Posts tagged body positive
Posts tagged body positive
"You’re not fat, you’re beautiful!" I get messages like this all the time, and it makes me so sad.
I am fat. Every stranger on the street, every medical professional, every concern troll on the internet, and every restaurant booth I can’t fit into would unanimously agree that I am, indeed, fat.
I am beautiful, too. From my red hair to my thunder thighs to my big belly to my gorgeous lips, I am in love with my body. But my love affair with my body is a personal one, and using my beauty as some kind of validation doesn’t sit right with me.
I could have mismatched eyes, “too much” body hair, I could have one leg or three thumbs or a flat chest. I could shave my head or have pockmarks, be riddled in stretchmarks and cellulite, I could be what most people would consider “butt ugly.” And it doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t make me any less worthy of love, of respect, of happiness and decency. It shouldn’t lessen my chances of living a happy and fulfilling life, chasing my dreams and not worrying about being harassed.
If you truly want to empower a person with a compliment, don’t go with the physical. Tell them they’re an amazing artist, talk about how empathetic or what a good listener they are. Tell them they bake a lasagna that’s to die for. Tell them they’ve always been there when you need them and you appreciate that.
We live in a culture that’s beauty obsessed. Just look at any magazine, any ad for makeup or clothes. Beauty means success, sex, worth. Complimenting someone strictly based on their physical appearance only exacerbates these unfair beauty ideals. I know I’m guilty of it, I do it all the time, even today I did it! But just think about your reasons for doing it.
Beauty is overrated. How awesome a person is and how they treat the people around them? That’s the ticket!
(reposted from my instagram, feel free to follow!)
(necklace from Fancy Lady Industries!)
I got asked this tonight, and it made me uncomfortable, as it always does. I answered with a shrug and an “I don’t know…” and the person followed it up with a “you look good!” I have a lot of trouble synthesizing that, for a variety of reasons.
1) bodies are intensely personal. I don’t think it’s ever appropriate to ask someone about weight loss or weight gain, especially an acquaintance.
2) the follow up of “you look good” upsets me. Do I look less good if I weigh more? Does how good I look directly correlate with whether I’ve lost weight? The insinuation most people have that thinner=better is so obvious in even the most innocent remarks like this.
3) what if I have lost weight, but it’s because I’m working a full time job, a part time job, juggling 5 classes, a club, and being on a student leadership council? Is not having enough time to eat still “good”? Is the fact they my fridge and cupboards are mostly bare and I’m too poor to fill them “good”? What if I’d been ill and it caused me to lose weight? Is that good? The truth is you can never tell why a weight fluctuation in someone happened, and it’s really bad to assign positivity to a change in body size without knowing what a person is going through.
4) this person couldn’t just say “you look good?” And have that be it?
Assigning moral value to body size will always make me uncomfortable. The person who did this meant no harm or ill will, but it just made me really think about how pervasive the message that “thinner is better” is.
Y’all, unless you know for a fact that someone is actively trying to change their body weight and is looking for encouragement, don’t comment on their weight. It’s a big trigger for a lot of people. Your self worth and goodness is not tied to your pants size. Remember that!
PS: my favorite thing to reply when someone asks if I’ve lost weight is “oh gosh, I hope not!!” People are usually so shocked by that, it shuts them right up.
(reposted from my instagram, feel free to follow me @randomlancila!)
NSFW! Tableau Vivant of The Delirium Constructions - Skylight One Hanson, 2011 (Nude Opera)
I wanted to share this with you guys! It’s an outstanding performance and a nude opera; the beautiful enchanting vocals and music are incredible, and I thought it was absolutely breathtaking to see so many different bodies on one stage. Absolutely brave and beautiful! -Annie
It is our one year anniversary this month, and so for the entire month of June we are offering 20% off the total of any purchase.
Just use coupon code: “1YEARSUPERSALE” at checkout.
As an extra bonus, we are also giving away FREE GIFTS with every order over $30! Each gift is valued up to $40.
All custom orders are offered at a SALE price right now, as well. So feel free to request your own unique piece.
I am so glad that I can spread my body positive message through Tumblr AND Etsy; thank you for helping me get the word out and for supporting this disabled artist ;)
Take care, lovelies!
fuckin body positive as fuck
i refuse to believe that my worth as a human being is connected to my physical beauty. i refuse to center my life around trying to gain others approval.
i don’t care what anyone has to say about how i look, or what i do with my body. i’ll grow out my body hair and rock it shamelessly. i’ll shave it all off and love how smooth it is. i’ll dye my hair a thousand colors. i’ll shave my head and then grow it out and then shave it again. i’ll post topless photos online, and i will never accept people telling me that that means i deserve harassment.
i don’t want anyone in my life who is shallow and immature enough to judge me based on what i do with my body. i love my weird human body.
Everyone has rolls when they bend over. Everyone. Lets just get this out of the way right off the bat. In the last few months, I’ve had over 30 women ranging from rail thin to extra large naked in my bed and I would routinely ask them to hug their knees. You won’t believe this… ALL OF THEM HAD TUMMY ROLLS. Not one was exempt. Even my super fabulous professional model 6 foot tall and some amazing Katie had rolls. The stomach pictures turned into some of my favorite images from the project… so quit thinking they’re bad, and try accepting (dare I say embracing?) yours!
When people say “you’re gorgeous”, believe them. I tend not to, and it’s a cryin’ shame. When people genuinely compliment you, it’s because they really see it. Try to not dismiss their perspective as wrong and assume that you know better. They see all of you. We see our flaws. Believe them.
“Arm flab is embarrassing.” No its not, go fuck yourself. No, not you. The people who tell us that, silly.
You’re not stunning despite your body. You’re stunning because of your body. There is a distinct difference. I grew up in a culture that would deem “unattractive” women as “special spirits”. A degrading categorization that implied that the only thing worthwhile was whatever was inside. Well, yeah. We are all much much more than our bodies, but our bodies are a beautiful part of us too. Beauty comes from the inside AND the outside. I am of the firm belief that every person is beautiful, and so this leaves the inside to be the part that is the most telling when it comes to true “beauty”.
A guy can pick you up off your feet, and it won’t break his back. “Wait, whaaaaaa Jes? You’re full of shit.” Nope. This just happened to me for the first time in… six years? I’m considerably heavier than I was 6 years ago (like… 70 pounds heavier) and so when I ran up to my friend Eric for a hug and he picked me up with my heels in the air… it left me breathless. I had forgotten that it was possible; I had accepted a life void of being lifted. So exhilarating. Eric didn’t suffer any injuries and walked away unscathed.
You don’t need to exercise every day in order to feel better about yourself. Many believe that someone who’s fat needs to exercise as much as possible in order to prove that they’re committed to becoming “less fat”. As if accepting one’s body as is would be a sin, and that’s just silly. Yes, exercising has wonderful physical and mental benefits, but you don’t owe it to anyone else to make an effort to change your body unless you wanna. You do not have to alter yourself to be okay. Period.
You’re allowed to fall in love with yourself. I promise. This will be the scariest thing you will ever do, and that’s okay. It will also be the most amazing (albeit super gradual) experience you will ever have. It doesn’t make you narcissistic. It doesn’t make you vain. It is liberating in every form of the word.
It’s also okay to have days where you don’t love yourself. Read this. No really. Read it. And then realize that we’ve grown up learning and internalizing that we are not okay our entire life. For me, that’s 26 years of self-hate indoctrination and brainwashing. It’s going to take a lot longer than you think to reverse this thinking, and it’s definitely not going to happen overnight. Allow yourself to have “weak” days. Cry, mourn, sob, yell, throw things. Whichever. Then get up, brush yourself off, give the media the finger, and move forward because you’re a warrior.
Everyone’s boobs are uneven. If you have a lot of boobs, they might be way uneven. Don’t stress. This is totally normal.
There are people who prefer large ladies. And I mean all sizes of large. I thought that my best bet in life was to find a partner who accepted my fat. Pause. Give me a minute to hang my head and shake it at myself. Not only are there people who adore “thick” women, but a LOT of them who prefer it. This eventually ends up in an interesting territory which Marianne talks about here, but the point that I’m trying to make goes back to the “despite vs because of” argument. Here is what you need to know: you do NOT need to settle for a lover who is “okay” with your body. You have the right (and millions of opportunities) to find someone who is infatuated with your body. You deserve to be worshiped, woman!
Fat chicks bang hot guys… ALL. THE. TIME.I know that hot is relative and all inclusive depending on who you chat with, but for these purposes, lets talk about the “universally attractive” kind of hot. Y’know, the kind fat chicks don’t deserve? We want to pretend that we don’t know what I’m talking about, but lets be real; we totally do. The fact that “fat chicks bang ‘hot’ guys” was one of the most powerful realizations I’ve had thus far. In line with the above paragraph, I knew that there would be someone that would find me attractive but the pool would be small (because of my body) and potentially full of guys I didn’t personally find sexy. So I would have to settle for anyone that would take me. After all, how could a conventionally gorgeous man (tall and with tattoos of course) like fat chicks? Weh-he-hell, let me tell you somethin’: through various sites, events, parties, and corner store meetings, I found myself with over a hundred men who were champing at the bit to get with this. I was the one who had to sift through and pick the hottest of the hot. Ladies, over a hundred. “Girls” showed what society thinks about that when Hannah’s character has a weekend romance with an attractive and wealthy doctor. People flipped their shit. “Patrick Wilson is so hot he would never do Lena Dunham” was the most eye catching. Wilson’s wife responded to that rubbish here, but the tweet speaks volumes about what the majority of people think unconventional women deserve. Jesus christ, it’s annoying. I won’t spill the details of my bedroom coming and goings, but lets just say this: the hottest guys in Tucson and I get along just fine. I would recommend reading Emily’s article on xoJane for a better explanation of what I’m struggling to say. Know this: the myth that “atypical” bodies can’t be paired with “typically attractive” bodies is false. Women need to know that all bodies can be paired with all bodies.
Riding during sex will NOT collapse his insides. Just trust me on this one, what you fear is totally false. Here’s a great article that changed my life.
Wearing whatever you want is a political statement. Join the revolution. Throw style rules out the window. Wear the tutu. Wear the horizontal stripes. Wear the turquoise skinny jeans. Wear the see-through blouse. Wear the bikini. Wear the sweat pants. Wear the shirt that says “Does this shirt make me look fat?”. Wear whatever it is that makes you happy. This is your life.
You are fucking beautiful. I’m saying this with a straight face and seriously meaningful look where I maintain eye contact for an uncomfortable amount of time. I know you don’t feel like you fit into the category of gorgeous that our world creates. I know that its hard. I know that its a daily battle. But fuck their fascist beauty standards. The second you stop looking for a skinny model in your mirror and start looking at YOU… is the second you will start to appreciate what you are. Stop looking for flaws. Stop looking for differences. You are perfect. You are more than enough. You are the best thing that has ever happened to you. And you are fucking beautiful.
Say it with me.
I’m actively sobbing.
Our co-mod Stacy is a talented girl! In addition to being a kickass mod, she also runs an etsy shop where she sells jewelry, keychains, and all kinds of adorable stuff! Lately she’s been making some amazing body-positive jewelry like you see here! She can even customize with names, dates, colors, and pretty much anything else you can imagine!
Stacy is trying to finance a move to California to start a new life with her beau that will include healthcare and disability programs that she really needs. So not only would you be getting some great new jewelry, you’d also be helping out an amazing girl in need! So share this far and wide, and if you see anything you like, don’t be afraid to treat yoself! :
Hey y’all! Amber here! I’ve taken a bit of time off from SHYB mod duties, but I wanted to pop back in to remind you all that I’m still fighting the good fight for body positivity!
Just wanted to remind you as the weather gets warmer about the two most important steps to getting a rad beach body for the summer!
I’ll be rocking my fatkini for the first summer ever and I couldn’t be more excited!
Let’s not forget that no matter what shape, what size, what health status, whether you think someone’s ugly or pretty or wearing something flattering or unflattering, EVERYONE has the right to their own body, their own style, and basic respect! And EVERYONE deserves to have a great time at the beach! So instead of judging, I implore you to focus on making the best of the summer of 2013!
for more body positivity feel free to check out my instagram (username randomlancila!)
(oh yeah, and this awesome fatkini was made by By Ro Designs!)
So I have been thinking about posting this blog for a little while now. To inspire myself I checked out the scar tag here on tumblr and I was amazed. The tag was filled with self-harming.
Seeing all the negative and depressing posts about scars inspired me to tell the story about my own scars. To talk about my own incident of self-harming. But it’s not what you’re expecting.
I get asked all the time. I think I may just print out this blog or something and start handing it out to people to explain. Sometimes I have no idea what they’re talking about until I look down and see them.
“Oh yeah. My scars.”
When I was almost one year old, five days before to be precise. I accidentally spilled hot water all down my left side. The boiling hot water gave me third degree burns on the left side of my chin, my upper left arm, and all down my left side on my back and stomach. The scar on my stomach needed skin grafts. I spent my first birthday in the hospital.
For the longest time I wouldn’t wear tank-tops. I grew up wearing the surf-shirt swimsuits and to this day I will not wear a bikini.
The scars that are seen most frequently are the one on my chin and my upper arm.
I think I am comfortable with my scars. I know I am. But the fear of others not understanding or being freaked out about them is still hovering close by. Maybe I am contradicting myself. “Madeline, if they have a problem with your scars, who needs them, right?” Sure, this true. But as a teenage girl it is hard to find confidence in every situation. It’s part of the package deal of puberty.
My scars make me unique. They make me who I am.
My scars are beautiful.
I want to share my story because I want people to know that so-called “flaws,” whether they are disproportional facial features, a weight issue, a family problem, whatever it is, it makes you special. They make you different. They make you you.
Flaws are beautiful. Scars are beautiful. Girls are beautiful. Guys are beautiful. People are beautiful. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL.
If you have a scar, you have a scar. If you give yourself a scar, you’re giving yourself a challenge. A challenge to find away to accept that scar and to accept whatever problem caused you to give it to yourself.
Believe in yourself and you can.
Love your body. Love your life. Love yourself. Love your soul.
Where to begin. I’ll start from the beginning, sparing the gross details. Also, THIS IS REALLY LONG AND OH GOD I’M SORRY
I was born with a lipoma and a superficial dimple on the base of my spine, a mild form of Spina Bifida. My doctors concluded that in addition to these maladies, which I still don’t fully understand I had what is called “Tethered Spinal Cord Syndrome”, a neurological condition where tissue wraps around the base of the spinal cord, preventing it from moving freely, and stretching during periods of growth, causing nerve damage. When I was 6 months old, I had a surgery to untether it, and after a few months, I had normal nerve function. The symptoms started to come back around age 7 (balance issues, back pain, among other more embarrassing things), so I had another surgery in the summer of 1999. This time, I had to relearn how to walk, and used a walker for about a month. Going into 2nd grade, I felt different and separated from the other girls (I went to an all girls school K-12), from my friends, like they didn’t understand who I was anymore. I had some residual nerve damage, so I had to quit ballet (my favorite), and sit out of gymnastics. Girls in my class wanted me to talk about it, but I didn’t want to. I chose who I wanted to tell using little notes.
By 5th grade, things were better. I had forgotten all about my difference. Middle school was eh, nothing interesting happened. The regular bullshit.
In October of my freshman year of high school, I found out I had to have another surgery for it, and that this time it would be a longer recovery process because I was older. By this point, I was surrounded by friends who supported me - the night before my surgery, I had a little get together with about 20 people, and served cheese-its and cherry garcia fro yo on the roof of my building. I was in the hospital for 1 week, including Thanksgiving, and then a rehabilitation center for 3 weeks. Friends came to visit very frequently, even those who I wasn’t very close with. I cried in front of my friend Anne for the first time when they took a drainage tube out of my back, and she held my hand. My roommates were all very different than I was - one was a girl from China who spoke no english, one was a girl from texas who had a hip replacement surgery, and another was a girl from the Bronx who had been shot. They were all between the ages of 18 and 20, and I was 14. It was a good experience to get along with people who I would not normally live with. At the time, my father said that a movie could be made about my experiences. Little did he know what the next 6 years would hold. (I really adamantly think that he’s right. But I’ll continue.)
I went back to school in February, and was able to catch up with the things I had missed over the previous 2 months or so. Things were okay, but I started gaining weight because my mobility had decreased. I couldn’t run through the streets of New York as I used to, but I was still somewhat active. I really liked my friends brother, a senior, and he really liked me, but as soon as he made that clear to me, I ran, because I was terrified. I still regret it.
In 10th grade, my friends had narrowed down to about 2 close ones, but the rest I was still very friendly with. I started having more back and leg pain, and numbness in the fall, and had a surgery in January for a herniated disc, and after it reherniated, another in April. After missing 4 months of school, I caught up with most of my classes, but my mobility had decreased again.
In my junior year (the first time around), the symptoms for the Tethered Spinal Cord started to come back, and exhausted after making up so much school in the previous two years, I decided to withdraw and come back the following year with the class below me. Before surgery, it had gotten to the point where I had to use a cane to walk. Almost all of my friends had flaked, so I was pretty much alone. In this midst of this, a boy I really liked, and had known forever, told someone that he was disgusted that I liked him because I was “obnoxious, rude, and unattractive.” That put a huge dent in my self esteem. I had surgery in July of 2009 (it took them that long to realize that the same thing was wrong) and was in the hospital for 2 weeks, then a rehab center for 4. This time around, the rehab center was one of the best experiences of my life. It was an adult rehab center, so I was the youngest, but I became very close with most of the staff and one patient in particular. He was previously an iron-man competitor, and was hit by a car while on his bike, and slammed into a tree. He was expected to be a quadriplegic for the rest of his life, but the doctors cooled his body directly after the accident, which prevented further nerve damage, although he had damage in his legs. You can read his story here: http://www.slowtwitch.com/Interview/The_wild_journey_of_John_Carson_1358.html . He was about 30, and I 17, but we played tricks on each other, ate lunch together, went to therapy together, and supported each other. He left using a walker, and has now gone back to doing triathalons. He is one of my heroes. I met several other inspiring people there, and learned a lot about myself and what I was capable of.
After 4 weeks, I left rehab using forearm crutches and leg braces, and went back to school. Those in my new grade thought I was still friends with the seniors, and the seniors thought I was friends with the juniors, so no one really talked to me. I became good friends with librarian, who is one of the most lovely people I’ve ever met. It was a lonely year, and from my further decreased mobility, I gained a lot more weight. In the meantime, I started going on webcam chat sites, and talking to skeevy guys to make me feel better about myself. They wanted to talk to me, they thought I was pretty, and they didn’t know about all my physical shit that was going on. As a result, I have a very hard time trusting guys, and need an extreme emotional connection to open up to someone.
I started out my senior year of high school in a wheelchair - I had an ulcer on the bottom of my foot that would not heal (by this point, I had no sensation in my legs, but could still move them). The ulcer became infected several times over the year, so I spent a week in the hospital here and there. During this time, I became severely depressed, feeling completely inadequate and inferior, and used this to attract friends through pity. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy; I didn’t want people to pity me, and expressed that to people, which in turn solidified my pity-case state. I depended on them for everything, one girl in particular, to fix me, to make me feel better about myself. At one point it got so bad, and I was so low, that they told the school, who said that if I didn’t get help, I couldn’t come back. I felt awful, unwanted, and like a problem. Over Christmas, I went to a mental hospital, where I met 2 girls I connected with, and became very close with my therapist. It was a nice break from reality. I sorted out why I was so dependent on this one friend in particular, who had stopped talking to me after I got drunk at her birthday party and was taking out my anger at everyone. In the midst of all of this, I had separated myself completely from my parents, who insisted I go to BYU, but they ended up letting me go to Sewanee, a liberal arts school in Tennessee by my cousins house. I finished my senior year weary, but glad to have finished high school.
Amidst this, I went through a sexuality crisis. I thought that maybe I was a lesbian, because “how could any boy like this”, “maybe a girl would like me”, shit like that. I started talking to this one girl, who ended up falling in love with me. We dated for about 3 months, but I was terrible to her, and also to myself. I did sexual things because I thought that maybe it would convince myself that I liked her, because I wanted to like her. The things she said about me were wonderful. I was her first, and she was my first. I broke things off, because I was going to college, but I realized that I was fooling myself the whole time. I still haven’t forgiven myself for it. It’s way more complicated than I am stating it, but if you’ve gotten this far, you deserve a medal, so I’m keeping it concise.
Sewanee. It was beautiful. My ulcer still hadn’t healed, and by this point I couldn’t walk distances anyways, so I begrudgingly went in my wheelchair. On my second day of classes, I met a boy, Charlie, who sat next to me in the hallway and introduced himself to me. I had never fully trusted someone so much upon an introduction. There was not a hint of condescension, pity, or humor in his voice. I could tell that he would be an important person, and he still is. Over last year, I fell for him completely, although we didn’t see each other much, but I knew he would always be there for me. He still is, and we talk more than ever, especially through his love crises, which unfortunately don’t include me. I’ve never met someone who has understood me so well, and who I am not afraid to give myself over to completely. He was one of the few good things to come out of my year there.
When I would go out to the frats in my wheelchair, it was miserable. If the frat WAS accessibly, I would always be in the way, people would spill beer on me, people would be so condescending, or stare, and one guy came up behind me and grabbed my boobs and left. One time, a guy tried to “Dance” with me, by pushing me and pulling me around and slamming me into people. One girl told me that guys would want me if it wasn’t for the wheelchair. Every time I went out, I would have to force myself, telling myself it would be better than the last time. Eventually I gave up, and just went to my cousins house every weekend, which was lovely. That’s when I decided to go to BYU, where there are no drunk guys and girls don’t have sex with someone in the same room as you when you’re trying to sleep, and I wouldn’t be the only person with a disability. At Sewanee, there was one guy who was blind, David, but I never spoke to him, because I didn’t want to be put in a token disabled person group, and because I’m a terrible person.
So, now, I’m at BYU, and had 3 other surgeries that I forgot to mention, and another one coming up in the next few weeks that I have to go home for. I use my wheelchair except when I’m around the house, and have chronic pain in my left knee, right leg, and lower back. I’m struggling to maintain my weight, but am trying harder to accept my body. It’s really easy to hate it. It hasn’t been very good to me. My sister always compares her weight to me, like she’s doing a good job if she’s skinnier than I am, and sometimes I justify my weight by saying that I’d look skinnier if my boobs were smaller. Sometimes, it really sucks that I’ll never be able to climb a tree, or run down a hill, or do ballet again. I have to remind myself that others have it worse, but at the same time, balance that with the fact that I don’t have the best deal either. A guy asked me out, and came over, and didn’t respect my personal space, but maybe I wouldn’t trust him enough even if that didn’t happen. I’ve been thinking about it, and I have to either disconnect myself emotionally completely, or be completely head over heels, in order to feel comfortable. It has proved to me that someone can, and will, find me beautiful, perhaps instantly, even with all of my body’s physical problems. Through all of this, music has been my one companion. I’d love to be a part of it for that reason alone, to give back, or melt into the strange material that has made everything bearable and sometimes beautiful. I’m still struggling, but the one thing that is pushing me forward, is that someday I’ll be able to use all this shit and make something incredible out of it, something that many can admire and appreciate and love.
This has been a jumbled personal post. Hey Jude just came on shuffle. How timely.
Joeie and I have been seeing a lot of negative “weight” pictures with people writing words like worthless, stupid, ugly, fat, and horrible on them.
We decided to do the same but with a positive message.
People can’t tell what kind of person you are, who you care about, what you’re interested in, who you love. They don’t know what you’ve done or what you’ve been through.
Their opinions are so silly and blind that they don’t even deserve to be heard.
This is how someone who loves you sees you, and there are always people who love you.
“Sweet, Smart, Nice, Talented, Loving, Brave, Generous, Gorgeous, Kind, Perfect, Caring, Beautiful, Funny, Sensitive, Patient, Charitable, Fun, Amazing”
..and we gave him a heart on the outside to remind you he has a heart on the inside.
This goes for you too ladies.
Lastly, we wrote “human” because no matter what you think about anyone, they matter and they have the capabilities of anyone you’ve ever known,
so be kind.
Meet Davonte Poindexter Narcisse
21 yrs old October 11 1991
Libra *Into Fashion *Believe in God *a Christian *A Singer Facebookname: Davonte Poindexter Narcisse
Love this guy’s style so much!! He style flyy! We will be seeing a lot more of him aroung here! Go check him out at some of his other social media sites!
I’m sorry i hated you so much.
I never really had a reason to, since you’re here and you work pretty well.
Though we might’ve had some differences and got angry at eachother
you’re perfectly fine the way you are.
So thank you
I will treat your right.