Thursday, July 29, 2010

My heart.

I just started reading Guerrilla Mama Medicine and something Mai’a said in this entry gave me pause and then made me sit here smiling like a loon.

If you've followed me for awhile you know that after the Seal Press debacle I finally decided (it was a long time in coming) that I do not want to self identify as a feminist any more.

I've gotten a lot of comments, emails, notes in my form questioning my stance on that and just about everything else I write about.

Just recently I had a few people send me notes via my form questioning the fact that I am still in the Fat feeds and why am not "really a FA blogger anymore" etc.

I was going to write up a big ole rant and then I read Mai'a's post (and I have to say I do love her name it makes my mouth happy to say) and I stopped what I was doing.

The fact is this is not a strictly anything but personal blog. This is my fucking litterbox.

The fact is, this blog is and always has been a slice of my thoughts. The things I talk about here are the things in my head and my brain is a mess of intersected ideas and issues.

Recently I've felt like maybe I should go back to being just another anonymous blogger but I don't have to.

Frankly if you don't like what I have to say keep stepping.

As I have said in the past I don't have to do fuck all but be Black and die.

So let's assume today's post isn't about you personally but it's about me. It's about me not putting some kind of bizarre pressure on myself to tackle issues and write in a way that is not natural to me.

I feel good.

I look back at all these years I've been blogging away, yammering about things and god damn it some people get it. I have helped some people and given some other people just that nice feeling that they aren't alone and that is beautiful. It makes me happy.

So if you don't think I should be among the FA bloggers, go talk to admins and whatnot because I'm not trying to hear it.

If you don't like fashion, sex, make up, randomness or whatever I've said don't take it up with me.

Okay that's all.

I have other writing to do.

I am not going to distrust my own heart.

Also trust your own hearts. Fuck what you heard you know best.

Homo Out.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

My Uterus and her liminal universe.

Buckle up I'm only going to give warning once.

Today I am going to be talking about menstruation. Blood, cramps, pussy and things so if you're at all squeamish skip it today.



So I just had quite possibly one of the worst periods I have ever had in my life. I have been menstruating for a touch over twenty years.

TWO decades.

Pretty much everything that can happen while menstrating happened and it was all bad.

My joints, back and hips were burning. I had huge cramps. I passed gigantic clots. I bled heavily. I had that sort of equilibrium fucking up type migraine, I got the speed guts. I wanted to both sob with absolute despair and murder everyone.

Holy shit.

I have never, ever in my life had a moment where I wanted to call in sick to work because of my fucking period. Not ever and it kind of fucked me up for a hot minute.

I have never had my body quite go there before. I have had some hellacious cramps, I have bled heavily but I have never had it all going on at once. I kept having this mental image of my Uterus as ring leader in some fucked up circus.

Moving it along.

I am a tampon lover and user.

I hate pads and only use them in emergencies.

And let's talk about the nine thousand variations of menstrual cups.

Like many other woman centric things, what we use to keep the menstrual mess to a minimum, or don't use can become hugely political and quite frankly all of the arguments piss me off.

I have seen women who normally get along and want to pump their fists for being feminists or just FUCK YEAH WOMEN, I have seen these women attack each other for making choices regarding their own genitalia and comfort way more often than I care for.

There are pros and cons to every method of dealing with your period from ignoring it, to taking birth control to change your cycle etc etc.

In my life I have tried many many different ways of dealing with menstrual blood.

I went through a free bleeding phase and ruled that out due to mess and not being able to just stay home. I also never bled light enough for it not to be an issue.

I was forced to use pads for a long time. And I hated them. I hate them still. I hate the feeling, I hate my ladyjunk being all squashed, I hate that the fabric often pulls out my pubic hair or causes my labia to chafe. Do. Not. Fucking. Want.

I tried the period reducing birth control. I learned that a.)doctors are not always more right than 90% of the bio-women in my family and b.) screwing around with my hormones even a little bit causes the entire Liminal Shannonverse to implode and I go insane.

So then I went back to my trusted and beloved tampons until a girlfriend (as in the we were sexin each other type of girlfriend) introduced me to menstrual cups.

Perhaps it is because I'm a little obsessive about doing Kegals and always have been, maybe my vagina is in fact a sentient being, or my vagina is just not shaped for cup comfort but holy wow the menstrual cup thing was a mega fail.

I tried different brands, different sizes, I tried cutting a stem off here and there, I tried repositioning. I tried having the girlfriend help me get it in place and no.

My cunt rejected that shit out right.

My cervix said bitch please.

The walls of my pussy said bitch please.


Now normally when I am on my period my crotch in general is sore. Not the awesome I had some good lovin' kind of sore but the unpleasant someone has their foot on my cunt kind of sore and cups did not work well for this.

Years went by.

I tried again and had the same experience. Now the second time around I thought there was just something wrong with my vagina and I went to my gyno who told me that it's not that big a deal. Do what makes me comfortable.

Stop for a second.

I think this message is one that needs to be repeated to everyone who talks about womens health.

Do what makes you feel comfortable.

This is where I tend to feel a huge disconnect within woman centric spaces.

Feminists, Womanists, Humanists etc this is what we need to agree upon.

What makes my ladyarea happy may not be what makes yours happy and that is just fine. Me choosing to use tampons does not give anyone free reign to be pissed off. M

My pussy doesn't belong to you or anyone else so if you want to take issue with what I do with it, keep it to your goddamn self.

Now that's it.

I'm done bleeding for the month thank you Uterus for your performance, you are Queen Bitch Empress of your entire universe and I'm sorry I ever doubted you.

Whether or not you have a vagina, do remember that it's not your place to decide what happens in or around other vaginas.

Homo Out.

Monday, July 26, 2010

My body my enemy?

For a long time I viewed my body as my absolute enemy.

It started with Superman. When I was a little kid I wanted to grow up to be Superman. I knew without a doubt that when I went through that whole puberty deal, I would grow a penis and then go on to grow up and be Superman.

I knew this without a doubt.

At some point, someone convinced me that no this wouldn't happen and I was absolutely devastated. I was heart broken.

I recall laying in bed trying to go to sleep but laying there seething. I very suddenly resented my body for doing things without my permission. That's the kind of kid I was (am).

That set a precedent for me and my relationship with my body.

I have spent more time battling my body because it does things I don't approve of rather than fighting how my body looks.

Looking back I see the cycle where my own body shame starts and flowers if I am not vigilant against it.

When I find I am unable to physically do something I think I should be able to that is when I get angry. I get angry, I direct that anger at myself to being unable to do X thing, I feel shame, that makes me angry rinse fucking repeat.

I think that in the way that children can (if they are not overly messed with) I at some point just accepted that I was never going to look like everyone else. Being the only Black child in my classes in elementary school etc played a huge part in that.

I couldn't say why or how it was that I came to accept this as just being something that was there and that I didn't really need to spend time worrying about but there you have it.

So when I can't do something, that's when the shit hits the fan.

When my self esteem does take a dive based on appearance or size, it's more difficult for me to deal with it than it is when I just can't do something.

For me it's difficult to parse those shitty thoughts with my own core values. Thus I feel guilty and then I get angry and then, well rinse fucking repeat.

Acceptance has helped me in a huge way.

Once I really dissected the idea of simply accepting certain things, getting over those hurts or at least processing them and moving past them has gotten easier.

There was a time that an entry like my previous one would've sent me off running into hiding out of shame and embarrassment. I would have dwelt on it and stewed and ultimately suffered more because I wouldn't have been able to either share those feelings or accept that I was having them and move towards dealing with them.

So I will say without reservation that learning how to accept it when I (insert thing here) and to not judge myself for it or punish myself but feel it, experience, deal with it has become the back bone of my self esteem.

All the sparkly make up, fancy clothes and beautiful shoes in the world would not really change that and I'm thankful for that.

So now I'm 33 and I'm not upset I won't grow up to be a big strong man, and I'm not upset that I can't change my physical gender as easily as changing underpants (another thing I took serious issue with as a child, whole other entry though), I am not upset that my body is not the sort of body that is easily clothed in a manner I find appealing. I am upset that the options for clothing my particular body in a manner I find appealing seem to be diminishing but, I can deal.

I can deal with it.


So tomorrow, talk about corsetry, costumes, finding a hot ass Fat man size suit for Uniballer and possibly some other stuff.

Homo Out.

I will probably also do an entry about aging and how my menstrual cycle has done gone crazy as well with bonus medical commentary.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Alt beauty & emo confession of sorts.

More about my own femmeness, beauty ideas etc today.

For our purposes today I'll be using the words mainstream and alt a lot. When I say mainstream what I'm talking about are images or ideas that are everywhere. Beauty magazines, commercials, TV etc etc. I don't think there's something wrong with mainstream beauty it's just not to my taste.

When I say Alt. I mean as in outside of the mainstream.

This may or may not continue as a critique of the whole Alt thing I am not sure yet.

However what I do want to talk about some is how Alt beauty and culture has become an integral part of my own femme identity and presentation despite the fact that I have often not felt entirely at home in that culture.

(Interjection, at some point below this turned into an emo confessional. I'm not sure why or what started it but feel free to skip it if you're not into it. I think I just needed to get it out.)

At some point in my late teens/early twenties I started to become aware of beauty images that were not the ones. I started to find images from the Alt. Beauty scene and I loved them.

I remember buying the first issue of Gothic Beauty. I started seeing models with tattoos and crazy hair. I remember reading the print version of Blueblood (link totes NSFW) and I was excited.

I was excited because finally there were images I looked at and thought yes, YES this is awesome.

i started really consciously developing a style I enjoyed.

However as I got older I realized I was ignoring a huge thing.

Like a lot of the other things I have been interested in for years, I've often had to turn a blind eye to the fact that I'm often (Less so now but back then holy shit) hard pressed to find people of color or fat people.

To paraphrase a recent sometimes alt isn't so alt.

You'd be amazed how difficult it can be to really come to terms with what the things you love and that helped form you are lacking.

For a few years in my mid-twenties I pretty much lost all hope and gave up my love of Alt anything. I think I had hit a wall where I felt very deeply that there was no place for me.

I couldn't afford the clothes, I didn't really have the time or sewing skills to make fancy things and often when I could afford to buy a nice piece of clothing, I was just too fat. And back then, "too fat" was about a size 10. I felt like I needed to divorce myself from my own love of these things, just so I didn't have that gross feeling of not belonging.

I started to figure out that like my attitude with mainstream anything, I needed to temper my love of all things alt with the knowledge that, yes it might be "alternative" but not that alternative. I also had to let go of a lot of my anger about that because there's just not that much I could do about it then or now.

So cut to just lately.

I haven't been super social since Uniballer and I moved from north Seattle down south into the hood/burbs depending on what street your on.

I also (I feel strangely embarrassed) don't honestly own any club wear.



Okay let me pause for a second here and say that I feel like I'm going there with the emo. So buckle up.

To continue. At one time Uniballer was really ill and in the hospital for weeks while we were moving and to facilitate moving I sold all my fancy clothes. All of them.

Since then we are in a more stable position and I have wanted to be social (something I have Sarah to thank for because even though we have not meatspace hugged as of yet, she invites me to things) and I've been trying to find clothes.

I have searched and searched and searched and am finding that I am essentially shit out of luck. 90% of the links to supposed plus size goth clothing are either things like tshirts, stripper clothes or so expensive there is no way unless I bought ONE thing every three months I could afford.

The other night, I had this awful moment of weird shame that took me over.

I sat there at home and had the thought, that of course I couldn't find something nice and affordable to wear that's what I get for being fat.

Holy fucking shit I was sideswiped.

I did. I had that moment and it was awful.

I felt awful not just for the pain of that whole thought process but I felt like some kind of fake ass faker.

I feel better.

I decided that instead of searching high and low and then feeling guilty for not being able to support indie designers etc (because I'm sized out or priced out) I'm going to do like I did when I was young and broke.

A.) I'm not going to get into some kind of fucked up loop of self hate. NO fuck that.

B.) I'm going to go slow and get things I love and that fit me as I am. Fuck trying to harmfully change my body to fit someone else's clothes. Fuck. That.

C.) I'm not going to be so weird and closeted when I feel my self esteem taking a nose dive. I'm going to be nice to myself because I'm human and thus not impermeable.

Okay catharsis achieved.

Um, I think I've gone on long enough and I'm kind of emotionally spent. So tomorrow, I'm going to show you guys with links and whatnot how I am building a little bit of a club wear wardrobe piece by piece.

Homo Out.

Monday, July 19, 2010

Some words for Clutch Magazine.

This article was brought to my attention this morning over on LJ in the Blackfolks community.

Before I take the author to task let me talk about this magazine.

I heard about Clutch a few months ago and read it every now and then. However I'm not really their target audience and it quite frankly does not speak to me.

Let me quote their manifesto:

Our Manifesto

* Smart is always sexy…
* Do it for yourself not someone else…
* Research is the key to a successful purchase…
* A girl should never leave home without her compact…
* Don’t be afraid to mix styles and colors…
* If he’s not into you…good…his loss
* Living and learning are life’s best teachers
* We dig men who recognize a mean shoe game..
* Staying involved in your community is essential…
* Diversity is what makes the world go round…
* Don’t date losers…pass them along to your enemies…
* The library is the hangout…
* Appearance is important…
* We live for good music and online shopping…
* We lead they follow…

Now personally I find a lot of this problematic. This magazine is clearly dug into a very heterosexual, their several mentions of appearance and consumerism are clearly not entirely my cuppa.

But let's focus for the moment on two key points in their manifesto:

* Smart is always sexy…


* Diversity is what makes the world go round…

As far as editorial decisions go, putting up this article without a counter point from a Queer point of view or even passing the article by someone queer was a huge mistake.

Now as for the article itself.

First of all I take issue with the way the whole "Down Low" phenomenon is handled in this article. Like all of the rest of the coverage there is all too frequently a not so subtle scare tactic.

(The following line was removed by the editors from the original article but it illustrates my point well.)

osing as ordinary women, not the stripper in the club or private escort on Craigslist who generally identify as “Bi,” DL sistas are all around us in everyday common places. She sits in the cubicle next to you at work, and her daily conversation revolves around men.

Unfortunately all too often in the Black community there is still this Pink Menace kind of attitude, as if the Homos are out to get you, don't catch the gay off of the lesbian next to you.

I have yet to see any coverage of the down low that is aimed at straight people that does not give into this fear mongering culture that prepetuates people being on the down low.

To understand how the manner in which DL relationships/people on the DL perpetuates the phenomena in a dangerous manner you have to understand that in the Black community by and large there is a lot of posturing that whomever is accepted but the truth is much of the time they are not.

As a young person of color in many areas of life in the US you are already a target, you're already an enemy.

For instance if you are a young black man, you are already in many places a person of suspicion and whether people want to believe it or not this is an extremely hard thing to live with on a daily basis.

If you are also a young queer person there are so many homophobic people in the community, what choice do you have realistically speaking?

The rates of homelessness (which I will get to in a second), drug use and suicide among young queer POC is staggering.

I have witnessed a kind of hateful evil in the Black Community where I have seen Mothers who are supposed to be (as children) our last line of defense, say that they wouldn't speak to their openly gay children, that as someone put it their kid could be gay but never EVER speak about their life or relationships to them.

This was not thirty years ago, this has been in the last few years.

Now if you are faced with being ostracized not only by your peers, by your family (both extended and close) what would you do?

The article closes with this statement which after the hateful ignorance spewed within the article I'm frankly shocked at the audacity of the author to have said:

Sistas, don’t let a few minutes of pleasure turn into a lifetime of pain. Dare to be truthful.

Are you kidding me?

Black women do not need further othering.

Unabashedly, these sistas practice deceitful behavior in the same manner as their male counterparts as though it’s acceptable, showing no respect for themselves or anyone else. The misconception that female-on-female action is every man’s fantasy could be a contributing factor but that’s not a valid excuse, as not all men share or will agree with such desires. Some men perceive DL sistas as confused individuals and prefer to date only straight women, steering clear of the unnecessary drama.

Aside from the atrocious overuse of the vernacular "sista", how can this person be doing any service to anyone with this kind of attitude?

If straight people especially in the Black community are so concerned with the more nefarious problems associated with a "down low" lifestyle this is not the way to start to rectify that.

The first thing we need to do as a community is make sure that those people who would in fact cast out anyone queer are admonished. I don't care whether it's a community leader saying it is absolutely wrong to kick out your child for being queer, or if it is a church who says we will not put our children in more danger because we are afraid, or if it's publications like Clutch taking a stand and not printing this kind of homophobic trash.

So let me start okay?

If you are the type of parent who would throw a child out of your house for being queer, you know what you're a shitty parent and a shitty person.

If you have that little compassion for your own children and therefor contribute to the problem of people being terrified to be out of the closet, I expect little of you in terms of being a decent human being.

If you are the type of person who is part of the problem of a DL lifestyle in that you help make it not only dangerous but psychologically difficult to be an out and proud queer person in the Black Community, I question your humanity.

If a publication like Clutch does in fact believe in the tenets put forth in their manifesto, tap into the vast Queer women of color pool and find some information that could actually help someone.

If you insist on publishing an article like this from a heteronormative perspective, try expecting more from your authors. Research, interviews or even some basic human decency.

Readers, whether your a POC or not, straight or queer I encourage you to let Clutch know how you feel about this nonsense.

Contact the editors here:
Editorial-Related Comments & Questions

Now that I've spent my angry I'm going to make some tea and perhaps update my Homosexual Agenda to include not helping Clutch succeed.

Scuse me.

Homo Out.

Friday, July 16, 2010

A few bits and pieces.

So earlier today someone said I was "sassy".

I know this lady doesn't know me personally and yet it took a shit load of self control not to start yelling in her face.

American culture has ruined the word sassy for me. Here is the Webster's definition-

dj. sas·si·er , sas·si·est

1. Rude and disrespectful; impudent.
2. Lively and spirited; jaunty.
3. Stylish; chic: a sassy little hat.

Now I will venture to guess that she didn't mean rude or impudent. She had a You Go Girl kind of tone (don't get me started on that phrase, suffice to say do not fucking say that to me please PLEASE it makes me crabby), and she was smiling.

To understand where I'm coming from have a look at this link at TV Tropes about the Sassy Black Woman.

It's exhausting honestly.

So as a PSA, please don't ever say I am sassy.

If I say something smart say it's smart, if it's funny feel free to call me a funny mother fucker, just don't say sassy.

Next up a few mini questions from my Ask Nudiemuse Form.

b1ade would like to know
(Slightly edited)btw forgive my ignorance but what does you not having a gf have to do with you growing them?

This from a post a few weeks ago where I put up a pic of my nails.

Well darling the fact is outside of mainstream porn if two vagina having people are having sex it makes a lot of sexual enjoyment way easier.

And let me insert some vagina lover of any ilk advice here.

If you are going to be doing it with someone who has a vagina, and that doing it may or may not involve putting your fingers in or near their vagina get a manicure or give yourself one.

Both the labia majora and minora can have very sensitive, tender skin and even small scratches will hurt like a bastard later. From experience I can tell you that not knowing you have a tiny scratch on your vulva until you pee or wash really fucking sucks.

If you don't want to get your nails did, keep a nail file handy and file away any snags. If you want to test out your nails, run your fingers along the inside of your lip by your teeth. If you have any snaggable bits, you'll feel it and you can fix it.

Next question comes from a new homie (YAY everyone say OH HI NEW HOMIE) and he would like to know about getting a tattoo as a person of color. OH YAY.

Okay buckle up.

If you are a brown person of whatever shade of brown there are some concerns I recommend speaking to your tattoo artist before you get inked.

#1 if you are prone to keloid type scarring you need to discuss this with your tattooist. How might your tattoo change? If you keloid say on your arms what about getting a tattoo in another spot? Know your body people.

#2 Colors will show up on your skin differently. Generally speaking the darker you are, a lot of colors may bleed or be somewhat invisible. Now from a consumer perspective I have seen dark skinned folks (probably a few shades darker than me up to really really dark) be able to utilize color but the artist needs to choose those colors carefully and, blend them carefully. Also in my personal opinon white and other light light colors look amazing on darker skin if they are done well and you don't bleed out the color.

#3 Most important, if you are going to get inked you (this is for everyone) you have to be comfortable with this person.

Also remember that tattoo artists often have a network of other artists to talk to. I encourage you to create a relationship with your artist and if you feel good encourage them if you are maybe their first client of color, to talk to other artists etc.

Randomly after a little google search there are some special color inks available for darker skin. This is pretty fucking awesome.

Someone else asked about stretch marks.

I would say that getting a tattoo over stretch marks will depend on what kind of stretch marks you have, the texture of the skin on them etc. THat is absolutely something to talk to your artist about as your stretch marks may differ from mine you know?

Now if you want to try and smooth out your stretch marks as much as you can try buying one of those cheap cheap sticks of pure cocoa butter and rub it on your areas. Also protip: stretchmarks happen when your skin loses elasticity for whatever reason.

Weight gain, weight loss etc.

If you find your weight is changing, take it as an extra reason to keep your skin well moisturized. I've seen lately that a lot of good heavy moisturizers (which I need my skin is awfully dry) can be had for not a lot of money.

Um, okay I think that's all.

I've been at work for seven goddamn hours and only now thought to eat. I'm awesome.

Have a fantastic weekend my homies and haters.

Homo Out.

People do the sex with the fatties?!!1??

I was informed recently by a very concerned party via my form that I apparently don't understand a few key issues for Fat Haters.

Number one is that well Fat Haters (I'm using this persons term) have delicate sensibilities. If they are confronted with bodies they don't approve of they will be in distress.

Number two, "obvs no one wants to fuck a fat bich,"


Okay as for issue number one as I have said time and again, nobody wants your damn approval. The fact is my Perfect Friend that unless said fatass is trying to tap your ass, most likely how you feel about their fat ass is a non issue.

I know that's hard to take.

I know it's a terribly hard thing to realize that maybe you aren't really the center of the universe or the ONE TRUE KNOWER OF THINGS.

It's hard.

Now, we all know I am no researcher but given the number of fatties I know personally who spend a whole lot of time doing the sex, and then there's all those other fatties out there who are partnered or sex workers etc etc.

I hate to break it to you but yes, terribly concerned Anon, lots of people do in fact want to make sweet sweet love with fat people.

Stop clutching your pearls, take a deep breath it's going to be okay.

I'll make it up to you by telling you, that you in all your (of course) thin taut perfection don't have to fuck a fatty.

No really you don't have to.

Find yourself a thin taut perfect person, get naked and commence to screwing the nasty out of each other.

I think that would be great.

I think it's pretty fucking awesome that we humans have such a wide variety of other humans with whom we might want to get naked.

One of the beautiful things about Fat Acceptance or any other body politics movement is that you wanting to fuck us isn't the point. Nobody really cares except for the people you may or may not want to screw.

All we want is to put an end to things that are unjust. Unjust as in serious issues like mistreatment by the medical professionals whose hands we put our lives in. Unjust as in being treated as less than because people like you don't want to fuck us. Unjust as in subject to being demonized and dehumanized.

So the point here is, I don't care if you don't want to fuck a fatty. That's great. That's awesome.

Just please feel free to use one of my personal guiding ideas in life

Don't be a dick, be a Richard.

Or just don't be a douche about it and everything will be just fine.

Homo Out.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Roadmaps in skin.

You may or may not be aware dear reader but I am a huge lover of body modification in many many forms.

I have had a lot of piercings over the years, currently I'm down to my lip ring and shrunken holes in my ears.

I have two tattoos that look like one piece. My (I know this term is terrible but I just LOVE saying it about my own piece) tramp stamp is awesome.

I also plan to be one tattooed up little old lady at some point. I'm talking full sleeves, back piece, I have some doodlings I want on my legs. A shit load of tattoos.

I do really love tattoos.

I've been into tattoos since I was about 13-14 years old, as in into the serious artistry and history of tattooing etc.

By the time I was old enough to do things like buy tattoo magazines and dip my toes in body mod culture beyond reading about it in books, I saw a pattern.

Every magazine had pages of thin white cis-gendered women with (sometimes) really great work and some few guys, but all White thin people. Except for the occasional fat man but that's a whole other topic.

As I said in my entry about femmeness here, there is not a damn thing wrong with thin White cisgendered women. Nothing.

Now yes I was a very naive kid (remember please I was 17-19ish) but I had hung a lot of hope on the idea that an "alternative" crowd would be more diverse.

I thought I would see a microcosm of the regular world, all shapes and sizes and whatnot. I had a Utopian image in my head that was just not really supported.

It took me awhile to make peace with this.

I still haven't made entire peace with it if you want to know the truth.

When my experience of modded people started to broaden in my early 20's when I finally got on the internets, I had that same sense of disappointment.

I didn't know how to navigate this supposedly Alternative world as a Fat Black Woman.

Sometimes just between you and me I still don't.

Now fast foward to about five years ago.

See I had kind of given up the idea that I could fulfill my dream about being an Old Fat Black tattooed as fuck lady. I thought that I was too fat and as so many people have said it just wouldn't "look" right.

I had a wake up moment.

I realized that no one else dictates to me what I wear, no one dictates to me how I wear my hair or anything like that. Why would I let the opinions of some people, most of whom will never lay eyes on me tell me that I was too fat to want to be so tattooed.

Well fuckaduck.

I also have to give some major props to the Fatshionista LJ community because I have seen some of the most beautiful tattoo work. I've seen beautiful tattooed big fat bellies, I've seen fat rolls with intricate and beautiful color, I've seen that well yes, if I find the right artist my dreams will come the fuck true.

So just to reiterate here, I can do what the fuck ever I want with my ass.


Yes I had to yell, it bears yelling.

Holy. Shit.

It amazes me that it took me almost a fucking decade to extend to myself the kind of freedom and right to be who I am that I give the whole rest of the world.

Sound familiar?

How many of us fat people will give all the love and props and whatnot to every other fattie in the universe except for ourselves?

How many times have you caught yourself looking at a picture of some fabulously decked out fattie and thought, oh wow look what X can get away with. I wish I could get away with that.

Fact is my darlings, you absolutely can.

Changing your outside is not always the yellow brick road to total aesthetic freedom.

If you don't believe that you are awesome enough to merit a shitload of tattoos, or red lipstick or kick ass shoes now, chances are you won't believe it 20 pounds from now or seven dress sizes from now.

Not to mention, if you spend all this time like I did pining and wishing, look at all that time you wasted.

I wish I would have pulled my head out of my butt years ago and I'd be way further along on my road to Old Fat Black lady with a fuckload of tattoos.

To quote the Joker, Y SO SRS?

Fuck it.

If someone decides that you are not awesome or cool enough for whatever thing it is that your wee heart desires, fuck em.


Fuck em if they can't take a joke.

Fuck em if they can't take your awesomeness.

Now with all that said.

The next tattoo I want has to do with some of my spiritual beliefs/other really complicated things in my brain and happens to be a word in Old Norse.

So show and tell darlings.

Show me your tattoos, show me your mods. Share your favorite artists, show me the thing that is really fucking awesome that you absolutely are awesome enough to rock.

Bring it.

Homo Out.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Returning from the crisis.

If you've been playing along lately I've been having some don't be an asshole to self issues lately.

Now I want to quote Marianne (again I know shut up I kinda love her):

When we talk about self care, that’s always part of the context for me – this concept that so many people have put it off and put it off until they are in kind of crisis over it. If I don’t watch out, and consciously make myself take care of things, this happens to me. It’s such an easy pattern of benign neglect.

I've been thinking a lot about self care lately and what it means for me and I have had a few AHA moments, along with soem um..WTF I KNEW THAT moments.

I'm learning more as I get older that self care and self esteem go hand in hand for me. And when my ways of caring for myself fall off I start to show cracks.

I have to admit something to you guys.

When it comes to my self esteem and self image the majority of moments that make me feel bad come from a deeply rooted doubt about my brain power.

If you've read me for a while I've mentioned off and on doing an etsy store with nice shawls, scarves etc and maybe branching out into hair dodads and stuff.

This hasn't happened because I don't want to or because I can't. I have lost faith that I can do something like that successfully.

I don't know why (yeah I can't afford therapy right now) but I have a huge weakness in that I will not keep faith in myself.

I have a dread fear of mediocrity or worse being ignorant and unable to do anything about it.

So my friends my self esteem is not bullet proof.

And part of me self caring needs to involve re-learning how to be brave enough to maybe fail or feel stupid.

It's really fucking hard.

Furthermore I haven't been blogging as regularly as usual because I've had somewhat of a crises of (yes again) faith.

I've felt out of sorts and out of place.

I've felt like I keep yammering and it's inconsequential and thus I should shut my yap.

I'm making myself stop that.

I'm making myself go ahead with plans for a grown up author website, I'm going to keep making my little crafty things and have a fucking store. Even if I never make a dime I will do it because I want to know if I can.

For some reason now that I'm in my 30's I've suddenly grown this fear shell of some sort. I'm afraid to royally fuck anything up. I'm afraid to put myself into the big world (as in my author site) because I'm not a novelist, I'm not a "name" blogger, I'm not famous.

And then that little voice in my head, we'll call it the Punk Rock Fuck you voice, starts muttering and then yelling WHO GIVES A FUCK DO IT.

To bring things back to Marianne's quote up there.

I'm in a bit of a crisis personally speaking.

I need to regain my Fuck You stance,

I need to look in the mirror and say, "Bitch please."

So that's where I'm at and where I've been.

Expect some more regular type blogging from me. More sex talk, more fat sex talk, more glitter, more ass and more awesome.

I know it's in here, I just have to reach in and find it again. So basically I'm saying in my usual long winded way, I'm coming back from the crisis. And I have a lot of you to thank for your encouragement and kind words. I may not always make it clear but it does mean a whole fucking lot to me.

And I love you my homies and haters. I really do.

Homo out.

PS..while you still can don't forget you can download a free tiny collection of short fiction from me. (That whole system is getting revamped when I open my author site as will the essay page and remember please please if you do buy an essay click the return to merchant button after you pay so you can get your download on.)

Tuesday, July 06, 2010

Clothes and whatnot.

Okay first of all I have to quote Marianne today because she wrote something that I could have written myself.

But I know myself and here’s what would happen: I would have every INTENTION of spending fun money on clothes and then I’d be terrified I’d never have money again and not spend it on clothes because clothes are frivolous.

In her entry she talks about fantasy shopping, I do it constantly although I'm trying to stop because I upset myself.

Let me show you right quick a couple of things I am in love with right now.

This one is an outfit I"ve been jonesing for.

Now all together it doesn't seem like something unreasonable but I agonize over the idea of spending what is it 20$ on a tank top that's done when I order it by someone I'm pretty into.

For me the issue is convoluted and deeply seated.

First off I've been poor most of my life. I have in many instances absolutely had to hold onto things until they were unwearable or unusable because I wasn't sure when I'd get another.

A huge part of my fantasy shopping habit is that I often don't feel like I deserve to be wanting or buying nice things when say the phone bill is due or I'm maybe afraid my partners food stamps won't last through the month.

You guys have no idea how I behave when it comes time to buy things.

For instance someone donated (and thank you so much again) and I agonized for three fucking days about spending 8 dollars on some sparkly glittery shoes on Ebay.

Three days.

Three days worrying myself into indigestion.

This is embarrassing. I'm still working on being nicer to myself when I have issues. If I could afford therapy this would probably be a huge thing.

I remember like Marianne that I started fantasy shopping at a really young age. The first time probably around 7-8th grade. My titty fairy had visited and visited and visited and age appropriate clothing did not fit me. (Read about that here)

While I like Marianne went through the JCPenny catalog salivating over outfits and things I wanted to put together most often because I was so ashamed of my body and felt at fault for how it had grown and because my parents didn't have a whole lot of money I did most of my shopping at Kmart. What I always considered the old lady section.

Even when my parents could have afforded things I liked I refused and I felt horrible.

Even after my breast reduction I often told myself that I shouldn't want whatever thing because I was fat or because I didn't deserve it etc etc.

Fast forward all these years and I still struggle with those feelings.

And as I mentioned now it involves more that I tend to feel like I just shouldn't. I shouldn't buy new shoes (even though what I have hurts my feet or doesn't fit right) because there are bills to pay or because what if I need that money for X situation.

It's hard.

It's hard on my partner Uniballer because when I'm in the middle of this particular downward spiral I feel so embarrassed and ashamed that I'm so upset over something that I think should be trivial I can't articulate what's wrong.

It's infuriating to deal with and I try really hard to settle down and get through it.

These days I'm getting better. I'm getting better at treating myself the way I tell you folks to treat yourselves.

It's difficult.

So when I'm yammering about side hustles etc, this is why. It's because I keep thinking if I can just make whatever extra little bit of money I won't feel so bad when I want to buy something shiny.

I'm going to try really hard to be nicer to myself about these things and use my fantasy shopping for good rather than just to have one more thing to be an asshole to myself about.

In less angsty news on the advice of grown up authors, I'm going to make a real author grown up site that is entirely separate from the blog experience here. I will eventually have my free fiction collection and the downloadable/buyable essays there.

I will probably post a form type thing when I'm ready so I can link to my homies. I'll also do a couple of little banners and whatnot.

I think that's it for today my friends. Day job calls.

Remember my darlings. Be nice to yourselves, life sucks when you aren't.

Homo Out.

Friday, July 02, 2010

Cherchez la femme

Consider this a confession and a love letter to my fellow queers.

Now so we're all on the same page here are my terms.

Queer- whatever flavor of not heterosexual or asexual. For simplicity I'm not going to use every label I can think of because I don't feel like it.

Femme- used here today to describe my own presentation and for simplicitys sake, we'll use this meaning from Merriam-Webster.
a lesbian who is notably or stereotypically feminine in appearance and manner

I'm not strictly lesbian but yeah.


So usually a few times a year I go through and clear out my feed reader and whatever other of that sort of thing. I found myself yesterday unsubscribing from a number of Queer Femme oriented spaces, blogs etc.

Every now and then I go through this series of emotions and frankly I'm feeling too old and too tired.

Just lately it's been being tired of seeing the same cis-gendered thin white women as the icons and paragons of femme.

Now when someone presents something to me as being subversive and supposedly shocking or going against some grain especially when it comes to beauty standards and they proceed to show me the same shit that is every where else but trying to show it through a lusty queer gaze it does not move me.

As a woman of color I've felt like this since I was a teenager.

I remember one of the first times I spoke up a friend of mine was in college and putting together a collage thingy for a presentation in one of her classes. Her theme was queer femininity and while we were talking about it I felt uncomfortable in a way I couldn't quite put my finger on.

At some point it dawned on me that every idea and image she used as being this subversive oh HAY look what the queers can do was pretty much the same that you might find as mainstream images of femininity.

I didn't (and don't know) take issue with using the "norm" as these images it's the presentation.

Don't tell me how subversive and alternative you are if well you're just not.

Putting the words queer or femme on something does not make it instantly outside of the mainstream.

Is there anything wrong with cis-gendered thin white femme folks? Not a damn thing.

What's wrong here (and what bothers me about so many of the spaces where I feel like I'm supposed to be like "YAY FEMMES" and I'm more like "oh....") is that if you're going to tout yourself as some kind of alternative, have some alternative there.

Or if you want to host or lead one of these spaces think about your wording.

Instead of YEAH THESE ARE FEMMES! Why not be honest and say, YEAH THESE ARE THE FEMMES I AM INTO!

It's a subtle difference but it's an important one to me.

In my heart and outside of my activist rawr brain, it hurts my feelings.

It hurts my feelings to feel entirely invisible and powerless when confronted with the hugeness of this and the knowlege that while yes I exist, the people who are doing these things don't see me in any real way.

Naturally there are often lip service paid to this issue.

If you've read me for awhile you'll know that I've had the same criticisms of a lot of Alt and Fetish photography.

At some point it seems dumb to me that for something that's supposed to be Alternative or outside of the norm, there are yards more of cis-gendered thin white women.

Sometimes I've gotten angry about these things but as I get older I just get tired and feel hurt.

This is why when I first heard of things like The Real L Word for a second I was all "SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE LESBIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANS" then I watched erection flagged.

I have had to make the decision that rather than trying to be supportive and have some sense of solidarity with people who frankly I clearly have nothing in common with I just won't.

So if I unsubscribed from your blog, if I stop reading you it's nothing really personal I have made the decision that if I'm going to take in images and words for my own pleasure, I'd rather find things that fit less with the mainstream ideas about femininity and find some that speak to me.

In a minor health note.

Some of you sweethearts have inquired about my health and it floors me that so many people care.

I'm not in dire health straights or anything. I'm having a particularly hard time with not just regular insomnia but a couple of my other actual diagnosed sleep disorders. And when I sleep this little/badly I get worse migraines. I get worse migraines I can't sleep blablabla.

I've been dragging my feet about finding a new doctor, honestly the one I want to go to is just not located in a good spot but it's to the point I may be willing to take actual sedatives despite my hatred of them just so I can get some real restful sleep.

The sleep thing has been declining since early May/late April-ish and yeah.

I'm basically okay except that this level of exhaustion makes me extra crazy.

And yes I say crazy because I do in fact have actual crazy!brain and yeah.

I'm at a bit of a crossroads and I'm not certain how I'm going to handle this particular roadbump.

So yeah.

There we go.

Now my darlings it's a holiday weekend here in the US and Uniballer and I have some cash so there are going to be cupcakes and possibly thrifting.

I love you guys and thank you for coming here and being awesome.

Homo Out.

Thursday, July 01, 2010

Bitch please.

Today will not bring you decorous language nor will it bring you reasonable language.

Hence the title there.

There are times when it is most excellent to be reasonable and polite in how you talk to people. There are times when you can say something with nary an fbomb dropped and frankly there are times when it's time to let it out.

And today my beautiful darlings is one of those days.

Earlier today I was confronted vie email for not only having no interest in an (fucking facebook) acquaintances "Biggest Loser" thing she wants to start, I also (and let me toot my own horn here, despite exhaustion and migraine anger I was polite, educational and everything) refuted her entire reasoning etc I got a series of butthurt responses to which I could only answer bitch please.

In a nutshell her tactics after my first no thanks, were as follows. Not verbatim but close enough.

"But don't you want to be sexy for your man?"

"Don't you want to have a bikini body?"

You get the drift here.

Being that this person is a friend of a friend I politely informed her that I a.) don't subscribe to the idea that it's at all in my best interest to lose weight by any means. b.) Her approach is insulting. c.)No thank you.

After another email I explained that I feel like insisting that women conform to a single standard of "hotness" is absolutely dis-empowering and her using empowerment based language offends the fuck out of me.

Again she gave me more reasons to join up and finally I lost patience and responded to her back handed complimenting as follow, verbatim.

Bitch please.

There is nothing she (or anyone else at this point in time) can tell me along the theme that I must change myself in order to be loved or wanted that is going to make me do it.

Now she claimed that just because a "few people" read my blog that doesn't mean that I should be so content to which I say, bitch please.

The fact is that the more bullshit I have shed like itchy skin, the freer I've felt, the easier it's been to love myself and ultimately to love other people.

Fancy that.

Fancy that I have come to a point (and it would have happened blog or no blog) where I can say okay self you are not doing too good today here's a cup of tea.

I am at a point in my life where I won't even put up with the very idea that there is something terribly wrong with the size of my ass and thus, to make everyone else feel good I must be working to change said size of my ass.

Fuck that.

Fuck that, fuck you and fuck the whole fucking idea.

If I had my camera or was feeling more perky I might give you a picture of my feelings around this kind of thing.

There are few ways to piss me off that are quicker than people trying so damn hard to make me love myself less.

So you'll have to picture the punk rockness.

I also encourage you to assume a similar pose, for just a second.

So if you can, stand up feet shoulder width apart or wider. Whatever makes you feel planted and good.

With one hand, grab your crotch.

With the other hand, raise your middle finger high.

Sid Viscious sneer is optional.

Now repeat after me, "fuck you"

If you don't want to do the whole pose, go ahead and give the finger I won't tell anybody.

I am honestly really not into continuing to calmly explain why I don't want to do something. If you (as in the pushy group you here) want me to do something that is clearly not something I want to do, and you do in fact care about me for fuck sake take no for an answer.


Now if y'all will excuse me I'm going to try and eat something, have some more migraine drugs and hope I don't start yelling because the answer to almost every question anyone asks me is yes, bitch please.

Homo Out.

PS..a picture of me giving the finger in case you can't bring yourself to do it.

An old outfit, RIP to those boots.


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