Before I get to my rant today let me first say...
Oh my holy sexy...Mollena >posted a pic of Lance who is Mr. Powerhouse 2010 and holyomfg. You are most welcome for the eye candy. I don't know Lance but ahem...you sir are hotness on a fucking plate.
Now there are a lot of things in the world I am very passionate about. Things that make my heart pump, that fill me with rage etc.
However I have learned when and what bullshit I need to let roll off of my back without a lot of angst.
The fact is I have a finite amount of energy physically and emotionally and I quite frankly will not give things I think are bullshit a whole lot of my time or energy.
From recent news I don't give a flying fuck who John Mayer wants or doesn't want to stick his dick in. I really don't.
that said, I will say that things like that if I were a rabid 10-18 year old John Mayer fan would break my heart. I remember being very young and very impressionable and daydreaming about someone finding me hot. However there were not places I could look to see a lot of Black women being desirable or even held up as beautiful.
It hurt me at that age.
At that age I was not grown up to not give a fuck about whom anyone wanted to fuck. I was sometimes told by family etc that I was cute or that I'd grow up and be a heart breaker but I did not have a clue about when someone would find me sexy.
And no matter how you want to think it is, kids do think about these things.
It hurt me that when I started reading magazines I hardly ever saw anyone I could look at and think oh maybe I will look like her when I grow up.
Then I got older and I realized that the media has no bearing on actual life.
In all actuality despite all those years of taking in the knowledge that only thin, virginal but not too pure women are the only desirable types, that is not how my life turned out.
I think that perhaps instead of fighting the media so hard maybe if we collectively made sure that the folks who come up with these prevailing ideals hear that we don't give a fuck maybe these ideals would start looking a little more like real life.
On a body politic level I could give a fuck about what plus size model gets a spread.
I have worked pretty damn hard on establishing my own bounderies and figuring out that what magazines say and how magazines think things should be have no bearing on my actual life.
I think I started to figure this out around 16-17.
Then as now I devoured magazines. I read Bust, Sassy, Seventeen etc.
I noticed that even the "progressive" magazines all their happy stories and beautiful fashion were spent on people who looked essentially the same.
Yes sometimes Sassy would show a non white staffer (I vividly remember an issue with an adorable Asian lady in Docs and a floral print dress) but they were not fat. They did not appear to me to be poor.
They had nothing to do with where I was coming from or where I was going to.
I worked out that all the beauty tips I looked forward to reading because I was learning this stuff on my own was geared towards White women.
I worked out that I could never afford a lot of the things I saw.
At the time I still thought that well, if I can't be these other things I'll be thin but that led down a whole other path paved with bullshit and pain.
I wished that instead of going the immediate fight against the mainstream route I had someone to tell me that none of that stuff really mattered. I wish I'd had someone to teach me to take it with a grain of salt.
I think if I'd had that teaching, if I'd seen or heard it (at that time no internets for me) from someone I felt meant it, it could have maybe shortened the road to self love that I've been on.
Now I do get excited when I see a beautifully photographed editorial spread in a fashion magazine. I love beautiful fashion. I love tip offs on new beauty products and cosmetics but I have a huge bit o salt to take it all in with.
Further more for me size is a far lesser issue than economics are. I am still the working poor. For me buying something brand new from the store is a big damn deal.
And sometimes in the Fat Fashion Universe, my issue with dollars over size rears up in a way that is difficult for me to deal with on a personal gut level.
Occasionally I have to remind myself that my actuality is in fact okay while I'm cruising the Fatshionista flickr pool, or reading posts on the Fatshionista LJ and to tell you the truth even prior to deciding not to post Outfit pics there, I'd get that bad feeling in my gut. The one that a lot of Inbetweenies were trying to express when the size parameters at the Fatshionista LJ were made.
That bad, well you can look but you can't fully participate feeling.
That awful feeling of being left out and unwelcome.
(About that, please don't give me the Inbetweenies have their own space thing. That wasn't the point of a lot of the things folks were trying to say in my opinion and yes you can disagree with me here but do remember it's my sandbox.)
And please can we not call that feeling just butthurt? I don't think it is. I think it's the feeling you get when you become attached to a community whether it's online or in meat world time and suddenly you find yourself shunted into the position of an ally not a participant. Or a participant with restrictions.
That feeling sucks. And I think it's a disservice to people who were a minute ago your homies.
I am far more hurt deep down on a personal level by simple economics rather than being upset that I can't buy a pair of pants at some random store.
That is my bit of actuality.
I remember there was a post a long while back on the Fats community on LJ suggesting something about only featuring outfits with clothes from actual plus size stores. I remember I sat trying to comment for forty five minutes but I was so upset I just couldn't. I don't blame the original poster for my instant and lasting upset, I can't blame the original poster for my upset clouding my ability to communicate how classist I felt that was.
It took me way too long to get past my gut reaction of you can't play in this sandbox to root out the why of my instant foaming hurt.
To tell you folks the truth (confession time my homies) I stopped even wanting to participate for a little while after that and stopped reading the LJ community. It took me awhile to get myself sorted out.
All that said I still comment where applicable. If I can answer a question or give advice or opinion I do. And (bringing things back to my original point, gods but I digress) I have learned that I don't have to get worked up when things I see in my communities, or in magazines, or where ever does not have to impact my life if I decide it's not going to.
It's a hard thing.
It's hard but worth it to me.
Okay I should have busted this up into two posts but I was kinda on a roll there.
Yes it was kinda scattered my brains are a little scattered as well.
Tomorrow I have some advice for another Goth of Color (WOOOT) wherein I will discuss make up, dealing with assy relatives and I may include some bonus shots as me as a bebeh gawth. Also piggybacking on that question some words about dressing to ones taste on a wee tiny budget and having a big fat booty.
Also at some point this week I have a question to answer about how I feel about my position as an Inbetweenie in teh land o the fatties and how that impacts/impacted where I'm coming from and what I say about being the Dowager Empress of All Fatassia.
One last random ass random note.
I had fast food for the first time in probably six months or who knows how long and now my fucking tummy hurts.
I am going to preview the yoga DVD someone gave me now to see if I might be into it. I know I still fucking hate yoga but my knees hurt so I sacrifice.
After that I must remove my nine pounds of black eyeliner, bathe and make some sweet sweet love to my hair. Speaking of I leave you with my little hair video I made.
Ignore the above I'm fixing Technorati yo.