bullybones

Everyone is concerned about their weight. Don’t lie. You know you worry about it, at least once in awhile. Some of you may be like me, horribly out of shape. Unless you count “round” as a shape.

Every day we’re bombarded with advertisements for diets. Warnings about getting fat. Inspirational stories from women who went from a size 4 to a size 0. Take these pills, eat this special diet food, buy this expensive exercise gadget. Of course, these commercials are interspersed with McDonald’s commercials. I’m lovin’ it, aren’t you?

Now, I’ve been fat all my life. I was doing Slim-Fast at age 12 (and again at 25 and 30), Weight Watchers at 16, Dexatrim at 17. My most recent thing has been one of those online calorie counting sites, SparkPeople. It’s a great site because not only do you get to count calories, they provide a personalized exercise plan and all the support you could ask for via message boards. They also have articles on different health and diet issues, as well as recipes. I highly recommed this site. It helped me lose 20 pounds. But those pounds are back. Time for a new approach.

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Uncontained and unrestrained, gangs have spread like a cancer across America. Point of origin: Los Angeles, California, the gangs encrust that city like scabs. Their motto is: Blood in, blood out, meaning they must commit a bloody crime to get in and the only way they get out is to die. These gangs may recruit young school children for lifelong service. A recent TV documentary disclosed that the spread through out the U.S. continues even as far as South America. These gangs are purportedly controlled by inmates in high security prisons here.

They kingpin multiple groups and crimes. Some are internal within the prison system, taking out members of their own gang and others. Many gang wars lead to heinous acts such as death by beheading. They may also include the dismemberment of the victims’ genitalia which are then fed to the dogs. Guess which one comes first. Gangs have become so plentiful that they extend through out the continental contiguous states but into Washington. Viva La Raza, loosely translated, long-live the Race has become more than a rallying call for racial pride but a virtual war cry. Many believe that the southwest was stolen from Mexico and actually belongs to them.

Not only do the bosses control drugs and life and death from prison cells, but they operate with impunity all across this country. One informant, now dead, claimed that no one in these gangs is safe from retribution if the leaders think that they are acting against their considerable powers. This girl was killed on orders from these gangsters. She was led to a riverbank on the pretest of fishing by her compadres. It is this corruption of morality, this organized crime community which is the greatest fear of the illegal aliens. These are many of the border infiltrators, not families looking for a better life. They are often men who have left their families behind.
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I’m dyslexic. Yeah, go ahead, laugh…I know a lot of people will joke about themselves if they’ve made a typo or spelled something incorrectly, saying they must be dyslexic…but it’s true, I really am. I remember it being really difficult learning to read and write. I struggled so much, and I was embarrassed that I wasn’t as good at reading and writing as my other classmates. First grade was a nightmare! I always tried my best, but I still remember the horror of sitting at my desk, pondering which direction to write each letter and in what order. It didn’t matter how long I sat…I got it wrong. Back then (you know, in the prehistoric Stone Age time) there wasn’t a formal name for the learning disability…people with this “problem” were usually labeled slow and were packed up and shipped to the “slow learners” class. I don’t know what tipped my mother off to this issue I was having, but I vaguely remember a teacher’s conference and papers being brought home.

My mother showed me the papers, red marks all over them. I just shrugged my shoulders and got tears in my eyes. I wasn’t getting teary because I thought I was in trouble, though – I felt helpless. I just wasn’t getting it. She hugged me and told me to brush my teeth and get ready for bed.

The next day after school I was given my usual snack and then my mother told me we were going to sit down and talk. She sat down next to me and said, “I know you might feel like you’re stupid because you don’t know how to write or read very well right now, but you’re not stupid. I used to have the same thing happen to me when I was your age, and we’re going to work on this until you can do it with confidence.” I was pleased. I had no reason to doubt her - - much - - I mean I knew she was smart, but I just wasn’t sure how I was going to pull this off. It did seem impossible. Read the rest of this entry »