’s it! I’ve finally convinced myself to let it go. Maybe. We’ll see

I think there are two people living inside me: the old person with the faltering body and the hot Rockabilly-loving chick. Got to be careful, might throw something out of whack if I shake it too much. LOL

Rockabilly appeals to me. Rough, driving beat, screw the Man! Authority is one of my pet peeves. I think I’m stuck in my teenage years. I am the Man! My idea of wonderful weekend use to be camping out at a rock concert but now the perfect weekend consists of wearing the same pajamas all weekend and not leaving the house for any reason.

Are there exercises for Cocooning middle aged Rockers? Reaching for the Wii remote, one, two, one, two, be careful don’t strain too much. I just know that Sofa Exercising is going to be a best seller.

Is it better to burn out fast or grind down to barely functioning? If we could look back, which we can’t, I’d think we want to do everything fast, hard, and at least once. The heck with being safe! Oh crap, did I defrost the ground Turkey for dinner?

Well, enough complaining for today!

Snatch you later,

Debo Ing