This Girl's Life

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Mon, 23 Apr 2012 12:06:55 -0400

I never have trouble with words. I write every day, something, anything. It’s taken me a week...

Mon, 23 Apr 2012 12:06:46 -0400

I never have trouble with words. I write every day, something, anything.

It’s taken me a week to contemplate trying to write something this time. For the first time in years, it hurts too much, and I don’t know why. To begin to explain.

Clumsy, faltering prose is all I can manage.

“Because I get scared and my reflex is to go right back to when I was a fuck-up. I can hide there; I can hide behind all of the things that used to be wrong with me, because I haven’t really worked out how to be who I am now.”

"Anxiety is love’s greatest killer."

Mon, 23 Apr 2012 11:59:43 -0400

“Anxiety is love’s greatest killer.”

- Anaïs Nin (via arreter)

iswearthisisthelasttime: maleficus-juicy: This image is one of...

Mon, 16 Apr 2012 12:16:55 -0400

iswearthisisthelasttime:

maleficus-juicy:

This image is one of the most powerful pro-choice images I’ve ever seen. When I saw it in the newspaper I immediately cut it out and hung it on my wall.

It makes me angry and upset that this picture is now relevant once more in the US, talk about going fucking backwards.

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Thu, 22 Mar 2012 09:45:03 -0400

verybusyandimportant: fatandtheivy: My Fat, Beautiful Body,...

Tue, 13 Mar 2012 15:23:42 -0400

verybusyandimportant:

fatandtheivy:

My Fat, Beautiful Body, published at RoleReboot

Without fail at noon on every Friday, 30 minutes before my beginning ballet class starts, a mixture of fear and dread ooze into my mind. It starts when I think of getting dressed for class. Despite a well-stocked closet, I am never content with my choices. I spend 20 minutes scouring my closet for a garment that doesn’t exist—I am looking for something that will make me invincible. Exasperated, I leave wearing the same men’s gym shorts and oversized t-shirt. My nerves don’t get any better once I get to class. I am scared to look at my body in a mirror; I am scared to compare my body to my peers. I try to stand in the back rows as far away from the mirrors as possible, and I still occasionally catch a glimpse of my double chin. Or my belly escaping the drapery of my shirt. I am scared that even after working at accepting my body and fighting tooth and nail to get those around me to change their actions and opinions, I will see something repulsive. I can’t get through a weekly dance class without having to give myself pep talks. It takes all that I can muster to remind myself that I am beautiful and, more importantly, worthy of being in that class. It takes all that I have to remind myself that I love my body and that I can take pleasure in moving it. I can take pleasure and find beauty in my body.

I loathe classifying these problems (yes, I acknowledge that they’re problems) as “body image” problems. “Body image” isn’t really about the image of bodies. It’s about the holistic relationships we have with our bodies. It’s about how bodies look, how they move, what they feel like, and how we treat them. Even if we ignore semantics, conversations about body image almost always come down to health. Most conversations I’ve had about body image blame the media and advertising for exposing young girls to impossible standards in order to sell products. But more than selling products, these images drive people to unhealthy habits—crash diets, disordered eating, and sometimes even more dramatic actions like diet pills and self-harm.

And yet many of these behaviors have been recommended to me by health professionals. You see, I’m fat. Not “does this dress make me look fat?” fat, but eligible-for-weight-loss-surgery ~~morbidly obese~~ deathfat. I’ve been fat for as long as I can remember, but the first time I remember my size being an issue was at a check-up. I was 8 years old, and after plotting my height and weight in one of those grids, my pediatrician had one of those “talks” with my parents and me. I was too heavy for my height and age, so he presented me with a Xeroxed list of 10 “helpful tips” for eating.

It was meant to be innocuous, but I became obsessed with that sheet of paper. It was the first time I saw my body as a personal failing, and that list was the way to redeem myself. I followed the rules to a tee, and yet I didn’t get any smaller. That simple piece of paper was only the beginning. My adolescence was filled with appointments with doctors and nutritionists, medically facilitated crash diets, and crying fits in dressing rooms. My doctors pathologzied my body, and I believed them. I believed that my fat body meant that I was overeating, even when I would leave the dinner table hungry. I believed that I was lazy, unkempt, untrustworthy. I couldn’t trust myself.

I can’t rely on a conventional understanding of health to fix my body image issues because my body image issues stem from those conventional understandings of health. To find peace with my body I’ve had to reject mainstream medical wisdom. I screen my health care professionals, and I set firm boundaries. I am not interested in weight loss, and I will not step on a scale. I don’t care about a new diet regimen; I care about eating. I’ve learned to love my body—I love the look of my body; I love the way my squishy, soft flesh feels. I have embraced my fat. I do this because I care about my body. I care less about the image of my body, and I care more about my relationship to my body.

When I stand at the barre to begin my weekly ballet class, I am reminded that loving my body is both difficult and important. As we go through the usual warm-up routine I feel my muscles stretch and flex. I am present in my body, and I appreciate the grace and flow of movements. As we transition into leaps and jumps, I am reminded of that power in my body. My hearty legs can push my body in the air again and again in rapid succession. I land easily each time.

I am still scared that even after working to accept my body I will catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and find something ugly. So far, I’ve only seen my body. My fat, beautiful body.

Photos by Liz Naiden

smart and lovely and powerful.

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Sat, 10 Mar 2012 08:36:02 -0500

"I was laying in bed one night and I thought ‘I’ll just quit— to hell with it.’ And another little..."

Sat, 10 Mar 2012 08:27:11 -0500

“I was laying in bed one night and I thought ‘I’ll just quit— to hell with it.’ And another little voice inside me said ‘Don’t quit— save that tiny little ember of spark.’ And never give them that spark because as long as you have that spark, you can start the greatest fire again.”

- Charles Bukowski (via shetakesflight)

"Slut” is how we vilify a woman for exercising her right to say “yes”. “Friendzone” is how we vilify..."

Tue, 06 Mar 2012 12:24:16 -0500

““Slut” is how we vilify a woman for exercising her right to say “yes”. “Friendzone” is how we vilify a woman for exercising her right to say “no”.”

- (via thechocolatebrigade)

"I am interested in language because it wounds or seduces me."

Tue, 06 Mar 2012 08:33:17 -0500

“I am interested in language because it wounds or seduces me.”

- Roland Barthes (via loveyourchaos)

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Tue, 06 Mar 2012 08:01:33 -0500

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Wed, 29 Feb 2012 15:18:18 -0500

Elanor Autumn!

Wed, 29 Feb 2012 15:05:06 -0500

I wish I knew how to reply properly haha!

I’m alright… I’m pretty happy with myself for the first time in living memory. Not that I’m healthy, or thin, but I kind of came round to the idea of being curvy etc and was starting to think it could be pretty sexy on me.

Now, however, I feel like a massive lump and miss having a 26” waist. Refuse to be triggered though. Absolutely refuse. Am going up to my pub to do my washing, play poker and have a white wine spritzer. And shake my curves all over the place! Because there is one voice in my head telling me I’m fat. Fat fat. Not a little bit fat, but properly, wobbly disgusting fat. The other voice, however, is telling me that while I might be fat (knowing secretly in it’s heart of hearts that I’m not fatfatfatfatfat), that I am SEXY and look HEALTHY and I am FINE just the way I am.

Just been a while since I’ve done a shoot. And two months ago I was under nine stone. I am definitely not under nine stone now. I am naturally this size, I just don’t like it much of the time! But I have broad shoulders, a big ol’ rib cage, and stealthy hips. I think stealthy is the wrong word, but you know what I mean.

I really, really will not be triggered.

I hope xxx

vaultdweller: These posters show different white people...

Wed, 29 Feb 2012 14:56:20 -0500

vaultdweller:

These posters show different white people covered in revealing truths about white privilege. According to an article in MPR news, A 2010 survey found Duluth residents viewed the city as less hospitable to racial and ethnic minorities, immigrants, young adults without children, and talented college graduates looking for work than other comparable cities. The survey ended up starting a dialogue about racial issues which facilitated a way in which to combat them. Awareness.

I have many feels about this. Maybe I will post about them later. But they are good feels.

Just had to take my measurements for a potential modelling shoot tomorrow. NOW I’m...

Wed, 29 Feb 2012 14:51:21 -0500

Just had to take my measurements for a potential modelling shoot tomorrow.

NOW I’m depressed.

I cannot wait until I can start working out again.

missfolly: ‘If men can take it, so can we’: Young GOP women...

Mon, 27 Feb 2012 17:00:35 -0500

missfolly:

‘If men can take it, so can we’: Young GOP women take up cigars, spittoons, and endless rounds of poker to enjoy low-key ‘smoker’ on threshold of WWII’

“Smoke and poker: The young Republicans are engulfed in a thick cloud of smoke as they play poker (and sneak a peek at one card shark’s hand)…

Many of the women preferred smoking out of corncob pipes, but said: ‘It wouldn’t do in Milford.’ They bravely made do as the air became thick with blue and white smoke from cigar and pipe smoke. ‘If men can take it, so can we,’ they said. By the end of the night, cigarette butts littered the floor as empty cuspidors lay around. Everyone deemed the night a wild success. The porters said they hadn’t seen so many cigarette butts since the Firemen’s Convention of 1938.”

missfolly: ‘If men can take it, so can we’: Young GOP women...

Mon, 27 Feb 2012 17:00:31 -0500

missfolly:

‘If men can take it, so can we’: Young GOP women take up cigars, spittoons, and endless rounds of poker to enjoy low-key ‘smoker’ on threshold of WWII’

“The Good Old Party in earlier times elicits images of a boys’ club, with men in suits spending their time shuffling cards and swapping the latest political stories in rooms engulfed in smoke and tobacco.

But one young group of Republican women in Milford, Connecticut asked why the casual get-together – called a smoker – was exclusively for menfolk.

And so, the Young Women’s Republican Club of Milford set to have a night like no other in May of 1941, indulging in traditionally male pastimes like cigar smoking, poker playing, and wrestling. The night confused the majority of Milford’s male population.”

missfolly: ‘If men can take it, so can we’: Young GOP women...

Mon, 27 Feb 2012 17:00:27 -0500

missfolly:

‘If men can take it, so can we’: Young GOP women take up cigars, spittoons, and endless rounds of poker to enjoy low-key ‘smoker’ on threshold of WWII’

“Formal entertainment for the night included a striptease, a wrestling match, and several Vaudeville musical numbers. The article, called Life Goes to a Women’s Smoker, originally appeared in a June 1941 issue of LIFE magazine and examined the then unfamiliar concept of women exploring the carefree social gathering…

Their evening of fun and frivolity – complete with comedic wrestling matches, song and dance numbers, and poker games - came only months before the deadly attack on Pearl Harbour on December 7, 1941, when the U.S. was thrown into war and women’s roles changed dramatically.

This change was embodied by Rosie the Riveter, as 6.5million women entered the labour force, working in factories and other industries.”

"I’ve discovered that Iwan sleeps with his mouth open. So at lunch times I liked to creep into his..."

Mon, 27 Feb 2012 17:00:13 -0500

“I’ve discovered that Iwan sleeps with his mouth open. So at lunch times I liked to creep into his trailer and just hang my testicles over his mouth, so that his breath— it’s just a lovely warm feeling all over the back of my scrotum.”

- Robert Sheehan (via sheehanfan)

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Mon, 27 Feb 2012 16:33:51 -0500