femme writes- body image

 

On the 5th of every month, bloggers from around the world are open to write about rights and issues concerning women. First started by Shine and Marie, we’re hoping to bring a variety of women’s issues to the forefront to make people aware of what’s going on. For the month of July, we’ve chosen to write about Body Image. Please join us in telling us your stories, thoughts, and ideas on a monthly basis. To read previous installments, click here.

i am a fat girl. i’m the chubby bunny. the soft and huggable mama. the blind date with the “great personality” (you know what i’m talking about). i shop from the plus size rack. i’m the girl that gets the looks when i buy snacks or orders desert. i’m 5’8”, 215 pounds, a size 18, AND I LOVE MY BODY.

so suck it hollywood.

i know that i should hate myself and starve myself or want to dance my ass off or be the biggest loser. but i don’t. i love me the way i am. sure there are days when i feel like a whale or hate my clothes or detest what i see in the mirror- i challenge you to show me one person anywhere on this planet who has never had a day like that. i hate that because i’m not a single digit size trying to get to nearly invisible, for some reason society thinks i’m not okay for anything besides spandex and scales and diet commercials. every day when i open up my facebook page or any other web browser all the side banners and top banners are weight loss adds, or get skinny quick schemes, or how to lose those 10 pounds over night. i never realized how specific i was targeted until a guy friend used my laptop one day and had to log off as me and log on as himself- 100% different advertisements, and he even commented about how many stupid ones were on my page as a female. welcome to the femme world.

sure it’s changing a little out there- shows like drop dead diva and more to love are popping up but ARE YOU KIDDING ME? more to love was one of the MOST mocked reality dating shows of all time, and the whole premise of drop dead diva is that it took a skinny girl to show her how to love her naturally beautiful self. writers like jennifer weiner have oh so blessedly (sarcasm anyone?) started writing about “real sized women” but if you’ve ever read any of her trash novels that are only worthy to be fireplace fuel, you’d recognize a reoccurring theme: the women are only happy AFTER they’ve lost weight and completely changed themselves. only then do they find that they’re worth while people and finally find someone to love them. BULLSHIT.

BULL.FUCKING.SHIT.

what about a book with a real size woman that has someone who loves her just the way she is without losing weight or changing herself? what about a dating show with real size women that isn’t a complete farce. a show that isn’t the main fodder for the soup (i love you joel mchale, but REALLY?) or any of the other fat hating reviewers? what about a show with real size women that DOESN’T involve spandex and a scale and either dancing our asses off or being a biggest (completely unhealthy) loser? oh wait...i forgot...the wardrobe departments can’t handle it. the hollywood stick figures wouldn’t know what to do with a whole cast of confident full figured woman (opposed to the one or two that they keep around for statistic sake).

but i digress. this is about _MY_ body image:

i am fat. i am imperfect. i have bad hair days. i have bad thigh days. i have bad skin days. i have bad everything days. most of my jeans create a muffin top because that’s the way i’m shaped. i have bingo arms. i have chubby calves. my thighs rub together when i walk and wearing corduroy is a fire hazard in the summer time. i only wear a one-piece swim suit, and only then with something over it because i know there are parts of me that should not be exposed to the general public. i have scars, wrinkles, dimples in places that normally don’t have dimples. the gals at the pedicure shop laugh at my “precious moments toes” every time i go in and always comment about how i basically have no pinky toe nail to paint. i have tattoos, blue hair, at one point my nose was pierced, and i have multiple piercings in ear. i have a belt that i wore in high school that BARELY fits around one of my thighs now. the only way i could fit into my old cheer uniform (yes, i was a cheerleader at one point) is if i stapled it onto a shirt and THEN wore it.

know what else?

i have BEAUTIFUL eyes. i have amazing curves. i look damn fine in a good pencil skirt and some 4” heels. i have learned over the years how to take care of myself and i clean up DAMN GOOD. i have found a beautiful hair style that works for my face shape and gets plenty of compliments. i have learned to dress my body type so that i look good in whatever i choose to wear (even on the days i feel fat). i have arms strong enough to pick up my kids when they’re hurt. i have curves squishy enough to be comforting to them when they’re sick. i have a healthy, strong body that lets me go to work every day and take care of my spawns every night.

I AM BEAUTIFUL JUST THE WAY I AM.

would i like to lose a little weight? sure. will the world end if i don’t? hell no it wont. do i wish i had better skin and perfect hair and always manicured nails? ummm...of course! does it ruin my life that those don’t happen? not a bit.

i wasn’t raised to like myself. it’s something i’ve worked DAMN hard for over the years. by the time i went to college i had learned to love myself. then i let someone take that away for a while. and i’ve worked twice as hard to get that back again. and i will NEVER let someone take that away from me again. there are still days when i watch tv or go clothes shopping or look at the beautful women i am blessed to know and have shadows of doubt: “what would it be like to...” you know how it goes. it’s natural. we compare, it’s what women do. but you know what else we need to do? we need to realize that for every time we compare ourselves to someone, SOMEONE IS COMPARING HERSELF TO US. did you get that? for every person you think is better than you? someone thinks the same about you! i’m not really sure that’s the point i’m trying to make- the whole comparing to others REALLY needs to stop, but it won’t, and at least realize that others are doing it about you too!

i want to say it again: I AM BEAUTIFUL JUST THE WAY I AM. i am imperfect. i have room for improvement. and I LOVE ME.

hoppin down the bunny trail...

i hope ya'll are ready for this one...it's going to go around in one of the strangest circles. you've been warned.

SO. i've been working on losing weight...we're all aware of this fact. i'm lost 20 and counting...not that you could tell by looking at me. seriously: was i carrying lead in my pockets before? I LOOK THE SAME. you'd think 20 pounds would be NOTICEABLE. but it's not. ~sigh~

we all also know that I AM AWESOME. i love me and therefore everyone else should too. i'm a chubby bunny. and i've been okay being that. because i'm a HOT chubby bunny. i clean up GOOD. think of thumper's girlfriend- fluffy, cuddly, and CUTE. and she snagged a great guy using her fluffy little curves. i don't know what the bunny version of ME.OW. is...but..ME.OW! saucy little vixen!

so. i've been okay with this. but the last few weeks, my son' has been working on a science project at school with caterpillars growing up into butterflies. and it got me thinking...what do _I_ want to be when i grow up? what does a chubby bunny morph into? the only thing that came to mind at first was the boiled baby bunny in the pot...i don't want to turn into the crazy chick boiling baby bunnies! so then i REALLY thought about it...and DUH: chubby bunnies grow up to be jessica rabbit. umm...DROOL. are you kidding me? it should have been SO OBVIOUS. so that's my new goal: chubby bunny needs to morph into jessica rabbit. from saucy little vixen to smokin ridiculously hot siren. so...there you have it. in place of the red dress, i already have my vintage dress that will look just as crazy hot...so...GOAL. SET. GO.

but you know that can't be all with me. i got to thinking about bambi. and like all classic disney characters he didn't have a mother for most of the movie. ps: THANKS FOR KNOCKING OFF ALL THE MOMS DISNEY. anywho: bambi grew up, thumper grew up, flower grew up...and what did they all do? SNAGGED A CHICK. now thumper had a mom, and she was always correcting him and teaching him things. and being a classic bunny family, i wonder if she ever had the reproduction talk with him. how WOULD a reproduction talk for rabbits go? umm..."we reproduce. A LOT. go." or would it be like any classic catholic family: "no sex, but if you do, we don't believe in birth control. that's why there's so damn many of us." (i'm not a catholic, but i'm guessing this is their talk). or would it be like "dude, it's the animal kingdom...have at it!" you know? what would a good bunny mama say? especially when she sees her son...*ahem*...getting a little...umm...worked up shall we say? over the cute chubby bunny above (can you blame him?). how could a mom NOT notice how *cough* excited he got? and then i started to wonder...she knew that bambi was an orphan...and going through the same things. did she try to have the talk with him too? how would that have been? "well bambi...i noticed you're starting to get horny now...i mean...get your horns...i mean...you're growing up..." and how do you give someone else's kid "the talk"? it's awkward enough with your own! and you KNOW bambi's dad didn't give him the talk...all he did was nod at him once or twice from a distant hill...unless that's boy code for something...could be...i will never understand boys...that could have been all he ever needed to know in those few nods. stupid secret boy language.

*awkward transition*

yeah...really didn't know how to jump from having the sex talk with disney characters into the next topic. go ahead...YOU try it. i'll wait...

NOT SO EASY, is it? back to the chubby bunny thing. i know i'm losing some weight somewhere because i'm having wardrobe malfunctions. not quite janet and justin, but you know..close. so. i always, ALWAYS wear a camisole under my shirts. started a few years ago...just a thing i do. well, it's never been a problem before. but apparently now: i have a waist. you know..that indent above your hips instead of it being a straight line (or a bit of an out-dent...what? it's a word. shush.) so now, i wear these camisoles, and i walk around and suddenly the camisole isn't where it started. it's crawled up under my shirt, wiggled, scooted, and is now sitting in a contented little lump at my natural waist. NICE. nothing like having an extra lump or two under your shirt.

so.

*depressing*

i've started tucking in the camisoles. which doesn't seem like a big deal. but it is. for some reason, the minute i tuck in a shirt it seems like i'm suddenly wearing mom jeans and the pants are now one with my bra. NOTHING HAS CHANGED. the jeans are still the same low cut they've always been. i don't pull them up any higher. but the minute you tuck something in they may as well be high rise, tapered leg, "faded" (white) jeans circa 1989. it's the strangest phenomenon. and it makes me feel a bit like i'm wearing a body suit circa 1995 (don't pretend you don't know what i'm talking about). the odd thing is that my pants are falling OFF. so they're really not mom jeans when they're barely hanging onto what's left of my backside. EVEN WITH A BELT. but i just can't shake this feeling...and it's CREEPING ME OUT. i don't want to tuck my jeans into my bra!! I'M TOO YOUNG FOR THAT!!

~sigh~ it's so hard being me! do you see the HUGE problems i have to deal with? i mean...it's amazing i can function from day to day. i'm a hero. i know.

i think that's all for now.

umm...yup.  that's all.

hey look! that sword has TWO sides!

so. i’ve been spending a LARGE quantity of time lately thinking about what’s wrong with me. and what’s right with me. and…i don’t know. there’s a LOT on both sides. i guess the trick is…fuck. i don’t know what the trick is. i’ve been single basically my whole life (i REALLY don’t think those two years that were a mess of my marriage should count!). my oldest son’s dad and i “dated” (it was high school ya’ll) for a total of 4 months: three of which i was knocked up. responsible, i know. then i was single until said marriage
which went like this: met in november, married in march, pregnant in june, moved out in september, moved back in october, baby in march, moved out in december. since then i’ve been single. there have been a few distractions. there have been a few dates. but there hasn’t been anyone specific that has wanted to “claim me” for any length of time. whatevs. i’m fine on my own, i’ve never been the type to need someone, but occasionally it would be nice to have someone around, you know?

honest truth? there’s this damn pickle jar in my fridge that i haven’t been able to get into for MONTHS. getting a fella around the house seems like a much easier option than shattering the jar on the counter.

maybe.

anywho. like i said. i’ve been thinking about what’s wrong with me AND what’s right with me. so. here’s what i’ve come up with:

WRONG:

i’m chubby: guys do tend to like the little itty bitty size two waifs. they look cute on your arm at the club. they keep your grocery bill nice and low. they’re easy to get into kama sutra position #493. they’re generally too weak from starvation to fight often. not so much with chubby girls. ~sigh~

i can’t have any more kids: guys like the idea that they can reproduce their own spawn on this earth, someone to carry on the manly maleness that is them. they want a little mini-me running around someone to pass on their generations of ruggedness to. i can’t do it. my factory has been closed, decommissioned, and is sitting around taking up useful real estate. (dude, if i could have all that removed, think of the instant weight loss…would help with wrong #1)

i’m smart: guys don’t like a girl who can challenge their intellectual supremacy. or who even knows how to spell intellectual supremacy. i not only CAN, i WILL challenge things. i WILL have my own thoughts and express them. i’m not very good at just sitting around looking pretty (besides, there’s a rule that chubby = not pretty if you didn’t know). i’m loud, i’m obnoxious, i speak my mind, i call it like i see it, i will make you look like a douchebag asshole if you’re acting like a douchebag asshole. it’s just the way it is.

RIGHT:  

i’m chubby: who wants to cuddle up to skeletor when they’re sick? and who wants to go do dinner with someone who orders a leaf of lettuce and a glass of water and pretends to be too full to eat that? never trust a skinny chef: and i am NOT a skinny chef. i’m not afraid to eat a cheeseburger when i’m grumpy. it really does make you less bitchy. what guy really enjoys grinding hips while they’re doin the wild thing? there’s truth to the cushion for the pushin’ theory. i’m still flexible. i’m still able to get into the other #492 kama sutra positions. and i AM working on being LESS chubby, but no matter how far down i get, i will always be bigger than 90% of the girls out there. it’s in my genes. and i love myself. so. you know.

i can’t have any more kids: i have two AMAZING kids already. i’ve been walked away from twice already. i’m not looking for a hat trick. i won’t accidentally “oops” on a guy. i’m not a jerry springer show waiting to happen. there won’t be a phone call from maury povich inviting anyone to a mysterious show. i don’t have to worry about counting days or peeing on sticks. when i’m 42 BOTH of my kids will be out of the house and i’ll be ready to do all sorts of amazing things. my spawns are already house broken. i can sleep full nights and late on weekends. i don’t have to worry about diapers or bottles or strollers. i’m already half way done (with one anyway).

i’m smart: i have a good job. i have a college degree. i can count to 20 WITH MY SHOES ON. i know how to make a joke, read a newspaper, follow a conversation that has more than 2 words that are over 2 syllables in a row. i am willing to speak my mind and contribute to the conversation around me. i can support myself. i know how to fix things around the house, take care of basics, and not pass out from forgetting to breathe.

in all seriousness though (yes, all the above was tongue in cheek…shocker). i do know what my fatal flaw is, and i’m slowly coming to terms with it. it’s something i’ve wondered for a while. it was given a voice a while ago. i’ve since challenged that voice and it’s been proven true. by several. so. my fatal flaw: i have kids. it’s a simple math equation really. one kid halves your chances of dating. two kids halves those chances. one kid with high needs halves those chances. and two kids with high needs halves those chances one more time. throw in that the two high needs are on OPPOSITE ends of the needs spectrum: half those chances again. throw in that there’s not one, but two baby daddy’s andyou half those chances one last time. so…i’m working on a half to the sixth power here. in layman’s terms of slim to none: slim has been shot, dragged by wild horses, mauled by rabid dogs, run over by a run-away carriage, strung up from the courthouse, and then buried out back under the future site of the new and improved town outhouse.

so, what i’m saying is: THERE’S STILL A CHANCE.

dear wii-liam: I HATE YOU

so. one of the nifty things about owning a wii is that you get to "name" it. ooo...fancy. mine happens to be named wii-lliam. see what i did there? yeah...i'm THAT creative. sad. so. the nice thing about naming your wii is that when you get mad at it, you have a name to curse in vain. it really helps. take yesterday for example:

i've been working out for TWENTY TWO DAYS. 22. that's A LOT. almost a whole month. i mean...FOREVER. and i've been working out close to an hour every day doing cardio, strength, yoga, balance, ALL of it. i sweat. and i hurt. and i'm exhausted. well, when you work out on the wii it measures you EVERY.DAMN.DAY. i've gotten used to ignoring it calling me obese every single day. i know it will take a while to change. it still irks me, but i'm finding my zen place. i know i'm losing inches (pants. falling. off.) so i'm ok. until yesterday. it automatically set a 2 week "goal" for me. and yesterday was the end of the two weeks. so. up it pops: "oh, i noticed it's your goal date! let's check your progress!"

I KNOW MY PROGRESS YOU BASTARD! YOU TELL ME I'M FAT EVERY FUCKING DAY!!

but whatever. let's check: "oh, i noticed you didn't reach your goal. and your weight indicates you're obese. maybe you should try watching what you eat."

YES. IT REALLY SAID THAT. i almost understood all the pictures of tv screens with wii-motes sticking out of them. WII-LLIAM: I HATE YOU. i about cried. instead i did boxing and channeled the angry energy there. and ended up hurting my knee. ~sigh~

in other news: i've found a second source of motivation (since the dress STILL doesn't fit). you see, i have a ninja around my house. it's handy. really. for several reasons. here's the thing about ninjas: they're REALLY in shape. like 17% body fat in shape. and they're FAST. so when they make fun of you for NOT having 17% body fat (or having WELL OVER 17% body fat) you have to work REALLY HARD to hit them. which is good. also. they eat. A TON. so left overs are NEVER a problem at my house. ever. GONE. my particular ninja also happens to be very good at yoga and has *cough*nicely*cough* told me how i'm doing my poses wrong. re-enter the fact that they're REALLY FAST. and when you're trying to un-pretzle AND hit a really fast ninja...well, they should make a work out video JUST FOR THAT. or i can just set up a camera in my house and sell it to you all. if nothing else, laughing burns calories, right? so, if you don't have your own personal ninja: go get one. they're nifty to have around. mostly.

the point? i suppose all this should have a point: EVEN THOUGH the wii is laughing at me every day and calling me obese and suggesting i "try eating healthy" (WHAT DO YOU CALL THE RABBIT FOOD I'VE BEEN EATING ALL WEEK YOU WII-TARD), and even though i have a ninja that reminds me how un-ninja i am, I'VE STUCK WITH IT! and i'm going to stick with it. 22 days is technically into the "new habit" zone. and it's true. i find myself planning how/when to fit my work out in every day now instead of finding excuses to avoid it. and i slightly panic when i have a busy day and can't find time (so far i've always found time). and i find myself checking what i eat and HOW MUCH of it i'm eating now thinking about working it off later. and i pick water over soda as a reflex now. and I'M DOING IT! IN IT TO GYM IT BABY!

if you were curious:

if you've wandered here from In It To Gym It, or if you happen to follow me on facebook, or twitter, or here, or if you were one of the unfortunate people stuck listening to me talk about it just because: here's an update on the chubby bunny slim down: I AINT SLIMMIN SO FAST.

~sigh~

so. i know i talked all about this dress (see right): and how i was going to rock it...I FAILED. i mean TECHNICALLY i didn't fail. it fit. as in i could get it on and zip it up and move around and breathe and be *MOSTLY* ok in it, but i didn't ROCK IT like i wanted to. there were lumps and bumps, and for some fucking retarded reason, spanx have TWO seams going up over the ass which is NOT a good look in a form fitting dress...so that option was out to help (which they don't anyway. what a fucking waste of money. seriously). so. i DIDN'T fail, but i DID fail because i didn't wear the dress to the party. so. in my closet it sits. hopefully it will fit by vegas WITH ALTERATIONS because i'll be too skinny for it then...here's hoping.

instead, i rocked this dress (see left): complete with 1940's pin curl hair, and CHUCK TAYLOR SHOES. oh yes i did. classic converse with a strapless dress. and i FUCKING ROCKED IT. i heart me just a little. it turned out to be awesome since this doll of a dress has been hanging in my closet for a few months without occasion to be shown off. so. BAM. i STILL win. just not the win i wanted...but still a win...so there!

in other news: i'm about to murder my wii...still...it isn't getting better. i understand flexing a few pounds from day to day...but FIVE? yes. it seems that every day when i weigh in i'm either 5 pounds heavier than the day before or 5 pounds lighter. my chart looks like a REALLY BAD something...i don't know. but it doesn't look good. i think i need to get the board off the carpet and onto something a little more stable...that might help. maybe. i think. from some reviews i've read online it might. i have to do something though. it's so fucking discouraging to be eating right, working out, drinking water and STILL be going up in weight. wii-tard. whatever.

BUT...i'm hanging in there. i'm still getting off my couch every night and doing something. so. that counts a little...right?

things i would buy:

so. i've been working on skinny-ing up this chubby bunny backside. if you're sick of hearing about it already...SUCKS TO BE YOU. this is a big change for me!!

any-who. working out gives you time to think. well, when you're not thinking of new curse words to yell at the machine anyway.


so. all this working out and thinking- i've come up with a few things that someone needs to get off their ass and invent cause i would TOTALLY buy it:


#1: kama sutra for the wii. a "grown up" version of the wii fit. use a slightly bigger balance board made for TWO people. then teach them how to get into the poses, have the little balance circle that they have to stay inside, show them how many calories they're burning, let them set up "routines" or positions that go well together. i'm telling you: SMASH HIT. seriously. think about it: working out increases endorphins and testosterone and all that junk. which makes you *ahem* "more energetic". so. yeah.


#2: a camel pack that doesn't weigh anything. cause when i'm working out i get thirsty. and i don't want to stop and pick up my water bottle. so i COULD get a camel pack like motocross racers wear, but water weighs A TON. and my wii fit already calls me obese. so. you know...like make one that floats. or attaches to a helium balloon. or SOMETHING. help a chubby bunny out people!


ok. so those are the only two thoughts i had. i guess i spent a bit more of my time thinking up new curse words to call my wii. (wii-tard is the most popular right now...i didn't say i was thinking HARD).


umm...i guess that is all. oh...WAIT: if you want to read more about other people working out and getting in shape and get some KICK ASS motivation going on go read the new blog: http://inittogymit.com/ (which i just happen to contribute to). all sorts of amazing people doing amazing things. that is all.