two birds one post

Two things.

One you may know about if you follow me on Twitter, I'm sorry to double dip into my media presence like this, but I think it's important. Why is it okay and cute for us to talk about how fat we are but if we talk about the things we like about ourselves we come off as slutty exhibitionist show offs? Yes that's red. It's important. Do we talk about our fat because we want everyone to know that we know about that roll above our waistlines? If so, that's total bunk. Obviously if I (or anyone else) notice that you might be anything less than svelte, you have noticed it too and think it's ten times worse than I (and anyone else) think it is.
Do we do it to joke about it? Like our bodies are a joke? They aren't. They look the way we look because of the way we live. Babies make those bumps. Good times around the table with those we love create those lumps. Busy schedules and fatigue keep us from smoothing them out. It's life.

Here I am spouting positive self image on Twitter and I won't even tell the Tweeters what I like about me because boys follow my stream. Boys that I don't know. Boys that I will never ever see in real life but I don't want them to know that dammit, I think I look pretty good from the neck down. And the neck up. Even now, when I feel like I could drop ten pounds. I think I look pretty damned good and the less I'm wearing the better it gets but I don't want to say it too loud because then someone might look to see what the hell I'm talking about and then I'll feel scrutinized. What is our problem as a society? What is my problem as an individual?

I know it's not just me. I have something like 200 some followers on Twitter (give or take 20, depending on the direction of the wind), but only a dozen or so replied to my plea to stop crying about your pudge and start shouting about what you're planning to shake this summer. I think my exact words were something to the tune of asking whether anyone was willing to admit that they can't wait to parade their sweet sweet asses all over town as soon as the weather breaks. So go ahead. What do you like best about you? What will you be showcasing to the masses?

Thing two.
I have lost a lot of online followers lately. And gained a lot. It evens out. Lose 20 over there in my "Follower" box, gain 15. Then 6 more the next day. Google Reader tells me that 25 people dropped my feed on Friday, then 30 more picked it up on Saturday. I'm tired of the online excuses thrown out there by the bloggers. Feedburner blows. Reader is confused. Analytics is less than anal. Twitter drops followings. (No, a Twitterer stops following because they are yawning and then blames the site so they don't hurt anyone's feelings. We're geeks, we're not jerks).

Who cares?

Seriously?

Are you on Twitter because you need 100, 1000, 10K people subscribed to your feed so you can feel accepted in society? Do you think that those people care about you, truly? Or are they following you so you follow them so everyone gets stroked?
Are you on there because you have a message to share? With strangers, with friends?
Or maybe you have a ridiculously fast and outrageous brainfeed (I'm raising my hand) and you need to dump it somewhere before your heart explodes (I'm clutching my chest)?
Are you blogging because you want a fanbase? Or a place to share and record what's going on with you?
At the end of it all, I suspect you will just be glad to have your diary all in once place. And spell checked.
Your readers won't matter when you're through with this.

Maybe Jake will find my blog in 50 years from now and be grateful that he can read about his mom. Maybe you'll have forgotten all about me by then.

I'll admit that I think it's slightly awesome that people like my blogs and my tweets, that I get comments and emails thanking me for sharing, for making other people feel normal, acceptable, lovable, capable. That's my main ambition in life, and I'm thrilled it carries over here.
I'll admit that I want to call everyone who unfollows me a buncha bitches. But you know what? So what. Just because people don't like what I have to say here or how I chose to say it doesn't mean I'm not a good person. It doesn't change who I am or how I feel or what I do about it.

There are plenty of people who love me in real life who refuse to read this blog. I respect that. It used to hurt, but I understand. Some people don't want to see this blether. They want what I offer on the surface. That's fine. Lora Lite is easier to digest.

There are plenty of people who love me online who might not really like me if we sat down together. And that's okay too.

There are a lot of people in this world who I would never follow. Not down the street, not online. That's the way the worldworks.

It pains me to see my real life and online friends have their feelings hurt by numbers. NUMBERS! Stop! It's not that deep. I love you. You love you. Isn't that enough?

Internet feeds are the new junior high. I'm convinced.
Meet me by the gym at 3 so we can walk home together.
I don't want to be alone because what if someone thinks I don't have any friends?