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This is effectively an open letter to not only my family and friends and my ex-husband and so forth, but also to the world around me who dares approach me at an event and ask why in the world do I need a wheelchair? At the Skeptic Meetup at Ohlone College which the wonderful and benevolent Sheldon put together, a woman approached me with that same question and a very aggressive, almost accusatory, mien about her.

I know I'm fat and don't look like myself and it's horrible because I wonder if it would be better if I was still a mere 105 pounds because for some reason looking like you can't eat is more acceptable and attractive than looking as if you eat too much! Why is that? What's wrong with the world that people who found me attractive before the steroids blew me up no longer find me worthy of dating or sex or even love? Without sex?

And why is it alright to assume I'm healthy and merely, oh I don't know, playing at having a disability? To walk up to somebody in a wheelchair and ask in such a manner I think would be much less likely if I was 105 pounds and still looking, as I used to joke, as if I'm a crack whore. Why is that? Seriously? What's wrong with the world that looking sick one way is more acceptable than looking sick another way?

Definitely feeling the stress of my situation and my condition after seeing my dear GP today (Shana loved her, incidentally). I'm looking at pictures James took of me at the event Sheldon put on and I'm so obese that I don't see how I can get much more full of hate toward my condition and the body I've ended up trapped in. Seeing Shana going through the exact same thing should help, but I'm not certain that it does.

Knowing how sick I am and that I have to take more of the hateful steroids in order to heal so I can get up without turning completely into a caricature, like somebody has poured white paint on my skin as sweat breaks across my brow, does more than kill me. It makes me want to die even more. If I stop the steroids I could die within a week or two but oh so very painfully. And I'm not ready to die painfully. Not yet.

Though, if this doesn't cease and desist why continue to suffer at half mast for years when Dr. Julie said I could end up in a coma if I don't have my steroids properly balanced.

And yet I'm fat and unattractive from taking the medications I need to keep me alive. Shawn doesn't think I'm worth it. Sure, he's a bastard as our GP (mine only now, but she was both of ours so she's seen what he's done and therefore has the right to consider him such) has said multiple times.

An older man I have a crush on just posted a picture of a gorgeous woman he's at an event with and it eats me up to see her. To know I'm so much less now in people's eyes than I was before the Addison's Disease and the hydrocortisone that is blowing me up like a balloon to be popped.

Full of self hatred and disgust and yet also full of confusion because I never see myself as I am. I still have the image of myself for 25 years (15 years to 40 years) of me being skinny. 2009 saw me balloon. And I am crying because isn't it enough I lost my house, my husband, my health, and my life as I knew it? Why this too? Why spit on me when you've already steamrolled over me? Why?!?

Well, enough of this. I need to de-stress since I'm spending tonight happily eating french fries for my dinner. No more, no less. Paying some bills. Watching Survivor Man. And trying not to beat myself up anymore than I already have.

But yeah...I'm not a happy camper right now. Even my transgender love doesn't take me seriously now. She doesn't and neither does my older gentleman. Luckily a guy who I'm just hanging out with sans anything other than platonic that I met on OKCupid wants to hang out with me tomorrow. He's a bit of a Billy Zane looker, but he's like a version of Carl but he actually texts and asks if I have time to hang out.

Self portrait taken tonight sans makeup or lights with my iPad. Getting used to photographing myself as I am now in a decently flattering way. Now to learn to pose for others in the same way. Any local (or non) want to come over and help me relearn my modeling craft? Because I do have to relearn from the beginning again. When your whole face and body double in size (literally) you do need to relearn how to present yourself to cameras.


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I can definitely see that becoming bald after having really great long hair being almost like this. Maybe more so with cancer and treatments causing it or alopecia or losing your breast due to masectomies, you know? I used to joke with Shawn I'd only stay until he lost his hair. I guess the joke's on me since he only stayed until I lost my health to this creeping illness that's taking everything away from me that helped me define me to me, including my physicality and sensuality.

So I sincerely hope it's not even a quarter of this bad a self image self destruction. It really should only be a plague upon the truly evil and cruel.

Hugs to you and we should catch up sometime, you know? SF is fun to visit, especially when you can stay for free with those you know! ;-)