Poor Treble

Have you guys seen this upsurge in body positive music lately? And by upsurge, I mean two in the past six months. And by body positive, I mean women who aren't exactly large saying stuff about being bigger. Whatever, that's cool, and it's relatively nice. Even if it's halfhearted at the best.

Now, with these two songs ("All About That Bass" by Meghan Trainor, and "Anaconda" by Nicki Minaj), there is a new wave of people yelling BUT WHAT ABOUT SKINNY-SHAMING all over the place. I mean, yeah, both of these songs have lines akin to the whole, "Real women have curves" thing, but let's be real here.

People are using these songs as base camp for their panic, since they're clearly new to body positivity that comes at their expense. Never mind the fact that so much of this movement is comprised of women with hourglass figures and flat bellies. Never mind the fact that, to the media, plus-size starts at a size six and ends at fourteen—maybe sixteen if you're hot. I'm absolutely not saying that these people aren't necessarily plus, that they're not allowed to sit with us. I'm also not saying that they don't or can't belong in a movement about body positivity—I'm saying that I can't stand that the public face of this important movement looks nothing like the people struggling.

Because of this, people see this movement as nothing more than slightly bigger women telling skinny women that they are just the worst and that "boys like a little more booty to hold at night."

I mean, let's all ignore the fact that fat discrimination is pretty much a constant in our society. Let's forget that obesity is considered a disease by the AMA; that people have been refused medical care simply for being fat; that fat people are not only less likely to get hired, but also less likely to receive raises and promotions. Let's ignore every second of that, of a world that I can barely fit in sometimes, of being told I'm pretty "for a fat girl," of a six billion dollar industry designed to get rid of me. Let's forget about all of that and focus on these two songs that made fun of skinny women.

Right.

Okay.

I feel like we're starting to hit a place where we can make some real, genuine changes that don't come at the expense of other people, and we could do so much if we only let people who were actually fat (as opposed women like Meghan Trainor) speak out.

Also, here's a link to an article that explains everything that's wrong about Trainor's video, and the cutest song ever by Mary Lambert. Oh, and here's an article about how skinny-shaming and fat discrimination aren't the same thing.

And please remember: skinny-shaming is a bad thing, and I've written on that before. It's damaging to fat acceptance as a movement, because shaming someone cause of their body type is pretty much the literal exact opposite of what we're trying to do. Just don't do the thing. But the most important thing to take away from this is the skinny-shaming does NOT equal fat discrimination, in any world, ever.

Finally: I am cute.

Ah, the involvement fair. Ah, bio club.

Dress (worn as skirt): WalMart | Tee: bio club! As you see on the table! | Sunglasses: Claire's | Shoes: DIY

On the Visible Fat Girl

Let me be really, truly real here: visible fat people on the internet changed my life. There's absolutely no exaggeration there. I'd started changing my style around junior year of high school before getting into body acceptance and fat acceptance, but once I found those, it was like opening a door I hadn't even known existed. Torrid was a nice entry into dressing my fat body; visible fatness was a storm of learning not to hate my body.

I've already made a post about my style evolution, and I like the explanation that offers for my personal journey. But that's just it: it's about my journey. Yeah, that's a big part of why I blog, but it's not the only one.

I've recently slid down the hill a little and lost some camera confidence. I'm more than happy to wear spaghetti straps or short skirts or whatever, and I'm happy to have pictures taken of me. I'm still having trouble with the taking-pictures-of-myself bit, but I am working on it! That's a different sort of bravery for me. And my bravery isn't just for me.

I blog mostly for me, but maybe there are people who read what I have to say (even if I don't say it often (sorry)) and maybe I give them a little more confidence. Maybe my visibly fat body helps them. Maybe I'm that inspiration I got back in the day. I don't blog often anymore (I know, I know), but I do still try because being visibly, open, unashamedly fat is a big deal. It's far more revolutionary than ModCloth carrying plus sizes (that are still too expensive, but that's cause I'm a little cheap). Plus-size bloggers are incredible. They've given me the confidence to wear half of the stuff in my wardrobe today, and they gave me the confidence to get a fatkini this year.

That, and quite a few of my fat babe friends got bikinis from Forever 21, and that's where mine's from.

And when my friends and I went to the beach a couple weeks ago, I wore it. In public. Proudly, with rolls and softness and pastiness and a healing sunburn from San Diego.

My sunglasses are from Charming Charlie, and
they're super cute. I need a better picture.
 One day!

Erika asked how it felt to wear it, whether it was scary or not, and I'll be honest: it was, for maybe two minutes. But for me, it wasn't necessarily freeing or empowering. It was just nice. I felt really cute, and I was happy, and I would never have even thought about baring my belly three years ago. Now, I'm thinking that I'd really like some crop tops to wear with circle skirts. Now, I'm so much less afraid. And that's because of the community I've found and dabbled in.

So, yeah. Visible fat people are incredibly important, even if it just inspires someone with deep-seated body image issues to buy her first bikini since childhood.

Sacrilege

The body is sacred ground. It is hallowed, consecrated, holy and beautiful. We see it in variations of good, bad, and worse. Our lives are devoted the maintenance of the idols of our bodies, though we see ourselves as sinners.

Oh, I shouldn’t. The murmurs pass your lips before anything else, like a password that negates the molecular sparkle of sugar across your tongue. A blessing in reverse, maybe, or a counter spell. An antidote to a simple pleasure.

We’re taught from an early age, with our stubby legs and hungry eyes, that life is more than just black and white. It exists in gradations of the two, blending and blurring and smearing the lines. Of course, there are those who would draw over them again in permanent marker. There are those who etch new lines into the barren earth of our malleable hearts to trap us.

Life is so much more than black, white, or grey. It is an explosive cacophony of color, a riot of reds and purples and blues and golds, spilling across our fragile bones in grand swaths of sunsets and argon. Oh, I musn’t, you whisper with a white brush of stitches across your lips. Oh, I can’t, you echo as you paint calories burned in black lines across your skin.

We are the cavalry, the infantry struggling against something far more insidious than bullets or mustard gas. We gasp and choke on words that taste like chlorine gas and gather in our lungs, saving up for later attacks in the dead of night. We struggle and we fight and we forget.

Our bodies are canvases and pens and microphones. They’re art. They’re poetry, they’re music, they’re tributes to every day the sun shone on our skin and every mistake we survived.

Holy things survive because we keep them in cases of gold and glass, but they crumble upon contact. They survive because they go untouched, and dust gathers, filling creases and folds and the tiny imperfections we proclaim to worship in one breath and damn in the next. Some things, though, live on and on and keep going because they’re tenacious and robust, and if the body is not a tool of survival, there is no such thing.

The most important thing is to shuck off the heavy, ill-fitting vestments of our religion, of hating our bodies. We are not cheap imitations of gilded idols. We are swirling bits of life, the most wonderful and poorly thought-out force which survived fires and asteroid impacts and diseases and the ocean pounding it into submission.

The body is neither sacred nor blasphemous. It simply is, and that’s amazing enough.

The Trick

I think we all love what I call Awesome and Cool Fat Babes. I mean, how can we not? There are incredible people out there like Sian and Rachele and Erin (to name so very few), and that's exactly what they are. Awesome and Cool. They all exude this contagious confidence, and they all seem so incredibly comfortable in their own skin.

Sometimes, I wonder if I carry off that persona half as well.

And then, after that, I realise that it's just that: a persona. I don't know these people very personally. I haven't met a single one, and I don't know that they're that confident all the time. Heaven knows I'm not.

That's the thing, though. We talk about and encourage self-confidence so much that it becomes the first thing we admire, and the first thing we envy. We see bloggers smiling at the camera like they have all the best secrets, see them standing tall and proud, see them showing off their bodies like they are the most precious of treasures. We see the images and words they send out into the void, and we see who they'd like us to see. Presumably, they show us who they'd like to be.

This isn't an indictment on the "unreality" of blogging, or whatever. Because we all do it. That's how this thing works. We show off what we think is the best of us and we allow ourselves a brief moment to fully encompass that being we project, and it's beautiful.

This isn't an indictment of anything, really. Just... I don't know. It's me saying that, while we all showcase our strength and confidence, we forget that everyone has bad days. I don't say that to bind us all together—no, our shared love of pizza and cute clothes does that pretty well (the pizza was just a speculation, but then, if you don't like pizza, that is wrong).

We, as a group, encourage self-confidence so strongly that every second without it feels like failure. It feels like falling from a great height, like you've lost something you've worked so hard to get. I mean, look at that blogger, she's so confident, why can't I be more like her?

We punish ourselves in this way. We forget something so incredibly, incredibly important.

IT IS OKAY NOT TO LOVE YOUR BODY ALL THE TIME.

IT IS OKAY NOT TO LOVE YOUR BODY AT ALL.

YOU ARE UNDER NO OBLIGATION TO LOVE YOUR BODY EVERY SINGLE SECOND OF EVERY SINGLE DAY.

While I think that the message of self love matters so much, I also think that we need to teach ourselves and our world that you are not a failure if you don't love your body or yourself. You are not wrong, you are not being stupid, you are not anything. You are allowed to feel what you feel. Don't you ever forget that.

The Composite Project

You remember that thing I was really excited about a week ago? Well, it's finally here.

This is The Composite Project. It is, simply put, a bunch of pictures of things you like. Although I guess the simply-put version isn't particularly useful. So a story instead!

This was inspired by a couple of things, truth be told. First off, I'd been having a bad few body image days. We all do, it's human nature, or something like that. I'd written up a love letter to my body, and in it was a list of the things I absolutely loved about my physical body. I'd come up with the idea between writing the post and putting it up, and I went to Casey the second it hit me.

She was very, very enthusiastic about the project I proposed it to her. Her message had caps and mis-typed punctuation—that's how you know someone's stoked about something. But she immediately volunteered to be the photographer.

Finally, yesterday, we were able to hang out. After watching Star Wars and eating cereal, she grabbed up her camera and we went outside to shoot. The photos turned out beautifully, if I do say so myself, and I am so grateful for her enthusiasm and faith in the project.

So here's what the project actually is. It's about pieces of the whole, sort of. You write out a list of the things you love about your body and you take pictures of them. Simple, right? Except sometimes, it can be really difficult to accept those things surrounding the parts you love. There was a breakout on my chin when Casey took the pictures, and I wasn't at all pleased with my bra straps showing, but then, when I finally got to see what I loved and at such a different angle—it was something else entirely.

To have a photo shoot devoted entirely to the most ridiculous little parts of your body that you love just feels amazing, even if it's weird to have your best friend say, "Okay, left forearm!"

Enough chattering from me, here's my list, and here are my photos.

Coming Soon

If you follow me on Instagram or tumblr, you'll have seen this picture that means nothing to you. Worry not, it will shortly.

Yep, a new thing. Details and a proper introduction will be forthcoming. Expect more within the next couple of weeks. I'm just too excited about it, okay?

Body Love Conference

Have you seen this post on The Militant Baker yet? If not, listen up: there's going to be a body love conference in Tucson next April, and they need help funding this. We've all got thirty days to help raise $10,000 to get this thing off the ground and happening.

There are all kinds of goodies to get, and actually, if you contribute at least $35, you get a ticket to the conference. I snapped that up pretty quickly, actually. Not only does the event sound awesome, it seems like a real game-changer. Gathering hundreds of people in one place to discuss body positivity would be such a tremendous boost to the movement. We all know that this has been a major fight on the internet, but to have something like this go on in the real world is incredible.

I'm just really enthusiastic (as we all know), and I think the idea behind the conference is amazing. So, even if you can't contribute financially, you should share this all over the place and let everyone know that something awesome is going down next April.

My Dear Body

Sometimes, out of nowhere, you get hit with thoughts that are significantly less than cheerful. They're a slow blue-green poison in your veins, and they last for days, weeks, months.

I have anxiety, and it likes to manifest itself in some really unpleasant ways. One of the most common: decisively un-stellar body image. While this it doesn't always happen because of my anxiety (everyone has days where they just don't like the way that skirt or dress fits), that certainly doesn't help to make it any less annoying and awful.

Sometimes, the best way to get rid of these toxic feelings is to pour them out and hope that the light can fill the gaps and take over. That doesn't always work, so the Next Best Thing is injecting some sunshine into that blue-green venomous darkness and hope for the best.

Hotter Than

You know that phrase "Real women have curves"? Sure you do! It's kind of ubiquitous. And obnoxious. Not to mention completely counterproductive to the whole body acceptance movement in that it is still body shaming.

I've got curves. I have rounded, ample flesh that only forms straight lines with concentration. My fingers arch and bend. My belly consists of bands of softness, much like my arms and thighs. My calves are uneven and round and curvy. My toes, my nose, the bows of my eyes: all of them are curves. Some are finer and more delicate than others. Some of those others are like bending arcs.

I am curvy, but that isn't what makes me a woman, real or otherwise.

There are women with straight hips, or rounded hips. Women with flat and ample chests. Women with one distinct chin, women with multiple.

It isn't the shape that makes a woman, and this is obvious, right? Well, you'd think so. While we know this, quite clearly and logically, there is still this temptation to try to do good by one group by stepping on another. Mothers, don't tell your daughters that "real women have curves" when they're fighting their bodies. Tell your daughters, sisters, best friends, reflections that your body is beautiful because it fits a certain constraint or construct. Your body is beautiful because it is yours. Lame and cheesy as that sounds, it's true. Even if you're a twin (or triplet, or nontuplet, whatever), no one before or since has had your precise body, down to the whorls of your fingerprints, down to the planes of your belly, down to the bows of your eyes. Don't squander your own body by believing that it isn't as good as others, but most of all, don't tear down others because they don't fit your construct of beauty.

That's just not cool, dude.

My Body is Home

This is honestly, seriously, truly one of the most powerful things I think I've ever listened to. The message is vital and beautifully done and I'm not sure if I want to smile like a dope or cry.

Just give it a listen, yo.

The Glorification

I just read this article about Abercrombie, and the first thought running through my head was, "They are going to go out of business in no time."

The second thought was the dumb one.

Hm, I wonder what the comments will be like?

Seriously, never read the comments

So many people were actually lauding the CEO for his decision not to cater to people (women especially) above a size ten.

I'm not sure how many times I read the phrase "glorifying obesity."

Here's the thing that people don't understand when they throw that phrase out there: no one, not a single person, has stood up and encouraged people to be fat. Certainly not in the way that everyone is encouraged to be skinny. Not even the Fat Acceptance movement does this!

I'm just ridiculously tired of people crying out "glorifying obesity" like a protective spell anytime anyone, a company or a blogger or just a normal person, simply says that not everyone fits beauty standards. That's it. They don't say things like, "Fat isn't bad," even though they should, but that's much too controversial. No, they simply state the fact that fat people exist, and suddenly they're telling everyone to adopt "unhealthy lifestyles."

A couple of months ago, H&M put up size-12 mannequins (in Sweden, though, I'm not sure if that's happened in America), and that phrase came up again.

Really?

And then, even more recently, they used a plus size model in their beachwear campaign. Of course, for a plus size model, she's still quite slender, but she has a belly, and it's soft, and there are rolls, and oh goodness me, why did you put her in a bikini?

Seriously, though, people need to cool it with their "glorifying obesity" shrieks. No one is doing that, so just calm down and maybe drink some chamomile and take a breather. I think you need it.

Bravery

So I'm assuming we've all heard about Gabi Fresh's collaboration with Swimsuits for All. I'm also assuming we're all drooling over the fabulously cut fatkinis coming out on the 15th.

I love myself a fatkini, I really do. I think that they look just as good as onepieces, if not better. I just don't know if I'm brave enough for one. I still have issues with body acceptance on my own, and while I'm generally pretty willing to shell out over $75 on a bathing suit that actually fits, I'm not sure if I'm willing to do that with something I might be too terrified to actually wear.

I've gone through more boring black onepiece suits over the years than anyone ever should. I used to wear tee-shirts and shorts over them, too. Then, a couple years ago, I bought a new black suit from WalMart that fit poorly around the bust and just wore crazy bright boardshorts with it. Short ones, too. That felt good. Then, the following year, I bought a bathing suit I really liked; it was still black, but with these fabulous mesh details that made me feel amazing. And it was from WalMart, no less!

Last year, I got my first two-piece in well over a decade from Torrid, and it fit beautifully and I looked great, and my brother accidentally threw it out a few months back. He threw out that one, my suit with the mesh, and those swimshorts. My heart broke.

Anyway, now I'm on the hunt for a new suit, and I'm trying to convince myself that a fatkini is not a bad idea. I might have a bit more of a belly than the girl in this picture, but why on earth should that stop me?

I'm looking to my friends for succour and any bravery that they can pass on. I like my body, so why should baring a few inches of midriff be so scary?

Dare You

Maybe you've heard about it, maybe you haven't, but there's a new magazine out there for the plus size community. Aww yiss, DARE Magazine.

I'm a sucker for internet magazines, and this one is just plain cool. It's Canada-based, but you can appreciate it even if you're not.

I'm just really enthusiastic about this, because I like cool new stuff. Can't wait to see what they come out with next!

Good Coats and Denim Shirts

Pinterest is such a great source of style inspiration. There's a whole bevy of gorgeous outfit photos and items to drool over that you can't quite get from blogs alone. It's amazing!

But it's like subscribing to a bunch of fashion magazines in that it's a double-sided coin. On one side, you can just bask in the inspiration, beautiful and ordinary and any combination of the two. On the other, you're faced with pictures that almost always feature pretty, skinny girls in those pretty clothes you want.

Usually, I'm able to admire the look on whoever's wearing it, think about how it would look on my own fat body, and I'm content. I know that I can pull off nearly everything (except for surplice necklines and deeeeep Vs on swimsuits. I just can't). But I saw this gorgeous look and immediately thought, This would look better on me if I was skinny.

There is no escaping this mode of thought, it seems. You can fill your life with dozens of fantastic fatshion blogs, troll hundreds of sites selling amazing plus size clothes, all of that and still be faced with thoughts like that. You can be confident about your body 99% of the time, but that last percent can be crippling.

I don't dislike skinny people for being better able to pull off the parkas and trenches I don't think I can't pull off—that's ridiculous and counterproductive. I don't even particularly dislike major clothing brands for not selling clothes above, say, a size 14 (or 16, or 18, or 20). I just don't like that there still aren't enough companies who understand that fat girls want great clothes too! I love the many plus size companies whose sites I peruse almost daily. I really love those companies that offer both straight- and plus-size clothes. I really, really love those companies that offer extended sizes. On and on, I can be very enthusiastic about the lot of them.

I dunno, I just really wish that there were more great outfits like this on the internet for fat girls, or that there was more opportunity for great outfits like this.

If you don't follow me on Pinterest, then you don't know that I actually have two separate fashion boards. One devoted strictly to fatshion, the other for style in general. The general one features skinny girls almost exclusively, but that's because of one thing: I don't really like to double pin. So all of the fantastic fat girl fashions go to the other board. I'm torn about it because, on the one hand, I really want to showcase one in its own right, and on the other, I feel like the floor of Forever 21: I offer it all, but not together.

Blah, there is no right way to go about it.

Perception

The biggest aspect of Fat Acceptance, and Body Acceptance (to me, at least) is this simple motto: All bodies are good bodies. No matter what you think is wrong with it, it. is. good.

This is one of the hardest things to accept I think, though it's incredibly easy to think that it's simple. Your body is included in this group. Strangers at WalMart are here, too. Supermodels and headless fatties alike. But more often than not, it feels like a Sisyphean task.

There's another old adage that we all know, one that says that people only put others down because they're insecure. While it might not be universal, it's entirely too true. I know this firsthand.

See, even as a fat girl, I'm guilty of judging bodies.

Too skinny, too fat, thank Kanye I have slender ankles.

In my straggling pursuit of self acceptance, I've gotten so much better about it, but I am still not immune. I might never be. And the cycle is as easy to identify as it is difficult to end.

I hate my body, I judge others' bodies.

On a good day, I think nothing but good things, about everyone. On a bad day, everyone is subject to my bad thoughts. My perception of others' bodies is directly related to my perception of my own body. It's a capricious system, and a poisonous one.

It's just hard to be content with what you have, I think. It's even harder to actually be happy with it. But it's a road worth traveling, no matter how many potholes get in the way. Sometimes, we just have to work harder at it.

Barely relevant, entirely perfect.

Be Aware

I have a handful of posts lined up and in my head regarding body image, fat/body acceptance, body shaming,  and things of that nature. I'm letting you know in case you're not interested in reading them (don't worry, I'm not offended, clothes posts are nice too), or if they may somehow be triggering.

It's something that's become important to me in the past few years, and it's something I do like to talk about. So bear with me!

And if anyone would like to contribute anything to this discussion, let me know and we'll talk! I'd love for my fellow bloggers to join me in this. Heck, I'd love for readers to join in!

Let me know what you think, where you stand, or anything you'd like, really.

The F Word

What, exactly, is so toxic about the word fat? Why must we work so hard to "banish the belly" and go for a size two? Why do we allow ourselves to be guilted into hating our bodies?

Our bodies are something to loathe as they are. They're something to fix, something to improve, something that is quite obviously not your "Best Body Ever!" Anyone who decides that, hey, a burger sounds really good tonight is quite obviously unhealthy, doubly so if they're fat.

That's not to say that there aren't unhealthy fat people don't exist. Of course they do. But what people fail to realise is that healthy fat people do exist, just like unhealthy thin people. Several studies have been done to prove that size does not dictate health.

That terrible F word is not only dangerous as it stigmatizes fat people, but it wreaks havoc on the mental health of just about everyone. Yes, everyone, fat and skinny alike.

Eating disorders don't just affect skinny people, in the same way that they don't just affect women. But of course, once you reach a certain size, these dangerous behaviours—I mean physically dangerous—are applauded as an attempt to "Get your life back on track!" That's especially ambitious if you've kind of always been fat, or chubby, or simply Not Skinny.

Stigmatization against the word fat, not just fat on the body, but also fat in food, is detrimental. It makes something that occurs naturally, something that is actually vital for living, and makes it a dirty word. It manifests itself in such subtle ways as a girl like me, who's actually fairly confident, not owning any jeans because she doesn't like how they make her belly look. It manifests itself in my niece thinking that fat is the worst insult out there, on par with ugly, stupid, undesirable. It manifests itself in dangerous problems in people I love who are beautiful as they are.

Fat is a dirty word because accepting it means accepting your body, jiggly bits and all. In a world that is sort of run on body shaming, the person who actually accepts their body for what it is is revolutionary. The person who actually loves their body is radical!

I'm doing my best to teach my nieces and nephews, my friends, and myself that there are worse things in life than fat. I am not encouraging fatness, not by any means, but I am encouraging them to see that what they have is good, no matter what they're told.
And, if we're being honest, I'm doing the same for you and me both.

Waiting Game

While looking for inspiration for my pixie cut, I found a lot of comments along the lines of "Oh, I wish I could pull this off! I'm not pretty/thin/whatever enough! Woe is me!" Another common theme was, "I'll go do this once I lose all this weight!"

Okay, look. Self-control is a good thing. Otherwise, society wouldn't function. But come on guys, making excuses is just plain silly.

If you want a pixie cut, or a cute bathing suit, or a pair of jeans, go for it. Why make yourself wait for something you really, really want? Why attach an arbitrary amount of time to it, a hurdle you have to jump before you can reach the finish line and the bikini you've always wanted?

Having a reward system is good, but don't limit yourself! If you want a pixie cut, then go out and do some research and then chop it all off! The only thing stopping you should either be money (I know that feel) or just fear at having short hair. That's all good.

Whether you're skinny, fat, tall, short, purple, whatever, you can pull it off. No matter what it is.

No, go off my friends and cut your hair off like I did it's lonely over here enjoy your life!

Seriously.

Evolution

Warning: super long. Sorry. Mostly.

I grew up with a mom who loved to sew and loved to dress up her daughter, in equal measures. Yes, I'm sure you can imagine the dresses and matching hats and all that. Don't worry, I'll relieve your imaginative powers and let you have this:

Bonus cousin! He's taller than me now.
He's three months younger.
I resent it.

Then, when I was in the third grade or so, I started growing out of these dresses (I mean this more metaphorically than physically, really). All I wanted was a pair of jeans. I started dressing a lot more tomboyishly around the fourth grade. Coincidentally (or not), this was when I moved out of the realm of Little Girl to Little Chubby Girl.

On Bodies

Halloween 2011. Year of the Pokey-Pokey Stick.
Hideously enough.

Bear with me, this is a rant-type-thing that I wrote up when I should have been sleeping or doing homework. Note that when I say rant, I don't necessarily mean that I'm annoyed. It's just a long...discussion. Yeah, that's what we'll call it. A discussion.

I don't know.