Monday, March 31, 2008

Oh pretty pretty.

Okay I am tired of being uber serious so I'm talking beauty, shoes and fancy pants.

First of all let's discuss some beauty shall we? I'm still learning how to take photos of my make up. It is way harder than you'd think. I don't know why.

Also I don't know if I've talked about this here but I'm stretching my ears to a bigger gauge. Oh and I warn you now there is some photo action happening today. For those who don't know much about body mod I will show you. I stole the picture below from wiki, I am right now wearing 14 gauge talons in my ears.

Photobucket

Hopefully by the end of the year because I am going super slow because I am DIY'ing it, I will be at 8 and there my ears shall stay.

I have small earlobes, small ears and a not super long neck which all factored into my decision to stop at 8 rather than say 0. Now my final jewelry selection is really up in the air. Until I get to 8 I will probably continue with plain stainless talons. I am thinking I want something like this. I think glass spirals like that are very elegant.

I think after my ear stretch (or maybe during) the only other piercing I'm going to get is my nose. I've had others aside from the labret I have and I'm not into them so much.

I am far more into tattoos and I have my eye on some Clive Barker drawings as inspiration. My next tattoo is either going to be a Barker based memorial piece or maybe get my Egyptian symbolism based back piece I've been having wet dreams about since I was probably about 9 when I first discovered really great tattoos.

By the time I'm old and more crotchety I'm going to be very inked. I have a few specific people I want to get pieces from. One a guy I went to high school with who's always been a very talented artist and I'm kind of pissed at myself for not getting something from him before he went off to Cali.

To explain how into tattoos I am and have been, the first tattoos I saw and loved I was around 8-9 and we had some bikers move in next door. This man named Kelly, his Old Lady and occasionally some of his sons. And I loved Kelly on first sight. He was really huge (to me at the time I was wee tiny), had this long reddish blond hair he wore in braids, and he often wore a Viking helmet. He often picked me up by the shirt held me aloft over his head and snarled at me and I LOVED him.

I loved him the way only little girls can instantly and entirely love someone. I loved his wife too but to a slightly lesser degree although I did tell them that I would marry them both when I grew up. Along with a super cool motorcycle, fabulous hair and a Viking Helmet, Kelly had awesome tattoos. Portraits of his woman and his sons, script, regular FTW biker tats, he showed probably as many as were appropriate to me.

After that I read about tattoos, I stopped anyone I saw who had tattoos and would ask them about their ink. I paid close attention. In high school I had a penpal in Hawaii who was a tattoo artist. I used a fake ID to buy tattoo magazines. I wrote my senior year economics paper on owning a tattoo and piercing shop.

I fucking love tattoos.

Now being that I love tattoos so much you'd think I'd be riddled with them already. However I love them so much that my choice of artist is paramount to me. When I started going around to shops here in Seatown I sat in Vyvyn Lazonga's shop and I remember thinking first that her work was better than what I'd seen in the magazines. Second that there was no way I could afford for her to tattoo a dot on me much less a big piece and third, how nice the people in the shop were even though I never spent a dime in there.

I went around to a lot of shops locally and some I thought immediately I will never let anyone in this shop touch me, muchless with a needle. Others I felt good about. Then I had to decide on a design which took me probably two years and a lot of dicking around in photoshop.

I finally came up with my design, a very simple infinity symbol and the words "The Infinite Soul". And I got me a tramp stamp one night before work at Fenix Tattoo. The entire reason I got it there was because when I went in to have my design looked at and priced, while I was waiting a whole family got pierced together. A pre-teen aged daughter got her ears pierced, Moms got her belly button done, Dad got his ear done.

They were tourists and waiting to go on the Underground tour, I watched how they were treated and I loved it. The daughter was too scared so her parents volunteered to go first and the staff was all very cool and had (okay I know I sound like a hippy) a very loving vibe.

I was SOLD American.

How embarrassing but I can't remember the artists name at the moment. He had only been in Seattle for three days and had none of his stuff. He didn't have his chair, or his station set up the way he liked but he was very sweet. He got me kneeling in a chair and made sure to check on me a lot, talk to me. He stopped when I squeaked, not in pain but I was trying really hard not to giggle because he kept hitting a ticklish spot.

He also gave me probably the most awesome compliment ever. He was about half done, and said "your skin takes ink beautifully. You must take care of it." That's stuck with me. This reminds me I need Uniballer to take a good photo of the damn thing.

Anyway he was very gentle, and I skipped to work all high on endorphins.

So here um, 6-7 years later I'm ready to start with some bigger more involved stuff. I'm also at a point where I can save money for the bigguns.

I obsess about the end outcome. I have very specific ideas about placement and style if not actual design and have for years. A really long time ago I actually had (I rarely if ever manage to do this) a drawing I did of an outline of my body and rough ideas about what goes where. It was my like once every blue moon drawing that was actually good.

And I've been thinking that I would really like to find myself an artist for tummy/back fat area tattoos who can deal with and understand the cushion. Who will not do weird things where I have not quite rolls but um, mini rolls? Cinnarolls? Choco-foldy bits?

That bears thinking about. I don't like using language that isn't really what is going on. If I think something sucks I will probably not say, well I sorta kinda don't really..no I will say that sucks.

So a conundrum. Aside from saying something like the fatter area of my back where my waist is and then there's the fat area under that and I look sort of dented. Or I could say back fat and foldy areas.


Forgive me darlings I did not really sleep last night and I digress. I do think it's important to have artists who will be tattooing my fat not be people who cannot understand the shape of my fat body. Sadly I have seen way too many fat people who've gotten tattoos that were ill placed, or placed in a way that where they are at the tattoo itself is too small or does not flow with the body. If that is your aim then rock on with your bad self.

If it's not speak up.

Wow I was totally going to talk about make up but, this is about body mods because I dig them.

It's all very on my mind because I joined Curvy Canvas on LJ recently, there have also been Fatshionista body mod discussions.

Also holy wow I am totally exhausted and feeling spinnily stupid so I'll stop now.

Homo Out.

No wait one make up picture. Me in all my slightly cock eyed glory with pigment fallout intact. And my unicorn pimple.

Photobucket

Now really goodnight.
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Ya think?

I stole this from elsewhere on the Fatosphere and yeah you think?

The Blog-O-Cuss Meter - Do you cuss a lot in your blog or website?
Created by OnePlusYou - Free Online Dating

Meanwhile it's 10 in the morning and I am awake doing laundry because at the super fantastic (did you get a shiver of sarcasm there) apartment building I live in this is usually the only time of day I can get to a fucking washer and/or dryer.

So it's way early and I am way cranky.

However I spent most of my weekend making myself feel pretty. I gave myself a facial, waxed my eyebrows, gave myself a (stinky, Ojon is not made of win) hair treatment and exfoliated the HELL out of my epidermis from the neck down. My ass feels like velvet.

As much as I am not a morning person it is nice to have Uniballer making breakfast and handing me coffee.

And now a video that in a few short Foamy seconds pretty much describes my trip to Size/Fat/Body/Booty Acceptance. If hearing the fbomb makes you feel bad don't watch it.



The part of Foamy the Squirrel was played by probably my raging Super Ego, the part of the at the start whiner about the ass of fat played by my wanting to fit in with my homies Id. Yeah I totally just hit you with some Freud right there.

I did something fairly out of character yesterday and bought a hot ass Lip Service for Torrid dress. It cost 36 goddamn dollars and I am going to wear the hell out of it. I will probably have to alter it but I don't care. It's so rare anymore to find Lip Service for Torrid items I snatched it up.

Cookie wasn't hot about it but, this once my immediate feeling of WANT IT NOW took over.

Another word about Fatshionista, I don't think I said so specifically but, I was considering leaving the community. I felt like the size debate was coming again and frankly, as someone who's yes at the small end of fat I am really tired of that. There was a long discussion about what should go into an Outfit of the Day post (where you show what you're wearing/going to wear) and some comments I saw woke questions I've had before.

If you are someone like me who's short and has a tendency to not "look" fat are you not supposed to participate? Anytime the issue has come up before it's made abundantly clear that there's no fat purity test but, isn't there? When gradually the sentiment of "well you're not as fat as me and it makes me sad/uncomfortable etc to see your pictures" creeps up why bother having rules that are inclusive?

Also the sentiment that some types of clothes are not "fatshion" enough. WTF? Seriously? Is a community supposedly full of diverse people deciding that no, what you're wearing is not fatshionable enough or whatever to be posted? In my earlier entry about Fatshionista I still do enjoy the community but, you can think and speak critically of something you love.

Essentially my big problem lately is that if you have a rule like this (directly quoted from the community info located here)


4. There is no purity test for membership. One does not have to be a certain size or of a certain political persuasion to post or comment here. Apolitical and nonactivist folks are welcome, so long as they are respectful of and comfortable with the fact that this community places a heavy value on many issues beyond the barest aesethetics of fashion. The aesthetics are important indeed, but they are not always the terminus of our conversations in [info]fatshionista. This is what makes us unique


Enforce it. Reinforce it. Make it known.

I was there for the original conversation here, and come ON man. Clearly it needs to keep happening.

All that being said I did decide that I will probably not participate in the OOTD's even though Uniballer said he would take pictures. Why? Because frankly I don't want to have the conversation I just linked to again. Also, I don't care to be snarked and I probably would because a.) I don't really accessorize b.) I wear all black almost all the time. Granted it would probably be funny to get snarked because there is nothing anyone could come up with that I probably haven't heard forty times before. But because, I would probably not get to see it.

What I mean by that last bit is that I am not a member of any of the specific fat snark communities on LJ because they aren't really all that interesting to me.

I will still comment when I dig things because I enjoy it. I might occasionally post sans photos. But yeah. I finally made up my goddamn mind about it.

I will take Outfit photos when I remember to make Uniballer do it.

I am also searching dear fatosphere for more online areas LJ is probably best where it's okay if you're a pervert, it's okay if you like posting and/or looking at boobs without wank. Meh. Actually I don't believe there is a wank free space on the internet.

Someone will always have fit about something so fuck it.

Now for some confessions.

Yes I am gothity goth goth goth but I will admit I don't really get the whole steampunk thing.

I am also not emotionally invested in the presidential race. That's not to say I'm not interested but I do not squee over pictures of Obama in where ever in shorts, nor do I go into fits of rage when I see Madam Clinton on the tee vee. I really don't.

I also find it grating when people expect either of those things from me.

I recently quit reading a bunch of feminist blogs because they infuriated me entirely and it wasn't worth the blood pressure rise.

I decided if I can't identify in any way and it's not interesting to me it's not worth my time.

I finally used the clippers and buzzed my winter fur from my legs. There was way less of it in the bottom of the tub when I was done than I thought there would be and I was really vastly disappointed. I really thought my legs were hairier than that after 4+months of no shaving.

I was equally sad when I trimmed my pubes and discovered my bald spot is bigger. WTF? The hair on my head is growing in all luxurious and whatnot (check a few entries back I DARE you to say my hair ain't luxurious when you know it is bitch) now why aren't my pubes? I am very sad about that.

Um.

I cut all my nails off yesterday and it kind of made me want to fuck a hot chick. Ok more than kind of.

Now my laundry is dry, I am going to go wash my face, put make up on and look hot while being a tired cranky little fucker.

Homo Out.


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Friday, March 28, 2008

Tagged and it's story time nao.

I was tagged by the oft half nekkid Manwhore to do a meme. ANd here it is as promised.

1) Write your own six-word memoir about yourself.
2) Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like.
3) Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to this original post if possible, so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere.
4) Tag five more blogs with links.
5) And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!

I actually just yesterday did one. It is as follows.

"I was born with The Fury"

Now story time.

Once upon a time a girl named Shannon did a shit load of drugs. A Shit. Load. There are two I have never and will never touch. Crack, aside from the name I hate the way it smells. And Heroin. The latter because I would probably like it way too much.

Crack also because of what happened during the following story.

During my while as a drug tasting insane person I was generally very particular about who I would take drugs from and what drugs I would do. I don't do needles, and I really don't like snorting things. I liked to party and generally speaking hallucinagens, a little E on occasion were more my speed. (HA I MADE TEH FUNNEH).

So years ago I was out partying with my two main Party Fags. Both of them hot leather wearing dirty kind of homos, the kind that I did dirty things with on occasion (dirty naked buttsex things), and I loved to go to parties with them. So we go to this party and for some reason I remember exactly what I was wearing.

Short black satin skirt, my insanely huge foamy bottomed platform summer sandals that were my shopping/walking all day shoes and a fishnet shirt over a too small (boobies spilling out everywhere) black sequined bra a girlfriend had given me even though my boobs were way bigger than hers. I looked hot. Even hotter because I was wearing one of my crazy giant ponytail falls.

We arrive at the house party with lots of other leather wearing, dirty homo types, a few token straight boys, a few lesbians and one straight girl who had no idea what to do or where to look. Everything was fine for awhile, I didn't drink much and still don't so I had my drink and did some dancing. Let some cute punk dyke rub her bald head all in my boobies.

And then, someone gave me a few lines of coke.

I think it was like 2 and a half or something not much at all given how much my friends were doing. At first I was ok and then, there was The Fury.

One of the straight men, you know the type. Slightly skeevy, always has coke and parties with twenty somethings when he's probably closer to fifty something becuse he thinks the bitches will love his car. He told me it was a Vette but, I had myself a real good look and it was a kit not a fucking vette.

I think it was my air of clear disinterest and frequent mocking snark that drew him in. Then once the coke too hold I became outright hostile.

You know in after school specials there's always the one woman who becomes total robo bitch? I was Mother of Robo Bitch. My friends saw it coming though, they were familiar with my aggro tendencies and saw what was going to happen. They tried to distract the guy, tried to distract me but it wasn't to be.

Now I remember this part crystal clear as well and I think it's to serve as an object lesson for me. This is what happened. The skeevy guy was standing near me in the kitchen, he gets closer, I step away.

He touches my ass. I say back the fuck up.

He laughs and tells me I'm cute. Tries to touch my boob. I pick up an actual butcher knife from the sink and tell him very calmly, that I am going to stab him in the fucking heart if he doesn't get away from me.

He panics and starts yelling, people come in. HOmo#1 takes the knife away, Homo#2 picks me up and takes me out. We go back to Homo#1's place and they let me beat on them for awhile.

Later on I hear through the grape vine that skeevy guy had actually fucked around with the wrong girl and got curbed coming out of a party.

This ladies and gents is why I don't do serious stimulants. I am already a mean mother fucker. I will already probably have no problem punching you in the face. Add in the devil leaf there and well, whatever civilized filter I have between The Fury and the rest of the world dissolves and someone gets fucked up.

I will admit that later on I did do coke again and something very similar happened. Although I did actually punch a man right in the adam's apple. I was polite about it though, as my friends kept marveling at. No matter how pissed off I am, I am almost always exceedingly and coldly polite about it. I did warn him twice. I asked him nicely once to leave me alone and well, he got punched for being a cock knocker.

Now one more story about The Fury and aggression. This one has to do with sex not drugs.

I was friends with a boy who has a brother. They are just about ten months apart in age but at the time light years apart in personality. My homie was pretty laid back, decent guy to hang out with.

His brother however, he and I hated each other on sight. That happens sometimes. Matter of fact we were calling each other mother fucker and you fucking bitch within a half hour of meeting. Fast forward about three months, and by then we mostly just didn't speak to each other if we happened to be in the same vicinity.

There was nothing either of us could say to each other that did not end in fuck you or rolling eyes. I believe it was kind of chemical maybe I don't know. I don't even remember what he said exactly that raised my hackles like that.

So one day my friend for some reason got called into work or some such, then his roommates took off and I was stuck at the apartment with the Asshole. And just like in porn we were glaring at each other then BAM we were naked.

Prior to that I had never experienced an actual hate fuck. I had had a few grudge fucks, some hot make up sex, some please don't tell me your last name it will ruin it fucks, some soft core soft focus girl on girl love making, some crazy butch dyke trying to kill me fucks, but never ever an all out I fucking hate you and will fuck you up while I fuck you fuck.

By the time my friend got home the couch was over turned, there was a broken lamp and we were both exhausted, bruised and bleeding a little. My poor friend was in shock and was utterly horrified. At first he thought we had gotten into a fist fight. But then he was more horrified when we made it clear there'd been sexin going on.

The thing that amazed me at the time was that it went on every time we were alone together for a good six months. And we still hated each other. And we were both comfortable with that.

I learned several very important things from that. The most important thing I learned was that then as now, I do not have to feel attached to someone I have sex with. I had by them summarily rejected the notion that you have to love or care for someone to have desire for them and maybe fulfill that desire. I was fine.

Sometimes a fuck is just a fuck.

I also learned then that The Fury was good for more than stabbing coked out skeevy jackasses that get grabby with girls half their age.

And that's all. I still kind of have a migraine and I have cramps. YAY double stabby.

And I am writing something new and it is in my head in a way that can't be avoided.

I'm not tagging anyone specifically but do it then send me a link to tell me.

Homo Out.
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Thursday, March 27, 2008

Bingo Part two.

I managed sleep last night however I do have a migraine. But we'll pick up the bingo game where I left off.


"I'M NOT A RACIST/I HAS BLACK FRIENDS/MY ONE BLACK FRIEND TOLD ME/YOU'RE DIFFERENT THAN OTHER BLACK PEOPLE"

Okay, super um, what's one more than a trifecta?


That's where I left off. If you will please reopen your bingo card and play along.

Now more true stories.

I can't tell you how many times I have asked someone who is not black a question, doesn't matter what question, and if I've raised an eyebrow at the answer or questioned the answer I have heard the instant, "I'm not a racist"

Another flavor of this is as follows:

Girl: I guess he's ok for a Black guy.
Me: *blink...blink...blink*
Girl: *Fluster, stammer then BINGO* But I'm not a racist or anything.

I have two responses for this sort of thing. If I'm annoyed enough, the first response is the stare of doom as in I will make you feel like it's that movie Scanners and your head is straight up about to blow right the fuck up. Or I will ask a seemingly innocent question which can lead to the person I'm talking to making an ass of him/herself.

The best one is (and you have to have the innocent confused look or it doesn't work) "what do you mean for a black guy". So yeah. There's that and often the responses that follow are along the lines of, "but I has black friends really, REALLY" or "well I didn't mean you, you're not like other black people" etc.

Yes that is racist. Is it on the same level as someone showing up at my door in their Angry Ghost outfit no, but that doesn't make it ok.

I'm not tackling all of the spaces I am too tired and my head hurts too much.

However I will tackle one last one that seems to be the theme of my dealings with people lately.

"Uses popular hip hop songs to relate to the culture"

Now I've said it before and I will say it again. And this goes for people of any color because it pisses me the fuck off.

Here is what happens, and it's usually from men trying to pick me up. Example:

A few weeks ago I was standing at my usual bus stop on my way home, two youngish white men both fairly tipsy come up the sidewalk. One says "hi" the other one drops this um...well I guess he was trying to sound like 50 Cent, at least that's the impression I got.

He said yo a few times, holla another few times, and I stopped listening to the actual words. When he was done I smiled and said, "fuck off."

Why? No I am not offended by being hit on but, someone presuming some role because I happen to be black and they think I might be impressed is fucking stupid.

Another example is lately, I have had so many white people try to demonstrate their downness with black people by randomly telling me how much they love Obama.

Um. I don't really care. Just because you like Obama does not earn you instant cool points, does not give me some instant sense of camaraderie with you, does not really make me want to talk to you when you hit me with it out of the blue.

Also, just because you are interested in or like something you deem "black" does not mean that I want to talk to you. Nor does it mean that we have something in common. We might but that's not the point.

The problem is that people like to put things in neat little groupings, this is what being black is, this is what being white is, this is what being fat is. That is not how life works at all.

Also, if you approach someone in the attitude of a prevailing stereotype do not expect to be met with a happy oh HAY yer cool.

As in many things your approach is key.

Example:

You love Hip Hop. You know the history, you love the music, you are excited about it. You want to talk to me about it to see if I like it too. Here is the optimal way to go about that.

You: Hey Shannon have you heard this new mixtape? It is SO good.
Me: No I can't say I have.
You: Wanna listen?

That is lovely. If you are genuinely passionate about something, or if you're not yet and want to know more ask me politely. Ask me in a manner that broadcasts not "you're black so you know" but "HEY I dig this thing do you dig it too?" do that and we'll be all good.

And while I'm giving tips here are some things I'd rather you not do so you don't get punched.

Do not say things like the following:

"But you're black.."
"How come black people..."

etc.

You get where I'm going here. I will think you do because I think if you're reading me you're probably pretty sharp.

Also do not touch black people's hair without permission. Do not EVER tell me it feels like wool, just don't. If you like my hair tell me it's pretty. Ask me what I use in it. K?

My point here is that whatever assumption you might make based on the wrappings is probably wrong and it's not up to me to show you that.

It is also not up to me to give you the grand tour of blackness, nor is it my job to make you feel okay talking to me. Think before you speak, ask yourself whatever question. If you can't figure out a way to say or ask something just be honest. If you tell me "okay I know this is probably a really stupid/rude/racist question but I'd really like to know." I will probably not eviscerate you.

Understand that there is no one set of things that will define a persons experience of life. There is no one set of qualifiers for being a Fat, black, queer woman because there are not. Understand that at the root of it, if whatever you're thinking deep down (you have to be honest with yourself) is because someone is black/gay/fat/white/whatever that is a prejudice and it is your own job to work that out. I will not do it for you.

Seriously now I am done discussing this for now.

Also YAY Sara From F-Words is back to posting and I am so happy she's doing better.

Okay I'm done. My head is throbbing in a kind of disco way and it's not pleasant.

Homo out.
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Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Let's play Bingo.

Okay as promised yesterday here is my thing. First of all to play along here and get what I'm talking about open this image in another window or tab. And follow along.

Edit- AHAHAHAHA mother fucker I forgot to upload the graphic. This is what I get for sleeping for 90 minutes last night/this morning. I r smrt.

Now you'll see I renamed the graphic to jackhole (fuck sake that was a lot of effort.) don't say these things. And I've bingo daubed everything that I have had said to my face. So here's how we're going to play. Look at the bingo square, note what it says and what I'm going to say about why I do not want to hear any variant of these things out of anyones mouth anytime soon.

If you find yourself daubing along and you come up with more than (I'm exhausted and feel poopy so I'll be generous) say five squares that you have said to people. Feel free to jump up. yell BINGO! Then slap yourself. 5-10 squares a slap and a wedgie. More than ten and just go ahead and punch yourself in the neck.

First up the ever popular-

"Welfare is just a handout/welfare queen/etc"

Okay. First of all before you decide to spout off with all your learnings about welfare (and this applies to more than black folks) take a minute. Have you ever been extremely, really poor and had children at the time? Also while you're at it, think about being that poor, trying to feed your kid(s), and bonus prize having to bear the brunt of the frustration from the people who are supposed to be helping you and seemingly everyone else.

Then imagine that exponentially, all your family members have gone through/are going through this. Imagine standing in line at the grocery store (I have witnessed this with my own two eyes, in "polite" society) you're trying to pay for your milk, ramens and baby food with your foodstamps and someone behind you, says audibly "lazy welfare nigger".

Maybe you have a baby and an upright age child. While you're trying not to cry, and get your food paid for what do you tell your child who asks, "Mommy was he talking to you?"

Now, look me in my face (and I will promise you have no idea if I've ever been through any of the above) and tell me welfare is just a hand out for lazy people.

Fuck you in your fucking ear.

Next square.

"Believes that white males are oppressed"

Story time. Here in Polite and "liberal" Seattle, on the bus maybe two or three months ago. A white man hears a youngish black girl talking on her cell phone excitedly about being accepted to Morehouse. Girl gets off of the bus, man snorts turns to his buddy in the seat next to him and says,

"Oh and I'll bet she gets a scholarship too." His tone was very snide, and very bitter and plain rude. his friend snorted back.

They then proceeded to have a very loud conversation about how they had it so hard, how (they didn't specify race but they did look pointedly at the black folks on the bus) some "guy" took his job, the other one about how many of "them" were working at some place now.

They go on to talk about at great length how hard it is for white guys to get a fair shake, if it's not women going for their balls it's "them" taking "their" jobs, taking their women, and apparently running the whole world.

Someone close to them pointed out that the vast majority of people in power are rich white men who don't give a fuck about either one of them. They huffed and puffed, cited (DOUBLE SQUARE BONUS) the evils of Affirmative Action and how that has effectively ruined the whole company, the whole work force and the lives of white men everywhere.

Um...wow.

So (lucky me) 40 minutes or so later, when it was pretty much just them and me on the bus. They started talking about how "they" with frequent pointed long looks at me when they said "they" have pretty much fucked up the right order of the world. Then they ring the bell for my stop. At that moment despite being exhausted from my day, I had to think bout whether or not I wanted to have to walk an extra quarter of a mile because those men, were putting off menacing vibes or if I wanted to not do that.

I might have bigger balls than I do brains but I got off at my stop and when they loudly made some other jack ass statement and turned to look at me (they were ahead of me on the sidewalk by then) I stood there, not blinking, not moving. I shook my head, said "goodnight gentlemen" and walked the rest of the way home.

Draw your own conclusion there.

Next square+bonus squares:

"I'M NOT A RACIST/I HAS BLACK FRIENDS/MY ONE BLACK FRIEND TOLD ME/YOU'RE DIFFERENT THAN OTHER BLACK PEOPLE"

Okay, super um, what's one more than a trifecta? I am seriously operating on 90 minutes of sleep and I am feeling seriously fucking crazy today so yeah.


Actually my darlings you will have to wait for another installment because I am exhausted and trying to write and code at the same time has sapped whatever ability to brain I that I have.

I have new links (YAY to put up). Mostly promoting someone I really dig and who I think you should dig too. As well as get rid of some permalinks and add some new ones because the things I like have changed.

If you want to read some of my fiction you can here at Wretched and Violent. An oldie but one I enjoyed writing.

And if you like reading about gay men having some violent kind of knife weilding butt sex another oldie but goody here. I had forgotten all about that until Uniballer showed me just now that it's still up.

I need to write more porn.

And I'm spent.

Also let's hope I get more than 90 minutes of sleep otherwise I will be an insane cranky fucker tomorrow.

Homo Out.

Clap hands. <--MUSIC REFERENCE FTW!

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Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Oh Nelly....

Today i am going to respond to something I saw on another blog.

Unfortunately though I won't be linking to it because comments are closed.

First of all I have to wonder if the source of this persons ire was found via trolling about in someones userpics on LJ. A practice I frown upon seriously.

Okay that said I want to address the issue of colorblindness.

Many many people use the term colorblind with impunity, I am colorblind this, I want the world to be colorblind that and while it's a lovely sentiment, the fact is that the world at large is not colorblind.

As much as color, creed, religion, socio-economic status, sexual orientation, dog having status etc might not matter to you, as we move through the world all those things can have a big impact on our lives. The color of my skin has absolutely impacted my journey, my thoughts, my actions and how I come to the table in an activist arena.

I think sometimes people use the ideal of colorblindedness as a blinder so they don't have to examine what privilege they have. I know, shocked to hear that from me right? Yes I am critical of the usefulness of pounding the idea of privilege into people, I am skeptical of telling someone to unpack their privilege then skipping off warm in the fact that you showed them. That aside, I do think it is valuable for people to understand the concepts of privilege.

Ugh actually you know what? I really don't feel like being the Educating Negress today. I am really not in the mood for this at all. Maybe I'll pick it up another day.

I really really don't feel like it.

I am way too tired.

So instead go read what Davitta said about it, although I think she's lying about the whole queen thing. I GOT THE MEMO.

And in case you aren't down with the LJ a photo of my luxurious almost now shoulder length hair. After I flat ironed it for the first time on Sunday.

back of hair

And bonus emo girl is emo picture taken a few weeks ago.

Photobucket

Also at some point this week I will probably post about my attempts to work on my BDD issues. It involves exciting things like macro mode pictures, freaking out and glee. Okay no glee so shut up.

Homo Out.



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Monday, March 24, 2008

Teehee.

NO THAT'S MAH BISCUIT!



Don't front you know you've had days like that. You know the days when you are likely to snatch someone bald if they touch your cookie.

Seriously you know you have.

You can tell me I don't mind.

Also if the world was fair I'd have the time and money to haul it down to Portland for KinkFest.

And if you'd like to buy me a kick ass present that might mean you get naked booby pictures you could always get me a gift membership to the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom.


I know I'm set on random right now. I'm tired, have slightly low blood sugar and I wanna go home.

Other things?

I spent some time editing some porn I wrote about this pre-op transwoman I had a MAD crush on. I will probably post it in my lj at some point for archival purposes. She is (Tuff where ever you are, I miss seeing you around teh intertubes baby) hot. hot like gorgeous long legs and brown skin and lusciousness.

Also I have a wee bit more work on the poetry book then I am going to pimp it until you're all tired of hearing about it. I still have to make some banners/small graphics. Then Lulu here I come.

And to wrap things up (no really) how about a looksy at what I've been listening to this week? If you use last.fm you should totally be my friend.





Okay homo really out.

PS WTF is wrong with google today? I can't find anything I'm looking for.
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No really I do.

I have a general tendency not to identify as a feminist because, a lot of the trendy feminist reading does not speak to me at all.

As I get older I'm finding my patience for and acceptance of things that ruffle my fur the wrong way has gotten infinitely smaller. Way back when I was a young rantylicious little fucker, I had learned to sort of grind my teeth and just keep going when I heard things that made my asshole pucker.

I was of the mind then that, well I might not like it but if it helps the cause. Uh...yeah.

Quite frankly there are things that I just don't feel like arguing with anyone about anymore. Top on the list is sexuality, the actual commerce of sex as in yes *gasp* sex work.

My beliefs surrounding sex work have very little to do with "morals" and a lot to do with other things that I don't feel like talking about today. Another post I promise.

Feminism is a very good example of where my policy of keep your politics out of my fucking cunt, comes into play. Do not tell me how, who, when, or what to do with my cunt. Not you, not yer misogynist (and holy fuck can I spell that word wrong, wow) enemy none of you.

No really stay away from my crotch unless you are delivering oral sex. In that case do your thing then get the fuck out.

The following goes for everyone regardless of political stripe, Raison d'être, eye color, racial profile, position of authority. Here are the things I will not allow you to instruct me on, save me from or lecture me on.

  • My pubic hair or occasionally lack thereof. I don't really give a shit what you say.
  • Same goes for any other fuzz, armpit, legs, stomach where ever. None of your business.
  • I reserve to the right to objectify, sexualize, and/or behave in an unbecoming manner if I motherfucking feel like it.
  • Do not try and correct any mention of my cock, balls or wish to t-bag someone for being a douchebag. The logistics of such an act are not really your business unless of course you want a lesson even then you have to ask me nicely.
  • I really don't care if your house smells of leather books and you're kind of a big deal, the bottom line is don't presume that your fancy degree and/or ninety mile an hour hair will sway my personal feelings. Just don't. I will smite you.



Clearly I'm a little cranky today. Mainly fueled by sciatic pain and heartburn.

I am also cranky because I took way too long putting my make up on and therefor was unable to stop for coffee or other snacky deliciousness before work.

Now more about me okay?

Okay.

Contrary to how it may or may not seem depending on your point of view, I am actually not an incredibly educated person in the traditional I have four degrees yadda yadda type way. No.

I am educated more in the sense that I read, I learn continually just not in a formal setting.

Shocking no?

Or maybe not so shocking given my frequent use of the word fuck.

However I think anyone who thinks that fuck is just a dirty word, you should watch the film "Fuck: A documentary". I love words and this is absolutely one of my favorite documentaries of all time.

What else?

I think I may force myself to do some yoga. I sleep in incredibly jacked up positions and have been really stiff and uncomfortable. As much as I don't really care for yoga it does decrease my joint pain and stiffness and I don't wake up so often with my neck and back going.. "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOU AND YER LITTLE PILLS TOO".

The main reason I don't like yoga that much is I get bored, there was a time I did that variant of yoga where you're in the steamy room. That was before I realized I didn't have to do exercise I hated and I remember sweating and suffering through those classes.

This is one instance where I will suffer what I don't enjoy so I can do something I want to. In this case picking belly dance up again.

I had to stop because of my sciatica and shitty knees this winter and it was really frustrating and sad for me. When I have such a passionate response to something and I can't do it I get very depressed and this has been really difficult for me.

However to make myself feel better I started reading a blog by one of my favorite dancers, Asharah check out her new blog Bellydance Paladin. Her posts are insightful and lovely to read. I also find it comforting and helpful to see that I'm not the only one who has the issues sometimes with pain and whatnot.

In other news I finally got my Torrid list cleaned out and added a shitload more stuff I'll probably post the link tomorrow so if you would like to buy me some presents you will know what I likes.

I am also having some more creative oriented greed going on. I want to make a shitload of stuff that I don't really know how to make and it makes me grumpy.

And that's all. I have a headache and need tea.

Homo out.

And thank you my darlings for the boobie compliments. :)
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Friday, March 21, 2008

Happy Friday.

So it's Friday and I'm having a most lovely day. I slept (sedated) like a log and Uniballer bought me replacement snacks for work.

I also did something unusual and got a very fancy pastry with my coffee.

Also it's my favorite day at Fatshionista, SALES DAY. There have been so many discussions about people who don't like sales days. It usually revolves around the fact that there are a lot of people in Fatshionista who don't thrift. That's fine. I'm glad.

However there are also a lot of us who can't afford brand new clothes and still want cute stuff.

Also there is always (everytime the issue of sales posts is brought up) more size talk. Who should and shouldn't be able to post clothes. What sizes should and shouldn't be posted.

It gets old but I don't care because. I. Love. Sales. Day at Fatshionista. I have bought some really fantastic things and I really do like being able to ask someone (it feels weird asking on Ebay because I've many times wound up asking some dude who thrifts and resells stuff he knows nothing about) about fit texture etc.

So whatever. But YAY.

Also yesterday I saw a lovely lady in Fats with a cute tattoo between her boobies. Aside from the fact that I was yes ogling her boobies because I love boobies it reminded me that I still would like a between the boobies tattoo.

I have two different chest area designs in mind. One for right down between the boobies and the other at the top of the cleavage. The between the boobs one will probably be a no go because my boobs are naturally close together and smush together right in that area and I think healing would not be cool. I also don't think I'd want to go more than a few days with no bra at all.

Although braless the boobies are naturally at a lovely point, they (I have Dcups these bitches don't sit) hang out together quite nicely.

See my icon here for an example of the boobs in braless action.



I'm leaning more toward the top of cleavage placement. I won't be able to afford the big tattoo to get my backpiece started so probably chesticles it is.

Okay I'm going to switch topics abruptly here for a minute and talk about something I just commented on at the Fatshionista website a moment ago. First feel free to read this entry about race and FA written by someone named Tara.

Overall she makes a lot of valid points. The only thing I seriously disagree with is this bit from the very end:


For the most part, your fat acceptance movement does not speak to us, and we're not coming until y'all work out some shit.


It is not possible to work anything out unless people are willing to have discussion about it. That is just how it works.

As TR said, here:


When a person of color, like Tara just did in her post at Fatshionista.com, goes through the trouble of telling me something I am doing - even, or perhaps especially, unthinkingly - does not make them feel welcome, my proper response is to find out what I can do to make them feel more welcome. The proper response is not to write the whole issue off as divisiveness and, while it might FEEL better, it isn’t to get defensive.


All right.

First of all in case you don't know I am a Black Woman. That is my perspective. I do not (and would never) try to tell you I'm speaking for all my sisters because I'm not, however I can (happily) tell you a few things I've heard from these ladies.

Racism, let's start there shall we?

In the vast majority of conversations about racism I've ever had in my life the issues generally boil down to very simple concepts.

1.) Thinking that your "race" is better than and superior to all others is not pride. Different does not equal superior. The plain fact is no matter how hard anyone tries, human beings are basically just the same. That means the guy from Upper Mongolia has all the same Organs as the guy from Iceland.

2.) Believing that "race" is the indicator of more than the color of someone's skin. No. If you move out of your own sphere of experience, if you put yourself into situations where the people around you are not all from your little microcosm of the universe, that belief will crumble like good bleu cheese.

3.) If you're this "race" that means- insert whatever twaddle here. Not so. See above.

You get my point here you my fabulous readers are smart fucking folks.

Often (in my experience) when it comes to activism of any sort that is not directly related to race, people don't want to put race into it. As color blind as anyone wants to be, the reality is that the color of your skin especially here in America is going to have a big impact on your experiences. Which in turn will impact how you feel and react within your circle of activists.

There is no way around that.

However as TR astutely pointed out, if this conversation is going to be productive getting defensive is not the way to go. I've experienced this in many ways.

I've been told that "well it's not that bad anymore", actually yes it is.

I've heard people presume to speak for me because they "understand the plight of people of color." No actually you probably don't.

If you would like to know how this can be productive let me give you an example okay?

Let's pretend you are an ethnicity other than black. Pick one this is happening in your own imagination. We are discussing how race fits in with oh let's say Fat Acceptance.

This would be great:

You: I just read Tara's post at Fatshionista and I don't agree that race is such an issue.

Me: Why?

You: Well...(insert argument/oppression comparison here)

Me: You know, it's not about comparing oppression and I really don't appreciate you equating not being able to buy pants at the mall to racism. It is not the same thing.

You: Oh, I didn't know that it makes you feel that way. I don't really understand.

OKAY stop there.

Non People of color. One of the best ways I have EVER experienced a dialogue is the very simple words, I don't understand. Say it to yourself, I don't understand.

I think many discussions about difficult issues would be far better if people would not be afraid to own up to the fact that no, they probably don't get it.

Don't keep telling me "but I'm TRYING to ask nice questions" don't whine, don't point fingers and say, "but they started it", or tell me you don't know how to have a productive conversation just don't. It is not my job as one of "them" to teach you how to have a civil and productive discussion with me. It is not my job as one of "them" to give you a free pass if you don't think you are being offensive.

Simply put I am not your guide to life as a Black Woman.

What is good? Good is acknowledging as I said above that no you don't get it. Acknowledge your own prejudices even if it makes you feel like you might get your educated liberal polite society card revoked. Understand that I am under no obligation to feel pity for you if you feel picked on by discussions of race. It is your job to dissect why you feel that way.

For me personally I believe that human beings can work these things out but, we all have to give up some stuff. We have to give up the Oppression Olympics. I know that can be difficult but we have to do it.

We have to give it up because what hurts me the most and causes the most strife in my life is probably way different than what hurts you and causes you the most strife in your life. That's fact. And there is nothing to be done about it.

We also have to give up the idea that just because maybe we're all for the same thing (FA, whatever other rights thing) does not mean that we have the same reasons or beliefs on how to achieve this thing. See the above reason.

We have to embrace and accept that our points of view, how we express them and our aims might not ever line up neatly. And that's ok. Matter of fact it's pretty fucking fantastic because if you approach the same goal from many different paths, lots of folks are going to get there. That's what I believe.

When it comes to when someone says something offensive, this is the kind of conversation I'd like to have about it:

You: Blablablabla...
Me: I think that's really offensive.
You: Really? How come?

And then be willing to listen to why.

Here's what I don't want to hear or see:

You: Blablalbalba
Me: I think that's really offensive.
You: (Any variant of the following) But I wasn't trying to be offensive so why are you offended? That's stupid I wasn't trying to be offensive. That doesn't count. I didn't mean you .

Yeah, after any of that I will decide that you are probably not worth my time or talking to.

On the other hand, I do believe that the only way people will know if they are being dicks is if someone tells them and tells them why without rancor, vitriol etc. I don't mind being that person sometimes because, I feel like if I really value hearing your point of view I'd like to interact if it's needed. I am not obligated to do it, but sometimes I like to.

Okay I'm over it now.

Goddamn it. I was going to buy this blazer but I have one almost exactly like it already. damn it.

I keep doing that lately. Apparently what I like is very well ingrained in the brains.

After all that seriousness feel free to comment even if you just want to tell me I have nice boobs.

Because, (and I'm going to reword a Katt Williams quote)

Don't say my boobs ain't luxurious when you know they are bitch.

That's all.

I'm going to cruise for deals, drink tea and maybe fondle my boobs a little.

Homo Out.

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Thursday, March 20, 2008

Words and things.

There is a post over at Fatshionista that has me thinking quite a bit. The comment I started turned way too TL;DR so I'll post here.

Quite honestly I see the discussion at the base (again) as the long ongoing one that has been swimming in FA for years on many fronts, who is fat enough and if you're not that fat what is your place and do you have one. I am so tired of this argument.

First let me say that yes, it is a good thing to acknowledge privilege. However, I think that drilling it into people and then just sort of saying well there, you're privileged now you know is a little like pointing out someone has "a little something" but not offering what it is or what to do. As in picture this, you're talking to someone and they keep staring, brow raised. You don't know if it's what you're saying, if you have a booger, if you have spinach in your teeth, if someone is standing over your shoulder making faces or what. That's the feeling I get anyway.

At some point if you're going to take issue with who says what and how, especially in a community like Fatshionista where the posting is moderated (which for you non-LJ users means that before your post goes public there are people who read it over and decide whether or not to post it) shouldn't the issue be taken up with the people in charge? Or if you're going to take issue with what and how people are saying things, I think it's not entirely productive to say, "I have issues" and offer no alternatives or reasons beyond well cause I said so.

Also in case you're a member of Fats and you're reading this is not a let's complain about Fats thing it's not.

This sort of thing is why I'm still not willing to post outfits or pictures. Being that there are size parameters (something that I've commented on there before) for picture posting I do take issue with it. The rule (I believe) is you have to be at least a size 12.

Is that a Torrid size 12? A Womans size 12? A petite size 12? A designer size 12? A Juniors size 12? A trendy store size 12? A vintage size 12? You see where I'm going here.

Personally after reading all the comments on that entry I'm right back to the state I was in the other day (this entry). The actuality of my physical body doesn't conform to the rules (spoken and unspoken) at Fats, nor to any other rules. If I lost 15 pounds I would be on the big end of straight sizes, which would yes be nifty. If I gained 15 pounds I would be nice and snug in plus sizes and that would be nifty too.

I don't even want to start any Oppression Olympic type wank at all. I don't feel oppressed I am just not excited. I am not excited about the fact that a community I joined because I a.) love clothing b.) love seeing a diverse range of style (an issue I'll address shortly) c.) love discourse has become a place where I feel (though it's rarely if ever specifically stated) that I shouldn't fully participate because my presence is questionable because of my size and the fact that sometimes I can jam my ham into straight sized clothing really sucks.

What makes me uncomfortable (and very sad) is the constant idea that if you're not as fat, your presence and photo is somehow not good for other fat people is disheartening. I also find it disheartening that any fat womans presence there is questioned. If you are able to shop at certain stores should you not participate because it might bother someone else?

Should you not participate if you're not in the habit of checking for sizes beyond your own experience?

At the end of this I am thinking I will probably (again) slow down/possibly cease participating there. For several reasons. I don't want to (and yes I am fully aware these are my issues) spend my time trying to decide whether or not I'm alienating my fatter homies. I think about that because it's not my intention and really a lot of the time I just don't remember other than what I was trying to accomplish.

I do try to be inclusive on the chance I do post there. I try to be so here too but it does slip my mind sometimes. Although I do think that, that sort of thing is going to be an issue no matter what. From other specific type forums and communities I've been on when something does not pertain to someone, and does not pertain to them frequently people tend to feel hurt, excluded etc. It's human nature.

I've done it too. However I do think that complaining about it is again, not productive. If you want to feel included and welcome you have to pout yourself in that situation. Someplace like Fats that probably could mean anything from commenting on what you want to see more of, posting photos etc. As I've told myself repeatedly, if you want to be represented, represent yourself.

Easier said than done of course but it's a valid solution I think.

So my solution for my own sanity will probably consist of my own fotki stream (once I make myself remember daily that I own a goddamn camera) and keeping my fat related discussions here.

Okay I'm done.

Next topic if you are into some crotch tingling type stories, I highly advise subscribing to the Hips and Curves (lingerie store for plus sized folks) newsletter. I always enjoy the stories and I love seeing actual plus sized models in lingerie made for you guessed it, plus sized people. A really -really- long time ago I ordered some thigh high stockings from them that were on sale and they fit so well. My ham was not pinched or otherwise jammed into them like sausage casings. And bonus they had a seam up the back and cuban style heels. Fabulous.

What else?

OH I am seriously making a shout out to Meowser who has been made of absolute WIN this week. Pardon me while I wax poetic here for a minute.

I think from the way she writes that Meowser and I could be homies. Just saying I would totally buy her ice cream and pie.

Her entry on the mental health aspect of HAES is fabulous. While you're over there read the follow up too. Read it and love it.

Speaking of fabulous ladies Sarah Katherine Lewis posted a lovely interview yesterday.

Speaking of ladies I love Margaret Cho is coming in May and holy wow I cannot afford to go. I calculated crappy seats and it was well over 100$, that doesn't count transportation, most likely the need for a taxi afterwards and/or any sort of other enjoyment. I am a sad panda.

I was going to talk about some stuff related to yesterdays entry but I think I'll do that tomorrow. Right now I am going to go look at summer dresses so I can stop driving poor Uniballer to eye rolling with my obsession for cute summer dresses.

Homo Out.
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Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Are you serious?

Okay links and whatnots.


Female Genital Mutilation is not fucking funny
. The tone of the remark there at Jezebel (heehee her cooter is sewn up) makes me fucking ill. Shit like that is why I tend to not read Jezebel unless it's something linked from another site. What the fuck?

Rio and Thoughtracer both posted interesting entries about fat hate. My own experiences with fat hate have been strange and varied.

Awhile back I left one of my favorite online community because I got very tired of seeing fat hate excused. A few gems:


Generally I find obese people to be gross. A majority of them smell, and listening to them try and breathe between the cheetos and big mack they are shoveling in is irritating.



a few weeks ago i found a few blogs about the 'fat acceptance movement', although i could totally relate to what these people have experienced (having seen it all first hand myself) i couldn't help but laugh at these poor folks, fighting for acceptance they'll never get. life's just better when you're thin, it just is. people are shallow idiots. (including me.)


Neither of those comments was refuted, questioned or anything by people I had previously considered intelligent. The general assumption was the following:

A.) Fat people are gross.
B.) If you are fat and not "doing something" about it, you are morally questionable and apparently a drain on society.
C.)Jackassery.

What did I do?

I left. Quite honestly I couldn't be arsed to deal with people who hold views that are so absurd. There was an absolute prevailing attitude that if you're "hot" you can say whatever you please. The idea that while you might have funny colored hair, lots of body mods and dress funny oh HAY you can't/shouldn't be made fun of or talked about but if you're fat you're fair game? Are you fucking serious?

That is absolute bullshit. That whole discussion and several others and I was done. As with things that have to do with race I don't always feel like being the educator.

There are times when even I your own rantylicious darling just have to shake my head and move on.

I am a member of another online community that sometimes I feel the same way about. however there it's not fat but it's other things. Homophobia, constant strange racial ideas that just baffle me. However it's not quite as overwhelming as the other forum and most of the time I can look past it because there is information there that is important to me.

I bring it up because I am finally learning to choose my venues when it comes to taking a strong stand.

There was a time not too long ago that I would bang a drum holler and freak out on people any and everywhere. Not so astonishingly in some venues, no matter how loud you holler you are not going to be heard. A lesson I've learned.

Moving on.

I was cruising TheAdvocate website earlier and found some cool links.

I found GodandSexuality which is an academic conference and though I'm not all that religious nor an academic I really love that this exists. It makes me think of a friend of mine from way back who I had never seen so happy as when he found a church (Christian sort of church) that not only embraced him but he found community, family, friends, love and a place to commune with God. And isn't that last bit kinda the point of going to/finding church?

I also found a website that explores Feminist Sexual Ethics in Judaism, Muslim, Christianity. That is pretty damn cool if you're into that sort of thing.

Now other things.

I really think I might invest in an EZ Braider. Being that I still suck at braiding I would like to rock some microbraids for awhile however, my practice is telling me that it's going to take a long time before I try doing my own whole head.

Also let me just say that my hair feels like the hot sex right now and I want to lay in bed stroking it.

I'm also eating some really tasty red miso. I have a funny way of eating my miso, after I mix it I let it sit for a few minutes then, I use a fork to swirl the soup and scoop out random bits of deliciousness. Then I sip the tasty liquid until it's gone.

And ok now I"m done I have been working on a project all day and my brain is about to melt.

Later taters.

Homo Out.
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Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Musings and glee.

I was reading over at FatFu last night and Meowser posted about Pseudonymity on the net.

Back in the day when I started my first online journal I was really paranoid about people in my life outside the net reading it or knowing about it for that matter. Honestly that lasted all of six months then I said fuck it, I got tired of thinking about it. These days if you google my given name, the name of this blog etc you'll find a whole shitload of stuff and that's perfectly ok with me.

I haven't used a pseudonym in probably more than a decade for anything. The very first piece of writing I had published was under a pseudonym and it felt so weird to me. I own my words. It felt weird and disingenuous to look at something I quite honestly slaved over and it did not have my name on it.

Since then if I say it, 98% of the time my name is on/associated with it. And that suits me just fine.

However I will say I have a space somewhere on the internet where I talk about things I am not comfortable talking about here or other places where people know me. For awhile I struggled with this, however my number one concern is making sure that I feel okay while I'm working some shit out. I have a few friends who read that, and one in particular with whom I talk about it.

Strangely I'm one of those people who talk a lot of the time just makes me feel worse. I like to write it down and work it out for myself. Which sometimes admittedly doesn't work all that well.

On a fashion note I had a gander at some of the new Lip Service stuff for 08 and I am again disappointed. Nothing I liked comes in my size. Admittedly I am really seriously considering losing a dress size.

Honestly it's not just Lip Service clothes that put this into my head, and it's not the whole Fantasy of Being Thin as discussed quite awhile back at Shapely Prose. I have long given up the dreams about thinness.

  1. Thin is healthy and good. When I was thin, I was not health and I was a cranky hungry unhealthy mother fucker. And the thing that made me feel cheated was that I was doing the "healthy" thing. I was working out and eating an uber healthy diet. And I felt like shit.
  2. Thin is beautiful. Again I felt cheated. Frankly once I go below at the most a size 10 I just look weird. My proportions are not made for that. Also, because my health was not great my skin looked fucking horrible, my hair looked bad, I had a hell of a time finding clothing that fit. I did not feel beautiful in any way shape or form.
  3. Thin makes it all easier. That was a huge thing for me. My life did not get magically easier when I hit the lower end of the "healthy BMI" range. I still had all the same problems, I had some brand new and shittier problems.
That all said the following is not about the myth. And I know damn well this sort of thing isn't looked upon favorably in the FA circles but I don't give a fuck.

As I've mentioned before I am fairly firmly in the area called Inbetween. There are a lot (A LOT) of plus sized clothing that just is too big for me. Frequently things are just enough too big in odd places so the fit gets fucked all to hell. It fits in the hips but is too big in the waist, it fits in the shoulders but not in the boobs, it's supposed to graze knee length and comes down to mid calf. And don't get me started on pants right now I will yell.

On the flip side I am just ( ) that much off (measurements wise) for a lot of straight sized clothing. Things are too small in the boobs, fit at the hips but not in the low waist thus giving me hang over of doom in the love handle area, fits in the waist/hips but not in the ham. Shirts fit in the boobs but not around the upper arm hence my aversion to cap sleeves, fits in the boobs but rides up to show my whole stomach when that is not the idea.

I spend way more time than is probably necessary searching and searching and searching for clothes that fit right. And what irritates me is that out of necessity I've had to stick to the same silhouettes for so long because I have such a hard time finding things that fit and my sewing skills are not quite up to actual tailoring just yet and gods know I don't have the money to have it done by a pro.

So where does that leave me?

Honestly (and boo hiss if you wanna) it leaves me with the bottom line that on my frame and body a small big of weightloss or gain would go a long way. A few pounds in either direction means pretty much I could be solidly plus sized, or solidly far end of straight sizing. I've been resisting it and not wanting to think about it for months but it is actually the truth.

Does this mean suddenly I am super pro diet and whatnot? No. What it means is that I finally (after 31 goddamn long years) in tune enough with my body and familiar enough with my body to be able to make a conscious well thought out decision as to what to do. That is a huge thing for me. For the first time in my life I feel like I have serious and tangible autonomy in terms of my body and what I'm doing with it.

I played at and tickled autonomy for years, especially in terms of decoration. Body mods, tattoos, wacky clothing and hair but, I wasn't here. Here being the state of mind I'm in right now.

I am clear. I am aware and my thought processes aren't muddied by politics, should and should not thoughts, other people none of it.

That alone makes me very happy.

Where does this lead.

I am not going to get or be thin. Barring serious medical illness it's just not going to happen and that makes me happy and it's okay.

I also absolutely do not believe that me going down a dress size will create some alternate reality where I am rich, fabulous and everything is super peachy.

What does it all mean?

It means that I am currently this instant open to a change in my body. It means that for the first time in a long time my eyes aren't clouded and I think,no I believe I can make a decision one way or the other.

It doesn't mean that I am going to run out and half kill myself trying to lose that 10 pounds. To tell the truth I don't even know if my body would approve of that.

It does mean that I am enjoying the feeling that emotionally, I could probably handle adding a fairly rigorous exercise routine to my life and it doesn't feel bad to think about it. I don't feel like I might do that and go off my fucking nut and start working out for hours on end. That feeling that fear isn't there.

It doesn't mean that I don't want to be fat or I hate fat or anything of the kind. Although I'm sure someone will get that from it.

Tell you the truth I don't care. I am actually very proud of myself for coming to this right now.

And I think I'm spent there is something wrong with my neck and it hurts like the proverbial mother fucker.

Homo Out.
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Monday, March 17, 2008

Fat Ass Birthday and more.

So my birthday has come and gone.

It was a good one. Uniballer and I went out for a fairly impromptu birthday dinner on Saturday. (Not my actual birthday) We went To the Keg and way overspent but had some tasty tasty food. I wasn't quite sure I was ready for the level of steak they offer so I had the Creole chicken. It was highly tasty and had freaking shrimp and scallops on it. Yum.

I also had one of those foofoo drinks I normally don't like a Forbidden Fruit martini. Tasted ok but I don't care for fruity drinks usually and it was very sweet. I also got a free dessert because my birthday was Sunday and that was nice. Our server was some polite type eye candy and a good time was had. Also they way they serve a Jack and Coke is fucking WIN. You get a little carafe of not quite entirely carbonated Coke and a big heavy glass of jack and ice. You add your own Coke flavor.

That was lovely and we were going to walk home however once we started going we realized that we were both a little more tipsy than we'd thought so we took the bus instead.

Sunday. Sunday was adventuring day and I looked hella cute.

GODDAMN IT note to self- make Uniballer take outfit pictures damn it.

I wore my black Torrid capri pants, a black beater tank, my black hoody and my new black with red athletic striped knee high socks, black sneakers.

First stop was Payless shoes so I could cruise for summer shoes. And holy shit when did Payless get so fucking cool? I could have spent an assload of money. However we did not have an assload so I picked up some very soft rubbery cushioned Airwalk Mary Janes for 9 dollars. Total score.

Also I have developed an unnatural lust for some peep toe wedges. Which moves me onto our next stop Target.

I picked up some clearance ribbed tights for 3 bucks and Uniballer got me a bag of taffy because I freaking love taffy.

So yeah good birthday.

Moving on.

I had an Angry Fat Girl moment in Target.

I was pawing through a freshly put out giant stack of tops and though they were the womens sizes, there were a shitload of XS, S, M and maybe 4 total L, XL. What the fuck are they serious?

As far as fatness goes subjectively I'm on the very small end of fat. Which is something I honestly didn't realize until about two months ago. I found these stats on the intertubes for the size of the average American woman:

Women:
Height (inches): 63.8
Weight (pounds): 163
Waist circumference (inches): 36.5

I am 5'3" don't know how much I weight but my waist is about 33.5 or so depending on whether or not I've poo'd that day and how much water I've had.

Emotionally I was skeptical but the fact is no, I am not that fat. It was quite a realization for me, I was operating under an entirely different idea.

Why?

Because I have a heaping helping of BDD. Not quite enough to induce agoraphobia but enough. Happily in the last say six years or so it's not been quite so focused on my body shape, size etc. On the crap crusted flip side of that coin I focus on other things that I don't really feel like talking about right now. Suffice it to say I do a lot, a LOT of work on this and it's exhausting.

Anyway. Back to the fat. Has the fact that my eyes are newly open to the fact that I am actually pretty average changed any of my views on fat, fatness etc? No.

Do I still think that the mainstream ideas about fatness are made of fucking fail?

Why yes I do.

So there we go.

What else?

I am soon to be shorning my legs of fur for the first time since um, uh. Uh.

Wow it's been a long time. My legs aren't generally very hairy (photographic evidence later) and quite frankly I could give a shit about some fur. My leg fur is sparse and silky, I'd be more excited about it if it was fluffy but whatever.

I still do not (or super rarely) shave off my pubes. I love my pubes like you don't know. I love them in all their fluffy, bald spot having glory. I do trim on occasion if I'm having sweaty crotch annoyance but mostly I let em run wild. I am proud of my bush. I LOVE my bush.

Goddamn it the thingy I sent Vesta came back smashed and the address label nearly fucking obliterated. What the fuck is going on here?

I also still love boobies and would not be averse to touching some right now that don't belong to me. I am frankly tired of touching my own boobs.

Uh.

Yes I'm getting random. I'm itchy to go home so I can moisturize and try to cornrow my hair. So yeah I'm done.

Homo Out.
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Tuesday, March 11, 2008

No really.

While I wait for the drugs to kick in and my dinner I have some things to share.

If I sneeze/cough on my monitor one more fucking time I am going to stab myself in the left nostril.

Also someone needs to buy me a shitload of Angus Oblong artwork especially the fuck plate.

And why the fuck is it when I do actually wear underwear for once they are yanking my pubes in a way that's contributing to my homicidal mood?

Um random links time now.

Coloring Book Land. Do not click that if you have a delicate sense of humour or are easily offended. Suffice it to say I giggled a lot.

Real Ultimate Power yo. Real fucking ninjas. Despite my Pirate Loli nattering earlier I love ninjas. Sweeeeeeeeeeeeet.

An article from somebody that works in the Psych ward The Murse. As a frequent rider of public transportation I have seen the crazy, unfortunately I don't carry drugs in blowdarts to keep it away from me. Again if you've got the tender sensibilities don't click that one.


I also want this shirt from Shitley's. Yes it says Shitley's. The striped shirt thing here cracked me up. Those are the kind of boys I like, who have that kind of humour and can see the douchebags among them.

Seriously you have to have a pretty cutting sense of humour to roll with me boys.

It also helps if you bring lesbians who I will put my boobs on. Just saying.

Also a classic I've loved for awhile. Read the hate mail for Modern Drunkard Magazine. Pretty fucking funny MOTHER FUCKER I just snotted all over my fucking monitor again.

Also can I just say that if you are not snotting/sneezing/coughing/farting all at the same time right now I probably kind of hate you a little.

For something nicer and less drinking/saying fuck related this is a nice piece by Scott Duhamel. Tasty.

As per usual Cherry Bleeds is the fucking poop. I still have not grown sufficient vitals to actually submit to them. Or to just let it go.

I may actually pony up the dollars and enter their literary contest. I dunno yet.

Oh yay drugs and food.

Homo Out.


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Monday, March 10, 2008

This is going to get random.

I have the flu so don't expect that I'll be coherent mmkay?

So, I've been doing the shopping because that's what I like to do for my birthday. I got some really FANTAAAAAAAAAASTIC ubergoth stuff. Lots of photos today. None of me.

First up I got (at a spectacular price I might add) from an ebay seller named SpookyKisses, the uber goth Eternal Love Morgaine skirt. SpookyKisses has a pretty good selection of stuff and a few pages of lower end (size wise) plus size items for my fellow darkity dark dark types.



Also on the Ebay I FINALLY found a pair of plain black bootcut pants. I know right? Why was it so hard?



Not a great picture I snagged it from the auction and I'll take a better one when they get here. They are from Torrid of course. Speaking of Torrid I was really disappointed with their big sale yet again. Not one of the items I really wanted was available in my size. Looks like if I'm going to have a few particular pieces it'll have to be full price :(

I also picked up a pixie hem tunic that I can't find a picture of. How much you say? 39.99$ all together. Not bad.

OH I also hit Hot Topic and cruised their sale shoes and picked up the cutest mary janes.



So cute. Yes those are handcuffs. I got those for 10.99. Also I picked up some black with red athletic type stripe tube socks because we all know I am a cute sock whore. And a little black and red eyeshadow/liner pot. Hotness.

I almost bought these:



buuuut yeah. I really have my doubts that they'd fit and that company is so goddamn skeevy I just couldn't do it. So unless I magically absorb the ability to knit (my last attempt to learn how to knit resulted in me throwing needles, yarn, book across the room and bursting into tears) I will go without thigh high socks.

According to a poster from Fatshionista sometime after my unhappy post about thigh high socks, apparently it's not that they don't want to sell to us fat hammed folks but that nobody makes socks with a bigger top circumference of 23". And they have said they are going to have something that stretches to 26 by the fall.

Call me a cynic but I'm not holding my breath.

Or maybe I'm just that cranky. Actually yes I am.

Unfortunately I have no problem with knee socks in general. My calves are a little beefy but not real big. However I do and have always at almost every weight have/had big hams. Even at a size 5 I had some big ole muscly thighs. I've always had issues with things fitting around my ham.

Um what else?

OH I also went ahead and got two little things from Sephora so I could get my free big pimping bubbles too. I got a red lipstick and an empty portable sifter jar for my powder since the fucking BE one was 25$ goddamn dollars. Yeah no not gonna happen.

Also can I just admit right now that I fucking LOVE that Fleetwood Mac song Tusk. No Srsly I do. I can also admit that I went through a phase where I dressed like the bastard child of Stevie Nicks, Cyndi Lauper and probably death. No srsly. I did really and screw you I was hot in my fluttering layers of insanity and gauzy black.

I have to admit I'm having some real serious want to explore my more KinderWhore side. Probably with an infusion of Punk and or Pirate Loli. Yes that means I still have a total girl crush on Kate Bjelland.

Also part of this stems from my t to rock a look where in I look cute, yes loli ahh kawaii etc, but yeah like I'll fucking stab you in the neck. I feel that way most of the time however, expressing it visually is difficult because what always comes to mind is a doll with a butcher knife.

I know I know at least somebody is out there thinking, "Shannon really what the fuck is wrong with you?" I dunno man. I has a vision what can I say.

My head is so full of snot and disgruntlement that I can hardly think. I really should not have come to work today. I have a problem with that. I tend to not really acknowledge how sick I may or may not be. thus winding up sicker than i probably would've been. I will probably stay home tomorrow.

You can see my typing is degenerating.

And um.

Oh YAY Oro, Mr. Oro and the brand new (and still with that shiny baby smell( The Chieftain are well.

For fuck sake man I am running on fumes and rancor right now.

And to close out this is why I love my Cookie. Only she can say things like this to me and make me laugh so hard I fart. Cookie on my fashion sense lately-



What is your problem? Did you fall in some anime geek vortex that sucked out your fashion sense?


with that homo out.
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Wednesday, March 05, 2008

Black Beauty.

More beauty my darlings.

Ooookay so I've been test driving Happy Minerals oil control primer powder. I will say honestly I was a little skeptical however it has impressed me quite a bit.

First of all unlike a lot of small company minerals that I have tried the primer though stark white in color does not show up ashy at all on my face. In fact I would probably wear just it with a little other powder if I felt like it. Very impressive. I discovered that instead of putting it on with my fluffy face brush like this, I use a flocked type puff (the one that came with my Covergirl Compact) to put it on. I found that I get a more even type of coverage and I'm able to use a tiny bit extra in needed spots.

Now combined with my BE Bare minerals foundation in a mix of deep/deepest deep, and a good solid dusting with my new Sheer Cover brush (which by the way I wouldn't use to apply foundation) of my Fyrinnae oil control finishing powder and BAM skin looks like hot motherfucking brown sex. I still have to say that bar none the Fyrinnae powder is in the top five of loose powders I have ever used.

I know I keep beating this Fyrinnae drum but damn it I LOVE their products. Sadly the mineral foundation sample I got from them was way too dark however I will be buying more until I find my shade. I love them. They are sorta local and I would totally show up on their doorstep, make up less and let them experiment on me. Matter of fact when their site opens back up for shopping I am going to pick up some new shadows.

Moving on. I have also decided that I need a good full coverage lipstick in a classic brick red. Preferably on the darker end. And since it's almost my birthday I am tempted to splurge on something high end from Sephora so I can get my birthday bubbles too. Another reason to sign up for shit. I made an account there and I get free bubbles with any purchase. So I could buy an 8$ mascara and still get my fabulous bubbles.

I will tell you the truth I am a total whore with this sort of thing. I sign up for pretty much all the cosmetic companies I like, I get their newsletters and whatnots and I have a butt ton of samples sitting on my desk for that reason. It's fun and getting samples in the mail is good.

What else?

Also I am really about ready to start turning tricks for some thigh high socks that will be actually thigh high on my fat hams. This is Sock Dreams comment on "plus sized"


Plus sized: this is generally a larger version of the industry standard "one size" and is, unless otherwise stated, 1X. If you are a very large girl or man it may not cover you or your friends and for that we are sorry, we try very hard to stock larger sizes whenever possible, but you may want to seek a site or store that specializes in your special range.


So yeah in other words too bad so sad fat girl you don't get cool socks.

Ugh. I am so irritated I had to stop, write an entry for Fatshionista and now I'll wait to see if it gets posted. I'll link it when/if it does.


Victory here it is.


So yeah. I still want my damn socks.

And I'm spent.

Homo out.
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