JP Mika, Mami Wata, 2012
:: Check out our Black Mermaid section HERE! ::
JP Mika, Mami Wata, 2012
:: Check out our Black Mermaid section HERE! ::
My weight is nunya.
No. Fat people are ill.
Those two little black triangles on the right? Those are lungs. Those lungs are compressed to hell and back by all the fat surrounding them.
Compare those with the pair of beautiful, healthy lungs on the left.
Fat activists on tumblr always spout this shit how fat is healthy and how THEY are healthy. Yeah, no, they feel healthy now because they are young. Idiots like themselves do not understand how strong their bodies are. But, only because they are young. Youth means health, but what about 5 years down the line from now? 10 years? Yeah, it probably won’t go too well.
Also, when they quote sources, they cite other blogs that share their beliefs like they are some peer reviewed papers.
Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting.
I gotta quote Regan on this one,
The VFHT: The Vague Future Health Threat.
It sounds like this “Well, you may be healthy now, but it will catch up to you someday”. They look triumphant because the VFHT is indefensible.
Now instead of completely quelling my rage and giving them the benefit of the doubt, I’m just fighting the urge to set this person on fire. It’s not just the person I’m talking to - it’s also that this is the the 10 zillionth time I’ve heard this over the past 13years. I’m still healthy and I’m starting to wonder if I’ll be 102 years old and still pressured to diet so that it doesn’t “catch up to me”.
I find this to be paternalist, ignorant, unsupported, and annoying for the following reasons:
1. Typically this person has already inaccurately assessed my current health (ie “Nobody can be healthy at your weight”) but now they want me to believe that they can accurately predict my future health.
2. What is this “it” that will catch up to me? I am not outrunning my fat – it’s all right here – I am not a thin woman covered in fat, I am a fat woman who is also a very fit athlete. So what’s going to catch up with me: my perfect blood pressure, cholesterol, glucose and triglycerides? My working out and eating healthy? My strength, stamina, and flexibility?
3. Everyone is going to die. There is a 100% chance. I just happen to live in a culture where it almost doesn’t matter why I die – someone will blame it on my fat. That doesn’t make it true. This “it will catch up to you” claim is just not supported by the available science, and of all the people who’ve VFHT’d me in my life, NOT ONE has accepted my invitation to cite his/her research (including doctors).
4. What if I changed the rules of the lottery so that if you lost, you had to pay the lottery money as a penalty? Now not only is your chance of winning infintesimmaly small, but there is a near 100% chance that you’ll end up with LESS money than you had after you bought the ticket. Would you play? Now imagine that this isn’t your money we’re talking about – it’s your long term health. There is not a single study that proves that any weight loss method is effective long term, but many studies indicate that weight cycling (yo-yo dieting) is less healthy than being obese. Since diets have such an abysmal failure rate over statistically significant sample sizes, if I go on just 2 diets where I lose weight and gain it back (and I have a very high chance of doing just that both times), then I’ve likely damaged my current good health and endangered my future health on a roll of the dice that was obviously a losing bet from the beginning. The person VFHTing me is asking that I do something they can’t prove is possible, for a reason they can’t prove is valid, with a very high percentage that I’ll end up less healthy at the end. I’ll pass.
So what do you say to the VFHT?
Here are some possible responses broken down by category. (As always, I never try to change someone else’s behavior. I ask for qualification and/or I set my boundaries and consequences. )
Quick and simple:
- I find it inappropriate for you to make guesses about my future health.
- My health is not your business. (If, at this point, they bring up tax payer dollars or health care costs, I ask them for an itemized list of things for which their local, state, and federal taxes pay, or health problems that people develop for which causation cannot be proven; broken down into categories of things they are happy to pay for, and things they don’t want to pay for. If they don’t happen to have that list on hand, I let them know that I’ll be happy to discuss it once they do.)
- I don’t know of a single statistically significant, properly controlled scientific study that supports that statement. So, either cite your research or I’m going to assume that I know more about this than you do and you are just talking without actually knowing what you’re talking about. (Or “talking out of your ass”, depending on my mood).
- You have no way to know that. Cite your research or I will assume that you are putting my health at risk by talking about things for which you have no actual knowledge or qualifications. That is completely unacceptable to me.
The pointed response (feel free to mix and match questions/responses with boundary statements)
- How dare you make assumptions about my health? You may not discuss my health with me.
- I find you completely unqualified to make that statement. Please keep your opinions about my health to yourself.
- My health is not your business and you are not allowed to comment on it.
- You will immediately stop making guesses and assumptions about my future health or this conversation is over.
The snarky responses (I don’t actually recommend these because I prefer some kind of productive conversation if possible, but it’s fun to think about)
- I had no idea you could predict the future! Would you mind giving me tomorrow’s lottery numbers?
- Actually the fat doesn’t have to catch up with me – I keep it right here…unless you saw some back there that I lost?
- I totally forgot that being thin makes me immortal – thank god you told me or I might have died some day.
- I meant to tell you that I’m actually worried about you. I read on a website that we are about to experience another ice age and without fat stores to keep you alive and warm, you’re absolutely going to freeze to death. I know it sounds crazy but it was on the internet so you know it must be true and I’m going to tell everyone!
Because telling fat people that they are in fact humans that deserve dignity and respect automatically means you’re ~*GLORIFYING OBESITY*~
By the way, don’t dribble on to me saying you worry about a fat person’s ‘health’. That’s just a bullshit excuse to voice your unwanted opinion on a fat person’s body considering you wouldn’t give a single flying fuckadoodle about someone’s health if they were skinny. Besides another person’s health is none of your damned business anyway. Run along now and preach to a choir that actually cares.
I’m going to be honest, so long as you’re not hurting anyone, you can eat soy sauce and milk duds all day long for all I care.
EDIT: Let me say that I don’t think skinny people don’t get shit either. I’ve seen a lot of people saying that they get a lot of comments on their size because they’re seen as being unhealthy, too. Sorry about my poor choice of words. It sucks when people tell you that you’re not allowed to feel a certain way because you look a certain way (ie: your thin privilege means your feelings never get hurt you don’t know what it’s like!!!)
Hi, my name is Rachael. I am eighteen, from the UK. [Poss trigger warning-eating disorders]
I’m being a bit lazy about the photo, it doesn’t exactly fit the blog rules, but I wanted to put my story with a picture that is recent. I’ll explain why.
I’ve had a long struggle being comfortable with how I look. I can remember it starting in year five, or when I was about nine. Girls would talk about make up, and what their mum’s would wear and things they’d read in magazines, but I had no clue what any of that was! I was never girly, and can now proudly identify as a weird kid, for good reason.
At eleven, I entered secondary school, and my body confidence went down fast, surrounded by girls who had make up and knew how to be fashionable. I had started a paper round, and with my new wage packet, I’d splash out on so much chocolate, I’d often never have money left the same day I got paid. I also was trusted to buy my own dinners at school, which meant three packets of M&M’s a day too. It wasn’t healthy, and I can see now it was comfort eating more than anything. Before that point, my parents had kept me away from chocolate, and I was fine with it being a rare treat, but as I began to feel worse, over indulging made me feel better.
Through secondary, I went through several phases with my overall “look”. After a few months of being hippy, I became a fully fledged Goth and started dressing appropriately. My entire wardrobe was black; I had nothing that had any colour whatsoever. Looking back I can realise now that the reason I felt comfortable doing so, was because I was trying to hide behind it.
As I went through school and entered college, my diet got much worse, and I wasn’t doing any form of exercise. The paper round had stopped after two years, because I had too much school work. The school work meant I never really got a chance to exercise. Not going out meant easy access to the fridge. It was a vicious cycle. It hardly helped that my college was literally thirty seconds away from a Spar shop, so lunchtimes were feasts of everything unhealthy.
However, the Gothic phase began to disappear as I met my lovely friends, and my confidence began to grow. I still wouldn’t wear colour, and my hair had been dyed black for a year before I finally worked up the courage to buy a dress. Before that, I never wore skirts, ever, and any I had were no shorter than ankle length. I was still hiding. Wearing the dress made me feel pretty, so I chanced it, and got a lot of compliments. But then it disappeared into the back of my wardrobe, and I didn’t wear it for a long time. My weight still made me feel that I had to hide, and anything that got me noticed, like pretty dresses was bad.
Now, I am at university. I have moved out of my home, and into a new place, looking after myself fully for the first time. No mum to cook healthy stuff for me, or to get me up in the morning. I began to realise that the one responsible for me, was me. I’m still not eating healthily, but I’m getting better, or trying. I’ve also resolved to get fitter over the summer, and enjoy the sun while it lasts. No more being stuck at a computer for days on end. If I have a bad day where I do feel uncomfortable in my own skin, I have a set of songs that I listen to. They’re linked in my mind to the times where I felt absolutely gorgeous, and when I hear them, they bring that feeling right back again. However, the biggest change for me was the sudden arrival of cheap shops, and the sudden epiphany that I liked wearing colourful things! Now, I do wear what I want, and I am proud to say that I haven’t bought anything black in over a year. That’s why I wanted this picture as my submission.
That’s me, in my favourite cardigan that isn’t black and my first pair of jeans that aren’t black. I’m proud of how I look there, I’m proud of how happy I look. This made me realise that my body is the only one I’m going to get. It doesn’t matter what size it is, as long as it works, and to keep it working, I have to treat it right. Healthy food, and as much love as I can possibly give it from now on, and that’s all that matters.
No more hiding.
I’ve struggled with severe mental health issues my whole life. When I was fourteen years old I “slipped” into a clinical depression that lasted for two years. I would talk more about that time in my life, but to be honest, I don’t remember much of it. My doctor said something about my brain being in a different state and that if I was ever clinically depressed again (unlikely) I would remember things from my first depression and not remember things from before/after it.
I lost so much weight while depressed. I couldn’t eat, I would get so incredibly nauseous. On a good day I would be able to choke down crackers and peanut butter. My weight went down to 110 lbs. I am 5’6.5” and for me that was a really unhealthy weight.
I eventually got onto a medicine that was supposed to help me gain weight (because no nausea meant eating, which meant more energy and less depression, etc.) and I quickly got a bottomless pit for a stomach. I wasn’t only not-nauseous, I was HUNGRY. I ate and ate and ate, I didn’t know how to stop myself. My weight ballooned out of control. In a matter of a few months I had gained 50 lbs. I was unhappy with the way I looked, my body had felt foreign when I was underweight and all of a sudden my body felt foreign because I weighed more than I ever had in my life. I had a love/hate relationship with clothing. Things that I loved from a few months ago made me feel bloated and unhappy. I wore t-shirts and jeans and had to shop for new bras (which I hated).
I eventually started feeling better emotionally. My depression finally lifted and I was having hope for the first time in a long time. I started walking everyday, just for a little bit at first, then for longer amounts of time. I started making sure the things I ate I ate in moderation. Eventually I was at a weight that made me feel secure in myself.
To this day I have to calm myself down at times because I freak out about gaining a lot of weight really quickly over silly little things. It is just some of the baggage that I carry around with me that I have had to learn to accept. I am more than my weight. My weight is not a sure thing, but that is okay. No matter what I weigh now I am happy that I am able to enjoy life. That in itself means more than numbers on a scale could ever mean to me.
-Lena, 20, thefemmegasm.tumblr.com
the principal at my school made an announcement yesterday that the girls need to start covering up and then i found this in the hallway
I have hated a lot of things about myself. I still do sort of…
but screw it. I’m hairy, I have tons of crevices, scars, bumps, and humps. I have scrawny areas and fat areas.
I’m like one of those tea pots that the more damaged they are, the more beautiful they become. Because being yourself gives you character and uniqueness. Don’t conform unless you really want to. Try to love yourself. Lets go through this journey of selflove together each day of our lives.
A gentle reminder that NO ONE is allowed to tell you what you can wear. You’re a fat girl who likes leggings? Fantastic! You like mixing prints? Do it up! You like crop tops? Awesome! You like to dress modestly? You do that! You do not have to dress “for your size” or in “flattering” clothes. You don’t have to wear specific colors or patterns or silhouettes. You should wear what catches YOUR eye, makes YOU feel great, and you know what? Fuck what ANYONE else may think. Also relevant: you’re TOTALLY entitled to not like what someone else is wearing. but while you’re welcome to your opinion, remember that it’s just that: a) yours, and b) an opinion! Making fun of someone for what they choose to wear is 100% NEVER COOL! Hey, this is relevant because today’s challenge for #fmsphotoaday #fmsphotoadaymay is #shape. There’s so many different shapes and sizes of bodies, and they’re all super awesome!
Hi guys! My name is Makena and I am 18 years old!
I have been posting on SHYB since I started recovery for my bulimia with anorexic tendencies almost two years ago. I know the top picture looks like a before-and-after of my weight, but it’s not! The picture on the left is one of the first pictures I submitted of myself to SHYB, back in 2011. I was still in the midst of my eating disorder and very much struggling with my self-image. As you can see, I was too embarrassed to wear a bikini. Whenever I see that photo on the left, I see a very unhappy girl with zero confidence. I hated my legs and I thought I had a very chubby stomach. Now in the photo on the right, after nearly two years of recovery with much love and support, I see someone totally different! I see a girl that—can you believe it—was excited to wear a bikini to the beach, and not just wear it, but take pictures! I am just truly proud of all the positive changes and progress I have made in my life: I work out at least 4x a week and keep track of my nutrition (not calories). I actually am starting to love my body and I am learning more every day how to treat it with the respect it deserves.
Also, I just wanted to say, in August I will be one year purge-free!!:))
Anyways, thanks for reading this! If anyone ever wants to talk sometime, message me here!
TRIGGER WARNING/TW: Mental/Psychological Disorders/Suicidal Thoughts/Abuse.
I was really inspired to post a picture here. This blog is incredible.
I’ve always been the bigger girl all my life. I grew up with a mom who couldn’t afford food that was nutritious, healthy, the like. I grew up eating whatever was around. Traditionally, junk. So, it’s rather embodied in my brain that eating is a way of comfort, to never eat the right things, drink the right things, make choices, live with them. It’s hard to break out of, this we all know. I didn’t have the best childhood, no father in the picture, I suppose he was disgusted and just high tailed and left, and my mother put me through 8 years of mental torment, constantly calling me fat in front of her friends, laughing at me, calling me a whore and a bitch.
Now I am 20 years old. No longer with my mother, my grandparents took the best of care of me, well. As much as they could.
At the age of 16 I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, Type 1. I suffer deep, deep depressions, I have been in one for 12 years. Small periods of high intense mania. Strong impulses, to shop, steal, use, lie, cheat, and eat.
But. I am high above those impulses. I am not letting my disorder define who I am. I am not letting my weight define who I am. I am a smart girl, who is artistic, lovely, incredible, and above all. Brave. To not succumb to suicide. To not go back to the Psychiatric Hospital. To not look at her arms and wrists and feel the urge, the stinging pain and succumb to it. No, I am not that person anymore.
I love this life I live. I love to wake up and look outside my window and see the light blue through my curtains and just know that another night has went and gone where I am still alive and breathing.
Today is going to be a good day.
or: body positivity
(this shit has been said much better by other people but I just wanted to get it off my chest)
I am a supporter of loving your body no matter what. I don’t care if you’re 98 pounds and recovering from anorexia, 200 pounds and trying to lose weight, 130 pounds with a belly pooch, 120 pounds with “big” thighs, 250 pounds and totally comfortable, 150 pounds and uncomfortable….I DON’T CARE, I want you to be happy and I want you to be able to wear things that you like and your health is none of my fucking business unless you make it my business by directly asking me to make it so.
In the past I’ve said shit like “as long as you’re healthy/tasteful” which pains me because I’ve said it to people I care about. It’s not the wooooorst thing to have said, but I still feel bad about it.
If we are friends (or even if we’ve ever spoken/messaged) I want you to know that I support you in whatever you want to do to/put on your body. Even if it grosses me out (stretching and dermal piercings XD), I will do my damndest to be as pleased about it as you are, because your happiness makes me happy.
Scarification, tattoos, piercings, corseting, stretching, any weight, hair colors, haircuts, revealing clothes, burkas, cosmetic surgery, gender reassignment, masculine/feminine/androgynous clothes, accurate period costume, crappy halloween costumes…..
Fucking go for it. It’s your body, and if it makes you happy, fuck yeah.