Friday, November 22, 2013

My Twitter Rant

So, I raged out on Twitter a bit last night, due to something that is mainly my own fault and lack of self control when it comes to the food I stuff down my throat. I'm posting it here for no other reason that in hindsight it's pretty amusing (to me, anyway) and it'll serve as a reminder the next time I either do something stupid - like step on a scale - or go buy a big bag of Doritos. 

Dear Internet,
While my handsome and ridiculously for partner sits on the couch debating his THIRD sammich for supper, I'm in a warm bath doing what only can be called wallowing. Whoever invented scales ... Scratch that. Whoever decided that a woman's worth was somehow Represented by a series of numbers that accurately describe her weight should be fed his own testicles. I say "HE" because I can't imagine any semi-intelligent woman deciding that this number, that THIS was the method she thought most appropriate as her means of establishing self worth and love. 


I made a very bad mistake today Internet. A very, very, bad mistake. 

stepped on a scale at the gym. It wasn't one of those cheap ass ones either you normally find in the fitting rooms where every woman who wanders on in, strutting with her skinny bitch legs and tummy so flat that you could eat sushi off it and do sake shots out of her belly button, uses. 

NO! 

This scale was the real deal. This was an old school scale where you had to push around the weights until the little arms balanced. This whole process was overseen by my former trainer so there's no way I fucked it up. WHY on EARTH I have such a morbid fascination with how much I weigh is beyond me. But, I was faced with a number. A number I do not like. I number that I don't FEEL like. Yes, that number is correct but am I now supposed to FEEL that number? I certainly don't think that I LOOK like that number. But that number to me seems unacceptable ... For several reasons. 

Deep down inside I think that that number is somehow just WRONG. Surely, if I really WERE that number - all 182 lbs of it - then I wouldn't wake up some days feeling really, really great and sexy and gorgeous and beautiful. Would I? If I REALLY WERE that number, shouldn't I be cooped up in our apartment dressed in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, guzzling gallons of ice cream and countless potato chips and smelling like a guys gym bag? But I don't do that (often).

If I WERE that number, surely somebody SOMEWHERE would say "Fuck me, look at that beached whale. That girl need to get her shit together, yo." And really, in all honesty, if I WERE that number, then I am convinced that my partner wouldn't be with me because really, who wants to be with somebody else who's as big as a fucking barn. No doubt I'm sure there are "chubby chasers" out there who might cry "Outrage!" or say that my partner is a real dick if he'd leave me for weighing or looking a certain amount. Pfft. Fuck You. It isn't LOVE at first sight, it's LUST you twat and a persons physical appearance is what attracts you to them in the first place. So Fuck all this "oh, he has a really great personality!" shit. When a guy is talking about a girls personality, they mean boobs. So if it's lust at first sight and then before you know it your body doesn't look like it used to then how do you expect to keep the attraction and desire alive and well - all because of some fuckass number on a fuckwad of a scale.

Fuck. That.

I might feel like a beached whale at the moment and have some issues with body image and self love but who fucking doesn't?! Show me one person who isn't second guessing themselves at least once or twice a day about the way they look. To doubt is to be human. But you know what? Fuck that number. Fuck how it makes me feel. Because I am NOT that number. That number can take these feelings and SUCK IT because I am Going to make that number my BITCH! In a few months, that number won't even exist. So buh-bye number and helloooooo hard work and more sweat!

#EndRant
  • Tuesday, November 19, 2013

    An Open Letter to Russell Brand

    Dear Russell Brand,

    First let me begin by saying that prior to your divorce from Katy Perry, I really knew absolutely nothing about you other than the fact that you were a British comedian with wild poofy hair that resembled the nest of an epileptic bird, and you were in Get Him To The Greek, a few other movies and wrote two wee booky wooks. Although, to be fair, Get Him To The Greek was the beginning of me being a fan.

    But it’s really only been this year that I’ve started to really pay attention to you and, more importantly, the things you’ve been saying. I’ve watched countless YouTube videos and watched you on CONAN, cook Booby Pasta with Jamie Oliver and watched the impending train wreck that you expertly handled on Morning Joe while doing publicity for your comedy tour The Messiah Complex. I’ve watched several interviews of yours with Huffington Post and I must tell you, sir, that I think you’re a real class act.

    There is an openness about you that I cannot help but admire. The fact that you have openly, and repeatedly, said that you are an alcoholic is something that I think the current generation needs to see and hear and understand. If you have a problem, admit it. I think that by being honest and open about who you are and any terrible things you may have done (while we don’t need a full and public disclosure of them all) reveals something very genuine about you. And while bumbling Toronto mayor Tom Ford may make apologies left, right, and center for the unrelenting string of public debacles and he “sincerely apologizes” after each and every bad choice and epically poor choice of words, I believe his words are the furthest thing from sincere. But you, Mr. Brand, I believe are truly and genuinely sincere with your words and your beliefs.

    I recently watched two very important interviews of yours. The first aired on BBC, and went viral around the world as you called for a “revolution.” The second aired shortly after this with Huffington Post when you did a lovely sit down interview in a room full of people with Mehdi Hassan. I was utterly riveted, I don’t mind telling you.

    I’ve never really been one for politics, and I’ve never voted a day in my life. In fact, I haven’t even registered. No doubt the internet might come back with some backlash and say because I don’t vote, I don’t have a right to criticize the current fumbles with government – and, admittedly I might not be as well informed about the current state of Canadian and world politics as I should be – but the fact remains that I don’t think there is a single political figure aka “administrator” out there who really looks to make life better for me. There is, perhaps, one exception to this, and that was former NDP Leader Jack Layton. That man, I think, had a real and honest vision but sadly passed away before anyone could really see if his vision was honest and true and would really, really work.

    But what I think really really resonates with me, is what you have to stay about all of us being spiritual beings. I turned 30 this year and I was convinced that the day was going to be utterly terrible. I had visions of being locked in my apartment, swaddled in blankets, weeping, with tissues strewn about the place and being utterly devastated that the day had come where I was the Big 3-0. Still, the day came and went and it wasn’t nearly as terrible as I had first imagined it would be. In fact, it was really quite pleasant. But, in the few months since my birthday, the world has started to turn in to a really magical and wonderful place for me. I’ve started, what I believe, to be my own “revolution of consciousness” and I don’t mind in telling you that listening to you and the message you are trying to spread about just being generally nice to one another (in a nutshell) has helped. I’m not exactly sure if there are direct (or even specific) steps I’m meant to follow on this journey of trying to better but listening to your message, at the very least, provides guidance whether you’ve meant to provide it or not.

    A few years ago I got a tattoo, and (contrary to popular belief) it’s been one of the better decisions in my life. It’s a lotus flower, with the Sanksrit word “Shakti” and it serves to remind me that, contained within myself, I am (on a metaphysical level) my own universe and that it requires strength and fortitude to maintain it and that on the tough days, a quick glance down reminds me that contained within my own self is the energy and strength required to overcome adversity and challenges, and that I am the fount of my own feminine energy and creativity. This, I believe ties in to what you said, in that we’re all children of god and in all of us, there is a beautiful essence, and really our daily goal should just be to try less of a shit to someone else.

    Being less of a shit is so much easier said than being done, I have to say. I think I’ve come across as quite a bitch to several friends of mine over the past little while. So, I’m not really sure if I’m going about making my opinion and dispensing advice properly. Is it a bad thing to offer your opinion and be honest about how you feel about a certain situation and tell someone that even if it hurts their feelings? Or should I perhaps reword what I’m trying to say that the point gets across in a gentler manner? My partner, no doubt, would say that being blunt and not sparing a friends feelings avoids any glimmer of false hope. Although, I think that particular discussion might be a little more philosophical and require more attention than an open letter can really get in to.

    In the meantime, I would love an open dialogue with you, to ask questions about your own spiritual journey and the choices that led you to walk the path you’re on. In your Huffington Post interview with Mehdi, there was an audience member who asked if you would do seminars to really talk about your spiritual path and views and practices and I think that that is a really, really wonderful idea and I would love to be a part of those in some part – no doubt, if such a thing DID happen, it would end up on YouTube and thus my participation would be allowed. I was speaking with a friend of mine recently, and we decided that a conversation in a pub with you and a few other really swell gents over mugs of green tea would be amazing and quite the eye-opening experience. God, I’m beginning to sound like a bit of a creepy disciple aren’t I?
    Right then, I’d better hurry up and wrap this thing up.

    I do have one question for you though, and I will caution that it might put you on the spot a wee bit, and once it’s on the internet it can never really be taken back completely – but because I can call this tiny space of the internet, I can (at the very least) edit unpleasant things.

    Once again, in your interview with Mehdi, there was a woman who said that she had two daughters, and was now having to pay bedroom tax – a notion totally foreign with me, but I think I get the general jist of the situation. You say that you would vote for the guy who would help this woman have the money to get in to her own house so she wouldn’t have to pay the bedroom tax in the first place – to essentially paraphrase the situation. Now, here’s what I would like to know. Given the fact that the political machine really fails to take into consideration the needs of the everyday common person, and really only want to keep a hefty little nest egg for themselves, and you yourself being a man of financial means now, why should this woman wait and wait for a politician to come along and help her, when you possess the means to address her situation immediately. I’m not suggesting that you go out and buy this woman a house for herself and her children, no. What I’m asking is, is there anything you yourself can do to aid the plight of this woman from one spiritual being to another?  Like I said before, this might put you on the spot a wee bit, and I’m sorry for that, but my curiosity is getting the better of me.

    Right then, that’s about it for me. Again, I admire you and your journey and your open discussions of spirituality and I hope that I get to hear more about it. Until then,


    Respectfully,


    Alanna