Monday 21 April 2014

My Mommy's Not a Mitten!

A murder occurred yesterday. It wasn’t violent – no blood, no guts, no gore – and perhaps it wasn’t even painful (although I could feel my insides crumple and burn when you slit her throat). But regardless of how humane her death was (or was not), and to how far of an extent she truly did suffer (which stands to be debated), only one thing is certain: my mother (my superhero and best friend in the entire universe) is dead – and you killed her.
            The last time I saw her alive, she kissed me quickly on the cheek and told me to hide; she knew you were coming – her ears could hear everything. But when I saw (from my secret place behind the bushes) those long, floppy ears fall limply to the ground, my heart stopped, and I couldn’t breathe. Those intricate, now lifeless ears were the same ones I had been whispering hundreds of secrets into since I could speak – and you destroyed them with a single swipe of your knife.
            I almost cried next when my mommy’s nose came falling down, so pink and round, and still slightly moist. She used to kiss me with that nose; gently, she’d move it back and forth across my face, telling me that she loved me until I’d giggle in delight. I’ll admit that it did embarrass me a little bit (boys aren’t supposed to like mushy stuff, you know), but after seeing her nose cut so harshly from the rest of her face, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for another one of my mom’s wet, mushy kisses.
            But you don’t care about my mommy. You won’t give a second thought to how she used to comfort me whenever I had a nightmare, or hold my hand when I was scared. It doesn’t matter to you that she hugged me when I had a bad day, or made me laugh when I was sad, or held me when I cried. Even though I will never be able to say “I love you” again to my mother, your life is still completely unaffected. To you, I am a rabbit and you are a trapper – that’s all that really matters.
            But as you were preparing to leave, with my mom’s fur grasped tightly in your hands, I overheard you say to a man who was with you,
            “A lot of it was unusable, but I think this rabbit’s still got enough fur for a mitten.”
            Well sir, you may have stolen this rabbit’s life, and unrightfully taken this rabbit’s fur, but this rabbit is certainly no mitten. This rabbit is my mommy!

Meet Mathusela

A couple years ago I was shopping at Value Village and found a graphing calculator they were selling for $3. But I already had a graphing calculator (and obviously couldn't pass up a deal like this), so I decided to buy it and try to sell it on Craigslist. This is the ad I wrote - I got dozens of replies and ended up making $60!

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Mathusela is special. And you’re probably wondering, how special is he? WELL, Mathusela may just be the most special calculator you will ever have a chance of meeting. Because he’s not just a calculator. And he’s not just a Texas Instruments calculator. Mathusela , you see, is a TI-83 Texas Instruments GRAPHING Calculator. But as you’re about to find out, he’s so much more than that.

When Mathusela was just a wee Calcukid (calculator jargon for a baby calculator), he sat eagerly on the shelf at Staples dreaming of the mathematical genius that would pluck him from the others, and take him away to a magical laboratory full of trigonometry and functions, calculus and algebra, and other delights that all young calculators fancy. He knew he was destined for greatness (mom and dad always said, after all, that he was their little prodigy), and he couldn’t wait until the magic moment when his batteries would be inserted and he could bask in his greatness.

But as young Mathusela was about to find out, not all dreams come true. He shuddered in in utter repulsion as a 10th grade arty (the term used by the calculators to mean “one who sucks at math”) paused in front of his place on the shelf. “Please don’t pick me please don’t pick me,” were the only words running through his mathematical little mind – but alas, young Mathusela was known for his graphing intelligence and not for his good luck, and the cold hand of terror (and poor math skills) plunked him into its shopping basket. Mathusela knew at that moment that his life was over.

Of course, he made an effort to show off his intelligence in the mathematical field. He drew graphs and spit out answers, but it was to no prevail. His owner simply didn’t love him enough, and refused to help him succeed. She only cared about her writing class, and novels and pens, and thesaurus and notebook. They were here true love, and Mathusela knew it. He couldn’t compete with them, so he gave up hope in his dream for mathematical excellence. Other calculators, with smart, loving owners made fun of him; they beat him up, and stole his battery power and slide-on cover. Mathusela had hit rock bottom.

But it’s not too late to save him! Mathusela has the will to learn, the knowledge to grow, and the potential to succeed. He is an extra-ordinary, mathematically-gifted, graphing GENIUS who, with a little love, will be your supportive sidekick, your calculating comrade, and the Robin to your algebraic Batman in your QUEST for mathematical excellence. He’s a hard worker, and will never let you down.

Do you have the desire to save Mathusela from the dark clutches of poor math skills? Only YOU can save him! Make me an offer, and you will receive not only the most special calculator on the face of the earth, but also a new life-long, grateful, computing friend.

Sunday 20 April 2014

A Brief Rant

Sometimes I really regret losing 100lbs. Don’t get me wrong – I love being healthy, happy and slim – but I can’t help but wonder how different things would be if I hadn’t lost the weight. Lately I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on the importance society places on the outward appearance of others, and it disturbs me. Those who are considered to be visually appealing receive more respect, attention, and praise than their less-attractive peers, and really, why is that? Should qualities such as personality, humor, and intelligence not also play a part in determining a person’s self-worth? Of course they should. But do they? Sadly, not so much.

Through personal experience I have seen both sides of this superficial coin. When I was 270lbs I was excluded, ridiculed, and made to feel like I was worth less than others. People on the street would stare at me disapprovingly, guys wouldn’t give me a second look, and strangers would whisper and laugh. If I woke up one morning feeling confident in myself and my appearance, society would make sure I came home that night feeling embarrassed and ashamed. I don’t think people realize how emotionally draining it can be when you are constantly being put down for the way you look. It’s exhausting.

Anyways, throughout the last year and a half I decided to track my weight-loss journey through pictures, and putting together before-and-after collages proved to be the perfect motivator and self-confidence booster for me. I was proud of what I was accomplishing and wanted to show it off! However, I was so focused on improving my appearance that all of my attention was focused on the “after” pictures – like society, I never gave my “before” pictures a second look. As I’m typing this I realize that I’ve turned into the people whom I’d sworn I’d never be, and that’s not ok.

So now I’m thinking about that girl in the “before” pictures, and my heart breaks for her. I know the pain she felt and the loneliness she endured, and I can still feel her confusion as she wondered why she wasn’t as worthwhile as the rest of society. I look at her face and see the brokenness in her eyes, and it just makes me so angry. I’m still the same person as I was back then, so why am I now being treated so differently? Why was this girl (and millions of others) treated as less than human, simply for weighing a few extra pounds? That is something I’ll never understand.

Going back to my original thought, what would things be like now if I had never lost the weight? I truthfully can’t answer that question. Would I still be happy and confident in myself? Would I live each day knowing I’m a worthwhile person who deserves to be treated with the same respect as everyone else? Would I have a boyfriend? Honestly, I don’t think so. Underneath the exterior I have always been the same person, yet it’s that very exterior that has made all the difference.


Sometimes society makes me sick.