I should start out by saying I love myself. That is an important designation. This experience is not about self hate, but about what life has been and will continue to be as I traipse through the world, with all of the setbacks and triumphs that come with being a Fat Girl. There are so many factors to consider in this endeavor, and it should be stated from the outset that I suffer from a back injury, a compressed disc between my L4 and L5 vertebrae and that will impact many of my perspectives on tips and tricks. My writings will lean as much towards accessibility for my injury as will encompass “Fat Girl” accessibility.
I suppose a history of my injury is the best place to start. About 7 years ago, I was the epitome of an “Austin hippie” had that South Austin flavor, if you will. I hiked the greenbelt, danced and drummed at full moon drum circles, performed spoken word at a multitude of venues every week, and in fact, hosted a wildly popular open mic all my own. I could be found lounging on the free side of the springs or posted up at a local coffee shop, engaging the entire patio with a Sunday crossword. I was all over the place, and it was fantastic.
At this point in my life, my favorite band was a local setup by the name of Diasporic. They were a funktastic band of brothers and they could put on a show like none other. Diasporic created a singular experience at their shows, often including a brass section with guest players, they were comprised of a group of four major players, at this time, Shorti C, Rudy, Ry Dogg, and Ed Miles. I had been long involved with this band, really since their inception, when it was only Shorti C and Erik the Orchestra on his 12 string. I met Shorti when he was coined “Chris the Future” a host at the open mic on Monday nights at the Hideout back in ’03-’04. Truly, Shorti and Rudy have born witness to the evolution of my growth, from homeless to housie, from party girl to married woman. These two men are some of the greatest folks I have ever known, loving and strong, flawed and perfect, simply incredible.
For many years, my friends and I played the role of “hype girls.” Diasporic amassed a cult following of neighborhood kids from Cuerny (the Cuernavaca neighborhood in Austin) during their second inception with Jimmie Dreams on guitar and Darren on drums, two boys from that neighborhood. And, truly, I met one of my best friends because of this band, Perrie, she will appear in the future, I have no doubt. We went to every Diasporic show for 3 years, never missed a show in town or out, not without conflict (if you ever meet a musician without conflict, please introduce me, I’ve grown to learn they are like fairies and unicorns and other mythical creatures) each experience was unique and amazing. A frequent venue for the boys, and indeed for many an Austin favorite, was the now-defunct Ruta Maya.
It was impossible to hear the opening riff of any song and not dance. It was magical. When I danced at a Diasporic show, the music carried me, all the outside stress of life and self consciousness melted away into the flow of their rhythms and beats. For a little while, I could forget I was a Fat Girl, and at this point in my life that was necessary. It has taken me a long time to embrace my Fatness, and even now, I struggle with it from time to time, but in my youth, my Fatness was a cause for much self hate and fear. I truly believed that I didn’t deserve to be happy or joyous because I wasn’t enough. Ironically, being too much made me less than in my eyes, and often in the eyes of the world that I occupy. While the latter is still true, I find it impacts me less and less as I learn to navigate the world in my own large and oft broken body. The music flowing through my limbs, the freedom and movement, was a spectacle all its own. Often strangers would approach me at shows, bewildered at the grace and beauty of the movements executed by my body. I was in a space and time separate from myself and it was truly glorious to behold.
It was at one such event where the injury stole my freedom. I was at a show at Ruta, ebbing and flowing with the beats, surrounded by the people I loved most in the world when I felt the first snap. I felt it first down my right leg, similar to sciatica, but I was young and drunk and foolish and Diasporic was playing my favorite song! Faithfully, they were ALL my favorite songs, so it is not surprising in the least that I ignored the pain to keep dancing. I danced for a full 45 minutes following the first warning spark, and drunkenly made my way home after the show. Everything was ideal with tequila pumping through my veins.
The next day I woke up at 8 o’clock in the morning and needed to pee, like you do. I stood up from my bed and immediately collapsed. I couldn’t stand on my own two feet. My husband, then-boyfriend of 3 months, couldn’t lift me, couldn’t help me out of bed. I called my best friend Alex, who owns a hard wood floor company with my dear friend, Mikey, and sobbed into the phone that I needed to go to the bathroom and couldn’t move. They immediately made their way to my house. The nature of their work made it such that they could help lift me. I laid in my bed for 45 minutes, sobbing and trapped. I haven’t felt such fear as that since, and perhaps not before. You must remember, leading up to my time as a homeless kid in Austin, I was a hitchhiker. I found myself in far too many situations that required an immediate move, and being a hitchhiker, I always had the certainty of my own two feet to carry me away.
Suddenly trapped by my own body, unable to be moved due to my Fatness, needing to pee, and stuck was the first of many harrowing experiences that would arise due to this injury. We had no money, were living off of the kindness of my mother and the pittance Dale was making as a pedicabber in Downtown Austin on the weekends, we were well and truly out of luck. I was working overnight with a temp agency proofreading the pdf files of newspapers that were delivered to ebooks. In 2010, this was still a relatively new and disorganized process, and thankfully, they allowed me to work from home for a month as I was bedridden for the first few days and then couldn’t walk.
Dale was a real blessing throughout these first few months following the injury. The first weeks I would have to crawl to the bathroom, I couldn’t wash myself in the shower below the waist as I couldn’t bend. This man, whom I had been with a mere 4 months, flawlessly assumed the role of caregiver. There were many times where I begged him to leave me, it was so unfair that he had to become provider, cook,cleaner, home health nurse, responsible for all of our needs. Beyond the physical struggle of day to day life, I was tackling the emotional turmoil of sudden entrapment. No longer could I flee when my fight or flight instinct was triggered, and at this time in my life, it was a constant state of being triggered.
The gratitude I feel for this man is immeasurable. There has often been strife in our relationship, but never has he made me feel anything but loved and supported. He has accepted and loved me as a Fat Girl, a woman living with Bi Polar disorder, and an outspoken and sometimes close minded anarchist and anti racist activist. Throughout our ups and downs, he has been a pillar of strength and grace.
We scraped together the funds to get an x ray that disclosed the severity of my injury. Like my grandmother and mother before, I suffer from a degenerative disc disorder in my spine. The soft tissue between my vertebrae is slowly disintegrating, leading the bones to close on my nerves and rub against each other with every step I take. Because of my Fatness, no doctor will perform the necessary surgery to repair the damage. And like a vicious cycle my immobility lead to weight gain, rendering many things out of reach. Grocery shopping, waiting in line at the post office, walking more than about half a block are all things just beyond my grasp. There have been many attempts at weight loss, the Keto diet, the Ideal Protein diet through my Dr’s office, giving up sugar, giving up bread, going to the gym, the list goes on. All unsustainable, all abandoned on this journey, carcasses littering the road in the hot sun. I will continue to search for a means to get to a place where my mobility is improved as we begin our journey traveling the world.
In the mean time, I will share with you my struggles, impairments and all.