Considering the body.

Fashionablenerd (who's moniker I fucking love) made a post about dealing with bad body days. See that here.

I have bad body days. Yes I do.

Generally speaking I know exactly how they start and often how they end.

Get up, and I'm probably still feeling ok. But then maybe my pants are fitting as I like them, I might be puffy and constipated. I might have a mystery rash on my boob. Whatever it is it gets in my head. The worst is when I wake up feeling like someone has set selective joints on fire with napalm.

My usual reactions go from irritation, to OMFGWTFBBQ!!111!!!!!, to "OH MOTHERFUCKER" and so on. I get pissed off. Occasionally I get a little weepy.

The worst for me though is the days when I can't shake it off and start brooding.

Unfortunately I have no real answers about dealing with those days. Some days I dig in and go through it. Other days I force myself to face whatever distortion I'm spouting to myself and take it apart.

I started this yesterday but got distracted.

I was thinking more about the source of my self esteem and body image.

I think I didn't really get a good handle on my body image until I was 22-23 or so. And it came from the very sudden thunderclap realization that it is my body.

Yes my darlings, body autonomy set me free.

I remember it very clearly for the most part. Some people were making fun of my glittery silly clothes and big ole thighs out on display, at first I remember my feelings were so hurt. And then like a light bulb it occured to me that on further examination I didn't really care that much.

I had reacted out of habit. Because that's the expectation. And I fulfilled it. But really, was some random asshole telling me to cover up my fat legs going to really change anything about my life?

Holy fuckballs no.

NO.

NO. FUCK NO. NO.

Matter of fact, over the weeks following I discovered much to my own joy that not only did I not care about the random asshole that thought I was too fat/ugly/weird/whatever I felt joyful in that discovery.

Now years later, when someone doesn't like the goth, or the fat, or the cleavage, or the hoochie wear or whatever I can smile. However if you look in my eyes there's a big ole middle finger in there. I highly suggest you try that.

The next time someone gives you a back handed compliment, asks if that is what you're wearing, give them a big ole smile. But in your head picture one big middle finger, held up with pride. They'll see it in your eyes. Unless they are stupid in which case they will just be confused.

This is also my attitude towards body modification, sexuality, all the strange and complicated bits that make me who I am.

I know it's not easy. Sometimes it feels really good to get that outside validation of your awesomeness. But believe me, it's not necessary for survival or even loving yourself and your life.

What if nobody ever again told you they liked your hair or your outfit? Would the world really end?

Deep down, if you are digging yourself would that come to a screeching halt if other people don't dig it?

Probably not my darling.

I firmly once you embrace it and let it go, you will feel so much better. There's something really beautiful about heaving off what everybody else wants or expects and getting down to what you want and need from yourself.

Okay I am really tired so some links of awesome then the foto of the day.

Go read about ABW taking part in an AWESOME (yes caps, I have to yell) thing called The Clarion West Write A thon. Great cause. Beautiful thing I will be contributing a little bit.

Go read WellRoundedMama about some of the shenanigans doctors are pulling on fat pregnant women. What the FUCK is wrong with people?

Kate Harding has an open thread about a movie called uh..Kung Fu Panda. I have nothing to say about that at this point. I hadn't even heard about it until it hit Body Impolitic, and being that I haven't actually seen the film I won't make judgment calls on it.

Violet Blue has an awesome podcast up on Erotic Adventures for couples. I really enjoy her podcasts and writing.

Monk has a tasty post up today about doing rope bondage with pregnant ladies. Some useful info if you're having a baby and want to get tied up. Maybe tomorrow I'll talk some about bondage.

Margaret Cho talks about the True Colors tour today. Aweeeeeeeeeeeeesome (yes I totally sang that outloud).

Okay I think I'm spent.

And I totally love you guys too. *You know who you are*

Oh I almost forgot I promised a photo.

From this morning right before work, hell I'll post 2.





A note. My make up is super hot today and you can't see it too clearly. MAC Golden Yellow pigment shows up a very true glittery BLINGING gold on me and I am in love. Often gold shadow turns green or dull on me.

And the lipgloss looked like a hot mess in other light so I changed it to a random sinful colors one I pulled from the depths of the TARDIS.

Okay that's totally all.

Homo Out.

Stumble It!

And then I said..

I have a seriously really bad makes me kind of want to die kind of migraine that is settling in my neck and head. So instead of serious I am going to show you some clothes.

Also Lindsay thanks and I would totally lay a smooch on you.:)

Old Navy is actually kind of catching my attention these days with things like this silver metallic pleated skirt. My brain immediately saw that with one of my black tanks, some cute flats and bam cute summer outfit.

This summer I'm really leaning towards that kind of look. I have a fucking TON of skirts of varying sorts. I really need more. I have been having issues finding just the right summer dresses that don't offend my delicate goth sensibilities or look like my boobs will just pop right out. There's a time and place for that and at the bus stop in downtown Seattle is not it.

I am developing an unhealthy obsession with not really high wedge heels since I walk so much. I have some sexy ass calves and I think that would be the hotness.

Also if anyone wants to buy me something buy me this skirt reconned by Ugly Shyla. I bought a straight black skirt from her with the same design and just love it. But that circle skirt is screaming my name.

For that skirt I would probably wear a wide patent belt and um...use an actual razor on my legs.

Okay I have to digress here for a minute.

If I see one more person whining about how "family values" are endangered because the homos can get married in some states I am going to have a fucking stroke.

Say what you fucking mean. You mean "Christian heterosexual nuclear family values" you fuck.

Family is not just one fucking thing.

Gods.

You people make Jesus weep with that. You know that right?

Wow migraine+apoplectic for a minute is not a good combo.

Moving along.

I found a new fat fashion blog and you should read it I like this lady. Fat Chic. She posted a link to an old youtube video with former model and author Nancy Hayssen.

You can see her NSFW famous response pic to that freaky anti anorexia ad that was up quite awhile ago here.

I really like that shot a lot.

It's now past one in the morning and I am really tired but migraine mania is clawing at my brains and I'm feeling kind of OHEMEFGEEWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE right now.

Fuck.

So here I am to ramble.

I was trying to organize my flickr account and sometimes I forget that goddamn I am fly.

So in celebration of my hotness I present mah hams.

Mah hams...let me show you dem.

First foto hams crossed.



I used to be so self conscious about my big ole meaty thighs. Even when I was quite painfully funny looking thin, I still had myself some big ole hams. Now, yanno I am kinda digging them. I'll have to get uniballer to take a shot of me standing in a short skirt but they are pleasing to my eye. I dig the shape of my hams. They have curves that I enjoy. I'm entirely thankful I don't have thigh bone+half inch of meat. Cool if it's what you've got but that's not for me.

And one of my beloved "spilled coffee" birthmark high up on my left thigh. That is a mole in the middle of it and yes I get it checked.



Forgive the weirdly lit webcam photos I totally don't feel like unplugging my digital camera from Uniballer's computer.

That birthmark is my favorite of all of them that I have. I spill things all the time so it's just kind of funny.

And I totally do not have pants on. It's not Half Naked Thursday but I am half naked.

Also yes, my hams are kinda dimply and I STILL dig them. Yes I do.

Ye gods the weather change has my skin from scalp to feet going buck wild and I am dry and itchy on the stems and greasy in the face.

I also have stretch marks. *GASP* oh noooooooooooooez.

And it's not because I'm fat. It's because I went through puberty fairly quickly and when skin loses elasticity for any reason BAM stretch marks. I used to really super hate those as well but now, fuck it. All the women in my family have them. Whether on the booty for the tall skinny ones like my Mom and Gma or round the arms and boobies for the short big titty having ones like me. It's not that big a goddamn deal.

Okay I am going to go get in the tub and exfoliate my ass until it's shiny and smooth. And I am going to remove a layer of fuzz from my stems because my legs are itching like hell and so dry I want to kind of dunk myself in a vat of Crisco.

So goodnight my darlings.

Tomorrow, new make up pics in the flickr, and if I can find all the components, a hot ass outfit.

Homo Out.

Tags: big girl love, body image, fat fashion, random,

Stumble It!

Oh noez the fatness.

Okay as promised today I am talking about fat and presentation in the media.

I want to start out with some tabloids and then move onto "legit" media.

Ready..break GO.

Now lots of tabloids are putting out their absurdly titled "DEADLY DIETS" etc type things and I had a good look at some of them. Lots of trends.

1.) Lots of photoshopping. Lots and lots of subtle changes to photos. Add a shadow here, a highlight there and you can make a normally thin woman look like she's about to drop dead. Alternately you can make someone with cellulite suddenly look like they've imported the surface of the moon onto their legs. Or for the trifecta onto their face.

2.) Not two "comparison" shots were at the same angle, in the same clothes or even taken in remotely similar situations. One of those deemed "scary skinny" the too skinny picture was taken with her in a bikini, clearly exhaling and stretching upwards. If you're a thin lady and you do that, chances are your ribs might show. Duh. Same to the "fat" pictures. Women had pictures of themselves at 25 compared to their picture at 60. Are you serious?

3.) One of my favorites, in every instance of yo-you dieting, weight gain or consistent fatness the "reasons" were all ever so cleverly worded and almost exactly the same person to person. All in the vein of, "too much fried food, indulging, oh noez she eated a doughnut" etc. There was nary a mention of possible health problems, aging, natural body weight, previous drug addicts, previous eating disorders. Just lots of "over indulgence." Also missing were the same kind of admonitions to the underweight. Organ damage, diseased, what have you. Also missing from the scary skinny blurbs were mention of the above, aging, health problems, drug problems, personal issues. All of those can adversely effect your body weight in one manifestation or another.

That was the tabloids.

Sadly "legit" news fares about the same. Sure if you go to CNN and click health then weight or obesity they use fancier words. They have good old Dr. Gupta telling you how fucked you are. However they are all working on the same base assumptions.

Fat=you are fucked and yer gonna die and possibly lose a foot to the diabetes.
Skinny= You are fabulous and yer gonna die and possibly lose a tit to cancer.

You see my point here.

Fact is regardless of your weight you could have some serious health problems. If you are a 105 pound person who eats nothing but Micky D's, beef jerky and Coke. Yeah your body might get pissed off. And don't tell me there aren't people like that. Bullshit I know them.

It's not a moral imperative to eat well and exercise and whatnot. If you don't want to don't.

Also if you're going to say that fatties eating in public should be shamed, or behave like they should be I suggest you irritate everyone sitting in Burger King because it's just as bad for the thin people as it is for the fat people.

I'd like to point out at this point that if you're human and residing on this planet you are pretty much fucked. You are going to die. No matter how many miles you run, how many times you don't eat that pie. No matter how many days you spend counting your calories. You and every other person on this planet is going to die someday.

And while I'm at it. I will bust some weight loss myths.

Astonishing amounts of weight loss will not make you less of a douchebag. If you were a fat asshole, chances are you'll be a skinny asshole. The reverse is also true. If you were a skinny asshole you will probably be a fat asshole if you get fat.

Another fun fact is that if you are trying to lose weight, and you go on an uber restrictive diet, you exercise until your balls are going to fall off. You could very well be doing yourself harm. Are you working your ass off literally and figuratively but you still don't feel good? You're run down maybe, maybe getting sick a lot. The big picture is telling you without scientific evidence that you are not doing yourself any good there.

If you seriously think weight is a stone cold pointer to how someone lives I suggest having a looksy at Kate Harding's BMI project. And for the love of fluffy bunnies everywhere use your brain.

Fat acceptance is not about how you may or may not want to live. Nor is it about forcing you to want to hump every fat person you see. It's about basic common decency. It's about everyone regardless of size being able to live their lives without being demonized.

Let me put it into another context.

Let's say that you are an acceptable size 8. But you have let's say some really big ole titties. I'm talking like a JJJ cup. And everytime you go to the doctor for say birth control or allergy medication all you hear about is how it's all because of the titties and you don't get decent care.

Would it be okay for you to just disappear into the woodwork and suffer because you are perfectly fine with your big ole titties and feel pretty good otherwise. What if something was really wrong? But it got to the point you were too angry or too afraid to go to the doctor? Let's say it's something terminal and by the time you get help it's too late.

Would it be okay then?

If you think that is a perfectly acceptable situation then move on. I have no use for you.

If thinking about it in those terms ridiculous as they might seem, makes you uncomfortable, angry or sad then let's talk.

My entire point here is that regardless of your weight we as human beings do not need to be menaced by media that sends mixed messages. We do not need to be demonized or scape goated. No one has a right or the privilege to decide what you do or don't do with your body.

Okay I'm done.

I have horrible horrible cramps and kind of want to jam a hand up in there and tear out my uterus.

Or maybe lay in a bed and jerk off for three days. It could go either way.

Homo Out.

Stumble It!

So yeah...check me out.

First fat fashion news. I hadn't mentioned here because I was on the edge of breaking up with Torrid yet again. However Torrid is luring me back. I wrote them awhile back asking if they were going to phase out Torrid in house line denim entirely or bring it back. Word is, they are bringing the sexy back. I am so excited to get my hands on some of those you don't even know.

Aside from the absolute fluke DKNY jeans I scored at Ross long long ago, Torrid jeans fit me really really nicely in the booty and everything. And I have wanted more but was thwarted by the plethora of other shit I didn't want. The Ham is pleased.

What else?

Oh tonight I am commanding Uniballer to take a picture of my super cute not quite my usual style outfit. Details tomorrow after I upload ze photographic evidence.

As per usual when it starts getting close to my birthday I tend to navel gaze more than usual and wax poetic about various things.

This year I have decided (again) to continue dressing occasionally a bit outlandishly or nutty like, wearing brightly colored eye shadow when I feel like it despite that niggling voice of normal in my head. Now that I am officially (at least it feels official) in my thirties I have even less inclination to relinquish my status (even in my own head) of being an uber unique snowflake. Despite of course my status as the same decaying organic matter as everyone else.

Which means I will uphold my New Years indulgences. So that means, the glitter? Yeah the glitter stays and I will probably buy six more colors just because I wanna.

Also I have to come clean. Lately I have been kind of a douche bag to myself.

It's taken me awhile to process and break down and it comes down to a problem I have when my body does not perform as I expect it to. No matter what size I've been (and I've been many) when my body says okay fuck OFF I'm done, I get pissed and depressed.

This winter has been really difficult for me in terms of joint pain and terrible sciatic pain. I mention these things in passing sometimes as in they are making me stabby but the truth is my mobility and my ability to do things I really want to do has been compromised.

I have been unable to really seriously belly dance and it breaks my heart. I try yoga because it's good for my knees but 1.) I kind of hate doing yoga and 2.) it makes my sciatica start to burning and complaining.

It's a huge issue with me because I get angry and that really doesn't help the situation. I have an extremely difficult time being gentle and nice to myself when it comes to what I view as failures on the part of my body. What's that saying? The flesh is willing?

Well my flesh is not willing.

As a matter of fact it said, bitch please don't make me shank you.

Yes I have other body related issues as well but none I feel like talking about in public right now.

To tell you the truth my darlings, I really don't know what the fuck to do at this point. It's a serious uphill battle not to go into crazy mode OR (and this part feels a little worse to say) believe the doctor and lose 20 pounds.

For a hot minute I was considering it. However I sat myself down and examined the hows of that.

My doctor said she would like for me to weigh between 130 to 145 at the most. Now I was right around that size for quite a long time. Here is what it took to maintain that.

6 days a week 1-2 hours cardio.
Calisthenics style stuff for 30-45 minutes. Lots of push ups, sit ups, lunges etc with small amounts of weight.
I ate generally speaking maybe 1000 calories however I've never been good at keeping track of that.
I also cut out "bad" foods of all stripes. Sugar, carbs etc etc. (The only really good thing to come out of that was ceasing my soda consumption that continues mostly to this day).

Mind you all this was under a doctors care and approval. I also worked a lot. And with my commute my days were running 15 hours if not more. Not including work out time. I also didn't include the about mile and a half round trip walk between bus stops work and home.

After a good six months or so of my "healthy" living I started having serious fatigue issues. I was very young and very naive and believe my doctor when I was told that I would get used to it once I lost weight/stabilized.

This wasn't even disordered. That became normal for me. I alluded to it awhile ago but I got seriously miserable. I was one of those hot looking but pissed off girls at the gym. I was so unhappy.

Now, fast forward to right this instant. I look at all that and yeah no. Not again. Really not again. I don't think my body would make it for one thing and my joints etc are fucked enough.

So I am hunting down a new doc who won't dick me around.

So what I probably won't be able to make Tribal Fest 09. That's ok.

I think as my intro to my 30's and the bridge to my 40's I am going to learn to forgive my body it's physical limitations in all their creaky, burning, hollering glory. I really don't want to spend another decade seething when my bones ache.

Or at least I am going to try to. I'm not entirely certain how to accomplish that. Most likely some combination of Affirmations, voodoo, booty shaking and the occasional snit.

I think I'm about spent. I am going to make some tea and put my feet up for a minute.

Homo Out.

Tags: fat fashion, fat, body image

Stumble It!

Dear Body

From Body Impolitic I got this link and I've done this before but this time I want to join in the group effort from BlogHer.

Dear Body,
How you doin? I'm kidding I know I know. You're pissed right now I know. I fed you way too much dairy and you retaliate with serious gastric distress. I already said I was sorry about that, but come on you can't fling cravings like that and not expect to be given what you're hollering for.

Also what is going on with the rampant insomnia? I know how much you hate to be drugged into submission but really can't we all get along and/or work together here? Three broken hours of sleep a night do not a sane functioning Shannon make. I don't know what I did to piss you off so much but I'm sorry. No really I'm really really sorry.

The Milk Incident aside, I am SO proud of you bowels. I really am, normal non traumatic pooping more than twice in the same week? Look at YOU GO. No speed guts, no weird painful gas, no sitting in the bathroom for a half an hour. You are being so fabulous. I'd put glitter on you if I could.

Venturing to other areas uterus I am talking to you right now. What the blue fuck is wrong with you lately? What is with the Periods of the Apocalypse? You don't have to demonstrate your might and power to me by passing things that make the entire area uncomfortable. Really. Also really if you're bleeding like I dunno you're doing a solo slasher movie could you ease up on the cramps? You really don't have to do both at once it's not a requisite thing. Also stop giving my attempts at Midol related relief the finger. It's just rude.

Oh right before I move anywhere else hair. My hair my hair, my crowning glory, my fantastic fluff. You have your own journal. I just want to commend you for not falling out during any of my experiments in hair care. You feel strong thick and silky, you are growing like gangbusters and I love you. I know it's been what fifteen years since I've said that and meant it? I do really -really- love you. For the first time in my adult life I know how to care for and love you. I promise I will not subject you to bleaching, atomic red (even though admit it baby, we were great together with that) and I promise I won't have a snit and shave you all off. Fluff on baby, fluff on.

Boobies, my darling magnificent D Cups of MotherFucking Doom. Ladies, play nice. I know you're all excited for Spring and some exposure but really, keep it down to a dull roar in there. Also, this going up a quarter cup size pre-period. Quit it, you get attention too. So stop.

Skin. I love your color. Brown and just a hair lighter than fine milk chocolate. You are edible looking and delicious. And I'm very sorry I haven't been taking as good care of you as I should be. I promise I am working on that. You will be anointed and creamed up so that come Spring and whatnot you will be silky and glowing. We both know one of the absolute perks of having brown skin is that glow and baby, you are going to have it. Enough of it I might just break out that glimmer powder shit you like so much. I have plans for you, and they involve lengthy stroking with hands lubed up with all sorts of yummy smelling buttery goodness baby.

Belly. Here we are. In our 30 years together we've been through a lot haven't we? Remember that shit about me wanting you to be all Janet Jackson-fied? Remember I wanted you to look like this? And you said bitch please? I'm sorry about that. I know (really know) that you and Miss Jackson's Abs of Might are two entirely separate entities and never the twain shall meet. I know I haven't been nice to you lately. I've been avoiding you because you are different and I didn't know how to deal with that. I'm sorry about that. Let's be friends okay? Also I know this may be a controversial thing to say but, you know what baby? I want to get you tattooed. I'm not sure with what but, I want to decorate you with something beautiful. You think? I think. No fuck that I know. You need ink. Mmkay? But I promise never again with the multiple belly button rings. Those were irritating. Cute and all but annoying.

Ham. For those new here I call my thighs my ham and I am just realizing a great heretofore unknown love of my Ham. I Jam Out With my Ham out. (That phrase I blatantly stole from Technodyke from um....I don't recall where but she said it and I cleaved to that lil phrase. It's mine now but I share). Baby I love you. Yes you are big, yes you are probably out of proportion with the rest of my but and you always have been. But goddamn it man, you are sexy. You are strong and I love you. A few links in tribute to you. Because I know for a long time I focused my hate at you and I didn't need to.

Big Legged Woman by Jerry Lee Lewis.

And Poppa Chubby, baby he's singing to you.



All right now body, overall we are good. Aren't we? Granted some of the aches and pains make us all grouchy and not inclined to get along. But we're getting through it. Like Poppa Chubby there says, we go together like red beans and rice.

In the end after 30 years I will say goddamn it I am a fine fine piece of ass all the way around. For some reason I have the almost unresistable urge to get up and dance around like James Brown (R.I.P man.) Singing I'M BLACK AND I'M PROUD. Alternating my own lyric in there, I'M FINE AND I'M PROUD. I'M FAT AND I'M PROUD. Okay when people leave the office I am totally doing that.

Yes people, when people start leaving my workplace I am going to do some jamming out with my ham out. I am going to shake it a little at my desk. Why? Because I can and because it's fun and it feels good.

I will probably grab my own ass while I'm at it.

OH I don't want to forget my booty. The Brown Round. And I will admit I still absolutely covet the idea of having a big ole round booty. Because I quite frankly do not have a big ole round booty. I want ASS like BLAM. I want, video girl ass that is of such brown round fantastic proportions that I could shake each ass cheek independantly of one another and on beat. This is something I have a difficult time getting past the want of. I can and do bootyshake for my own amusement. I advocate booty shaking for EVERYONE. I don't care if you've got a wee tiny booty, a big wide flat booty, a BAM big ole booty whatever. Once in awhile shake that shit. Not because some dude thinks it's hot, but just because you can and it's fun.

So booty I am sorry I wish you were things you are not and will not ever be. I know it's not nice and I'm sorry. I am working on it. I promise I am. In lieu of the syncopated butt cheek jiggling that you are thus far incapable of let's do some of this (this video is from Maragret Cho's Sensuous Woman tour.) probably not at work but when we get home. Deal? Deal.

Oh and one more thing um, enough with the gas mmkay?

(Also Hunter is freaking hot just sayin)



And where can I get some panties with tassles like that? I lack booty flesh but HOT DAYUM I want those. I would never wear pants.

To end this, yes body we have our ups and downs but I love you. So there.

Love,
Your Resident Soul.

Homo Out.

Stumble It!

My Fantasy of Thin.

Kate Harding wrote an excellent post called The Fantasy of Being Thin. It got me thinking.

As I've said before I've been to the magical Land of Thin and far beyond it to the Scary Land of might have a fucking heart attack anytime now. A lot of it was very unpleasant.

And (don't mind me poking my head out of the closet for a moment) I have a history. I've intimated and I am not yet at a point where I am comfortable or ready to start talking openly about it in public but there you have it. In case you've wondered.

I wondered for a long time if I'd really let the whole Thin Fantasy go. Shockingly I did a long time ago.

However for me this wasn't really any great feat of body acceptance. It was mainly something I arrived at because I caught a good long look at myself and realized that I looked fucking weird. All those "when I'm thin" type thoughts pretty much vanished under the far larger thought of, "Holy SHIT I look like a fucking alien."

My fantasies about being thin were all just that. Thin. They could not hold up under reality.

Along this same train of thought I read an article in Heart And soul Magazine a magazine aimed at black women that finally turned me off to it.

I had a subscription for about a year and a half and learned to gloss over the Christian articles. And the frequently after school specialesque articles about drug addiction but, their list of reasons why thin is so great pissed me right the hell off.

Each of their reasons was so thin. Essentially if you lose weight they promise you'll get laid, wear nice clothes, have friends and not die. Okay. sure.

But what they don't say is that if you're a fat asshole you'll probably be a skinny asshole and therefore your popularity will probably suffer.

They actually put in that stupid fucking Oprah quote about how "nothing tastes as good as thin feels" or whatever it was. Are you fucking kidding me?

Are you SHITTING me?

Do these people seriously think that shedding those magical pounds will suddenly turn you into the black belle of the ball? Do black women not have enough mother fucking problems you have to introduce this kind of blatant asshattery?

For fuck sake.

So I wrote an angry letter and will not be reading that magazine ever again.

Also I have to say I've not slept in awhile and my temper is really short. So that contributed but it is still bullshit.

And while I'm talking about things I think are janky can we discuss some things? Me to you.

Please put an end to cullottes. Please. We can all work together to make them just go away.

Also, can we finally just agree to disagree about ruching on boots? Ok.

In other news. Christina Aguilara is SO fucking cute all pregnant. So cute. Cute cute cute.

And, Mac lipglass in the color Bare Fetish is the bomb fucking diggity.

I'm wearing a Torrid sweater material cami that is seriously made of fail. I got it a few clearance sales ago and haven't worn it. Why is one of my boobs almost falling out? I think 50% of the problem is that the straps are not adjustable and are too long. Big boobs doesn't equal saggy boobs.

I'm really still very tired.

Also the tights I have on are doing something weird and slightly pinchy in the crotchal region and I don't approve. it it wasn't so cold I'd just take them off.

Also the skin on my face is still really unhappy and I think the Cover Girl powder I'm wearing is making me break out. I'm mysteriously itchy.

But I do actually look pretty goddamn cute.

I'm wearing a long black Lip Service skirt, the cami of doom and my long black sweater coat, burgundy Docs.

Make up that's supposed to be gold and black but this shade of gold comes way close to being a duplicate of Mac pro pigment chartruese. I'm a little unhappy about that since I wore that and another shade of green yesterday.

And can I just say to the DJ's out there. You do some cool stuff but seriously not everything needs to be fucking remixed. Some things remixing just ruins.

Ugh I think I'm done. My "writing" is not going well at all and I'm depressed about that. For comfort I ate some very tasty sushi earlier and have two organic red pears for later and a salad.

It's not helping entirely I am meh. Discouraged.

So yeah.

Also pictures coming soon. I had to return another fucking broken camera but have a nice one on the way.

That is all.

Homo Out.

Tags: annoyed fat girl, culture, body image, random

Stumble It!

Stripper ass.

In case you haven't been reading me since back in the days of Diary-X (which is most of you) I used to be a pretty smutty blogger. Not as much anymore and that is probably going to change. Fair warning.

In reference to the title I want to talk about how much I miss stripping. Yes, your hostess used to do the naked dancing for monies. And I loved it.

When I started out I realized very quickly that I had several things going against me. I was not (and am still not) thin, white, tall and I didn't really fit the stereotype black girl image that a lot of people want to see whether they admit it or not. However, I wasn't entirely at a disadvantage I learned very quickly that black girl who dances to (almost exclusively) rock, metal etc while wearing shiny black=$$.

I will not sit here and give you some long feminist diatribe. I took the job because a friend of mine worked at the club and didn't want to work with a bunch of chicks she didn't know, I LOVE to dance, let me repeat LOVE to dance, got paid money (that part rarely ceased to amuse me) to wear costumes, wear crazy make up and be naked.

Um...problems?

Granted it wasn't all booty shaking and roses. There were times I got my feelings hurt, I was never assaulted, groped or grievously offended. Actually most of the guys I danced for were actually fairly nice. Which is the exception rather than the rule of course. I had a good time. I had more issues with the other dancers than I did with the customers.

What I really miss though is how amazingly strong my body was at the time. I wasn't thin really. I was what is often referred to as "thick" a term I kind of hate but it was pretty accurate at the time. While I was dancing I became solid under a layer of tasty chub and the best part for me was feeling and knowing I was fucking buff.


I miss being super strong like that. You have to be strong to work the pole and I worked it.

The thing is though I am just not that young anymore. Much as I may want to flip myself upside down while shimmying up a pole it's just not practical.

So instead I will enjoy the sexy in my own skin and occasionally pine for that pert round stripper booty I used to have.

And hot DAMN I just won two super fantastic ebay auctions. I won a Smashbox eyeliner brush. I got the cream eyeliner brush#9. I got that bad motherfucker for more than 50% off of retail including shipping. I also picked up Smashbox's Layer Lash primer for a little more than 50% off retail too.

I've heard amazing things about both and I have been in serious need of a good brush to use with my cream eyeliners. So hot damn.

And that layer lash. I am a mascara whore and love primer. I have been using the Maybelline XXL primer with some Benefit BadGal mascara but I am ready to try something new.

Speaking of I hennaed my hair this weekend and that was lovely. Feel free to read about my hair experiments over on the LJ. You can find that here. I will be posting tomorrow most likely some recipes for all natural home made hair treatments. Some of them good for all sorts of hair not just black girl hair.

So my weekend has been mostly about pampering myself and doing some lovin type stuff to it and that makes me feel nice.

Now if I could berid my head of snot everything would be fabulous.

Now I am off to peruse the intertubes for more deals and consider having some beer.

Homo Out.

Tags: fat, body image, make up,

Stumble It!

Don't hold your breath.

A lot on my mind today.

Aside from the heat I'll get to that later.

First health.

if you've been reading me for awhile you probably are already well aware that I am a believer and lover of HAES. My love of HAES did not come about because I am a fat woman. Actually it came about because as a thin woman I was unhealthy and unhappy. And I was astounded and confused.

I had reached that mythical place of the Thin and I was miserable. It wasn't until a nurse at my doctor's office suggested that maybe I was better off at a higher weight.

Wait...what?

She told me to just stop what I was doing and think about it. That was all she said and I was off and running.

Actually I stopped running because running makes my body not function properly.

So that in mind I am having a bit of a thing right now.

I feel crappy in general.

My joints and back have been hurting a lot and I've ruled out a lot of things except for the ten pounds or so that I've gained in the last couple of years. So my wonder here is this.

Am I feeling that I could try to lose ten pounds and see how I feel physically as some emotional residue of some sort? I don't really think so. I"m actually pretty emotionally OK with my current size.

I honestly do not want to have to go on arthritis medication. I don't want to at all.

What's sort of baffling in a kind of good way is that medication aside weight loss was my last thought. And actually a disheartening one. That in and of itself represents a huge change in thinking and feeling for me.

But it remains that I am going to slowly and gently revamp my exercise routine. See what happens and how I feel. Try not to get upset if my boobs shrink.

In other news not related to the size of my ass or how craptastic my knees are I found out via F-Words (not Gordon Ramsey..but go read her anyway right now) that the magazine Jane is shutting down shop.

I am not particularly sad about that. They lost me when after all the hype about diversity and body love and blablablabla they were essentially exactly like other ladies mags but liked to pretend they weren't. However I did enjoy Pamela Anderson's column. She's actually a very funny lady.

But I have to link to the "10 Things to Hate About Jane" article from Bitch Magazine. And OMG Bitch has a Blog. I know right? DUH Shannon of COURSE they have a blog. Shh.

I seriously just read the whole first page of that and my girl parts are all atwitter. I am in lurve.

Now back to news about my ass and fatness.

Yes my ass. I want to talk about covers for my ass. Pants and yes even panties. I know craziness abounds but I am having a moment.

So I want a new pair of pants. I want a pair of black pants. Not yoga pants. Not capri pants. I want black trousers. Preferably with a slight boot cut and that make my ass look good.

Do you know how hard my mission has been?

I don't want flashy doodads on them. I don't want anyone's name embroidered across the ass. My ass does not need billboard adverts.

It makes me and my ass cranky.

Also can we discuss for a moment stupid people?

So today I am wearing one of my favorite summer dresses since it was about 90 out when I left for work. Yesterday I wore a summer dress too. I skanked it up a little bit.

So right summer clothes.

So I was talking to this girl at the park and ride who is very cute. I see her all the time and she seriously Jams Out With Her Ham Out. (TD again I love you for putting that term in my head). Today she was wearing a short jean skirt, some hot cork wedges and a very cute babydoll style top. She is the hotness.

So we're talking and this girl walks by and says to my bus riding hot homie there, "you should put some pants on".

Now this is why I like this girl, she turned around looked down at the girl and said:

"You're an asshole."

Dead pan.

That makes me excited.

I am running out of steam and I am out of Chex Mix. Now I am sad.

More about shopping tomorrow because I have some $$ saved up for some thrifting.

Homo Out.

Stumble It!

I must confess.

I have a confession to make. And some of you might like me less for it and I don't care.

When it comes to my body and my big ideal dream I want to be hard core ass kicking. I want this:



I am totally serious. The first time I saw Linda Hamilton in the Terminator (whichever one it was) I was like, YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH.

So I did what any determined person would do and started training. I did. Endurance, weights, crunches, lunges protein blablablabla. I was very hardcore. I discovered several things on the way.

The most important thing I learned was that my body was just not meant to look like that. No matter how much I worked out (an insane more than 4 hours daily at one point) no matter what supplement or shake I consumed my body was not cut out for that. To tell you the truth I was fucking heart broken. After thousands of hours, thousands of crunches and hard work, I did not have a six pack. I did not look like I would rip your arm off and beat you to death with it.

I looked more or less the same. Less jiggly in places but mostly the same.

And most shocking I felt like shit. I had gotten so into being "healthy" that I stopped listening to the distress signals my body was putting out in waves. I became very enmeshed in the idea that I was being good and moral, that I was becoming a better person because the size of my ass was shrinking.

Nevermind that my knees would swell up and hurt so bad I'd lay in bed crying because I couldn't sleep. Nevermind that I was seriously constipated all the time because I'd cut so much out of my diet and my bowels don't work great anyway. Nevermind that I was constantly pissed off and fucking hungry.

Nevermind that my doctor absolutely did not approve of what I was doing.

I thought I was doing what you're "supposed" to do.

I thought that even though I'd actually previously been pretty happy with my body that I wasn't supposed to because yes, I was fat. That was not a pleasant time in my life.

Fast forward 8 years or so and what do I find that makes my wee heart go pitter pat?

MMA (Mixed martial arts) and UFC style fighting for women.

Oh. My. Merciful. Heavens.

I want to do that so bad. BAD. But, my body does not want.

I think, oooh muy thai my knees swell up in anticipation and say, "bitch please."

And to tell the truth I am kind of really disappointed and sad. I could try, I could. But given how my body is reacting to my current exercise program of daily walks, yoga a few times a week and an attempt at belly dance I know what would happen. I'd hurt myself. Potentially badly hurt myself.

And it's not even about fat. It's not a part of a desire to be thinner. No. I want to kick ass. Don't read this bit if you're squeamish.

I want to break someone's nose with my elbow. I want to kick someone in the head hard enough to knock them out. I want to throw a punch that'll make someone see Tweety Birds. I want to fight. Not street brawl but organized ass kicking.

There I said it.

I realize though that I can't. And I have to accept that.

I am still sad though.

Instead of ass kicking I am convincing myself that ass shaking is a healthier and less inclined to fuck up my body more passtime. The jury is still out.

This is yet another time I really have to struggle not to fight my body. And I have a hard time not doing that. I'm working on it though.

My knees have not been in good shape even with the good weather so I'm afraid I will probably wind up spending the winter medicated. Suck but whatever.

In essence for once this isn't about food or fat or thin or whatever.

The fact remains that there are just some things my body will not do no matter what. I can accept that.

Or at least try to.

Homo Out.

Tags: body image, fat, fitness, exercise, annoyed

Stumble It!

Weight, loss, genetics and other things.

I was reading TechnoDyke's journal this morning and she posted a link to an NY times article about obesity and genetics.

I think it's an excellent article and everyone should read it. Fat or not.

What it brought to mind aside from a twittering of OH SCIENCY GOODNESS type feelings are the far more complicated feelings I have about my weight.

First off, my perspective on the issue is I think an odd one. I have been under and overweight and everything in between. I also have spent an inordinate amount of time trying to shuck myself of the way it's put out there that one is "supposed" to think about weight.

I want to work from the past forwards here. I might start rambling I don't know. You have been warned.

Since first hearing about genetics and how they think it all works (let's face it, it's still a large mystery) I remember being very young and feeling not quite bad but close to it because I knew from the get go I would not be built like the women in my family who I had access to. My Mother, Grandmother and Great Grandmother all have body types far different from mine.

I am short, broad shouldered, short legged, short torso'd, big tits.

My Mom and Grandma are both tall and spent a majority of their lives being very thin, very very thin and after age 40 somewhat less thin.

My Great Grandmother (R.I.P Nana I miss you) was about average/tall height and prior to getting old very curvy. Classic hourglass.

Until I was about 12-15 I had no idea that I was built like all of my Great Grandmother's Aunts and cousins. It wasn't until I saw a photograph of a Great Aun taken sometime in the late 60's early 70's that I understood this. I understood it immediately and viscerally because I thought on first glance that it was a picture of me taken from the side. She had on a short black dress, no shoes and her hair was big and wild. The photo had been taken after some party or another.

I finally got it after years of feeling a little out of place. I saw the woman I might grow up to be physically and for awhile, I was damn excited.

In those days though admittedly sometimes I longed for the flat bellied lithe look of my peers, I actually kind of enjoyed my body. I was still in that space where my body was this fantastic thing that I could use to dance and walk and (surprise surprise..at least to me) look and feel desirable.

Though I spent far too much time exeercising, trying to maintain what I felt was my "best body" to steal a phrase from womens magazines I wasn't really happy still. I did learn some things though.

Thousands of crunches, weight lifting etc still will not make me a hard body.

This body was made for comfort and looking like the plush hotness. Muscles and my body don't get on well.

Cellulite happens.

I took these things and for a few years even after high school when I was lost and scared and felt the most like the weird girl out, I still felt okay with my body and as I found out my fatness.

I was not meant to be a thin woman. After years of abusing my metabolism, abusing my joints with heavy impact exercise, eating crap ass food because it had less calories than whatever else I wanted, all that sacrifice and insanity and goddamn it my body still did what it wanted to.

Can you imagine? I spent the better part of a decade of my teen/post teen/earky 20's in this vicious useless cycle. What for?

Granted for short periods I found that abstract place where I thought my body was perfection dipped in milk chocolate. Looking back I was wrong.

Wrong because I honestly look strange (in a not unique or interesting way just bad strange) when I'm thinner than say a size 10-12. I was wrong because my body was suffering. I was starving and mean and hateful because I was fucking hungry. I was miserable and not cute. Which defeated the whole shebang.

I still believed earnestly that thin=good=happy.

No my equation was way off. thin=kinda shitty=fucking depressed.

That was not good. I woke up from that and spent a few years in a blissful state I like to call I just don't give a fuck. And you know what? I didn't. I felt god, I looked good, I was finally at body/self image nirvana it was fantastic.

That brings me up to now.

Where am I now?

I am not thrilled with my body. Aging I accept, feeling feeble I do not. After a series of falls, mishaps etc I have managed to fuck up my back enough that I have to be very careful with exercise so I don't hurt myself. I have joints that are to put it sweetly fucking crappy and I have to be careful.

Sometimes a normal amount of activity leaves me aching and unable to sleep.

Thus I have become less active.

Thus I feel less healthy and all round icky.

Is there light in the tunnel?

Yes there is. I have rediscovered a love of dancing and have a goal to have learned enough belly dance to go to Tribal Fest in two-three years. I am walking about 1.5-2 miles a day. And I have figured out my body isn't going to change that much so I should enjoy what I've got.

And what have I got?

I have a fantastic, (no seriously) FAN_FUCKING-TASTIC rack. I have phenomenal beautiful boobies. I love them.

I have nice soft skin. I have firm an shapely calves, I have a jiggly slightly protuberant belly. I am learning, no relearning how to enjoy this one body I get. It's hard and I damn sure don't do well at it every day but I'm working on it.

To that end I have decided that this summer I am doing two things that I haven't done in more than five years. I am going to go try on clothing until I find a dress that fits and a pair of pants. I am also considering buying a bathing suit even though I don't swim much.

If you've never had body issues it doesn't sound like a big deal but a lot of you know where I am coming from.

That said, now I am going to eat some fucking chocolate and have a cup of very fine coffee because I can.

Homo Out.

Tags: body image, fat, obesity, self love, body love, big girl love, fatness, NYtimes

Stumble It!

Things that bother me.

So I was wandering the blogosphere yet again and came upon the blog of some lady who's had WLS and spent a little time reading through some of her thoughts.

If I had known her personally pre and post surgery I don't think I would want to be her friend and that makes me sad.

I've known quite a few people who have lost astounding amounts of weight and it didn't turn them into fat hating assholes.

Why does newfound privilege as a non fat person make so many people unpleasant?

It makes me sad. Gaining self love, better health and a better body image doesn't mean you get to be a dick with impunity.

I guess that's all I actually wanted to say. It's bedtime now.

Be decent to each other.

Homo Out.

Stumble It!