Lisa Brounstein's Blog

Just ask Oprah, I’m fat.  Yes, I am fat.  I was on her show and the title of the show was “What It’s Like to be Fat.” Clearly, Oprah is the arbiter of fat having fought and battled her weight for years.  For the last 25 years, she has been publicly scrutinized and called names and had unflattering pictures splattered across hundreds of magazines and “news” papers…as if it were news.

So, yes, I am fat.  But I’m certainly not the fattest person on the planet.  I have yet to have the paramedics have to come to my home and use a crane to get me out of my apartment after having the city come and cut a wider hole in my door to fit my largess through.  I have yet to go to the REI tent department to buy clothes.  I have yet to not be able to make it up a flight of stairs.  I live quite an extraordinary life regardless of my size not in spite of it.  I have a fabulous husband.  We live in a great little apartment in Los Angeles.  I drive a decent car.  We live an active life with travel and great friends.  I had a great check up today from the doc…perfect blood pressure, great blood sugar, heart rate perfect…my health is great!

Of course, the President and his beautiful wife, have declared war on obesity.  I sometimes half expect to see my picture on a PowerPoint presentation behind the President as they discuss the strategy for the war on obesity. Why is it that people in power never get that war isn’t the answer?!  (Okay, maybe World War II…it made sense then…but I’m trying to make a point here…) LBJ started the war on poverty.  And, there’s still poverty.  Whether it’s war on nations or war on drugs or war on the so-called “obesity epidemic” it just never seems to make the intended difference.  Right now we have more people in the world hating us now that we “liberated” Iraq and invaded Afghanistan…we are in the process of losing an entire generation of young Americans in wars that aren’t being “won.”  The war on drugs has done nothing to stop people from using so-called “illicit” drugs.  One can’t even go to Tijuana anymore without fear of drug trafficking induced gang violence.  Hell, I can’t go to the chicken place on Sunset without being accosted by someone selling crack. And, the war on obesity is no better.  People are still fat.  Only now fat people are being ridiculed more than ever.  They are being ostracized and abused emotionally.  And, to what end?!

When I read yesterday that Kevin Smith of Silent Bob fame was removed from a Southwest Airlines flight from Oakland the other day I was actually quite pleased.  I wasn’t pleased that he was ruthlessly embarrassed and shamed by the low-budget airline.  I was pleased by the attention and hopefully awareness it has caused.  This is a man who COULD fit between the armrests.  This is a man who does NOT need a seat belt extender and yet he was forced to make the walk of shame off the cattle car airline.  I am relishing the public lashing that Southwest Airlines is receiving from Kevin Smith’s fans.

I have never personally been a fan of Southwest Airlines even before they started physically removing fat passengers from flights or denying them passage.  Even with the policy in place that says a passenger must be able to fit in one seat and be able to put the arm rests down and not need a seat belt extender it is still up to Southwest employees discretion as to who needs to have two seats.  Also, if two fat people fly together each fat passenger needs to purchase two seats which is ridiculous.  I certainly don’t need two whole seats to myself.  If I fly with my husband, who only needs one seat, I should be able to sit comfortably next to him with the arm rest up between us.  But according to Southwest’s policy I would HAVE to purchase another ticket regardless.  There have been many horror stories in the news about fat passengers being allowed on the first leg of their flight only to find themselves at their layover being denied access to the second portion of their flight.  At which point the passenger needs to purchase another ticket or find another way to their destination.  Absurd!  Cruel! Bad, fucking, business!!

As I have said before, I do need a seat belt extender.  I need a little more space than is allotted in one puny airline seat.  I certainly don’t look forward to the idea of disturbing another passenger.  Just like a passenger doesn’t want my fat ass in their seat I would prefer to not have some stranger using my hip as an armrest.  So, what’s the answer?  First, I think some sensitivity training is in order.  People can be very cruel to fat people.  Hell, they can be unusually cruel to most people given the opportunity.  I just think  people should be more tolerant and potentially more accommodating.  Believe me you would much rather sit next to me, a clean well-dressed fat woman who needs an inch or two of your seat rather than next to the woman with the colicky baby or the person who showers only once a month and it’s the 28th of the month or the person who fell into a vat of cheap cologne or the guy with the flu who sneezes and coughs mucusy grossness, for a four hour flight.  I’m just saying.  Why doesn’t Southwest have a policy about those things?

I am all for businesses running their businesses as they see fit without government intrusion.  If Southwest doesn’t want fat people to fly on their flights then so be it.  They have done a very good job of making there stance known.  I certainly won’t fly on their airline regardless of how many seats I have at my disposal.  I am sorry because of Southwest’s poor policy allowing some random unknown employee to make a discretionary call on whether or not a passenger, Kevin, fit in his sit according to their policy (which he DID) he has been opened up to ignorant and hurtful fat bashing ridicule.  If any good has come of this it’s that a small pen light has been shined on this subject.

References:

Kevin Smith began tweeting about this as soon as it started on his flight the other day.  He can be found on Twitter as ThatKevinSmith.

Southwest Airlines posted an apology on their website that wasn’t really an apology and then posted another that also never got to the point that Kevin Smith had requested admitting they had indeed made a mistake in forcing him off the flight.  They can also be found on Twitter.

I wasn’t a particularly fat child.  Although, I felt huge compared to my friends.  I was a “normal” size baby.  I was an average sized toddler and so on.  Then around 6 I started to gain weight.  Not massive amounts but I started to become a chubby child.  At 9 I weighed 112.  I remember that was an embarrassing day when the entire 4th grade class got weighed and I weighed so much more than the other kids.  Of course, when I look back on pictures I just don’t look that big.  Yes, definitely bigger than most but not “grossly obese.”  Wow, I don’t like that term.

Growing up I was always a gamer though.  Sure my weight stopped me from some things.  I sucked at PE.  I hated the Presidential Fitness BS we had to do every year.  The stupid long jump was cruel for me.  I was short and fat and there wasn’t a chance I was going to get anywhere close to where the President said I should be able to jump at my age.  (Have I just aged myself by mentioning Presidential Fitness?  Do they even still do that?  Ack, maybe I should check before people think I went to school while we were doing our homework on stone tablets.)  By High School I gave up on PE.  I hated it.  I hated the stupid shorts.  I hated running around the field feeling so much bigger than the other girls.  I didn’t feel coached by the coach in the, “come on you can do it kind of way.”  I felt like he felt I was just taking up space…which I was.

As a child I wanted to be an entertainer.  I loved being on stage.  When I was young I took ballet and loved it!  It was so freeing.  There was an unfortunate incident with my tights splitting during a recital that definitely marked me for life.  At that point I knew I was too fat to be a ballerina.  One thing was checked off the list.  Then in elementary school I loved being in the little plays we did.  But as I got older I had the feeling that because I was fat no one would want to see me so I decided to become a marine biologist when I got older because the whales and dolphins wouldn’t care about my size.  (I hadn’t factored in getting a wet suit over my copious body nor did I imagine the anchor I would have to wear to actually submerge myself…)

There certainly have been times in my life when my weight has stopped me.  But I always am willing to try.  Save for the embarrassment of not fitting I am always willing to give it a shot.  I don’t often try to fit into restaurant booths anymore.  Not that I won’t necessarily fit but I had an experience at a great diner in Chicago where I ruined a shirt from sitting in a booth.  I slid into the booth and then sat there for hours with friends drinking coffee and having a great time.  When I slid back out my shirt was covered in gum.  Yes, gum.  The warmth of my belly had melted the gum that people had stuck up under the table leaving me covered in strands of sticky chewed gum.

I remember years ago some friends and I got the opportunity to fly over to Catalina Island.  I was ready to do it.  Sure I had some apprehension about getting into an aluminum can and flying 26 miles over the Pacific to a tiny island but it sounded like a blast.  Then the question came, “How much do you weigh?”  Uh, really!?  Because of my weight I counted as two people so, I could go if someone else didn’t.  I didn’t go.

I don’t have those experiences often in life.  You would think that after living as a large person most of my life I would be prepared.  But it still is always a surprise to me.  Maybe, in part, because I just don’t think of myself as “that” big.  I see BIG people living life all the time…people much bigger than I am.  At least, I think they are bigger.  They say your body image is established in your teen years.  Clearly my body image is skewed.

So, when I was waiting last week at Cedars-Sinai to have dye injected into my shoulder joint before an MRI I was caught off guard when the MRI tech came in and said, “I have a concern! Before we inject you I want to make sure you will fit in the tube of the MRI. I am concerned you aren’t going to fit.  Also, you aren’t claustrophobic are you?!”  He checked me out.  He had me lift the gown so he could check out my size.  He put both hands on my shoulders as if to measure my girth.  Then I took the walk of shame out of the fluoroscopy room down the hall to the elevator to the basement where they keep the MRI machines.  I asked what the weight limit was and was pleased to know I was 50 pounds lighter than the limit.  (But as my ex-boyfriend used to say, “You have the ass of a 500 pound woman.”  Yeah, EX boyfriend.) I was certainly nervous.  As I stood there looking through the window as this slight woman was being taken out of the machine I was shocked at how narrow the opening was.  “Wow!  It is a small opening,” I said to the tech.  He agreed.  I asked about larger patients and he said they either use an open MRI machine that isn’t as efficient or they don’t get one.  I told him I was surprised that the technology didn’t allow for taking care of larger patients since statistically there are so many people who are larger.  Plus with all the bariatric surgeries being done and then redone these days I was very surprised.  Of course, my surprise wasn’t going to make the opening any larger.  They got me onto the table and strapped me in.  I had to put my good arm up over my head to make me less wide at the shoulder.   They slid me in no problem.  As I found myself inside the tech yells, so I could hear him, don’t open your eyes.  Of course, I did and promptly FREAKED OUT!!  Instantly I felt claustrophobic and terrified.  I had to get out of the machine.  I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.  “Uh, you need to get me out now!!!” I yelled.  They slid me out.  I sat up.  The tech then asked me if I could do this.  They didn’t want to inject me if I wasn’t going to follow through.  I thought for a minute and thought about the pain I experience and the lack of mobility etc.  “I can do this.  I have to,” I said.  Back up I went for the injection.

I won’t bore you with the injection part.  Suffice it to say it hurt like a mother!!!  I was stunned at how much it hurt.  They had my arm outstretched with some kind of weight on it so I couldn’t move.  At one point I felt the assistants keys dangling off his neck into my hand.  The pain was bizarrely awful.  I said, “if you don’t stop I am going to yank your keys off your neck.”  It doesn’t seem as funny in the retelling.  In the moment, it’s what got me through.

Before I flew to Amsterdam, I asked my doctor for some anti-anxiety meds to get me through the flight…just in case I got nervous.  He gave me 10.  I never took them.  So, as I went back down to the basement to wait for the MRI I thought, “now would be a good time to break out the calming pills.”  I popped half of one and waited.  About a half hour later it hit and I took another 1/4 of one juat to be sure.  I was now ready for anything.  Hell, I should have taken it before the injection but who knew?  As the MRI tech started to strap me down to the table he said, “I have concern…”  “You and your concerns!!!” I said.  Turns out I was now “too relaxed.”  He was “concerned” that my breathing would be too heavy in the machine because I was so relaxed and I would move.  First, I was wearing that machine like a sausage casing or a pair of skinny jeans on, well, me.  There wasn’t a chance I was going to move.  I then asked if they would put my Glee CD in.  I figured happy goofy music would ease any lingering anxiety the meds hadn’t covered.  He then tells me he’s “concerned” about adding the cords for the headset as it will make the machine tighter etc.  Man, he needs one of those relaxing pills to calm all of his “concerns.”  I was fine.  At first I asked about the bad techno music I was hearing.  Turns out the thumps and bumps of the machine sounds like bad techno music.  It didn’t bother me at all.  45 minutes later they pulled me out.  Then they wanted me to go back in with my bad shoulder up over my head.  If I could put my right arm over my head I wouldn’t have had to do that.

My life has been amazing so far.  I would think that while my size has certainly impeded me in some ways it has made me stronger and wiser in others.  I don’t feel like I have missed out on anything.  As a child I felt like I could do anything and even though the truth of it was I had some minor limitations that were usually discovered in the moment, I have lived and continue to live an exciting and fabulous life.  Sure I’m too fat to be a ballerina and I doubt I would pass the tests to be an astronaut (not just because of my size but because if I freaked out in an MRI I doubt they would let me drug up to go into space) and I am not that keen on being a scuba diver.  I don’t feel like I am compromising by living my fantastic life at all!

I have been meaning to write for some time.  You know, I get these ideas daily of things to write but then I think I need a picture to go with it or I don’t have enough to say to “fill” a blog.  Just silly procrastinating stuff.  Stuff I am guilty of in so much of my life.  But here I am unemployed with time on my hands.  Sure I have a million and one things to do.  I need to put my acting reel together.  I need to go to Peet’s and buy coffee.  I need to deposit my unemployment check so I don’t bounce checks.  I have plenty to do to keep busy and productive.

Lately, I have been a bit obsessed with aging or getting older.  I don’t think I like either term.  Aging reminds me of cheese or wine or beef.  It is the process by which time makes something fresh better.  I certainly don’t want my skin to age.  I have a whole regimen of things I do to keep myself from aging.  I have toyed with the idea of Botox but my husband has put his foot down about it.  Funny, he is such a great man.  We have a great partnership and this is one thing that he is really serious about.  He never tells me I can’t do anything.  Except this.  This is the thing he doesn’t want me to do.  I agree in the moment and then I panic when I see a wrinkle in my forehead.  I started using Avon Reversalist products and I am really pleased with the results.  (Funny, I even sell Avon…so, I can get the discount on the amazing products.)  But then I will catch my reflection and the wrinkles seem glaring to me.  I have friends who have had Botox.  All of us running as fast as we can from “aging.”

Even on Facebook, I don’t put my birth year down and I didn’t join the group from my senior class year, as if to somehow hide my age.  The funny part is that everyone on Facebook knows me.  It isn’t like my Mom doesn’t know.  Who am I hiding it from?  I think the answer is, “me.”  When someone asks me my age I actually have to think about it for a second.  Remember when we were kids and we couldn’t wait to tell people our age?  I think that stops at 21.  By 22 it’s, “sell me the beer and shut up…”

I feel like I have spent a lot of time reflecting lately.  I think I wrote about that previously, which means I am still reflecting.  Sure, it’s the holidays and the new year and all but it feels bigger than that.  Yes, I am unemployed and really eager to work as an actor and/or a writer…the reasons I moved to Los Angeles in the first place…it isn’t like you go fill out an application and then you get an acting job.  I feel positive but not in that unproductive, “Ohh, I hope it happens…” kind of way.

When I moved to Los Angeles I didn’t know many people.  I had a friend who worked for an executive at Warner Bros Studios.  I had the good fortune of being in her office one day when some development guys from Joel Silver’s office came by.  They offered me a “job” as an intern.  Not really a job.  It had all the parts of a job.  It had a schedule.  It had a lot of work.  I got a lot of experience.  I worked crazy hours.  And, I didn’t get paid.  I learned how to do coverage on scripts and read some great ones and some not so great ones.  I loved being on the lot.  One day, one of the producers, Dan Cracchiolo, called me into his office.  He never spoke to me.  In fact, I think that was the only day he ever spoke to me.  He told me to throw away an orchid plant, someone had given him as a gift, since the flowers had died.  Rather than throw the plant away I walked the mile to my car carrying the huge plant, in it’s pottery pot, it all the way.  I put it outside my front door.  For a year, nothing happened with it.  It just sat outside green and lush but no flowers.  Then January came and I noticed it was covered in buds that bloomed magnificently.  It has bloomed every year since.  Tragically, Dan passed away in 2004 in a motorcycle accident.  He was only 39…

In Googling Dan, I decided to look up the other producer that was working at Silver Pictures when I was there.  (I was pretty invisible there.  When referring to me, the one time he referred to me, Joel Silver called me “the pretty fat one.”)   So, just now I looked up this other guy, Alan Schechter,  and I read that he killed himself in 2005.  He was 40!  Tragic!  Sad!  Confusing!

Clearly, if you are reading this, you can see that I have been having a bit of a pity party.  “I’m old.”  “I want to work.” “I want more money.”  And, then I see that these two very successful (I suppose success is much like beauty, it’s in the eye of the beholder…) men died tragically…one at their own hand and one accidentally.  Either way, these young talented lives were snuffed out at an age when they had so much life ahead of them.  I need to kick myself in the ass.  Maybe I needed a pity party for a little while.  But now it’s time to suck it up and live.  Like they say, “this is it.”  And, I can hold off on Botox for now too.

Life has been busy for an unemployed actor and writer in Los Angeles.  It has been a reflective time as well.  Maybe it’s the holidays coming.  Maybe it’s the end of the year.  Maybe it’s being unemployed.  Maybe it’s because I just don’t know what’s next.  I know I want to work.  I know I want to be a working actor.  I know I would love to sell a show.  I have a GREAT idea for a movie.  My head has just been so busy.  I think about writing everyday and then I just don’t.  Are there blog rules?  Will I lose my right to blog?  I kept a journal for years and years.  I started when I was in Junior High and kept it up.  The difference is with a journal so much is so private!  I would hate for someone to find them and know I had a crush on Scott Baio…

In the past couple of weeks I have had a wonderful visit with a friend from Buffalo.  We met a lifetime ago on the internet.  We both had dated the same guy.  For me it was a long distance relationship and for her it was a one-time local date.  It brought us together and we have been friends since.  I was her maid of honor in Vegas years after we met.  I am very fortunate to have a life long friend in her.  We went to Vegas for a couple of days.  We stayed at New York New York.  Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend it.  The people on the roller coaster screaming outside of our hotel room all day and into the night was an added complication I hadn’t considered.  Also, having housekeeping finish cleaning our room and leave behind someone’s false eyelash in our bathroom was really disgusting.  My poor friend thought it was a centipede at first and screamed. We did go see Penn and Teller at the Rio.  As always it was an exceptional show!  They are brilliant!!

I will be going back to Vegas in a little over a week.  I will be staying at the Mandalay Bay.  That is my hotel of choice when in Vegas.  Although, I am looking forward to staying at Aria in the City Center.  We drove through the City Center with some friends when I was just there and it looks amazing.  I want my world to smell like the Mandalay Bay.  I don’t know what that scent is but I love it. I did have a poor experience there one time.  But the last time was extraordinary.

I also have stayed at both the Best Western and the Holiday Inn in Goleta, CA this past week.  I will say they both have really good points and some adequate points.  There is really nothing horrible about either of them.  If those hotels were anywhere else the rate would be half what it is here.  But because it is a freeway exit away from Santa Barbara you over pay for the privilege.  The Best Western has a flat screen TV in the room and really comfortable bed.  But the toilet is awkward to use.  I don’t think it is just because of my size either.  I just think it is situated in an awkward place in the bathroom.  And, there was a mosquito hawk in the bathroom.  Why do bugs always show up when your naked?  It’s like they know you are completely vulnerable so it gives them a fighting chance to not get squished.  Best Western also offers a “complimentary” breakfast that comes with the price of admission.  If you are into low-budget carbs for breakfast it’s great.  For me the sausages and eggs were very unappealing.  The Holiday Inn doesn’t offer breakfast but they do have a coffee shop on the premises.  If you are looking for breakfast in the Santa Barbara area go to The Mesa Cafe and have a Bloody Mary and the best corned beef hash you will EVER have in your life.  (It is real corned beef…not the Alpo-like stuff from the can.)  Neither hotel has an elevator so if mobility is an issue the bottom floors make the most sense.  For what they are I can recommend both for a place to sleep and I agree with Priceline.com that they are both 2 1/2 stars.

I had a wonderful time visiting with my sister and her husband who came in from Amsterdam along with my our brothers and sister.  We celebrated my father’s birthday.  It was a wonderful time.  As always it was too short a visit.  But a great visit nonetheless. (I love that word…nonetheless.  I love that it’s three words in one. It always feels like it is misspelled but isn’t.)  We went for sushi in Goleta at a small place called Sushi Teri.  Not bad.  A lot of sake and beer was consumed.  I am not keen on a lot of sushi offerings but I can do some things.  I also am not a fan of Krab.  For me, spicy tuna is nice middle ground for sea urchin or plastik krab with mayo or icky things with tentacles.  We were a big crowd and a bit loud.  It definitely was a celebration.  Then it was back to the house for a back yard bonfire and great conversation.  Then I went back to the Holiday Inn and slept like a baby.

So, now I continue to reflect on what’s next.  We went to Canter’s for dinner last night…again.  There was a homeless man outside with his Weimeraner puppy.  I brought him half my sandwich and bought him a danish from the bakery.  He was so appreciative and kind.  His dog was so sweet.  I never forget how fortunate I am to live the life I live.  Certainly meeting him and his dog Sadie is a nudge towards not forgetting.

Where have I been? Everyday I think about writing here and then more life happens and I just don’t get to it.  It’s funny.  It isn’t like I am terribly busy.  I have been home for almost three weeks.  I have been trying to keep the apartment clean around the chaos that we have in here.  I have been “looking” at what’s next for me.  I know what I want to do, clearly.  It isn’t like I can just pick up the phone and call Judd Apatow and say, “I have a great idea for a script. Let’s work together…”  Or can I?  I am still drinking a lot of coffee and walking since I have returned.  Here it is a bit more of a chore.  Not the coffee part…although, it is different it is great here.  We have a French press as opposed to my sister who has a Nespresso machine.  Definitely two different brews that both get the job done in a delicious way.  Walking on the other hand just isn’t as easy here for me as it is there.  There I had to walk.  Here I have to force myself to walk.

We have been walking to the Farmer’s Market on the weekends.  It is over 3 miles round trip from our apartment.  The walk there seems easier…it’s down hill.  Breakfast at Charlie’s wasn’t as good as it was the week before.  It seemed like they had forgotten our order as other people got theirs before we did even though they ordered after.  Then my two eggs over easy came out and it was one egg…which was fine.  I only need to eat one egg if I have toast and potatoes but I paid for two.  They remade them too quickly.  They came out a bit like over easy.  That’s an exaggeration.  It was more like they showed the eggs the flame.  They were done on the outside but barely cooked on the inside.  Not much worse than a cold raw yolk.  I ate one for the protein and called it a day.  We walked around the Farmer’s Market and The Grove.  We went to Crate and Barrel and fantasized about the furniture magically being in our apartment.  How I would love to get a new couch!  (Someday I will write about the couch saga…) We went to the French store there Mr. Marcel Gourmet Market.  They were giving away samples of fresh Truffled Ham.  Really tasty.  Not the same as the Truffle Salami in Amsterdam, but it had a subtle flavor that was delightful.  The owner said to us in a deep French accent, “You know how I eat this?  With my fingers!”  We went to the fish guy and bought fresh red snapper for dinner and then bought lemons from one of the produce stands.  Then we walked home.  Around half way I was ready for a cab. I half jokingly asked John to walk home and get the car.  But I persevered and kept on.  It was a great day.  It ended with an amazing home made dinner of red snapper with home made tartar sauce (I used shallots and Bubbie’s pickles) and Brussels sprouts snapped off the stalk and itty bitty potatoes.

I have been going to the Farmer’s Market at 3rd and Fairfax since I was a child.  When they decided to build The Grove I was so worried they would ruin the feeling of the Farmer’s Market.  There was, of course, the concern of traffic and such.  I am happy to say I don’t think they ruined it.  Sure there are things I miss about how it used to be.  But I really do like it.  I like The Grove for what it is and I still enjoy poking around the Farmer’s Market.  In my opinion, however, they ruined Dupars.  I don’t know if it is the new ownership or the remodel or what it is exactly.  The food isn’t as good.  Maybe the food never was that good but the ambiance made up for the multitude of sins and now that it is all clean inside one expects more from the fare.  I don’t know.  What I do know is there used to be nothing like their grilled date nut bread with cream cheese on it.  Really, it was like heaven in your mouth.  And, the pancakes with the ladle full of melted butter poured over them was genius.  Now, not so much.

When you walk you see so many things you never see or notice when you are driving.  Sure there are the smells of the neighborhood…not all of them great.  There are the people.  A lot of people walking their dogs.  There is a house I have seen for years while in the car.  I had no idea they have a HUGE aviary with all kinds of exotic (and not so exotic) birds.  Big yellow and green ones and smaller parrot like  birds all living together in one big aviary.  We walked by the stores and poked in and out of the thrift stores on Fairfax and then to counter balance the filth we went into Jonathan Adler on Melrose.  I love the dichotomy of this neighborhood.  The old and the new.  The rich and the poor.  And, all the in between.  It is fascinating.

Thanksgiving is Thursday.  Mom will make my Grandmother’s stuffing.  That will make life worth living all the more.  It is also my mother’s birthday and we will all be together.  I have much for which to be thankful and much for which to be grateful.  I am living a great life!

Oh, and today is the 150th Anniversary of On The Origin of Species.  150 years ago today and people are still debating its validity.  What the…?! People are funny.  Scary and funny!  I have a lot to say on the matter.  Boy, do I. And, I think I need to know my audience a bit more.  I don’t want to alienate my base so-to-speak.

So, I am off.  My car won’t wash itself.  Groceries won’t just show up in our apartment and someone needs to find me a job!

I fell asleep on the couch last night in one of those awkward positions – sitting up, kind of, with my neck cocked over on a pillow and my legs stretched out in front of me on the floor.  I have asked my husband on numerous occasions to please, please, please not leave me that way.  He insists that he “tried” to wake me a couple of times.  Hmmm.  So, I woke with a kink in my neck and feet that didn’t want to work.  I stumbled into bed and slept pretty well.  But I woke this morning feeling like I just can’t do a thing.  I brushed my teeth and put on my walking clothes.  I made it as far as the computer which is across the room from the door to go outside to actually walk.  What’s going on with me?

We had a lovely day yesterday, short, but lovely.  John had the day off for Veteran’s Day.  We decided to meet my mother down at South Coast Plaza.  It was a nice half-way point.  I hadn’t seen her in a while and wanted to bring her the goodies I bought for her in Amsterdam.  Traffic was light because of the holiday.  I had walked in the morning so the day was ours.  The mall was not at all how I remembered it from my childhood.  We walked around the mall and poked in and out of some of the stores.  I was surprised at the high-end stores there and wonder how they are making it.  Gucci and Louis Vuitton are there.  There is a sign that the Prada store will open in 2010.  Who is shopping at these stores?  My mother had wanted to go to LA Eyeworks to look at frames for glasses but they are no longer at South Coast Plaza.  She was disappointed.  I told her she needs to come up and visit and I will take her to the store here. We went to lunch at Lawry’s.  It was okay.  The company was great!  The food was just okay.  I had a Cobb Salad with a generous helping of dry turkey and a rather smooth and sweet blue cheese dressing.

One thing I noticed there, that I wasn’t expecting, was I drew a lot of attention.  People stared at me and they were quite blatant about it.  Sure I am bigger than most but I found myself getting more and more uncomfortable.  I was already uncomfortable in my clothes.  My pants are baggier than I would like so I felt, for lack of a better word, kind of clownish.  Maybe it was my attitude that drew attention.  I don’t know.  It certainly wasn’t my experience of Holland where I didn’t feel like people gave a crap about how I looked.  I felt judged and awkward yesterday walking through the mall.

We got back to LA later in the day.  It was a short visit with Mom.  We will see her in two weeks for Thanksgiving.  I needed to go to Target and Ulta and Trader Joe’s…life maintenance…and it was nice to have John with me for the ride.  He had decided he wanted to get a new phone.  Last night I took him over to the Verizon store where he got the new Droid phone.  WOW…is an understatement.  What an amazing piece of technological wonder.  It is awesome!  I can see it as an iPhone killer for sure.  It’s sleek.  It’s powerful.  It has a slide out qwerty keyboard.  Now, I want one.  Yes, I have found the phone that will make me give up my Blackberry.  I am not due for an upgrade until March.  We’ll see what the next four months will bring.

I realize the thing that feels like it is stopping me today is it’s the anniversary of the day we lost our Chuck.  Chuck was our fabulous cat!  He actually was our neighbor’s cat.  Many of you know his wonderful story.  He was a big lanky boy of a cat.  As our neighbor liked to say about him, “he was his own man.”  She got him as a kitten in 1989 and he always had a powerful personality.  I met him when I moved here in 1995.  He would swagger up the driveway and dane to be pet.  He would meow emphatically to get the attention he wanted on his terms.  He was an indoor-outdoor cat.  He owned the neighborhood.  With time our neighborhood and our lives changed.  He never came into my apartment because my cat Groucho would have none of it.  He would come to the door and ask to come in (as if I had ever let him in) and she would puff up and growl and yell at him through the door.  He never gave up.  After she passed away and then John moved out here, little did I know, he still hadn’t given up on getting in here.  John, the big softy, and Chuck started a beautiful relationship unbeknown to me.  As it turns out, one day, John was outside making salmon on the Q for lunch while I was at work.  Chuck sauntered up to John and must have said something like, “hey, what’s for lunch? Salmon!?  I LOVE salmon!!” I didn’t know this love affair had started and was surprised to find Chuck walking past me up the walk into my apartment one night.  From that night on, he would come and visit all the time.  Some nights he would stay and some nights he would ask to leave to roam his neighborhood.  New neighbors moved in with two HUGE dogs.  The dogs are not cat friendly and killed one our neighbor’s other cats.  It was devastating and terrifying.  But Chuck would still insist on wandering the streets at night.  We would sleep with one eye open and an ear to the door for him.  Then one day he stopped asking to leave at night and we stopped offering.  As with most geriatric cats he had his share of illnesses.  It was hard to watch this strong independent cat become more and more dependent.  Our apartment became a kitty hospice with me getting up early (really, really early) everyday with him and giving him Sub Q fluids and a B12 shot once a week.  I cooked a special breakfast for him.  I bought him different kinds of foods to tempt him.  I cooked fresh salmon or chicken or ground beef.  He got pills for his Hyper Thyroid and he got vitamins hidden in meat baby food.  The fluids were for his kidney failure (CRF.) And, we loved him like we have never loved another living soul.  We were so fortunate to have had the time we had with him!  A year ago today he left us.  Just as he came to us on his terms and was our neighbor’s cat on his terms he left us on his terms.  Yes, he was his own man.  And, we miss him!

Physically I feel great today!  I know I will feel that much greater if I walk.  Maybe I will wait and walk with John tonight.  Of course, there is the possibility that John will want to play with his Droid tonight…I don’t know that he will be able to walk and play with his Droid. We’ll see what today brings.

I miss Amsterdam.  Of course, being there wasn’t reality.  At least it wasn’t my reality.  While I like to say I immersed myself in the lifestyle rather than being a tourist, it wasn’t my life.  It wasn’t my daily life.  It still was vacation.  Sure I did laundry there and I went to the grocery store.  We cooked and cleaned.  But I was living out of a suitcase.  I went to bed at 3a most nights and slept in.  I didn’t have to worry about opening mail and paying bills.  My cell phone didn’t work there so I didn’t have phone calls to deal with.  Sure, I checked my messages (and noticed yesterday, nearly a week after I had come home, I had missed some of them) and I checked my emails.  It wasn’t reality.

Since being home I have forced myself to walk nearly everyday.  As I have said, it isn’t the same.  And, I don’t want to be down on LA.  This is my home.  I choose to be here for my career as an actor and a writer.  I do love a lot of things about Los Angeles.  I am looking for the beauty in my surroundings.  Does that sound airy fairy?  Maybe it’s the feeling that life is short that has stuck with me since my trip.  I feel different.  I feel like my outlook is different; more positive.  Not in a delusional “positive thinking” kind of way.  I feel more like “this is it!”  This is the life I get to live.  I feel more appreciative of what I have and feel fortunate for everything.

I went to the dentist yesterday.  I am not keen on having my mouth worked on.  I have become a much better patient over the years.  There was a time when I would need gas just for a cleaning.  Oral hygiene is really important to me.  I am not sure if it is my fear of needing dental work that has me brush and floss daily. Whatever the cause I am diligent about it.  When I moved here years ago a good friend recommended my dentist.  Sure he is a bit more expensive than if I went to a dentist in the valley but it is worth every penny.  As they say, you get what you pay for.  (His name is Jonathan Engel.  If you go, tell him I sent you.) Yesterday’s appointment was for preventative care.  He called it micro dentistry.  As long as I get to keep my teeth and have healthy gums for the rest of my life, bring it on.

I have had this vision in my head of a cute outfit.  Yesterday morning, I put it on before I raced out the door to the dentist.  As I walked down the street from the parking structure to his office I felt more and more uncomfortable.  The outfit didn’t translate from my brain to the real world.  It was much cuter in my head than it was on my body.  The shirt is just too big.  The pants looked odd with my boots.  My feet looked enormous.  As I walked the shirt hugged my ass.  I could picture myself in the back of Glamour magazine as a “Fashion DON’T” with a black bar covering my eyes (as if that would disguise my identity.) I had errands to run but HAD to come home and change before I ran them.  I was thrilled to put on my chocolate brown T.  Somehow, just changing the shirt made the pants better.  With the change I was able to tolerate my big feet too.  Since I was home, I thought it shouldn’t be a total loss, so I poured myself the last of the French Pressed coffee I had made earlier.  As I walked through our small apartment I managed to pour the entire cup of coffee down the front of my shirt.  In the moment of disbelief, as the coffee dripped off my shirt and onto the floor, I stood there stunned. After putting my shirt in the wash (it was a good impetus to do some laundry) and cleaned the floor, I put on my third outfit of the day…without the giant boots.

Today is another day.  I walked this morning.  I drank coffee without spilling it.  I had some of the Gouda cheese I brought back with some dark bread.  I have been on line.  I have errands to run and phone calls to make.  (My dentist’s office called to check on me.  They are so great!) I have some writing to do.  I am going to be a good wife and cook a nice dinner so it will be done when my husband gets home. Then tomorrow will be another day…funny, how that works.  I am still unsure as to what is next.  They say this is a good place to be.  When you don’t know you can take the opportunity to be creative.  This is defnitely an opportunity.  My mind has been very busy since I have been back and I want to get my thoughts out and see what comes of them.

I’m still trying to get through the jet lag.  The change back from Daylight savings time doesn’t help.  It is 5:15 on Sunday evening and I feel like I could call it a day and go to sleep.  I just keep pressing through.  I’m sure this feeling of needing to go to sleep at 5p and waking up at 3a feeling like it’s noon will pass.  In the meantime, I am just living my life.  And, a great life at that.

We broke open some of the Gouda cheese I brought home and had it with the Belgian beer I found at BevMo.  I was thrilled to find the Delirium Tremens beer yesterday.  (I was even happier to see it for less at Cost Plus today.)  The cheese is amazingly creamy and delicious.  I don’t remember Gouda cheese tasting that way.  Maybe it is more processed for the US.  Maybe it’s the kind I bought.  I don’t know.  What I do know is that it was and is ridiculously delicious. We have some left over that I want to savor.

This morning we woke up early and took our time getting it together.  Since I got home I have been making it a point of taking a long walk everyday.  I don’t want to lose that fit feeling I have after walking the streets of Amsterdam.  I am really enjoying walking.  Life in Los Angeles, at least for me, just isn’t set up for a walking lifestyle.  I need to find places where I can add it into my daily life.  Today, we ended up walking down to the Farmer’s Market at 3rd and Fairfax.  I have been going there since I was a child.  I have wonderful memories.  Even with the addition of The Grove, it is still a wonderful place.  The walk from our apartment makes it approximately a 3 mile round trip walk.  In some ways it felt really far.  It’s a slow incline back.  There aren’t hills in Amsterdam (save for the tiny cobblestone bridges) so I felt the slight burn but it was a good burn.  We got there before all the stores and kiosks opened and before the huge Sunday crowds.  I love Los Angeles early in the morning, especially on the weekends, because most people sleep in.  Restaurants don’t normally get busy before 10a.  We ate at Charlie’s at the West end of the Farmer’s Market.  We had our pick of the tables.  I am sure the person who designed the chairs for the Farmer’s Market is Dutch as they are very small and definitely not made for comfort.  Maybe they don’t want people to linger longer than it takes to eat a meal.  They also seem very, very old.  When I sit on them I always give them a little test to be sure they feel sturdy.  Then I sit gingerly. Today was fine. I ordered our breakfast and staked out our spot and John went and got us coffee’s from Starbucks.  I love being with him!

Then we walked through the Farmer’s Market as the kiosks opened.  The crepe stand was packed, as usual.  It is definitely a favorite for most people.  Every person I told we were going or had gone to the Farmer’s Market mentioned the crepe restaurant.  I love looking at the fruit and vegetable stands there.  Even if I’m not shopping I find the displays to be like works for art.

After being in Amsterdam and drinking as much coffee as I did, I have a yen for a Nespresso machine.  My sister has one and it got a lot more use while I was visiting.  I love the idea of making a perfect cup of coffee every time.  Especially, now that I am drinking a couple of cups (or four) a day. In Amsterdam, we walked to the big department store to buy more coffee and I loved the whole concept.  I was first introduced to the Nespresso machines at Thanksgiving last year at John’s Aunt’s.  It is just a great cup of coffee.  So, today I was thrilled to see they had the Nespresso machines at Sur La Table.  John wanted to go in and look around.  We had a great sales person talk to us about the machines.  He made John a cup of his choice of coffee and he was sold the minute he took a whiff and a sip.  It isn’t something we are going to jump into buying this minute.  With the holidays coming up it is more likely than if he had tried it in July.

Tomorrow is Monday.  A new day.  I will get up and walk and then go to the dentist.  Then the day is my oyster. I have some things to think about.  It will be a good day to take stock of what’s next as that is the ongoing theme of my days.

I landed in Los Angeles on Tuesday evening.  To say that I was exhausted is like saying water is wet.  I was spent.  As I stood at the baggage claim, fingers crossed that I would see both of my bags, a baggage handler walked up next to me with one of my bags.  As he started to hoist my heavy bag onto the carousel I said, “Hey, that’s my bag!”  I took it from him and asked him why he had it as the bags from my flight hadn’t begun to pour onto the conveyor belt.  He told me it came in on the earlier flight.  Yes, one of my bags came in on the flight I was unceremoniously told I couldn’t make because I was 5 minutes too late to check my bags.  I asked him where my other bag was and he said he didn’t know.  On all of my other flights my bags were the first to come off the plane as they were the last to get on the plane due to my stand by status. I stood there and waited and waited as bags tumbled down the belt.  No sign of my big apple green bag filled with Dutch cookies and my sweaters.  “YAY!” I exclaimed like a child as my bag somersaulted down the ramp towards me.  I pulled it onto my, not so smart, Smarte Carte and wheeled my belongings outside to catch a cab.

Why is the Smarte Carte in the LA not smart?  Because it doesn’t have a brake.  The ones I used in both Amsterdam and in NY had a brake built into the handle.  When you aren’t holding the handle down the wheels lock.  It makes it much easier to load heavy bags onto a wheeled cart when it can’t roll away from you.  Needless to say, as I was trying to load over 100 pounds of luggage plus my heavy carry on onto the cart in LA after travelling for over 24 hours it would have been nice to not have to chase the Smarte Carte around the baggage claim area.

It didn’t make sense for me to have my husband come down to fetch me at the airport.  Traffic is crazy.  Plus I wasn’t sure what baggage claim would be like etc.  I got into the cab with a very funny cab driver.  He was older and I am guessing he was Thai.  The car smelled of garlic as if he had just eaten a wonderful garlicky feast in the cab before I arrived.  We talked about Amsterdam and marijuana.  Even though I told him Amsterdam wasn’t where the mermaid was that that was in Copenhagen, Denmark, he kept asking me about Denmark.  After correcting him and saying, “Holland” a couple of times I gave up and just answered his questions and chatted.  He told me he used to smoke marijuana all the time but now that he has children and has to be more responsible he doesn’t anymore.  We talked about legalizing marijuana and about how we need to educate our children.  It was a funny half hour and a great way to end my trip.

When I came home John, my husband, had decorated the apartment with streamers and “Welcome Home” signs he printed on his computer.  He had gone to Target to buy streamers and a sign but they only had Happy Birthday signs.  It was so wonderful to see him!  I knew I missed him on the trip but didn’t realize just how much until I saw him.  Clearly, I was tired because I welled up when I saw the homemade signs and streamers.  Sleeping in my bed (our new king bed we bought a month before I left) with my husband near by was so nice. 15 nights away is a long time.

I am still exhausted but not as dazed as I was the first night and first day back.  Jet lag is crazy.  I keep waking up at 3:30 in the morning with my body saying, “Why are you still in bed? It’s after noon!”  When I try and go back to sleep and wake up at a more normal hour of say, 6:00a, I feel more tired than if I would have just gotten up for good at 3:30.  I am just going to keep powering through.

I have also continued walking.  It certainly isn’t the same walking I was doing in Amsterdam, but it is nice to keep my body moving as I found I really enjoyed the physical activity.  I live in a wonderful neighborhood.  While LA doesn’t smell nearly is lovely as the Amsterdam neighborhoods, and it definitely isn’t as pretty or quaint, it will suffice for now until my next adventure.

My intention is to keep writing.  I have some reflections and thoughts about my trip to Amsterdam I am going to share in the next day or two.  I am going to continue looking at life with a fresh perspective and I plan on sharing it.  I am looking forward to future travels which I plan to capture both digitally and with the written word and plan on sharing them with you.  A thought came to me as well, if you have any questions for me about, well, anything, by all means ask me.  I would be happy to give your questions some thought and answer them. In the meantime, I am happy to be home again.

My last day in Amsterdam was bittersweet.  Sima and I had a wonderful breakfast on the boat.  Then we walked around town on the way to her shop.  We poked in and out of little shops along the way.  The sky was beautiful the day after a heavy rain.  I always looked at the sky with Van Gogh in mind.  He loved the clouds and the light of Holland.  On my last day we had Van Gogh clouds. We had lunch at the cafe across from her salon.  It was cold the day after the rainy Sunday so I ordered soup.  It was a hearty vegetable soup of squash, potatoes and green beans with a fresh shaved mountain of Parmesan cheese floating in the center of the delicate broth.  It was served with a couple of slices of crusty bread.  We thought we would eat outside but it was just too cold.  We brought our plates inside and enjoyed the warmth of our lunch and of the heater next to our table. Then it was time for Sima hair.  We walked over to her salon where Sima worked her magic on my hair.  She brought my hair back to my original dark brown and layered some warmer dark brown highlights in.  I feel like I am walking around with her artwork on my head.

We stopped at the Albert Heijn on the way back to the boat.  I needed to pack so we decided to cook dinner at home.  She made an absolutely delicious meal of home made pesto sauce on fettuccine and an arugula salad.  Ben made outrageous garlic bread.  We sat and enjoyed our last meal together.  I was definitely  tense.  I had packed while Sima was cooking and I knew my bags were very heavy.  I had gotten up early and walked over to the Kaas-Brood shop to get some cheese to bring home.  50 Euro later I had some gouda to bring home.  Even though I had read it was okay to bring back I was definitely concerned it might be a problem.  Of course, the thought of leaving Amsterdam and my sister was weighing heavily on me as well.  I had checked the availability on my flights and knew I wouldn’t have a problem getting to JFK from Amsterdam but that my flight from JFK to LAX looked pretty full.  The next three flights from JFK looked progressively worse throughout the day.  It looked like I might have to layover another 9 hours and catch the late flight.  So, that was definitely giving me more to think about and worry about.

I got in bed relatively early that night.  At midnight, when I was just ready to turn off my light, Gnamish, the greatest cat alive, came to visit me on my final night.  He walked around my bed a couple of times doing laps, stopping at my face for love and snuggles. Then he left to turn in for the night with Sima and Ben.  I had a difficult time sleeping Monday night knowing I had a huge day of travel ahead of me.  Flying stand by made what is already difficult even more so.  Air travel just isn’t easy.  I don’t care what your shape or size it just isn’t an enjoyable experience.  Sure flying Business Class or First Class is much different than coach, aka steerage, but the process just isn’t easy. I woke up at 5a unable to sleep more I got up and to finish up my packing. Then I showered for the last time in the fish bowl.  No one was on the street that early so I had no looky loos.  Sima made coffee and we chatted a bit.  It was a beautiful morning.  The dusk sky was blue and hazy.  The moon was hanging over the city like it was still night time against the darkish morning sky.  I am sorry I didn’t take pictures but my head was busy with thoughts of the coming day.

We could have walked to Central Station with my bags but it made more sense to just call a cab.  They would take the 20 minute train ride back from the station so Ben could go to work and Sima could then go on to her salon.  The airport was hopping with travellers.  I had to check in at a little kiosk and then take my bags to another line to check them through.  I asked specifically about checking them all the way through to LAX but they insisted I could only check in to JFK.  It felt wrong.  I should have pushed them to check me all the way through.  I should have followed my hunch as my intuition knew better than the Delta/KLM employee at Schipol (Amsterdam Airport.)  I hugged Sima and Ben  goodbye.  I was very sad but didn’t cry.  My emotions were busy worrying about catching my flight and moving through my day.

After leaving Sima and Ben at the first security check point.  I had my passport stamped and carried on to my gate.  Security is different at the Amsterdam airport than it is in US airports.  I don’t know how it is at other European airports but here you go through security at your individual gates before you board.  I stood in line at my gate for the secondary passport/security check where they asked me questions about my stay in Amsterdam.  They asked why I was there and where I stayed and if anybody had given me any electronic items to carry on board.  They asked me if I packed my own bags.  After I was cleared to go through the next security check point I realized I hadn’t spoken to the gate agent.  I was told to leave the secure area and go back out and speak to her.  She informed me that it was “unlikely” that I would get Business Class to JFK and to take a seat.  She was rather unpleasant.  I asked if I had time to use the restroom.  I did.

Again, I found an interesting difference from the US compared to Amsterdam.  I am not a fan of public restrooms.  I am sorry to find myself talking about the restroom again, but this was fascinating to me.  Rather than give you paper seat covers, which is wasteful, there was a dispenser of toilet sanitizer on the wall with directions to spray it onto some toilet paper and clean the seat.  I thought that was rather ingenious!

I did have to go through security again, where I got the full work up.  I set off the alarm as I walked through the metal detector.  That is the first time that has happened in a long time.  A female security officer asked if it was okay for her to check me.  It wasn’t a problem until she patted down every inch of my body.  Again, that odd Dutch personal space thing.  In the US, when I have set off the alarm they use a metal detecting wand to find out what set the larger machine off.  But not in Amsterdam.  No joke if she didn’t rub down nearly every inch of my body.  My arms, my chest (under, over and in between my breasts without giving me the full breast squeeze) my thighs, my legs, my back.  It was a little bizarre.  As she finished my full body massage, I was beckoned over by another security officer who opened my carry on and my purse and asked me questions about my belongings.  The thing that was funny is I had two lighters and three books of matches that I had bought as gifts that didn’t make them blink an eye.  There was no mention of my baggie of liquids either.  Airport security seems so arbitrary and I don’t feel any safer because of it.

As it turned out, I was able to fly Business Class to JFK. It was a bit cramped as it was packed with people.  But it wasn’t nearly as cramped as coach would have been.  We were delayed a bit on the tarmac in Amsterdam and I only had an hour and a half to make my connecting flight.  Of course, in NY I had to clear passport control where they stamped my passport and checked my customs form.  Then I had to claim my luggage and head over to customs where they wanted to talk to me about the “food” I had brought back with me.  I had packed my bags with some different kinds of cookies and mustard and mayonnaise in metal tubes (like toothpaste.) I had brought beer glasses home from the Brouwerij ‘t IJ (one didn’t make it…) and some other goodies.  I really buy a lot.  I had wanted to bring home some of the fabulous Belgian salami we had eaten but had read online that it is illegal to bring meat products of any kind into the US.  You can’t bring fruit or vegetables in either.  (Obviously, bringing lighters and matches is okay though.) I was pretty careful about that and I was honest with the customs agents.  However, it took time.  They scanned two of my three bags and asked me about the contents of each.  I told her, “cookies, socks, tubes of mayo and mustard, t-shirts, tampons…”  She started laughing and said, “Did you say tampons?!”  To which I replied, “Yes.”  She couldn’t believe it she kept saying to her colleagues that she couldn’t believe I said “tampons” and that that was the most honest response she had ever gotten.  It was an odd and funny experience.  I don’t think tampons are that hilarious but it got me through customs without actually having to open my bags.  Unfortunately, when I got to the place to recheck my bags for the remainder of my travels I came to find out that my intuition in Amsterdam had been correct and they should have checked me all the way through.  Becuase they hadn’t checked me and my bags through to Los Angeles I had to walk over to one of the agents and check in again recheck my bags.  And, because I had taken all that time in Customs, and the ensuing laugh riot about my feminine products, it was now 55 minutes before my flight.  Per Ms. Friendly at the counter I couldn’t check in for my flight because I had missed the hour prior to take off deadline.  There was no discussion about over riding the system or calling a supervisor to get me on the flight.  It was, essentially, “Too bad.  I am putting you and your bags on the next flight.”  I had already checked and knew the following flight, the flight she was putting me on the stand by list for, was nearly full when I had checked the night before.  I could feel myself welling up with tears.  There was nothing I could do.  I was at Norma’s, the Delta employee who works in the bowels of JFK’s, mercy.  And, she had none. I had to wait 3 hours for my next flight.

The upside is the gate agent for my flight was nothing short of kind and helpful.  There wasn’t a chance I was going to get Business Class to LAX with 15 people ahead of me on the list.  There were 10 seats available in coach.  When I explained my predicament of having a large ass and needing an empty seat next to me she laughed and was so great with me.  When the plane started to board she called me over and asked, “Is a window and a middle seat good for you?”  How she treated me washed away the bad taste that Norma had left with me.  As I sat in my coach seat the flight attendant came over the PA asking people to move quickly and get to their seats as it was going to be a full flight.  I smiled knowing I was going to be comfortable (The seats are so close together.  The seat in front of me was nearly touching me.  There was a slim chance that I would be able to use my tray table), or as comfortable as I could be in coach, the rest of the way home.

I know that travelling and specifically air travel is difficult no matter ones size.  But given that I am a woman of size I am clearly biased in my consideration that it is more difficult for fat people.  Besides dragging heavy luggage filled with clothes that are twice the size of an average person (think about it, if I am twice your size than logically my clothes will be twice the size of yours.  Like a word problem in math, it figures that if we bring the same amount of clothing on a trip and my clothes are twice the size of yours than my clothes will also weigh twice as much.) Then there is the whole walking the miles of airport terminal carrying my largess as well.  Then there is getting on the plane down the long breezeways and then getting on the plane through the small doors and down the the tiny aisles.  As I approach a plane the first thing I do is stop and rub and give a little “you can do it” pat to the outside of the plane.  It’s a superstition with which I am just unwilling to tempt fate.  Then as I walk onto the plane I inform the first flight attendant I see that I will need a seatbelt extender and where I am sitting. I was very lucky on this trip.  I was able to fly Business Class from New York to Amsterdam and from Amsterdam to New York.  I was also very fortunate that on my Los Angeles to JFK flight and back, even though I had coach, I was able to get an empty seat next to me.  There isn’t a chance I could fit comfortably in a coach seat with the arm rest down.  Not only would I be miserable but the person next to me would be also.  There are a lot of considerations being a person of size and travelling.  I have to say with this trip the pay off far outweighed the cost of having some discomfort. This fat girl will continue to travel and will continue to write about her experiences.  I also promise to not make a habit of writing in the third person either.  It just seemed fitting (ha, I said fitting) in this moment.