Meaningful beauty

[Trigger warning: eating disorders]

One of my biggest challenges during my recovery hasn’t been physical. That part of the process was relatively easy. A week or so of moderate pain post-surgery but nothing too serious, and no real complications progressing my diet. SCORE. The worst part has been mental. My achalasia progressed quickly and severely and I lost around 120 pounds throughout the whole ordeal. Twenty of it was during the two months I waited for surgery. A small portion of the weight loss I can contribute to running but I’m unsure of the timeline. I started running and exhibiting early symptoms of achalasia at roughly the same time. By July, my exceptionally bony shoulders were prominent and by September, when I had surgery, my skin was paper-thin and bunched like fabric when I moved. I was severely dehydrated; it’s anguish, not being able to quench your thirst. You drink and drink and the water doesn’t stay down and you just want to not feel thirsty anymore. You can’t concentrate on anything except how badly you want to drink an entire ocean of water.

So that was my life for a few months. Now I’m better and I can eat and run and do pretty much anything I did before, except not have water at my side 24/7. But you see, my brain doesn’t have a logical way to handle the difference between restricting food because you are physically unable to eat and restricting food by choice. Because all I thought about when I couldn’t eat was FOOD and how I wanted to eat FOOD and also drink WATER, I became unhealthily obsessed with food. I worried about getting better because I worried about gaining weight. I became terrified of my body. I hated its inability but loved that if fed my disorder. It made the things I had been unable to do in the past – that is, starve myself to lose weight – possible without any of the trouble. All the benefits of bulimia with none of the judgment! It was fucked up. My psyche ran with it.

Enter today, four months post-surgery. I’ve gained 22 pounds. The saggy, thin skin and deathly pallor are gone. My face has filled out. I have energy, and I can run again. I estimated my weight before I went to the doctor on Friday and was off by quite a bit. I can’t buy clothes because I don’t know what size I am and I don’t know how much weight I’ll gain. Buying groceries is difficult; I forget that I can eat foods and I have a hard time deciding if food sounds good to eat. My stomach growls and I eat something easily available, or I get incredibly nauseated and eat and it serves the same purpose. Food and I are not relating well these days.

Which brings me to meaningful beauty. Flipping through channels this morning, I saw a commercial for a skincare line “by” Cindy Crawford called Meaningful Beauty. It’s a cleanser, a moisturizer, some beads of serum or something, and one of those battery-operated facial scrub brush. All of it returns you to “meaningful beauty” but they never once tell you what that is. I mean, we all KNOW what it is: youth. The illusion of youth. I’ve been given enough anti-aging samples and purchased enough anti-aging products to know what the “secret” ingredient is: shimmer. It might work on some women but on me, I just look really shiny. In the commercial, it made Cindy Crawford look really shiny and shimmery. Is that meaningful beauty? Can’t we just age?

I’m not sure how I’d define that, meaningful beauty. I’m inclined to say it’s your soul and all the little bits and pieces that make you a You. Objective beauty has so many shades and influences and suggestions ingrained in it. I find so many different aesthetics appealing, how can I possibly single out one as the most meaningful? Society is constructed in such a damning way for all genders.

In other not age-shaming news, BASEBALL IS COMING. February is right around the corner and that means pitcher and catcher report SOON. The Giants FanFest is a few weeks away; Sigot and I are going, as is tradition. It’s the best place to score cheap ass Giants gear; I’ve scored some great Brian Wilson gear the past few years for like, NO MONEY. This year, FanFest will be madness. It always is after a Series. And then spring training starts. Then the first game of spring training. Then the exhibition back in the Bay between Oakland and SF. Then opening day. Then opening day at AT&T Park!



Why are we here?

If you aren’t in the know, WordPress has this “university” or something that is kinda cool and they help you blog, give you topics…some of them are focused on writing specifically. The one that started today is Blogging 101, and the task was to write a who I am/why I’m here post. I suck at writing About pages and can never write a decent one, so I’m using Blogging 101 as a springboard for that. And also for today’s post-a-day post. Birds. Stone.

I started my online escapades in the early, hazy days of the internet where AOL was king and chat rooms were HTML-based (and easy AF to hack. I heard. Ahem.) I was a foolish teenager with emotional problems and I suddenly had a blank-faced audience I could talk to without fearing the response. I mean, even if they didn’t like me or responded negatively, the internet allowed me to flee from unsafe situations with relative ease. It wasn’t the far-reaching behemoth it is today. My initial foray into blogging was at Livejournal, I believe. That blog still exists and I never use it, but it’s there like an old friend. An old friend who has seen way, way too much of my ugly insides.

What I’m trying to say is blogging is my jam. I am inconsistent, lazy, and sometimes completely boring, but I love having blogs and sharing ideas with my friends and random strangers who might need comfort or a laugh or a random piece of information or absolutely nothing at my blog. That’s the nice thing about the internet. This corner of the world might not matter to you. It might not interest you. And that’s okay, because there are 800 bajillion people in the world.* You’re not going to blow the socks off every person you meet.

I’m going to talk about my dogs a lot on this blog. I’m preparing you now so you can’t say you’re surprised when all I do is post pictures of them for three straight months. You will also read posts about depression, chronic illness, writing, reading, and how to be a feminist killjoy. One topic you will never ever see on this blog is baseball**. Baseball, YUCK.*** The San Francisco Giants are the WORST.**** Hunter Pence doesn’t turn it off and turn it back on again before calling I.T.*****

If you like any of those thing, or think you’ll like any of those things, maybe stick around and see how it goes. Maybe we can be friends. Maybe we won’t get along at all. I’m hoping at the end of it all, I’ll have made a few new friends, found some quality blogs to add to Feedly, and worked out some of my own shit in the process.

*Totally true, high school students



****Also untrue

*****I have no idea on this one

A collection of things

Things Franny Hates



Being alone

Not getting the food she wants

Fireworks, gunshots, loud noises

Screaming children

Things Franny Loves

Our pillows

Our blankets

Our everythings





Real lady talk

Gonna bust out some lady talk here, so if candid lady talk is too much for you, then skip down to the next section. So if you go for 3 years without having a period and then you suddenly start having them again, IT REALLY SUCKS. Like, my back was cranky this morning and I couldn’t figure out why and then BAM! Someone starts stabbing my uterus with an hor d’ouevres fork.

Please send chocolate and ibuprofin to my mouth, STAT.

Baseball Things

So exactly how ridiculous is Bryce Harper? There is not a human scale in existence for how ridiculous he is. Nine homers in the first what, 23 games? You know who else is ridiculous? Anyone who is a starting pitcher for the Dodgers. Nine seems to be the magic number this season because guess how many SPs the Dodgers have had in 23 games? Nine! Oh, Dodgers. We feel you.

How'd this get here?

How’d this get here?

Speaking of starting rotations, the Giants have been pretty unlucky with their pitching staff this season. The most consistent person has been Madison Bumgarner, followed closely by Zito and Lincecum (in my opinion). Matt Cain hasn’t been awful but the outcomes of his games make that hard to believe. Last night in San Diego, Tim Lincecum battled through a second quality start, going into the seventh and retiring 9. NINE. It’s the number of 2013.


*None of these gifs were made by me!


You don’t have to be a fan of baseball to know that baseball players, and in turn their fans, are incredibly superstitious. We’re right along there with hockey, in that respect. Now that the World Series is over, I thought I’d share some of my superstitions this postseason!

I wore the same shirt, pants, and bra during the last 7 games of the postseason. I wore the same jeans during the day, if I was at work or if I had to run errands on the weekend, and changed as soon as I got home (sometimes running into the apartment at 5:50pm screaming GAME CLOTHES GAME CLOTHES GAME CLOTHES GAME CLOTHES). I stopped wearing Giants clothes of any kind after Game 2 of the NLDS, and stopped wearing my Giants hats after Game 1 of the NLCS.

Probably the most serious undertaking this postseason, and it started during the NLDS. During Game 1, we opened a magnum bottle of Barefoot merlot, and we scored 4 runs in one inning. We didn’t drink it during Game 2. We drank it during Game 3. And 4. And 5. We drank A LOT of wine this postseason, so Giants, my liver thanks you for taking down Detroit in four games. We never bought the wine ahead of time, but instead bought it on an as-needed basis. We averaged around two games per bottle, unless one game was extra stressful. We plan to do something epic with these bottles eventually because this much consumption of wine that ended with a World Series title deserves to be memorialized.



Rally hair
No shaving. Guess what the first thing was I did after the Giants won last night?

I had to sit on the floor, in front of the couch. I moved to the other side of the coffee table on Saturday, when BFF’s mom came over to watch the game. She sat on the couch, directly behind my regular spot on the floor, so the space was still appropriately occupied.

Panda Pillow Pet
Panda Pillow Pet was with me from the middle of the NLCS until the final out last night. I cycled between tossing him in the air and hiding my face behind him during all of the games. When things unraveled last night, I had no idea what to do with PPP, so he just sat next to me and didn’t complain when I squeezed him during one of my 8,000 freak outs.

Panda Pillow Pet!

I participated in the #Rally hash tags, changed my Twitter and Facebook pictures to correspond to each starting pitcher, and tweeted the same message around 15-20 minutes before the first pitch (Play hard, work hard, and HAVE FUN!!! #RallyWhatever #SFGiants). Shout out to all my new Twitter friends! That was one hell of a ride; have a fantastic winter! If you’d like to follow me, just click here.

Like I mentioned in my previous post, we had chicken enchiladas before Vogelsong’s NLCS start and again before his WS start. Seemed to do the trick and seriously, who doesn’t love enchiladas?

I knocked on a lot of wood this month. I even knocked on a tree trunk Saturday when someone told me the Giants would sweep Detroit. BFF and I routinely put our fingers in our ears and LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU every time someone started mentioning statistics on TV. That’s something I’ve had since the regular season. I don’t want to see records or statistics. I firmly believe it’s detrimental.

We both refused to say anything like “if we win” or “when we win”. It was always “in case something good happens”. And that was always followed by knocking on wood. I’m telling you guys, we’re some superstitious mother effers. It seemed to work, so be sure we’ll be doing a lot of this next season, too!

Stay tuned for my next post in which I talk incoherently about our players and probably post a lot of pictures that I didn’t take.

That’s what’s up

Now that the 2012 season is over, I’m breaking my post season silence.

The San Francisco are the 2012 World Series Champions.

Holy crap, y’all.

I don’t even know where to begin this blog. My brain is full of so many emotions right now that I’m finding it difficult to sort through them all. I wanted to post after the NLDS. After the NLCS. Especially after the NLCS. Oh, friends. So many words to say.


The post season made me nervous. I thought about the Diamondbacks last year and how they lost the NLDS. I thought about how I wasn’t ready for the Giants season to be over. I thought about a great many things, and then I did a lot of worrying. Like, massive amounts of it. After two dismal games at home, the boys flew to Cincinnati, where I was sure our asses would get handed to us in the third game. I didn’t want to be discouraged, but it was hard not to be. I remember @gggiants tweeting that we shouldn’t give up. I decided to hang my hat on his tweet.

Then Game 3 happened. The stories came out about Hunter Pence’s pre-game speech, about the passion he displayed when he expressed that he wasn’t ready to stop playing yet. That he wanted one more day with the best team he’s ever played with. We won that game. And the next one. And the next one.

It doesn’t get much better than that, right? Coming back from a 2-0 deficit to clinch the LDS?


I assumed our momentum would take us strong into this series against the Cards. I assumed the scare in Cincinnati would be motivation enough for us to not get our backs against a wall again. Clearly the Giants like to prove me wrong. At this point the post season, we were becoming more superstitious. Despite being a big user of social media, I resisted the #RallyZito movement when it began circulating on Twitter the night after Lincecum’s rough outing in St. Louis. I’ve really come to respect and enjoy Barry Zito this season but #RallyZito? Really? He’s not even on Twitter.

But then…I went for it. Updated Twitter and Facebook with the same picture of Zito. Tweeted with the hash tag. I think most Giants fans will agree that Game 5 of the NLCS was the changing tide for the team. Zito’s performance topped with Lincecum’s uneffingbelievable performance seemed to ignite something in the team. It got out on Twitter after the game that Ryan Vogelsong eats chicken enchiladas the night before each start. And #RallyEnchiladas was born.

Funny story about that: I had planned, on Friday night (Zito’s game), that I was going to make chicken enchiladas. Because of the time difference, the game started right as I was getting off work and instead of taking all the time to go buy ingredients for enchiladas, I opted to go straight home and watch the game. We’d have enchiladas on Saturday night, for the game, if there was going to be one. I know, right? Scary awesome coincidence.

The final game of the NLCS is one of my favorite games of baseball I’ve seen. Between the unreal rain, the rainbows, the amazing plays on defense by the Giants, and then that final moment in the 9th inning when Marco Scutaro opened his arms, tilted his head back, looked toward the sky, and welcomed the deluge. I cannot think of a more perfect sports moment than that. It was like something out of a movie. Unreal. Unreal.

World Series

This is my first full year of being a Giants fan. First full where I went from the end of the last season to the final out of the next season, following everything I could about the team. Contract signings, trades, spring training, first pitch to final out. I can’t sum this feeling up accurately. Not right now. Not while I have a thousand things to think about and say and read and watch and rewatch.

But I want to say this about this team: you can’t buy this kind of chemistry. You can’t buy this kind of connection, this kind of bond. These guys love each other. You can tell by how they interact with one another, how they hug one another. How gently they cradle a weeping Sergio Romo in their arms, his face pressed to their shoulders. This team is my team. My very first, absolute favorite Giants team. I’ve been told every fan has one. That one team that you love, from beginning to end. And this team is it. The 2012 San Francisco Giants.

World Series Champions.

A lesson in patience

It’s now tradition for BFF and I to spend a glorious weekend at AT&T Park, watching the Giants take on the Dodgers. It never fails to be intense and grueling, and as fun as the games are, there is one huge downside: 98% of the Dodgers fans I encounter are mean. There are a few that aren’t, that enjoy baseball and want to have fun watching their team win. But the other 98%? Mean.

We were late getting to the game on Friday but once we settled into our seats, it went pretty well. We rallied and won and it was awesome. Except for the people sitting a few rows back who, every time Lincecum was at the plate, yelled for Beckett to “hit him in the right arm”. Lincecum, in case you don’t know, throw right and bats left, which exposes his pitching arm to potential hits. There isn’t a lot of logic to this request of hitting Lincecum’s arm and hopefully injuring him to the point where he can’t pitch. I mean, I love Tim a lot and he’s one of my favorite pitchers, but have you seen him pitch this year?

Yesterday was more of the same, but this was calls to bean players just to end ABs. I’m not sure of their thought process. For instance, Scutaro got walked in one of the late innings and the girl behind us, who had been yelling BEAN HIM!!! for most of the AB, said, “Ugh. He should’ve just hit him.” Like…what? He would’ve ended up on base that way, too. I DON’T UNDERSTAND THIS. She yelled BEAN HIM every time a Giant was in the batter’s box, no matter who it was. At the end of the game, she proudly announced that she hadn’t even had to boo any Giants fans during the game, so she was happy. Her father spent a good five minutes mocking our rally hats in the 9th inning, saying he didn’t have to look “doofy” to cheer for his team.

We’re not able to make today’s game because it has to be broadcast on ESPN, so the time was changed and we’re going to see DMB tonight. DMB. TONIGHT. OMG. But I’m kind of glad I don’t have to deal with potential Dodgers fan BS, and as BFF put it this morning, at DMB shows, you don’t lose. It is only win!

Also, the Giants have been taking early BP or something because on Labor Day, we only got to see the pitchers running sprints (and Clay Hensley running the warning track….for 15 minutes) and yesterday, we didn’t even get to see sprinting. I do have some pictures for you!

Monday, September 3

Madison and Javy

Javy signing autographs

Kontos practicing his delivery

Lovely day for baseball

Storm Troopers guarding the umps

Saturday, September 8

Willie Mays Plaza

Time Lord

His face though


Hanley Ramirez

Matt & Buster

Sorry I’m not sorry


Baseball feels, part two

More baseball feels tonight, this time because of Freddy Sanchez. Sanchez has suffered another setback (back surgery), but this one has him out for the duration of the season. Not that we didn’t all see something like this happening, what with all the little injuries that have kept him out of routine rehab (following a shoulder injury last season that required surgery in August 2011) in 2012. It’s a sad thing because this probably means the end of Freddy’s time as a Giant and might mean the end of his career, period. It’s a sad thing because Freddy is a good guy, a nice guy, and a damn fine player. He made a lot of stellar contributions to the team in the run to the World Series in 2010.

Also: the Nationals killed us. At first I thought it was heat + sloppy pitching from Lincecum. Then Bumgarner got taken to task on Wednesday. Cain faired a little bit better Thursday but then our spotty bullpen just kind of…imploded. Casilla made one of the worst plays I think I’ve ever seen one of our players make (usually it’s a group effort). I mean. It was just. There are no words for it. And then Crawford made a hurried throw to Belt on the last out of the game and the ball bounced off the heel of Belt’s glove and dude, the Belt attitude showed up for a second.

But on the plus side, the throwback uniforms looked fantastic! So…there’s that. Next up, Pittsburgh! Who, if I remember correctly, stand atop the NL Central. WHAT?! I know. Then it’s the All Star break and then we settle into the second half of the season.

Oh, and while we’re on the ASG, can Sandy Alderson go away now? I’m sorry that Mets fans didn’t vote in the numbers that Giants fans voted. The team “sells out” every home game (and creates sell outs at some road games) and the fans are rabid. It’s not our collective fault that David Wright isn’t going to the ASG.

OH! OH! OH! How could I forget the most important thing that has happened EVER during a Giants game?? RYAN VOGELSONG NEARLY HULK SMASHED BRANDON ARROYO’S GUITAR BRANDON ARROYO. I mean, yes there’s been a Perfecto and yes, Madison got his first complete game one-hitter shut out, but all of that pales in comparison to Vogey getting brushed back at the plate TWICE in one AB and then THROWING his bat down and charging at Arroyo.

I created a dramatization of the moment below:

Don’t be jelly of my mad skillz

Lastly, congratulations to our All Stars: Buster Posey, Melky Cabrera, Pablo Sandoval, and Matt Cain! It’s about time the rest of the country got to see what our boys can do!

ALSO. ANOTHER SEMI-RELATED NOTE. I totally got a Melky card today. It’s a Royals card but I don’t care it’s Melky being Melky and it is GLORIOUS.

P.S. Bryce Harper is fabulous.