This Just In: Sex Sells & Why I’m Afraid of Love

I’ve been incredibly popular with men in the past decade, in part because I was following the prescription for fame and attention: be half naked and flirt a lot.

Halloween. Note the pearls I'm wearing. Gotta keep it classy.

And as any woman knows, it’s always good to show off your boobs.

My boobs

But let’s be honest, I was fresh out of a cult and wanted to give a big FUCK YOU to the purity movement I’d lived in for seven plus years.  So it was only right that I did what I did and trust me, I’m okay with all the attention I got. It doesn’t make me any less human.

People have said over and over they don’t know why Kim Kardashian is famous. Yes, you do. I believe her fame emerged after her sex tape. And Paris Hilton. And then let’s take Coco from Ice Loves Coco.

Screenshot of ass from Cocos World

The reason these women are famous is because sex, nudity, and ditsy behavior sells. It makes you famous.

I went through a dumb blonde phase (see photos above) where I insisted on pretending I was stupid, pretended to get bad grades, and really pretended to care about asshole dudes. But the problem was that I was just pretending. I am not stupid and I didn’t get bad grades. I may or may not have cared about some of those assholes.

I learned very quickly that the male attention I got during those days was for one reason and one alone: I was sexy. I was also thin. As the years went on and my depression compounded my issues, I gained weight. Sure, some people still think I’m sexy and some still hit on me, but there has been a huge decrease in male attention over the past few years. I believe my own mother said that if I lost some weight I’d find a good man.

The odd thing about my weight gain is that it’s directly related to wanting to be invisible. After being miserably hurt by those I loved, I didn’t want to go through it again. I didn’t realize I may have purposefully gained weight so I didn’t have to be around people, or trust them, or even get male attention. But this is one thing my therapist proposed to me a week or two ago. We just started talking about it and I’m not sure what all is truly behind that desire for invisibility but it’s very clearly present in my life. It also manifests in other ways, too, but the weight gain is most noticeable.

Back to fame. I know a girl who recently made herself semi-famous. She has no talent that I know of, but she’s taken very sexy, half naked pictures of herself. As a result, she’s everywhere and can get any media attention she wants. For awhile, that was my plan. Lose some weight, get famous. As a writer, fame would be very helpful. It’s a plan that certainly works, but as I started getting to know myself a bit more, I realized it’s not for me. I do love being half naked or whole naked, but I don’t like being inauthentic. I don’t want to live my life as an act and for me, acting stupid would be an act. Being naked would not be an act. I’m naked right now and I often write naked. But not to turn you on.

I’m not saying that girls who sell out for fame by being naked are wrong or stupid. Sometimes, I think they’re quite smart because they are marketing GURUS. I often wonder if it is an act, though. How much of them really wants to be famous for who they are? Or because of a talent they may be hiding because it’s not “what hot girls do”? I’ve noticed a lot of celebrities have very good hearts and sometimes even brilliant minds.

So when Katy Perry said today that she’s tired of fame, I get it (not the fame, of course). I’m sure she may even regret it sometimes. But because fame is this monster that can often turn against you, you have to play the game or the game will kill your career.

So, while I’m still pretty, I’m pretty fluffy. And I am not a huge fan of sharing my fat pictures with anyone but here’s one:

It’s easy to hide after becoming fat and as anyone who has ever gained weight knows it’s even more difficult to take it off after putting it on. I’m healthy and I’m secretly happy with my fluffiness, yet I know I’ve stacked to odds against me when it comes to finding love. But you know what? Sometimes I wonder if that’s why I did this to myself–to prevent myself from finding love again. If you don’t find love, then you don’t have to deal with someone not loving you, rejecting you, or abandoning you.

On the other hand, somehow through all of this, I’ve found myself. I wear my glasses with pride instead of thinking they make me look ugly. I read feminist books and don’t care if that makes me unappealing to the straight male. I am smart and I’m not afraid of being who I am, regardless of how others judge me. I don’t often wear makeup, I refuse to wear stilettos anymore and I may be more interested in reading or debating than what others tell me I should dress like or look like. Because of all that, I’m very happy.

Atheist Labels can be Confining

I’ve been a blogger for almost two years. When I first “came out” as an atheist, I started with a broad statement “I’m not a Christian anymore.” I realize that was a little ambiguous but it’s okay to sort out your faith or loss of faith as you go, piece by piece, day by day. There’s no right way to become an atheist.

I immediately ran to all the atheist communities online, hoping to find…I’m not sure what I wanted to find-answers, new bff’s, deep discussions? I visited just about every atheist online community, including the assholes on (and they are truly assholes), and landed in Think Atheist. I liked it the best, but my interest faded with time. All of the communities serve a purpose, but few people had stories like mine (former reverends join a coercive religious group; minister for seven years; can’t date, etc.) so it was difficult to find people to relate to. I started blogging more about being atheist and as it turns out there were a lot of agnostic or atheist or skeptic friends on my Facebook, so that ended nicely for me.

Blogging is something that requires you to categorize yourself and label yourself, mostly so people can find your expertise or opinions in the vast sea of blogs. Of course when I came out, I wanted to rush to label myself as atheist…because I was.

How did everyone else do it? Oh, big red A’s? 

Ew.To be honest, those red A’s that everyone puts on their blogs are just tacky. And then there’s the rumors of Richard Dawkins being sexist. I’m feminist before I’m anything because I left the church for being so damn confining and oppressive to WOMEN, so when I heard that, I definitely wasn’t a fan and won’t be wearing the Dick Dawkins red A or anything related to him.

Plus, my writing is much more comprehensive than just atheism and I think that’s what I don’t get about the atheist community. Aren’t we people with a wide range of talents and interests? Why just stick to one single subject daily? It’s almost as boring as Christianity and the same old recycled sermons. Yawn. I would bore myself to tears if that’s all I wrote about everyday. To be honest, I started this blog to get my story out and I’ve attracted quite a large amount of Christians. We don’t necessarily get along all the time, because they don’t like my profanity or my attitude, but I still try to find a way to offer them resources because I realize they are hurting because the person they trusted most (a clergy person) abused them or misused them.

I get it, the word atheism is a label and sometimes that’s important. But there’s something important to me about the ability to change and be flexible, especially after being so tightly wound as a fundamentalist. When people ask me if I’m an atheist I like to say that I can be agnostic, atheist and anti-theist all in a weeks time. If I ever become comfortable with medication meditation or something spiritual in nature, then I’d like to explore that without another label being in the way (living life as a “I love Jesus. Do you?” Christian will do that to you).

The Case of the Missing Tampons




I come home every day after work and find some new toy the cats have discovered. Usually, its something I like, or used to like, such as the peacock feathered choker that went with my 2010 Halloween costume. No big deal. My fat ass can’t really fit into that costume anymore and besides I’ve exceeded the two time limit on Halloween costume wearing (pending they are in different cities or at different parties).

This week, Monday, I came home and found a tampon on the living room floor. Odd, but I dismissed it, thinking the cats found it in one of the many suitcases I’ve yet to unpack. It was a bit chewed up, so in the trash it went.

Tuesday night comes and I walk in the door. Again, there’s a tampon on the floor. This time I’m confused. Two in a row? I don’t remember packing that many (at least not loosely).

Tossing it in the trash, I don’t give it a second thought until tonight when I have my DUH moment.

Beside my toilet is a box of opened tampons that I actually rarely use, but I’m such an awesome house keeper they have probably been sitting there, open, for months.

Tonight I see one single tampon on the edge of the box, as if making its way out of the pack, attempting to escape.


Not just any cat-Molly. She’s the teenage cat. Not quite a kitten but not quite mature and docile. We call her asshole and she’s been stealing my tampons and holding them hostage in the living room.

Is He “The One”?

After yesterday’s major celebrity split, the boyfriend and I spent a few minutes talking about it and then later over lunch we talked some more about marriage. The boyfriend is pretty old-fashioned when it comes to marriage–he thinks when you get married, you should stay married (with the exception, of course, to abuse and that sort of thing).

I don’t think I really buy into the whole “sanctity of marriage” idea. I think people should be free to divorce if they need to. I mean, some people can be real assholes. There’s no need to stick it out with someone who’s an ass. My opinion is that if you’re going to get married, you should probably know the person really well and you should be older and settled in life. Of course that doesn’t happen all the time, but if it did, maybe there’d be less divorce.

Last night, the boyfriend and I went out with our friends, R & J. They’re Indian. J explained to us that Indians often have arranged marriages, so the boyfriend asked what they thought of that. J said that his parents had an arranged marriage and it’s worked out well for them. He also said that when you first start dating someone, you spend so many years getting to know them and it’s usually the fun stage. Then you get married and spend the rest of your marriage dealing with the tough times. Arranged marriages tend to give the couple a chance to get to know one another and go through the fun stages once the marriage starts.

I’m going to be honest: I think I want to marry the boyfriend. Actually, if I knew he felt the same way (and wasn’t scared that he’d think I’m crazy), I’d tell him that. I’m sure in a matter of days I will tell him. I’m impulsive like that. And I’m sure he won’t mind.

And maybe he’ll feel the same way. Who knows? Our relationship has been pretty magical–not to sound super cheesy, but don’t they say, When you meet the person, you just know? And hopefully that is how it works, but I have a feeling it’s a lot more complicated and difficult than that.

People talkin shit…

To watch the video that speaks volumes to the current situation (and to people who passively aggressively CONDEMN ME, while sitting around doing NOTHING to fix the situation…AND to people who send me veiled insults via text/email/etc…YOU CAN ALL KISS MY ASS), click here:

Cage the Elephant–In one ear

Some of the lyrics I like best:

“Now I know I’m not a saint,
I been a sinner all my life,
I ain’t tryin to have no buds,
I’d rather keep them in the line,
They wanna criticize you now,
Cast another stone,
Burn me at the stake and see them watch it from the dome,
They say the devil is my pal…
They think they know my thoughts,
But they don’t know the least,
If they listened to the words they’d find the message that’s beneath

People talkin’ shit,
They can kiss the back of my hand”