Very pleased to have received an invitation to a younger cousins wedding.
In the heirarchy of East Coast / West Coast connections, this young woman is my second cousin, once removed.
27-28 years old (it all goes fuzzy after awhile), I was pleased to babysit for her as a child, even though our connection has weakened in recent years due to my living on the East Coast for a year to care for my mother, and then getting tangled up in caring for an Aunt while her depression, complications from an Alzheimers-like condition, and COPD had her in Death’s waiting room. So it was quite nice to open an email from her mom, my second cousin, to see that a happy family occasion was happening, and I was invited.
Very much looking forward to this event, and hoping my 94-year-old great Aunt, sister to Grandma Red, will be able to fly in for the occasion.
The invitations are beautifully done in Fall colors of orange and purple, so I’m madly shopping for a dress. Maybe deep purple. Maybe burnt orange. Maybe I’ll dye the one I have. Decisions, decisions, decisions…
I just have to find something to fit over my pregnant-like big belly. The most exciting news, though, is that I’m finding out is that the belly isn’t all my fault.
While I have been fat shamed for years, one of the interesting things about keeping the diabetes-specific food diary to encourage “conscious” or “mindful” eating is that my calories each day are usually 2,000 or less, and that my body is happy at 200 lbs. One of the things I learned from the recent CT scan is that the diagnosis of peritoneal lipomatosis, a rare disease, can be caused by the cortisteriods the medical establishment began forcing upon all asthmatics back in the late 70’s as “the” medicine of choice. It’s not my fault that I have stomache aches daily, and that I prefer a full belly!
Imagine how much bigger I would have been if I used the dang inhalers the way they advised. I’d be twice as huge !
It’s good to know this “chicken fat” deposit is benign, and doesn’t need to be removed, but it’s also wonderful to note the link to Crohn’s disease (it runs in the family) as I swear my non-fruit and veggie diet is the only thing that has kept me from being officially diagnosed with Crohn’s. I listen to my body and don’t eat what makes me sick. Fruits and veggies are declarative within an hour of consumption, so I’ve stayed away from them. My twin cousins aren’t as fortunate, with one insisting on eating fruits and veggies, so she’s regularly dealing with the painful repercussions.
At any rate, I tell you all that to tell you this. I refuse to be fat shamed. I’m not proud of my size, but I don’t let it keep me out of shorts, or swim gear. I’m glad that my personal choice to own my body size is being vindicated by medical information this late in life.
I will always wish to be a slender, busty blonde, preferably 5′ 9″.
My reality is that I’m short, round, and brunette. Kind of like Velma on the Scooby-Doo squad.
The last thing I want to do is embarass anyone by my choice of attire for a semi-formal, outdoor wedding in the Santa Cruz mountains. Already ended up hating what I wore to my #1 nephew’s nuptials a couple of years back because:
a) I forgot my foundation garment when I was packing to move from the cabin by the lake over to the wedding venue hotel (and it was too late to drive back, once I discovered my error).
b) I fell and skinned both legs ( argh! Must protect the skin graft ! ) after trying kayaking and almost drowning (I’m graceful like that), so…
c) once it came time for the wedding, I was hiding under a black shawl like someone’s crazed Ya-ya, very uncomfortable in the dress I’d chosen, and fighting off the chills due to my refusal to go to the hospital and distract from the much-anticipated event. I handled the medical cleaning myself, and it was good enough.
So, for this wedding I’m picking an outfit as if I were a dwarf like my Grand Uncle Ray, or one of the Little People on TV. I’m good enough just as I am. All my parts work as they should to get me around. I’ll get some advice from a bridal shop if I don’t stay with the grey lace gown I already have, and I’ll be good enough.
Oh, and no fishing or anything stupidly athletic between now and the wedding. I don’t need a repeat performance of skinned knees ! Yes, I’m graceful like that.