Tuesday, July 31, 2007

The press..boobies and glee.

I was just reading Mopie's guest entry over at Elastic Waist yesterday. I really love that lady have I mentioned that lately? IF you don't know she's MoPie from BFD.

For the record I hate gyms, seriously I do. It's not because of the whole fat girl at the gym thing but because I prefer to sweat by myself in my house. I am the same way about shopping. I do not like people fucking with me while I'm on a mission. Also I hate the hard sell.

I like to exercise however I just like to do so in private. Where if I get tired I can yell FUCK without causing a ruckus.

Now let's talk about Fat Chance.

I watched this video about it that ran on Nightline.

And yet again I am pissed off that instead of talking first about beauty, grace, or anything there's the fucking punchline... "a BIG difference"

That is something I really seriously hate about how the media handles everything fat related that is fabulous. It never ceases to fucking piss me off so I wind up enjoying whatever it is less.

It's just another way for people to give a back handed compliment. Further it only reinforces the idea that anything related to fat, especially to a fat woman is only marginally if ever ok. It's that attitude (and I KNOW you've heard it) "Oh....you're so...pretty." With that sort of incredulous insipid look. Yeah I'm over it.

I don't like it. I am on to all of the people who employ this.

I do not approve.

If you are going to write about women, fat women in particular keep your shock to yourself when they are fabulous and beautiful. Or fuck off.

It pisses me off.

Things like this issue that was brought to my attention over at BFD today. Go read the articles she links and think about it.

Frankly I don't give a good goddamn about the movie Hairspray. If it doesn't have John Waters name on it and Rikki Lake in it I don't care. But the point remains. For the record euphemisms in general don't bother me, what bothers me is that the point is made over and over again.

To quote a comment from that entry:

Zarazza, on August 2nd, 2007 at 3:53 pm Said:

But why do they have to keep pointing out that she’s fat? Can you imagine the outcry if every reference to Queen Latifah referred to her as “African-American”, “Black”, “Nubian”, “Melatoninally Gifted”, etc.?

That is very true. Think about that.

Aside from a fat person when do journalists or anyone for that matter come up with nine-million and four words for something. Why the need the point out the obvious again and again and again. It all comes back to (in my opinion at least) that sense that "HOLY WOW A FAT GIRL CAN DO IT"

I think that's bullshit.

So anyhow I was reading The Rotund and she had a link to an ebay seller of clothes (that sounded fancy huh) who carries up to 6X which is exciting. I'm cruising around there and her prices are good and I am seeing some very cute stuff.

I really dig this one. That is super cute.

While I'm talking clothes let me paste an entry about clothes from my LJ to round out my day here. With additional comments after some thoughts in italics.

First up I want the Lip Service Nuptial Bites Victorian Dress. Yes I would in fact rock out with my stretch marks out because that is a beautiful dress and I believe the 2X would actually fit my hips/boobies. Even though Lip Service is notoriously wonky sized and it's so hard to find clothes for anyone over a size 8-10 I still fucking love their clothes.

Next the Heavy Red Garter Club Shirt. Cute but I wouldn't buy it for two reasons. 1.) Most likely it wouldn't fit. Their clothes tend to be made for willowy non big titty/big at all goth girls. And 2.) Their shit is way overpriced.

Hrm I've never really done the whole tattered goth look but I kind of dig the Lip Service Disintegration Off-Shoulder Sweater. I would get it in all black of course but I am in fact kinda digging that. It'd probably be shorter on me with the big boobs and whatnot but I likey.

I have been in love with the Heavy Red Harlequin Striation Netting Skirt since the first time I saw it. And subsequently realized that my hips (even at a size 9 my hips were too big) would not permit it. I am very determined to make a knock off of that.

Another beauty that would never -evar- fit me unless I had a double mastectomy and my ribcage removed. The Lip Service Lunar Dolls Monster Fur Cyber Coat. I used to have a fantastic full length black monster fur coat that I bought used that I wore the hell out of. I miss that coat. This coat here, is the reason I want to try and re-cover I jacket I already have in ze giant faux fur.

I LOVE this Jeannie Nitro Purple Velvet Slits Skirt however I would not buy it from the Jeannie Nitro line because a.) her clothes are fucking tiny and b.) once upon a time I saved and saved and saved and saved (I was really -really- thin back then) for a dress from her and I was really disappointed when I got it. The fit was horrible, the fabric was nothing as lovely as in the photos and it was nowhere near worth the 180 or so dollars I paid for it. Love the design, wouldn't buy it. However I would not be afraid to make one of my own. With modifications.

This Enchanting Black Dress/Jacket is fucking gorgeous. Yes I KNOW Mis Black Stevie Nicks 2007, but shh. I like it.

Oh new shop. This DRAGONLADY DRESS is gorgeous. I love that. I actually used to wear a LOT of stuff in that particular style. Yes indeedy your very own stabby stompy beasty likes romantigoth too.

Oh bullet belts how I love thee. I dig this .223 Bullet Belt with tips Brass Bullets & Black Links. I use to hate those but I like them these days.

And of course I need yet another plain black hoodie. The plain hoodie is an integral part of my wardrobe. I don't go for ones with writing or shit on them with the exception of a Tool hoodie I used to have.

This Kate's Clothing Stretchy Black Heart Shaped Plunge Top with white pinstripes is really hot. I dig the pinstripes. That's really lovely.

OH my good LORD. WANT. Necessary Evil Black Twill Sleeves with Collar. That is fantastic. Love hte cut, love the sleeves love the collar.

Oooh I like the Mercy long black skirt with removable heavy black metal chains and black metal D Rings that skirt has quite a moniker but it's a hot skirt. That is for wearing giant stompy boots with. I dig it.

Kate's Clothing Exclusive Long Stretchy Black Fishtail Skirt with white pinstripes, is fucking gorgeous. That is really all.

Ok that's it. Maybe I'll do another shoes/boots post later or share plans for my wardrobe remixing via me setting up my sewing machine on Saturday. Ok laters taters.

Homo Out


Monday, July 30, 2007

Angry/ Misantrhopy defcon 5.

I am really extraordinarily cranky today.

This is why (partially, some of it I really don't feel like discussing)

  • I have not slept since noon yesterday.
  • I have a banging fucking migraine thanks to the fantastic smell of hot tar.
  • My bladder is on super alert today. Which means i'm getting up to pee like every three minutes.
  • My right leg hurts from ankle to sacroiliac .

However the cranky/evil is slightly mitigated by the fact that I has BPAL coming. And my hair is pretty.

Also my want and need to make myself some recycled clothes is getting strong enough to have me digging around in boxes of scraps and day dreaming about a serger.

I think this winter I might actually tackle my long held obsession with doing my own version of Lolita clothing. The vision I keep having is less frilly and cute than it is cute and stabby. Less "look how dolly like I am" more "look how cute I am while I stab you in the fucking eye."

I have a vision of a cross between an evil doll and an Anime villain. Don't ask how this started I don't know but it's a fucking obsession. And frankly I am WAY too poor to be trying to buy custom made stuff from Japan.

I am also having crotch tingling fantasies about redoing a light semi fancy coat I have into a monster fur monstrosity. For winter wear of course.

Also random observation I like Britney Spears ass way more when it's not very covered and that makes me feel dirty in a bad kind of way.

Ok wait where was I?

Ass...no wait clothes. Ass covers not naked ass.

No wait can I just say that if you are a mega super millionare(ss) do NOT walk around in a bad weave. What the fuck is wrong with you? I have known hood rat, minimum wage earning McGriddle Slinging chicks to work a banging weave. What. The. Fuck.

Sorry I had to get that out.

Anyway back to clothes. I'm also going to try and make an old Frederick's of Hollywood costume corset I have into a waist cincher. Mostly as just a fancy giant belt. Also some cinching might do some nice things for my back.

I am exhausted and cannot figure out this call forwarding thing that I have to do at work now so goodnight.

Homo Out.


Friday, July 27, 2007

Silly Photos of the Day.

I've had kind of a day so you don't get content you get fotos.

I like beers. I am drinking one straight out of the freezer right now.

Tits and lips. Who doesn't like it?

Pink and white make up and less mascara than I usually wear.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Actually I'm not done yet.

I'm reading the Janus Report right now and absolutely HAVE to say something about some of it.

Little to no mention of socio-economic status in the sample groups is mentioned at all except briefly in relation to prostitution. That annoys me. Also race isn't brought up when I am fairly certain mention of that would probably change some of results.

Also the chapter on deviant sexual behavior is appallingly skimpy not to mention misleading.

In relation to kink most of their data and the anecdote they include (they include personal stories sprinkled through the report, i imagine so the lay person relates better) and a LOT of the stories they have chosen to feature seem off to me.

The Pro Domme who says that her clients are "crazy" for wanting vibrators or other things in their asses. I have met, read and observed a lot of sex workers and a good many Dommes and the ones with that sort of dismissive, flippant attitude I've found to be lacking.

How the FUCK as a supposedly professional sex worker (legalities aside for now) can you actually believe a man is crazy for wanting his asshole stimulated? How do you become a "top madam" (another bone to pick but I'll save that for later) without understanding male physiology?

If you're not a man or aren't all into the men let me fill you in. Men have a prostate gland that can be easily accessed for stimulation you guessed it, in their butts. Some men (lots of men) find that to be incredibly wonderful. NO they aren't crazy, stupid, inherently gay or whatever. It'd be like telling a woman she's "crazy" for wanting her GSpot stimulated.

Also their terminology seems if not dated than slightly wrong.

Golden showers referred to as "waterworks". maybe I"m just too young but I have never in my life heard golden showers spoken of as "waterworks". Water Sports yeah but come on now.

Also it seems to me that they inferred that men are the vast majority of kinky people, and that the female Top is a thing of myth and scarcity. Um. No.

And (maybe I'm reaching here but I don't think so) men who do seek out kink according to the study are relegated to finding prostitutes willing to indulge them all the while debasing themselves.

They included prostitution as a "deviant" act and I might have to stop reading this for awhile because I find that offense on so many levels I can't even START.

Ok I can.

First of all I am a firm believer that if sex work were not vilified, demonized, and illegal a good 90% of the problems surrounding it would be solved. If you had to go through an employment screening and process to be a sex worker would you be at such a high risk for violence?

If I wanted to be a prostitute, (and yes there have been times I wanted to) as a sentient human fucking being with all her faculties I would VASTLY prefer to work in an environment with security, mandatory STD screening, where I could pay taxes, get paychecks, be able to get health insurance all those things that you can get when you work a good job.

Also can we face facts? Prohibition of ANY kind in America tends to make problems worse and not solve them.

If the sex industry was a regulated, taxed, monitored thing, how many women and men would be safe? Would maybe, instead of burning out or disappearing into the streets be able to safely leave that profession if they choose?

Even if you have no interest in sex work look at it this way, no one is going to kill you when you're IT knowledge gets a little behind the times are they?

So yeah I have beef with how this study is presented.

If you are going to talk about sex work in the context of American Sexuality why not talk to more than the one who thinks men are nuts for liking a certain kind of stimulus and the other one who's life story revolves around tragedy?

Why not talk to a happy hooker? They do exist.

Or what about the guy who goes to a hooker not because he's some super kinky weirdo but maybe he's not able to get laid otherwise? Maybe he's old or thought to be ugly.

Or what about the lady who gets herself a hot butch escort?

Maybe she just wanted to get fucked by a gentleman who'll not only not call in the morning but who will make her come until she can't see straight.



Got frothy round the mouth there.

So right. My point is I do not like how this study is presented at all. The data seems to be at least fairly not suspect but the presentation sucks if you are coming at it from a sex radical POV or if you are looking for a more in depth and clearer picture rather than the uber generic Men/Women- it is just not doing it.

I am infuriated.

And I'm done now.

And I have to take meds because the running up and down stairs all day yesterday has me hurting in the (crapass) knee area.

Deviant Homo Out.


You douche.

And I use the word douche in the sense that the sort of people I am about to talk about are made up of substances that irritate and anger my vagina.

Kate Harding recently had a commenter who said essentailly that fat people should try to lose weight so at least they won't be fat anymore or some such fucking drivel.

The Lovely Ms Rotund (yes she is quite the prettiness if I do say so myself go look, no srsly I will wait. I also happen to know she has fantastic style and makes some kick ass jewelry) commented and related a story about the ever fabulous Margaret Cho. (If you don't know who she is go find the fucking link at your right I will wait again.)

I myself have the following to say.

Fuck you. No, really....fuck you sideways with a phonebook.

It will never EVER cease to amaze me how suddenly supposedly rational intelligent people will turn into complete babbling dickheads in the span of a big booty.

I have run into this numerous times in my own life. Unlike what Meowser said over at FatFu about finding the hate on the net. I have found it in the every day world. Also before I rant further, Meowser darling,
Fuck Yeah. Now wait what?

Oooh right jiggly ass hating fuckers.

So as I was saying before I got sidetracked by Meowsers song that you absolutely need to go listen to, I have experienced fat hate, phobia and absolute flailing right in my cheeky face.

I believe that people feel safer to let me in on it because I'm not that fat according to whomever it is that decides these things.

As happens to a lot of us it started with "well meaning" relatives. Constant comments about being "sturdy" "thick" and at the time my most loathed, "healthy" in that very Southern (I have never heard the particular tone and inflection north of OK.) tone. And I was actually healthy during that time.

I was born premature and in the lowest percentile as far as growth almost until puberty. There was a time docs thought I was malnourished or was suffering from failure to thrive. I wasn't I was just slow.

I was a solidly built wee fucker though. As would prove to be the running theme of my life in this particular body, I am (and always was) thick thighed, broad shouldered and full of piss and vinegar.

For years when I finally started to get a little taller I listened to people tell me all about how wonderful and gorgeous I would be when I lost my puppy fat. When my chipmunk cheeks smoothed out to reveal actual cheekbones, that I would be heart breaking all over the place. More dates than I'd know what to do with and overall just better.

That pissed me off even as a child and teen.

I was already perfectly fucking fine. At that age I was smart, happy (generally speaking, trauma notwithstanding) I was FINE. I hated the idea that I'd have to undergo some ginormous mystery change in order to be better.

I didn't understand at the time nor was I able to articulate why I would get so annoyed with the, "oh you'll be SO pretty."

Then guess what? The puppy fat, yeah it mostly just shifted around. Rather than having a round girl belly I had a more shapely girl belly, instead of a perty round little booty, I had a differently shaped pert round booty. Was it smaller? Uh no.

I was still fat.

Not obese, not very fat. I was just fat.

Not fat enough for people to give me the asinine "but I want you to live" speech but fat enough to make a good number of people uncomfortable and thus, somehow give them the impression that I needed their dietary and fitness advice.

Truth be told I was in pretty good shape back in the day.

Under my protective layer of chub I did in fact have some serious muscles. I worked out a lot, I ate decently (better than most of my thinner friends) and as I have since learned my ass knows when it is at it's most happy and healthy.

As I've gotten older my reaction to the "if you'd only..." type comments tend to get either a diatribe or the stare of shut the fuck up. Or my offer to allow them to be t bagged, or maybe mind their own fucking business.

There is nothing that pisses me off more than some dickhead assuming out of some faux sense of caring that they have any right to tell me what to eat, how to exercise or how to live. Not just when it comes to weight but anything regarding my health and happiness.

And of course it all depends on the approach.

When my friend Cookie says, "you need to stop doing that bitch it's bad for you."

I know she loves me and that's where it comes from.

Some random asshole says, "You know they DO have salads here."

That person can eat a fucking dick.

It is none of anyones business if I want to eat a cheeseburger, sushi, milk shake or whatever. Silence dickwad.

I know, Shannon don't be shy tell us how you really feel.

I feel like the attitude of people towards others whom they deem to be somehow less than, fucking sucks. And they should ALWAYS get called on for it. I hate letting people get away with rampant douchery.

With that I think I'm actually spent.

Tomorrow I am going to discuss belly dance, athletic shoes, sports bras and reasons I need high heels.


Homo Out.

Monday, July 23, 2007

Lydia Motherfucking Lunch.

As you might guess from the title I absolutely love Lydia Lunch. She is amazing. Seriously one of my fucking heroines.

As you might guess I'm also an Exene Cervenka fan too.

So yes before you ask I really love women who are frightening and challenging. Big fucking brains are sexy.

One thing they both have in common are these fantastic creative lives that I admit I envy.

I have promised myself that if I am ever successful enough with my creative life to support myself in a comfortable way (read that as not working a regular job or at least working somewhere that loves the freaky people and pays them big pimping monies) I am getting the words "fuck you" tattooed on the inside of my right middle finger.

Why would I do such a thing?

The flippant answer is because I goddamn want to. The more serious and honest answer is that's quite honestly how I feel about your average regular life. I don't need fame or fortune. I have no desire to be on magazine covers and TV. What I awnt is to live and work in irregular and wonderful places. With strange people doing strange things. In places where the fact that I want (or have) fuck you tattooed on my finger isn't indicative of non-hire be suspicious status but rather, where people will say right on. I want to spend my life living around and working with people who will look at that and say, "You're a nut but I love it."

That's what I've always wanted but for a long time I was afraid to even hope.

I thought for a long time that my want to live this strange and wonderful life was asking too much. It was that whole idea that people who don't walk the line of what's normal and what you're "supposed" to do are either insane or somehow less than other people.

It wasn't until I really grew into my Fuck You attitude that I realized that nobody has any fucking right to tell me how to live my life or what to dream about. It was very freeing to reach that point.

I have reached the point that I can temper my feelings of fuck you with the knowledge that I can't always say it. That sometimes yes I'm going to have to lower the freak flag a little bit. But now instead of getting all emo about it I can deal. That's a relief.

What else?

OH holy crap.

So I got my hands on Amira's Bellydance 101 DVD this weekend but didn't get to preview it until last night. And oh dear lord how I love this woman.

The first thing that struck me when watching the extras is that Amira has this lovely voice and is not a fitness trainer or instructor. To clarify I don't have anything against fitness instructors/trainers who teach belly dance but, it can be a daunting thing. At least for me personally. I have to say it's far more difficult for me to not feel like, "OMG how is my fat ass going to do that?" stupid I know.

Also I love the way Amira talks about bellydance in the beginning of the exercise portion. She talks about it being open to everybody, and you can tell from her tone of voice and the way she speaks that it's not just lip service. Also the DVD is slow paced enough that I won't hurt myself and she does a great job of showing you what she's talking about so I am excited.

If I had 90 extra dollars I would SO buy this PVC dress. I've never really been quite so interested in PVC. Again because I thought I was too fat and jiggly for such things. But fuck that. I want SHINY.

I also want this underbust corset. I still don't understand people hating on corsets. Personally aside from the back pain easing they can do I love being able to pretty much entirely change the shape of my body at will. It's fun.

But then again I still enjoy clothing more as costume than anything else. My rather theatrical sense of style is still totally in effect.

Speaking of I am pricing buying myself a set of dreadfalls to wear during the winter. Although I found a US supplier for Elysee star dreads that I could possibly find someone to put in for me if I can't figure out how to do it myself.

So yes, I am retreating further and further into the batcave. And also trying to figure out how to incorporate some more absurd things into my wardrobe without scandalizing my workplace.

Also my clothing tip for the day for sizes 0 to about 26 is Frederick's of Hollywood.

In some of their items you can have measurements up to 52-45-54 or so. And of course if things are stretchy those can be fudged some. And they have super hoochie shoes that go from size 5 to 15.5. So listen big footed big titty havin hotties. Go get your hoochie on.

Also if something isn't listed in your size do not be afraid to call. I've been shopping with Frederick's for years and years and have always had friendly helpful people. I like them TONS more than Victoria's secret.

I think that's all I'm going to make tea and listen to music.

Homo Out.


Saturday, July 21, 2007

I wobbled and fell down.

I realized yesterday that I have gained some weight.

More than I am entirely comfortable with and I'd like to share what's been going through my head.

Like every other woman on the planet often, my self esteem is a fragile and tender thing. No matter how many times someone tells me I'm pretty, or I catch someone giving me the glad eye, no matter what happens there are times my self esteem takes a nose dive straight into the third circle of hell.

One of the things I've struggled with for years now is the fact that often my personal beauty standards don't always extend to what I see in the mirror. I'm not always very nice to myself. I think things about myself that I would never ever think of other people. It's infuriating and depressing.

While I am looking at other women I am often awed and humbled by their beauty. Fat, thin, whatever. Consciously I am very aware of this, and consciously I tell myself that yes, I too am beautiful regardless of how big my ass might be.

However, deep down I don't always feel it and it becomes lip service.

So what to do?

And before anyone asks yes, I am still absolutely size accepting. I don't care if you or your grandma are fat as long as you are happy and healthy as you like to be.

However, I am not happy nor am I healthy as I could be. And that folks is the problem. I have a history of issues with body image and undertaking the task of changing my body in order to feel happier and healthier is a daunting thing.

To tell you the truth I'm fucking terrified.

As I'm planning out changes in my exercise and eating habits I am terrified that I will in fact go over the deep end. I don't want to be that woman ever again.

I don't want to return to that state of over exercise and misery. I don't want to fuck up my body.

So what am I going to do?

Truthfully I'm more like what I want is to get back in touch with my body. Yes call me a New Age Hippy Weirdo but I want that feeling of connectedness between my mind body and spirit to return. I want to feel good because my body feels good.

So instead of doing something crazy like starting to run again (my knees and back say thank Goddess for that you bitch) I am going to re-start bellydance. I want to dance because I know I love to dance and it will make me happy. I am going to do yoga because when I'm more flexible my joints hurt less and thus I will be happier.

My diet is pretty good. I could eat more fruits and vegetables but I don't need to do anything crazy.

Am I going to lose weight?

I don't know. Maybe, maybe not. No telling with my do as it pleases metabolism.

Am I ok with that?

I think I am. Or at least I will work hard to be.

It's not going to be easy. None of this is easy.

I'm going to by turns be frustrated, embarrassed, pissed off and elated. But I'm going to try to be calm.

Easier said than done of course.

Also I am motivated by the thought of taking actual bellydance classes. And before I can do that I need to be in better physical condition.

I think that's all.

Now I am going to eat dinner then paint my nails. Hell I might even wax my eyebrows.

Homo Out.


Thursday, July 19, 2007

And weeeeeeeeee're back.

Hosting issues have been solved. YAY.

Which is good because I have a BUTTLOAD of things to talk about today.

First of all let's start with last weekend and go forward through the week shall we?

So last weekend One Hung Low (in case you're new One hung Low is my single testicled man wonder.) and I took a trip to the Store of Evil (aka Walmart) because we are among the many who are poor and need cheap shit.

Please not lectures. Walmart is teh Devil and I am well aware of it. However sometimes when you are broke enough your principles around needed items for a low price are bent. At least mine are.

So anyway.

While in the presence of evil I bought panties. I know, insanity reigns when Shannon willingly and gleefully buys panties. I bought a 3 pack of No Boundaries cheeky shorts. They are sort of comfortable in the if I walk just so they go up my butt a little way. They are tolerable.

I also got the most comfortable tunic length shelf bra having cami for 5 dollars. That is a major deal. I will wear the shit out of it. I also purchased some assorted things for my hair that were too expensive at the beauty supply store.

What else?

Most of you will not get this but I had an "Are you Nikos cousin" moment and that was cool.

In other news it rained this week and that was fantastic. What was odd though was today while it was sprinkling there was a hot moist wind blowing and I very seriously felt like I should've been in the South.

I will probably post the entry I did yesterday and put in LJ instead of here. I was particularly fantastic yesterday.

Not so much today because a.) I'm fucking tired and b.) I'm fucking tired.

Yeah I think I'm spent.

Homo Out.


Wednesday, July 18, 2007


First of all my outfit and make up rules today. Mike said I look like an anime villain. I'm wearing knee high uber buckle ass stomping boots, (my boots have a few less buckles but are the last version of the boots linked) black capri pants, a black sleeveless tank thing and my black velvet hoody. And I am wearing blood red eyeshadow all over my lid and under my eye with some black on the waterline and my usual shitload of mascara. Big shiny slightly red lips.

Grr baby very grr.

Also Seattle loves a black goth girl. I had five people stop me on my way to work to tell me how cute I am.

That my friends is ego masturbation at it's finest.

I have not been feeling entirely fabulous today. Matter of fact I've been feeling ugly and weird and sad. However as I've proven to myself time and again ass kicking outfit=Beasty starts feeling better.

However I am in dire need of a hot boy/girl/whatever in booty shorts and boots to black my boots. I have got a serious jones for that like you people don't even know. I haven't had a boot blacking experience in awhile and I WANT. Mmm boot worship.

Wait what? I seriously got very distracted there for a minute.

I also have hours of ass kicking music loaded. Sevendust. Tool, The Deftones, Maxwell, Lou Reed and John Cale, Otep and Ella Fitzgerald. All on shuffle.

what else?

Note to self, mini donuts and a buttload of coffee does not a proper breakfast make. Way too much coffee cause WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE in the lightening.

Now let's talk about books. I've been reading some really great ones lately.

I just finished The Persistent Desire: A Femme-Butch Reader edited by Joan Nestle. As usual when I read queer history I almost always end up with this half wistful feeling. I walk away wondering what if? And generally come up with the same answer, I'd have either have been a famous Dyke of Evil Proportions who got assassinated or lived some quiet wonderful long life with the blue collar butch of my dreams. Good things to think about either way. The really great thing about this book is there is a lot of material from people who were there. And some of it was just heartbreaking to read. But I highly suggest it. (And Cookie, seriously make room in your luggage for it, it's a chunky fuckin book.)

Last night on the bus I read The Enchanter. by Vladimir Nabokov. Now if Lolita upset you I really don't suggest reading this book. Granted the subject matter (pedophilia) is fucking horrible but, Nabokov's use of language transcends the horror and becomes just fucking sublime. He is one of the only authors I've ever read who can do that with any sort of effectiveness. His use of language is so beautiful, even though I KNOW the subject matter is fucking evil, I forget about it and get lost. And his ability to impart the main characters state of mind in twisted "burnt tongue" type ways. Sly reversals of words that ease the disorientation into your mind without being cheesy or too much of a slap in the face. ..."some black salad devouring a green rabbit." The book is just beautiful. And this particular edition was translated by his son and has a fascinating afterward also written by his son.

I'm rereading Whores and Other Feminists edited by Jill Nagle.(Amelia I am spreading the whoring again. :P) Mostly to tide myself over until I get my hands on the copy of the Janus Report that I bought here in El Jay land. I cannot wait to read that. I've been wanting to since it came out.

OH website news. I finally got my payment to actually be processing. So fingers crossed my hosting company takes their monies with swiftness because I want my fucking BLOG back.

OH holy shit I did actual writing yesterday. I'm working on stories that are both presents for friends. One for my Cookie who in return will let me ogle her luscious creamy boobs of greatness. And one for another friend who has no boobs but if I get him drunk might send me a picture of his butt.

I probably wrote about 8 pages all together which is phenomenal. And probably about 80% of the reason I feel better today. Also wrote some emo poetry that I may or may not post later.

And um Forrest and Amelia (Yes you two) why are you trying to kill me with the Batty pictures? I will probably go comment but OMFG. I really -really- love those. And why do I suddenly have a serious urge to stuff you both in my bra (there's room trust me) and kidnap you for an evening of DD's and beer?

And on a pervy note. I was listening to Devil Driver the other day and if the lead singer Dez Fafara fucks anything like he sings he is going on my list of people who need to get it from me. Right in the nono area. Probably after a good tussle.

I'm just saying.

Also I have decided that David Beckham in all his hotness (though he must be bald for this fantasy to work) is on my list of men who I'd beat the crap of then bend over and make call me Daddy. Seriously. He's hot and I don't know what it is about him but he's on that list.

Ok I'm done perving all over the place for now. And one last neato thing. My Last.FM widget. If you scrobble feel free to friend me.

Homo Out.

And fucking widget WORK or I will PEE on you.

Friday, July 13, 2007


Yesterday I started this big angry entry but abandoned it. Fuck it.

Today I am feeling far less stabby and more twirly.

Yes I said twirly.

Probably because the dress I have on is very twirlable and also because there was thunder and I liked it. If it rained I missed it.

I'm also listening to the Ohio Players and it is in fact impossible to be pissed off and listening to funk. Impossible. And if your butt doesn't wiggle in your chair while you listen to it, your ass is broken.

Speaking of asses I have a problem.

My problem is that I am probably going to be some new panties this weekend and I have no idea what to buy.

I have an aversion to anything with a full cut bottom because the way my ass is shaped that just means a whole lot of fabric bunched in my crack and I don't like to spend all day picking my butt.

I'm leaning towards the old standby of cotton thongs. The only issue I ever have with those is visible thong when I wear pants and I am not into that.

Now the trick is finding some that will not do weird things and aren't ugly or too long in the crotch because I hate that.

And now some links.

The Adiposivity (that is not entirely work safe there is some nakedness) photos I found via BFD has kinda made my day. From the Adiposivity website here is part of their aim:

"The Adipositivity Project aims to promote size acceptance, not by listing the merits of big people, or detailing examples of excellence (these things are easily seen all around us), but rather, through a visual display of fat physicality. The sort that's normally unseen. "

I think that is a damn fine thing. I like it because it's a different thing. Now yes I LOVE what Laurie Toby Edison does with the full figure face included shots as seen in Women En Large. For me the Adiposivity shots call to the part of me that just really enjoys a beautiful picture of the human form. That's not to say I don't love how the warmth and personality of the women comes through in Ms. Edison's pieces but it's a different feeing evoked in me.

I personally would look at these two sets of images in different ways. I can't really describe it. You see why I'm not an art critic.

Also as I've said time and before I really seriously LOVE the diversity of the human form. Fat, thin and all points between. I really do. The vagaries and differences in naked bodies thrills me in many senses of the word.

That said if anyone wants to buy me copies of Ms. Edison's books I'd be more than happy to take them.

Now let's talk about obsessions.

I am right now obsessed with this pair of shoes on Ebay. They are my size hot and fucking red. However I won't buy them because sadly I can't walk in heels anymore, never go anywhere that would merit such fabulous shoes and have nothing to wear them with.

That makes me a sad sad panda.

See this is one of the things I really hate about living outside of the city. Since we have to take the bus it can make going out such a fiasco. And spending upwards of 30$$ on cab rides home is just stupid if we're just going out for some drinks or whatever. We cannot afford 100$ evenings.

What else?

I know I'm kinda random today. Bear with me I am on the allergy medication AND full of very spicy chicken.

Ok my best friend Cookie totally just made me snarf water on myself so I am going to go have a smoke and recover myself.

I might actually update over the weekend if my shopping trip is fruitful.

So watch for news about ass covers and quite possibly fotographic evidence of my existence. Exciting I know.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

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.


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.

Monday, July 09, 2007

Let me tell you Internetz.

Let me tells you internetz, having cute hair is hard. HARD I say.

I finally successfully gave myself a cute rollerset without using heat. WOOT. Mainly because I was too nappish on Sunday to do a proper one and sit under my dryer.

But I was a bit thwarted by the wind and the lack of styling product.

However I still love my big curly friggin hair. I will try to get a photo tonight however I promise nothing because last time I tried to use my webcam it was being a fucker of high rank.

In other news I really want to try and make this petticoat style skirt. Cute and if I get good at them I can try to make some in warm fabrics for ze winter.

What else?

Riiight my nails look hot and discoball. I had to cut them so they are short and square-ish, black with opalescent sparkles. GLITTER.

Also my adorable drop waist black dress with the flirty tattered fishnet fairy hem arrived this past weekend and it is made of win. I will have to be careful what bra I wear with it so I don't wind up dumping the D Cups O doom out of it but still. I also have a very adorable grey velvet girly shrug thing I bought on Fatshionista ages ago and have yet to wear.

If you're new to the show here I am an avid lover of thrifting. I stalk auctions, thrift stores, livejournal and all over scouring for good deals on things I like. Mainly because a LOT of stuff I see in stores I Do. Not. Want.

Since finances have been better I believe I am going to spend this weeks mad money on more make up. Why? Because as I've mentioned before I am a freaking make up whore. I need an intervention.

Actually I really should buy a new pair of flats. The ones I'm wearing have about had the proverbial weenie. They are uncomfortable now even if they are still cute. Note to self do not buy Torrid shoes anymore.

OMFG I have been on the phone with the same fucking person for over 40 minutes all because I am teh SUPA tech and they cannot use their email correctly. And I have to fucking pee so bad. SO BAD.

I feel really bad for that lady her "tech" knows nothing including how to use Gmail and follow simple instructions.

Bloody hell.

I finally got to pee and got some cookies so hopefully my low blood sugar/super full bladder cranky will abate some.

Holy Weeping Jay-sus Batman.

Cookies have been eating, stabby is fading.

Where was I?

I have no idea.

I think I'm about spent. I am going to walk around a little my back is killing me today. I think it hates me. Would someone like to rip it out and beat me to death with it? I"d be down for that.

Homo Out.


Friday, July 06, 2007

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.


Thursday, July 05, 2007

Things I wonder about...

Aaaaaaaaaaand we're back. However I will warn you people that my site here might disappear again because my hosting company has not apparently received my monies for said hosting.

Lots to discuss today actually.

First of all in case I haven't mentioned it recently I am a make up whore. Seriously.

This past weekend I got myself a Nyx trio of eyeshadows in Serengeti and cannot wait to try it. Why haven't I tried it already? I have the oilest skin known to man. In the summer my skin eats make up alive and I have yet to find a product to conquer that. So I just don't bother really.

On days I do wear any make up I will do a classic liquid liner cat eye, loads of mascara and lipgloss of choice. I may or may not dust my face with powder before leaving the house. Usually not.

I am also very excited because the summer dress I just bought for a fantastic 10$ is on the way. Hopefully it will contain the D Cups of Doom.

Once upon a time I had a pair of Hot Kiss jeans that I'd purchased on a whim after not wearing or owning jeans for almost ten years at Retro Viva. That was quite possibly the first time I'd ever found a pair of perfect jeans. They had no waistband, low rise, no back pockets and looked amazing on me.

I miss those pants. They made my wee booty like BAM BOOTY.

And I have never again seen a pair like them. Of course.

I think that's all for today.

Homo Out.

Tuesday, July 03, 2007


Ok first of all I have to vent a little.

I got an email from an LJ user who shall remain nameless for (just wait for it) failing reading comprehension and stupid earlier today and I want to share my reaction.

First off this girl is a budding DIY designer which I think is fantastic. YEAH sisters doin it for themselves. Until the stupid then I wanted to take away her internetz.

Now I have perused her various shops (Etsy, Ebay, LJ) and every time she posts all her clothes fit probably sizes 6-9ish if I was being generous. Recently she emailed me saying how much she loooooooooooooves my blog and has been reading regularly for months and how she'd be soooooo honored if I put a banner to her store down at the bottom of the page with Ms. Ugly Shyla there.

I don't know if I've said it lately but when I do actual banner type things it is almost always of people I like. I like Ms. Shyla's art and I think she is an amazing model with a fantastic look. Hence my linky there.

I link to all sorts of stuff but permalinks (Google ads are the exception) are carefully thought out by me and I've said as much.

So after a few exchanges (here comes the stupid) I mention very nicely that I won't link to her because she makes nothing that fits me.

Her answer? "Well I can do it custom but it'll cost a lot extra and I don't like to make bigger garments."

Um... What. The. Bleeding. HELL are you fucking talking about?

I write back "you do realize that I am fat? And that it is entirely offensive that you are asking me for free advertising when in fact I cannot buy things directly from your stores? Also why would you charge so much extra for maybe an extra 1.50 worth of fabric and maybe a few extra minutes of work? That's absurd."

She returns with (these are direct quotes by the way): "Well making big clothes is hard and I don't know any fat people...besides your blog is misleading because you don't seem that fat." (Emphasis mine)

Ok the rest I'm leaving out because it degenerates from there to her whining about how mean and unfair I am that I won't link to her or tell anyone to shop in her store. Topped off with this gem:

"Its not my fault you can't buy normal clothes."

You see why I might be a little uh, pissed off?

Ok you know what I don't even feel like going into the numerous reasons I think this person is a douche. I really do.

However the main lesson here is know who you're asking favors from before you start being a douche. It might've gone differently.

I am very supportive and love DIY and people making some loot on the interwebs but for the love of fluffy bunnies don't do the following:

Call yourself a designer/seamstress/superhero sewer if you cannot figure out how to add a few inches to a garment. It is really not as fucking difficult as many a large corporation might make it seem.
Get pissed off when called on your bullshit. Because carrying the equivalent to 2 sizes of clothing is not a good way to do business.
Do not claim to be a fan or whatever then know absolutely nothing about the person to whom you're sucking up.

So yeah that was not cute nor was it pleasant.

So in case anybody missed it, I will be mean to you if you are stupid.

At least I'm honest.

In less annoyed news I'm wearing a floofy skirt and have been twirling a lot today.

I also got my first pair of flip flops in about a decade or more.

I think that's about it for today.

Homo Out.


Monday, July 02, 2007

Big girls represent!

Ooookay snack has been gotten and now I want to talk about Fat Fashion.

First off why did NONE of you people tell me about Delta Burke's bras?

I was in need of a bra in a OMG my titty is going to kill this bra the rest of the way kind of way recently and chanced upon a beautiful periwinkle 38D underwire embroidered bra of hotness at Big Lots for 6$. SIX DOLLARS. Now granted I was a little leery, I have had the proverbial issues with chaper bras but this one is freaking tops.

Of course now I can't find it online and it's probably discontinued since it was at Big Lots but I'll tell you about it anyway.

First of all it has good wide elastic straps. And ZOMG my adjust in the front. So no more either contorting myself to fix them or making Mike do it for me. There is nothing more frustrating than trying to adjust your straps while wearing the bra in question or even worse while shuttling it on and off until the girls are comfortably settled.

The mostly cotton/spandex fabric is very comfy and soft. And it makes my boobies look like WHOA.

So big titty girls, find the Delta Burke collection. From what I've found on google there is a plethora of hot lookin bras at very reasonable prices.

Next up one of those topics that in the Fatosphere can cause massive amounts of contentious discuss which is not what I'm looking for here.

In the Inbetweenies community on LJ there was a small discussion about what to do when your body is rapidly and often changing size due to weight loss or whatever. Let me say here that weightloss is not an evil, it's not a bad word the fact is sometimes it happens. Whether it's due to sickness, health issues, on purpose, dieting, whatever.

I've been there. There were a few years that my body fluctuated a size or three for months and months at a time and it was horrible. Not only was it a massive blow to my already hormonally induced cellophane thin self esteem but, my clothes all got ugly quickly. It took quite awhile to get things straightened out. I got off of the hormonal birth control and started regaining some control over my ovaries gone wild.

Fashion wise I was absolutely destroyed. My favorite jeans fit, didn't fit, fit again, fit funny. All my favorite things had to be either given away, sold etc because I wasn't sure if my weight would stabilize.

What I discovered at that point was the joy of stretchy fabric. As we all know I am a skirt addict. As my weight fluctuated about 2o pounds either way (the way I'm built that makes a HUGE difference in how my clothes fit) I discovered that I had to have the following things:

Elastic waist midlength and longer skirts. When the size of my belly changed I could adjust where the waistband hit accordingly for comfort. I still do this. I am not afriad to pull the waistband of my skirt all the way up under my tits. Matter of fact the skirt I'm wearing right now is directly under my bra.

And it looks hot.

Other staples for summer I went with a lot of cami style casual tops with some stretch. I tend to get them a size too big or a tad too small because of my boob to rest of torso ratio. You big booby sorts will probably feel me on that.

Also paramount to the victim of weight fluctuations know your area thrift stores, and consignment shops. Buy a few really nice pieces, take them in and recycle them. You don't always get your monies worth but, you can keep your bum covered even as said bum changes sizes.

When your body changes rapidly like that it can be a huge blow to your personal equilibrium. For me it was just disastrous. I constantly bought things in the wrong size because I have a difficult time seeing weight changes in myself. And of course the wanktastic sizing at many stores makes it that much more difficult.

How many of you have had this conversation with yourself in the store:

"Wait but I thought I need a 16...no wait a 20? 14? Oh what the FUCK why does that say a 12 and is the same size as the fucking 16?"

It's so infuriating. Things to remember when you're having that moment:

Sizing no matter what size you are is wanktastic and makes everyone stabby.

Whether you're a size 4-14-24-34 whatever it sucks for everybody sometimes.

Also stretch is your homie. Stretch is your road dog. Stretch will not abandon you when you're bloated and cranky. It will not lay down on the job like your jeans might. Stretch will move with your booty and work with it instead of against it.

That's another thing. Work with the chub not against it. If you try to constrain the chub in clothes that are too small and/or too rigid you might anger the chub. And that is not good. That can result in terrible rashes and such. Let it go people.

Also please please please, just because you're fat does not mean you are relegated to crap ass poly and ugly prints. It is just not true.

Um I got distracted.

What was I saying? Big boobies? Clothes, righty O.

Now you ladies (yes you ladies I am talking to you...and even you lady boys)I know some of you are some kinky leather loving people. I know you're out there. And can I get an amen about fetish clothes?

Let's talk about Alter Ego Erotics. Corestry up to 7X. I have never seen that wide a range in my life anywhere from 18" to 50". That is on Ebay. I have never ever seen a mainstream brick and mortar store carry that kind of selection. And I've heard smashing things about them.

Also let's talk about local designer diva Tonya Winter. She does both slinky custom plus sized couture and some hot ass shiny fetish wear. Not only have I heard fantastic things about her craftswomanship but, she seems like an actual nice person. Granted I don't know her personally but I've been reading her journal for a long time and from what other people have said she seems like a fabulous person.

Someone asked me recently why am I so RAWR about this.

Truthfully it's because I love women. Not just in the let me touch your boobies kind of way but I very sincerely care. I want women to be ok as I've said before. I want women to look and feel fabulous. Regardless of what makes them feel that way and not get shit for it. Not get shit based on size, style or whatever.

You want to wear power suits, mini skirts and giant hooker boots, barely matching hippy clothes and Birks. sneakers and jeans, corsets and booty shorts? Do it.

Granted it's not always great to wear what you want where you want but, there is room in your life to do so. Even if that means you put on a motherfucking tiara with your sweats that have baby puke and dog pee on them.

If you feel the need to tart it up and go to the post office to mail off your taxes? Go ahead.

Does it matter how wide your ass is or is not?


Does it matter if you've got some jiggle in that jangle?


Does it even matter if EVRYONE else in your immediate vicinity thinks there is something really wrong with you?


My answer my loves is simple:

"Fuck em if they can't take a fuckin' joke."

All those people who give you the subtle and not so subtle hints that you do not, cannot, and should not do not give a real fuck about you. That is all about them keeping their world in perfect working order and not having to rethink how they treat other people or how they view other people. And you know what? It's not your job to conform to that.

Make em squirm.

For every person that tells you, you can't, you shouldn't etc because you're fat, you're short, you're white, you're black, you're from the West Coast whatever it is. They. Do. Not. Get. It.

If you can talk to them so maybe someday they will get it great. You rock.

If not?

Fuck em.

No, seriously fuck em right in the goat ass.

Ok I'm spent. I am going to plan my next thrifting adventure.

Homo Out.

PS...maybe announcement tomorrow if things work out the way they are supposed to.


TOTALLY did a happy dance again there. You know who you are, she who induces happy dances.


I really hate to say this.

I hate to say this but I am really over most discussions about fashion anymore.

I am tired of the homogenized, snarky, pissy, nit pickyness of it. Srsly.

I am tired of people pissing on other peoples parades because they are fucking bored, or don't like eye liner, or high heels, or stinky hippies. I don't know when this happened but here it is. I'm over it.

Why am I over it? I'll tell you why.

Regardless of what "they" (they being the apparent denizens of uber fashionable land) might think fashion is supposed to be fucking diverse. I am tired of the do's and do nots.

Let's take something a lot of us have seen before. The infamous Glamour do's and don'ts.

Now for years and years the don'ts were generally reserved for anyone with a visible piercing, visible tattoo, odd or out of the mainstream clothing, and you guessed it fat people.

I recall the last time I ever bought Glamour or read it one of the massively featured don'ts was a very cute Black girl with an afro, nose ring and large glasses. Her outfit was fantastic and as I recall retro and then modernized with the right accessories. I believe her fashion sin was a.) not being thin and b.)not being trendy. I was done after that.

This sort of thing has pissed me off since I was a child. Even before I was teh super Goth (as in I am SO goth I was born black...something that cracks me up every time I say it or Mike says "I am so Goth my girlfriend is black" because it makes people squirm and then I giggle) I have been a lover of the odd, the strange, the stuff that don'ts are made of.

Let me illustrate my point here.

At the age of 8 my favorite outfits were this beautiful hand made dress a friend of the family bought me in Mexico with tons of gorgeous hand embroidered eyelet lace, red sweater weight cable knit tights, my white and lavender roller skates and a gigantic magenta purse. Seriously I thought that was fantastic day wear.

My other favorite outfit then was actually a dress made for one of those creepy life sized dolls. It was blue with tons of tiny pink and purple flowers all over it, a Peter Pan Collar and lovely puffed sleeves. I wore it with a pair of bright red cowboy boots or my bright yellow wellies.

You see what I'm getting at here? It wasn't my mama dressing me funny it was me.

Those who are my age and a little older how many of you were ass over teakettle for Sassy Magazine? How many of you wanted to hang out with Jane Pratt? Or even better work in their offices so they could take snazzy photos of your super funky style? I totally did. Sassy was my entire vision of the future for as long as I read it until the last issue.

Does anyone remember the tie dress? Mine didn't exactly look like that but similar. I sewed my ties onto a base of a mens Ashirt. I wore that bitch proudly while people just sort of stared.

Sassy's DIY projects got me interested in DIY fashion and I've loved it ever since. I think part of my dislike of the fashion community anymore is that if you're um, fuck I don't even know how to put this. And it goes across the board. From mainstream fashion discussion to fat specific fashion discussion.

There always seems to be this Blue Elephant matter of someone not being "insert thing here" enough thus deemed snarkable and/or dismissed entirely. Especially I've noticed in the fat community.

There I said it. And I don't fucking like it.

It often goes unspoken but there's always (at leas to me) this air of discontent no matter what.

Someone isn't really fat (and come on now, we all know it gets said, it sucks but it gets said), so and so dresses funny, really fat people never post and on and on and on.

Someone always has to bitch. And that people annoys me. Love the outfit but ZOMG you used a bad word, hate the outfit and ZOMG there is hint of uh...PENIS in your LIVING SPACE OMFG. Granted it's not like that all the time but I have yet to find any community online or off where that whole element just isn't even a factor.

I know it's human nature to want to pick and make yourself heard but for the love of all things fluffy does it always have to be about your aesthetic?

I think that's what bothers me the most. It seems to me that if you fit the acceptable, aesthetic you can do/wear what you please and show everybody and everybody loves you. If you don't subscribe to that then goddamn screw you.

What truly galls me is that this attitude is SO often cloaked in politics. Instead of saying I don't like your hair, make up, shirt, what have you all of a sudden you're some sort of cultural assassin bent on homogenizing and stealing from the poor world. It's a rare thing that I see anyone just say something like, "I'm curious why do you (insert thing here)" without it becoming some big confrontational fluffernutter of a mess.


Why can't we as presumably smart people step outside out own predefined boxes of what is and isn't ok, to look at someone and just appreciate them. Yes she/he/hir/shir/what have you might be doing every single thing that makes your alert bells go DINGDINGDINGDING. But before going on the culteral defensive and saving that person from their own apparent danger filled course of destruction, take a breath, maybe consider that that persons reasoning and what you think is going on could be two vastly different things.

I know I am probably in the minority here but I think it gets old and it gets tired. And I honestly don't feel that my point of view is welcome or tolerated so I usually just don't participate. I'm getting distracted here but, I suppose my main point here is that the fashion community as a whole is a let down to me these days.

It seems like diversity is only tolerated as long as it's palatable and therefore ok. And that chaps my ass it really does. I am tired of fake ass acceptance.

I am tired of people talking about it and not believing it. Or only applying it to that which does not make them squirm. I'm over it. entirely.

Ok I'm done for now. I actually have some fat related stuff to talk about later but right now I am going to go get myself a snack before I shank someone.

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