From Sabrina Dropkick, Chicago IL; favorite food: baked goods.

So I figured it could be cool to post some recipes - both healthy and fatty. For my first post I’ll be sharing a healthy one that seemed both tasty AND creative. With these cheese crisps you can morph the crisps to be whatever shape you’d like when they’re still soft coming out of the oven. HOW FUCKING COOL?! Could you just imagine dinosaur cheese crisps or kitten cheese crisps or cute little hearts. I would have too much fun with this… 

I found some helpful comments on the site as well.

“If you are a carb counter, this is a great way to form a taco shell and just line it with a lettuce leaf and fill with your favorites. Also after you form the cheese, you can fill with omelet stuff or whatever.” 

“When I’m in a hurry, I just fry these up in my non-stick skillet. I make bite size ones for snacking or for “chips” to dip in something yummy!”

Anyway, here’s the recipe, found on recipes.sparkpeople.com.

Cheese Crisps

Nutritional Info

• Servings Per Recipe: 1
• Amount Per Serving
• Calories: 456.0

• Total Fat: 30.0 g
• Cholesterol: 79.0 mg
• Sodium: 1,862.0 mg
• Total Carbs: 3.7 g
• Dietary Fiber: 0.0 g
• Protein: 41.6 g

These are an oven-baked version of the Italian frico. It’s just basically thin rounds of baked cheese. One of the cool things about it is that they are moldable when still warm. If you drape them over an upturned glass, they will form a cup that you can fill with anything you like. It makes a really nice presentation for a party.

Ingredients

1 cup grated hard cheese (such as Parmesean) - NOT the dried powdery stuff

NOTE ON TYPE OF CHEESE:
You can use any kind, really, but the results will be different. Hard cheeses, such as Parmesan, Romano, Asagio, etc, will make a crisp “shell,” whereas cheddar will be more chewy and “lacey” (the fat separates out), though still firm. Softer cheeses such as mozzerella will not work well.

Directions

Toss cheese with any seasonings you’d like — garlic powder (about half a teaspoon for a cup of cheese), hot pepper powder, even cinnamon. Or leave plain.

Pile 1 to 4 Tablespoons of cheese (depending on the size you want) on a baking sheet covered with a silicone mat or parchment paper oiled on both sides. Flatten the tops so they are in more or less an even pile. There should be at least two inches between smaller mounds, 4 inches between larger ones.

Bake 5 to 6 minutes until they are a light golden brown (they will be a little darker at the edges). It happens fast, so watch carefully.

If you want to mold them into a shape, you want to “drape” them while still warm. You can make cups over an upturned glass, or “taco shell” shapes by draping over any cylindrical object that is at hand (rolling pin, side of glass)

Serving Suggestions: Fill with fruit, dip, salad. Spread flat ones with sugar-free jam (I’m not kidding), or any spread you want, or eat plain.

Number of Servings: 1

Recipe submitted by SparkPeople user THATCATHOLICBOY. 

Number of Servings: 1

http://recipes.sparkpeople.com/recipe-detail.asp?recipe=922321

From Sabrina Dropkick, Chicago IL; favorite food: baked goods. 

So prom season is around the corner and finding that perfect dress can be stressful for anyone. I did a little digging and found some decent sites that provide plus size dresses at reasonable prices. What I also love about these sites is that their plus size clothes are actually modeled by plus size women. Who’da fucking thunk it! (Sorry, that’s always been a pet peeve of mine - when a site sells fatty clothes but won’t model them with fatty bitches.) ANYWAY - 

Rissy Roo’s is in the middle of a sale right now, with dresses as low as $48: http://www.rissyroos.com/catalog/Plus_Size_Dresses-24-1.html

Sydney’s Closet has continuous sales in their clearance section, with dresses as low as $79: http://www.sydneyscloset.com/prom_dresses/Cheap_Prom_Dresses.asp

Prom Girl has dresses as low as $98. They also have a special section devoted to sizes 28 and larger: http://www.promgirl.com/shop/pretty_princess_plus/viewall?ob=pa&sortgo=Go&nt=12

Plus Size Bride is for, in my opinion, those with an unlimited budget. Though their prices are higher they do provide an extremely wide selection of gowns, and you can even have a dress in the skinny bitches section made for big girl sizes (for a price - 18 to 20 is an extra $15 and 22+ is an extra $20). Find them here at: http://www.plussizebridal.com/SearchResults.asp?productid=&manufacturer=&category=PR&searchtext=&sizechart=&Price=&superrush=&MOVE=P

From Sabrina Dropkick, Chicago IL; favorite food: baked goods.

I haven’t read this one yet, but it’s been in my Amazon cart for a while. Fat Girl, written by Judith Moore, is a memoir written because she was compelled to unveil the truth about being fat. I found a response from Moore on http://www.vachss.com about why she wrote the book: 

“ I wrote Fat Girl because I’d read books that other fat women wrote about how they were fat. Most fat women didn’t write the truth about fat. They didn’t write about fat fat fat fat thighs and how tender flesh on the inside of fat thighs rubs and rubs. The skin on one thigh rubs the skin on the other thigh down to raw blister. Every step you take, this raw blistered skin hurts. You can’t tell anybody “I have blisters” and “I hurt” because first off, you don’t want to talk even in whispers about anything that goes on in the gloom between your thighs. No way. You are disgusting and what goes on between your thighs is disgusting, so you don’t tell. Besides, anybody you told would know you got the blisters because you’re fat. They’d cluck-cluck-cluck that you were fat because in one sitting you poked in your snout and gobbled, with warm garlic French bread: an entire four-serving bowl of the perfect Cobb salad (Romaine and Bibb lettuces, Haas avocado whose soft ripe flesh turns an immeasurably buttery green, watercress, tomato loosed tenderly from its tight skin, cold chicken breast and ham cut into batons, hard-boiled egg, chives, crumbled Maytag Blue cheese, bacon fried and broken up, and for dressing, a heavy sluice of whatever you like). Anyone you told about that Cobb salad and French bread would feel either revolted by you or sorry for you. You don’t want anyone to feel either way, not about you. You don’t wish friend or stranger to feel sorry for you because you don’t feel sorry for yourself, you feel fat.”

You can find the entire response here: http://www.vachss.com/media/righteous/why_fat_girl_moore.html

You can also buy the book on Amazon, used, for $.09 (yes, 9 cents!) and new for $3.49 - http://www.amazon.com/Fat-Girl-Story-Judith-Moore/dp/0452285852/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1268532919&sr=8-2

From Danielle Daigle, Hart County, Kentucky; favorite food: Tastykake Pies

Have you ever looked in a full length mirror, clothes on, or otherwise? Have you ever nit-picked at your own body, all the flaws? All the things you see, that you don’t want to? This is what I go through every day… My only problem is, I “can’t see” well, not literally completely blind, but almost there. My mother always told me I had problems with  peripheral  vision, and depth perception. My vision [as of the last time I had it tested] Was something like 700/20L 300/20R That doesn’t mean I have bionic sight by the way. It just means that my left eye is practically useless. The doctor said it only supports 20% of my vision.

Back to my point. Imagine what it would be like to nit-pick, only not really get to see what you’re picking at? It totally throws off what you “think” you’re seeing, and what you actually are. I can stand in front of a mirror, and do this, until I can’t stomach myself any longer.

   I remember the first time I ever criticized my body. I was seven. My mother took me to buy a new swimsuit. We were in the dressing room of a little store on Torresdale Ave, that’s not there anymore. I had this “totally awesome” bathing suit on, y’know the kind that had a top and a bottom, but the stomach was bare? My mother said I looked like a pink and purple hippo. Maybe not the nicest things that have ever came out of her mouth, and I’m sure it seemed like a harmless observation to her, but let’s face it, anything a mother says that’s negative to their children, is often over-analyzed until you forget about it, then it’s just imprinted into the back of your brain until death.  I have lots of issues with my mom, if you haven’t already guessed. Anyhow, I turned back around and looked into the mirror, a broken hearted child, poking at her own stomach. Swimsuit shopping has been a disaster for me ever since.

 The self critiquing got worse as I got older. My youngest sister, is like 6 feet tall and a whopping 2 pounds. She is the epitome of beautiful, and EVERYONE tells her so. So when people look at us, they never think “oh that’s her sister” no, because we look absolutely nothing alike.

      I am a size 22. I always thought of myself as just “short” or “big boned” or, even better “big boob-ed” I do have big boobs, but right now they’re on top of an even larger stomach. ERGH! There I go again! Why do we do this to ourselves? Why? It makes me angry, the way that women are desired, only after primping and preening.  Size 6 is the new 14? So what does that make me??

    My best friend in the world, is a dreamer, she’s a planner, a thinker. So many times we both have thought about getting one of those industrial ties around our stomachs and then we’d BOTH be done with this “fatness” but it’s still not a sealed deal. Which is why I’ve never gone through with it.

I’ve tried to be thin without such extremes by the way.. I’ve tried the South Beach, the Atkins, the grapefruit, the boiled chicken.. All of those diets never worked. I’ve even gone to the gym, like 5 times a week for a- well it wasn’t that long of a time, but it was enough to see I wasn’t getting any results there either. [The whole big ass breakfast at Perkins after we were done wasn’t much help though] I’ve worked out at home, but still yet, have only lost two sizes at most. It’s hard to maintain healthy exercise.

My one and so-far only big breakup, was just more food to the fire. Sitting at home and doing NOTHING, just made me grow. But, I’m happy for that, because my ex was always skinny, or at most just had a “non beer beer belly”. But now he’s fat too :].

It makes me wonder why the man I’m with now is with me. He’s good looking, has muscles and everything, and he could get someone so much prettier. That’s another thing to. Moving away from home, down here to hillbilly hell has just made me get even fatter. With a non-stop deep-fried, diet, and no exercise, I am going to over-eat until I explode.  But I rarely over eat, I rarely go have a second helping. I try to leave something on my plate to be lady-like. How do these bitches get so thin? Or stay so thin? Every woman who I have met, is blond and is as skinny as a rail. Two words for all of this “fuck Kentucky”. Not literally of course.

Now I’m almost 32 years old. I’ve been done growing vertically since i was 16. An even 5’0”, so that knocks growing thin, way out of the park. I’m getting older, and I can tell my body is starting to age. If I can’t love my body now, I guess I never will. How sad is that?

Ok well, I think this is enough of me posting my inner-most thoughts, and fucked up issues. I just want to add one more thing, Sabrina really is the shit, I didn’t mean to go way off topic there, but she is. I’m proud that she is brave enough to post something like this. I struggle with being fat every day, she just makes it look cool. <3

From Sabrina Dropkick, Chicago IL; favorite food: baked goods. 

I bought this book a while ago and never got to finish it thanks to a heavy course load this year, but it’s definitely on my list of beach reads for this summer. From what I remember, it’s pretty funny and easy to read. 

Here’s the low down on this book, from pinkbooks.com: 

“This off-kilter novel centers on three girls who are definitely not part of the in crowd: one’s fat, one’s a dyke, and one is missing a breast. Nicknamed “Lezzylard” by her classmates, Angie is seduced by the prettiest girl in school, an anorexic who just wants to make imaginary grocery lists. Inez, the school’s pot dealer, can’t shoplift because security guards are mesmerized by her single enormous breast. Shelby and Angie can’t be together because then everyone will think Angie’s only a dyke because she’s too fat to get a guy. Manstealing for Fat Girls explodes the locus where patriarchal and class violence intersect, while embracing all that is magical - and dangerous - about adolescence. Set in a working class suburb of St. Louis in the 1980s, the book is replete with music and pop culture references of the era, but the bullying, lunch table treachery, and desperate desire to fit in ring tune for every generation.” 

Here’s a link to Amazon, because I know you’re now ever so compelled to read this fucking masterpiece! You can buy it used for $.01 (yes, that says ONE FUCKING CENT!), or new for $1.94!!!

http://www.amazon.com/Manstealing-Fat-Girls-Michelle-Embree/dp/1933368020/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1268521410&sr=8-1

From Sabrina Dropkick, Chicago IL; favorite food: baked goods 

There’s a group called “Against Plus Size Discrimination (Pro Healthy Body Image)” on Facebook, run by a very good friend of mine. Here’s a snippet from their description:

“…you don’t have to be plus size or a girl to support. This is simply to promote healthy body image…

Bettie Page would be considered plus size today. So would Marilyn Monroe.

I’m sick of groups like ‘real girls have curves.’ Lovely, well some of the bigger girls are built boxy. ‘Real women have __body part__.’ Well now we’re totally discriminating against anyone who might have lost, say their breasts, or had their ovaries removed.”

This group seems to be similar to this blog, actually, except in a different form. So if you like what you see here, then I’m sure you’ll enjoy the commentary over there as well.

To join just copy this link into your URL and enjoy!

http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=278370891030&ref=ts

From Sabrina Dropkick, Chicago IL; favorite food: baked goods

Their mission:

“You Are Beautiful is a simple, powerful statement which is incorporated into the over absorption of mass media and lifestyles that are wrapped in consumer culture. 

The intention behind this project is to reach beyond ourselves as individuals to make a difference by creating moments of positive self realization. We’re just attempting to make the world a little better. 

Intention is the most important aspect of the You Are Beautiful project in its idea of purity. Nothing is sacred. Everything that has a perceived value becomes commodified. We work extremely hard that this message is received as a simple act of kindness, and nothing more.

Advertising elicits a response to buy, where this project elicits a response to do something. The attempt with You Are Beautiful is to create activism instead of consumerism. 

You Are Beautiful uses the medium of advertising and commercialization to spread a positive message. 
Projects like these make a difference in the world by catching us in the midst of daily life and creating moments of positive self realization.”

From Sabrina Dropkick, Chicago IL; favorite food: baked goods. 

I’ve always struggled with my weight and will (probably) continue to for the rest of my life. But after being introduced by a lovely band called Gossip, I was also introduced to a newfound confidence in my size with the help of lead singer Beth Ditto. 

Here’s a little backstory from her wikipedia page:

“Mary Beth Patterson, known by her stage name Beth Ditto (born February 19, 1981, in Search, Arkansas), is an American singer-songwriter, most famous for her work with the indie rock band Gossip. Ditto, who is a lesbian, is well known for her outspoken support of both LGBT and feminist causes… [she] is known for her noticeable stage dances and her unique and revealing image. She classes herself as a punk, and thus does not wear deodorant or shave under her armpits, having once remarked that, “I think punks usually smell.” She has been lauded for her support of positive body image, despite comments from doctors that she may be causing harm to public health by normalising obesity. She also formerly contributed to an advice column on body image to The Guardian newspaper…On July 9, 2009, Beth’s fashion collection for the UK retailer Evans [began] being sold online in select stores across the UK.”

Needless to say, Beth Ditto is as bad-fucking-ass a woman as she is a musician. You can listen to entire albums of Gossip for free on their site at: http://www.gossipyouth.com/us/music/music-men

From Sabrina Dropkick, Chicago IL; favorite food: baked goods

“Playing With Myself”

I must have been three or four the first time I played with myself. Yeah, three or four, because by the time I was five we had already fled our cockroach infested, duct tape windowed apartment – the one perfectly adjacent to the same boulevard that later found two spots on the “Deadliest Intersections” list (congrats, guys, we snatched up spots three and one!) I think it was summer because my chubby thighs sprouted from nylon shorts as I lay sprawled across a dingy brown couch (probably trash picked or hand-me-downed). I may have been home alone, or maybe my mom’s boyfriend-at-the-time-current-stepfather was hibernating under pillows and comforters in the back room. Anyway, I remember being alone while playing with my belly, pulling and pushing at the piece of flab, watching in amazement as it rippled when retracting to its natural state. I then reached my legs to the ceiling and they seemed to dangle in the sky. I prodded my thigh with a finger, still amused by the rippling effect my fat could make. Prodding went to slapping, and I became way too occupied by the fact that my flesh could tremble.

I was startled when my Mom body slammed her way through the door (because if you didn’t push hard enough that god damn door just wouldn’t budge). My instincts told me to lie still, flat as a board, as if I would be punished for exploring my body – but it was way too obvious that I was up to something prior to my mother’s entrance. She shot a look in my direction, her eyes interrogating me.

“What were you doing now?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Bullshit. What were you doing?”

The anticipation suffocated my three-or-four-year-old attention span. I barely made it three seconds without succumbing to mouth diarrhea.

“Oh my god, Mom, okay, look. Mom, you gotta see this, it’s so cool. Ready? Okay, look. Wait, hold on.”

I stretched my legs to the ceiling again.

“Okay, Mom, are you ready? Mom, you’re not looking. Look, Mom! Okay, ready for this?”

Her tired just-worked-an-overnight-shift eyes barely gazed in my direction.

“Yes, Bree, I’m ready.”

“Okay, okay, look!”

I slapped my leg, the fat rippling once again. My mother was not amused.

“Mom – I can jiggle! Isn’t that cool?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

“No – it’s not.”

She retreated to the back of the apartment.

“You’re not supposed to jiggle.”

Sixteen or seventeen years later and that day still protrudes from my memory. Beyond the torments of elementary school boys, beyond the fact that my insecurities never allowed me to “love” until a thirty-something-year-old drug addict decided to make my sixteen-year-old self his plaything, beyond my struggles with every single fucking diet and every single Richard Simmons VHS  – my mother’s harmless, only half conscious words were branded into my conscience, marking the moment I became aware of my weight. I’m pretty sure my mom could never recall that conversation, but it remains the defining moment of my first self-defined identity – the fat kid.

In elementary school I tried masking my weight with my vocabulary. I littered my conversations with obscenities (though I’m sure I spouted nonsensical lyrics along the lines of “I hate that teacher fucking she always gives fucking me detentions because I say fucking bad words and fuck.”) My super secret plan was to blind my peers with the debris of F-bombs, forcing the site of my size out of their vision. But by the end of third grade I dropped the act when Randy Fernandez wouldn’t go out with me. He said I was too fat.

Middle school brought on a new wardrobe. I found myself drowning in oversized black Metallica t-shirts, baggy black pants and even bigger black boots. Beyond the obvious cloth barrier I created for my figure, I also adopted a further defined identity – the funnyfat kid. I stalled most classes with practical jokes – stupid shit like hiding the teacher’s chalk or making fart sounds in between science and math lessons. I basked in my classmate’s laughter, almost forgetting that my doctor had officially coined me “obese”. Oh yeah, that was until Sam Hankin wouldn’t go out with me. He said I was too fat, too.

* * *

Sitting in the back of a station wagon, my childhood best friend analyzed my arm. She poked at the golden streaks that marked my skin.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, they’re stretch marks. My doctor says I grow too fast.”

My friend peered at me with jealousy. Although we were BFFs 4 Life we were very competitive friends. Who has the most CDs? Who has the longer hair? Who could hold their breath the longest? I finally had something she could never attain and it would be the first and only time a skinny bitch would watch my body with envy.

Though my friend’s envy didn’t erase my insecurities, it definitely poked a hole in it. I realized that yes, I’m different, but it’s not always a wretched thing to be different. Slowly the hole in my self-consciousness grew into a giant gap, and after something like ten years I’m finally finding comfort in my size (thus slowly relieving my hatred of skinny bitches.) I’m sure South Beach diets and ten minute workouts will forever phase in and out of my life, but I’m also sure that I can live contently with myself regardless of my weight. And, if nothing else, at least I can jiggle and – ha ha, I bet half of you can’t.