fattypatties

I hate it when my world gets disorganized. I like order in spite of myself. I read a bumper sticker once that said "I tried to contain myself, but I escaped." That is me. I keep escaping and then trying to reel it back in. Some days escaping is good -- a little rebellion, a little challenging the world around me is okay. But other times, it just feels crazy.

There is hope and fear in my life. A local Victoria student is in Ramallah this evening, in Yassar Arafat's compound, participating in an attempt to shield Arafat from the Israelis. The idea is that innocent people--activists, journalists, doctors--have entered the compound and are going to stay with Arafat until a cease fire. If the Israelis want to kill Arafat through bombing, they will have to kill these people as well. I am in awe of such bravery, such willingness to stand up for peace. I'm not sure I'd be so willing. But the fact that there are people who are gives me hope and hope is good right now.

With all that is going on, I can't even think about all the fat-hatred that is happening. I sent an e-mail to the Austrailian commentator, thanking her for speaking out against fat hatred. But then, later at a restaurant, I can't be sure, but I think some men pointed at me and laughed. I stared back and they turned away. But it hurt nonetheless. It hurts when people whisper and it hurts that I'm never sure if it is my head or it is in their hearts. I can't ever really know without it being blatant.

Maybe tomorrow, I'll clean my house and organize my desk and get some work done and I will feel good about my little part of the world again. Maybe tomorrow, I will find my faith again.