So.
(e:zobar) is at the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies' Annual Convention, in Oregon of all places.
I am horridly jealous, as I have never been to OR or indeed any of the Pacific Northwest or for that matter the West at all except 1 brief visit to SoCal and a trip to AZ as a 12-year-old. (OMG. FUCKING GORGEOUS DESERT. It's a damn shame I can't deal with too much sun.)

Anyway.
More importantly:

I am home alone. It's just me, here. Me, and the plecostomus catfish (creatively named "Pleco", or "Plecosaurus" when I'm drunk). Me and the catfish in his tank, and the liquor cabinet, and wireless Internet.

This oughta be good.

The catfish, I might mention, is shy, and so if you look at him, he flips out. Somehow, despite being about as inert as it's possible for a living thing to get, he notices when you look at him from across the room, and tries to dive under the gravel in the tank.

I'm about evenly torn between totally trashing the house and cleaning it top to bottom. We'll see how the weekend progresses. It's still only Wednesday.

(e:zobar), I never knew you were so proud of doing naughty things to me. I think you should exercise your pride more frequently. My vagina will just be over here, ok? So if you need it, you know, to be proud of, you know, I'm here for you.

Anyway. I had never actually attended a Pride event before, so this one was exceptionally exciting for me.
I was sick as a dog, though, which reduced the amusement value.

The whole thing should really more accurately be named, "The Festival Of Awesome T-Shirts" because I saw so many hilarious clever shirts.

A few samples I can still remember:
"I FOUND JESUS-- he was behind the couch the whole time!" (worn by a dude standing right next to the first group of protestors, who I skated up to in complete innocence and handed handbills to without even noticing they were yelling about my shamelessness in their megaphones. I told you I've been sick.)
"Girls are better at eating pussy." (I suppose out of diplomacy I shouldn't comment. but out of pride one should practice more. right??)
"I'm not gay, but my boyfriend is" (worn by the husband of a rollergirl)
"Don't like abortions? Don't have one" (seen it before, but it's worth mentioning)
And then there were a lot of cool or clever graphical ones I can't really convey here, but they were cool, take my word for it.

However. The coolest part of the whole day, at least to me, ruled so hard I just can't get over it.
So there are a pair of protesters, one with a megaphone and the other with a sign that says, like, Jesus hates you, or something to that effect. Whatever. The megaphone dude is going on and on, really loud, about how "YOU ARE ABOMINATIONS-- YOU SHAMELESS WOMEN WHO LIE WITH WOMEN" (I assume this was directed at my group, who were all rollergirls; most of us are straight or bi [and of the bi girls, most of us are in monogamous heterosexual relationships so it's more a matter of self-identification than anything else] but you know, whatever. We were skating in a Pride parade, so we were sort of ready to be called lesbos. I don't think any of us mind.) Then the dude started going on about marriage, probably because the float a little ways behind us was about legalizing gay marriage (like nine out of ten of the floats were...)
So I hiked my shirt up and flashed him my bra, and yelled "JESUS LOVES YOU TOO!"
The dude looked at me and pretended not to see me, but the next thing he said was "THE ONLY REAL LOVE IS BETWEEN A MAN AND HIS HUSBAND."
Then there was kind of a pause.
"ER I MEAN WIFE."

I died laughing.

Is the Hell on Wheels roller derby bout. I will be hosting it, singing the Canadian National Anthem, and in general being an enthused spectator. My team captain will be MCing in her leather chaps and i assure you it's a sight to behold. (She teaches fitness classes. Ask her about how to get an ass like hers.)

TODAY, 7:00, Rainbow Rink, 101 Oliver St. North Tonawanda, $15 at the door, halftime band, and I promise you it will be a hell of a match. We've never had a fight yet, but you know, there have been some prickly tempers this past month, and I'm expecting that there'll at least be some shouting.

On top of some excellent derby-- these are both very good teams with some experienced players. That's the best thing about this hectic first season, I think-- every time we play, we all get better, because we all still have so much to learn.

But we've come so far, from those first Bambi-On-Ice staggering steps around the rink last July...

Come see us! There will be beer! I may have to not be on skates just so I can drink said beer, as I've never actually been allowed any before (WFTDA international rules state that no skater can consume alcohol while on skates at an event. Which I imagine leads to a lot of girls running around in their socks, but, we'll see how that's enforced. If you see me in my socks tonight, then you know how it's going down-- ohhh, yeah.)

This is also the first roller derby bout I will ever be attending, instead of skating in. I am SO EXCITED. I have literally never watched one. I don't know what it looks like, with all the people and the screaming and the, everything, you know??? Oh I'm excited.

And-- bonus!!! If any of you show up to this one, I'll be able to sit with you and explain what's going on!!! (In addition we have a demo that will run on the projectors on a continuous loop-- we were supposed to for the last one and it went missing at the last minute, so y'all were on your own, but this one will be better we promise.)

So anyway-- come out! It will be totally awesome!!

So someone on LJ was writing
about some fascinating gender politics stuff she'd been reading, in particular someone's observations of body language issues between men and women. I responded to that with some points about how, growing up, I was always the largest of my peers, and how that formed me-- I went to a girls' high school, and am quite big for a woman, and so got used to thinking of myself as huge, which is odd now that I live in a mixed-company world in which men are often significantly larger than I am-- but not in my head, which still thinks of myself as so big...

And someone else on LJ was ranting

about how the current constant state of ill-informed panic about how Americans Are Fat Oh Noes Dieting Is The Answer! is based almost exclusively on poor science and statistics with no adjustments or controls, combined with generalized willful ignorance of the contributing factors. And I wrote her an amen, sister! And in the course of my amen, I looked up what my BMI actually is.
So I found this helpful government website about obesity.

It had a handy-dandy BMI calculator, which I used to make my point (5 feet 7 inches times 190 pounds equals 29.8, which by their chart scrapes me in just under "obese" in the "overweight" category).
Which depressed me a little. I suppose. Much as I talk a big line about how I don't think my weight is at all an issue in my health, and I think women my size should refuse to be pigeonholed as Fat, etc., etc., it still is depressing to think that, well, yes, I'm clinically obese, and yes, I really am that big.

But then I kept reading on that website-- I clicked the link called "limitations of the BMI" because the original poster, on LJ, had mentioned her disgust with the use of BMI as the sole indicator of obesity, and I had heard rumblings about it but had never really seen coherently explained what other factors could be used.
So I clicked, and read, and became really super enraged at my stupid doctor. (I know I blogged this on here but it was a while ago so let me explain-- no, let me sum up: My knees were hurting because I was exercising too much what with the 40 hours of waitressing and 10+ hours of roller derby, so I went to the doctor, who said yes yes you should rest, and then asked my height, did math in her head, told me I was obese, and instructed me to exercise more. Yes. Exercise less, but exercise more. She then told me, when I pointed out that I already exercised a damn lot, that I should cut down on my carbs. That was the sum total of her advice to me. So your knees hurt and you have eczema: Why don't you diet?)

So anyway. Apparently BMI is only the slightest bit meaningful, and so to determine whether someone is actually obese or not, you must take other factors into account.
Jesus fucking Christ, I'd never have guessed that one.
What other factors are these, to give this poor innocent doctor a chance to not be a fucking idiot?

Well, for one thing, waist size. Yes, just a simple number, not at all adjusted for height. If you are a woman and your waist is over 35 inches, you are obese.
Hm. The largest my waist has ever been is 34 inches, so, by that statistic, I'm good. (At the moment it's 32 or 33 depending on when I last ate, pooped, or retained water.)
Doc, it's not looking so good for you.

But wait! Another chance. There's a whole list of risk factors and if you get two or more you should talk to your doctor about losing weight. (How's that for non-intensive language?)
Blood pressure-- but she'd just tested, and mine was fine-to-low. High cholesterol-- but, again, she'd just tested, and mine was ridiculously low. Family history stuff-- no. Smoking-- no. Blood sugar-- no, mine was excellent. Triglycerides-- didn't even mention these. Physical inactivity-- oh maybe that's it. Except oh wait no it isn't if you actually fucking listened to me.
The only issue I had was that my HDL cholesterol was slightly low. Which apparently would be solved if I exercised more. Which I would do, if she'd stopped going on about my fatness long enough to actually pay attention to the issue that had brought me into her office which was crippling pain in the knees apparently caused by overexertion!!!

• pant pant pant*

I wish I could stop being angry over this, but I am just so pissed. I hate not being taken seriously. And now that I am more informed I'm even more angry.

My activity level has dropped. But the pain in my knees has been coming back when I've been more active-- any activity that involves a lot of standing up, walking around, even running, and my knees start to ache after a few hours. I still am fairly active, and it hasn't stopped me skating, but it hasn't gone away either. Maybe it's not just overuse? I don't hurt them at work anymore. But it's not gone entirely.

I'd go to a doctor about it, but what's the point? Now I'm between health insurance again so it would be out of my pocket, and I already know now that all they'll want to say is that I'm fat, even though the national heart lung and blood institute tells me I don't have enough risk factors for my weight to be a health issue.

Great!

I came to a decision last night at roller derby practice while sitting on the wall with my other slacker-Knockout sisters surreptitiously checking out our captain's ass in the leather chaps she was strapped into.

(There should probably be backstory. The Knockouts are not skating in this upcoming bout, they are hosting it, while the Saucies and the Dollies do all the hard work of beating the absolute shit out of one another. To be fair, the Knockouts have had the shit beaten out of them in the previous three bouts so far, so you know, it's not like we're always lazy. In fact half of us are crippled from April, so, you know, it's about time we had a rest before we're all dead. So the other two teams were huffing and sweating and you know, actually doing roller derby, while the Knockouts-- well, some of us were also rolling around like fiends, but those of us who know what's up, we were all sitting on the wall like a bunch of slackers. Our team captain has volunteered to be on the mike this time, co-announcing with our usual announcer; given that the bout's theme is Hell on Wheels, she's wearing a biker outfit, and it is, well, quite frankly, hot. I can't quite express the sheer incredible overwhelmingness of a 200-pound-woman with weightlifter's shoulders wearing leather chaps and a halter top. It's something to behold, I tell you.)

Anyway. Those of us who are total slackers were sitting on the wall and being utterly lazy, and were discussing the summer's reduced practice schedule. I decided that we needed to take all the extra time we're going to have, in the absence of team and league practices [which have, of late, literally been every day of the week-- April nearly fucking killed us all], and devote that same focus, energy, and determination to the act of partying.
I think we need to set up a rigorous schedule of social events this summer. There needs to be at least one rollergirl party a week. Enough of us have porches and patios and hot tubs and garage-bar-setups and blenders and, in my case, ridiculous fucking liquor cabinets that this can happen. This is going to be a thing.

It's going to be a thing. This will be the summer of Party.

I'll be sure to throw at least one (e:strip) party.