Wear what you want

I’ve just been reading this article about a kiwi blogger trying to convince larger women they can wear whatever they want.

It’s a real breath of fresh air. For a while now we’ve had a sort of movement coming that tells us we should be accepting of all body types. This means not labelling any one body type as the marker of a “real woman”. Instead of posting up pictures of curvy women and ridiculing the skinny ones for not having a “womanly body”, we celebrate the uniqueness of each woman’s shape.

This isn’t news to anyone, I’m assuming. As we develop as a society we’re slowly, slowly starting to learn how to treat others as equals, regardless of looks, gender, sexuality – the whole shebang. For a long time, people have taken it upon themselves to shame fat people for what they see as not having enough self control to put down the donuts and put on the running shoes.

At what point did we decide it was our place to punish them for their own weight? Whose business is that? Of course, we do the same thing to slimmer people as well. “Eat a pie,” is , sadly, a commonly uttered phrase nowadays, usually borne from our own lack of self confidence. Often it’s not taken into consideration the other person is naturally slim. We label them “anorexic” just as quickly as we label large people “lazy”.

What I liked about this article – and the blog – is that we’re seeing women embracing their body shape and wearing what they want, and actually looking good while they do it. I seriously believe confidence plays the largest part in how well we pull off a look. The women in these photos look beautiful, and they do it while wearing all the clothes they were told they couldn’t wear.

It’s nice to see.

Subtle gifts

I came home from work today to find that my grandfather had laid out this somewhat large shirt on my bed.

I’m still trying to figure out what kind of message he was trying to send.

 

Pointless blog posts

“Taylor,” I said to my bespectacled classmate. “What should I blog about?”

I rolled slowly towards him while he pondered this. Rolled in my computer chair, that is; I’ve not yet consumed enough butter chicken pies to achieve my goal of a perfectly spherical body. Tonight I’m having pizza for dinner though, so it’s only a matter of time.

“Getting your full license?” He suggested.

“Already wrote one for that,” I responded.

“Oh. Um . . . being hungry?”

I am hungry, actually. Starving – ravenous in fact. But I’m holding out for that pizza. That delicious, cheesy pizza.

But I shook my head. “There’s not really enough events in being hungry.”

He thought for a moment longer, then said, “The last nine minutes of class?”

“What?” I replied, startled. “There’s only nine minutes left?”

And sure enough, my dear blog readers, what my four-eyed friend said was true. There was only nine minutes left. Now there’s three minutes left, and I am going to go home, interview somebody for a feature story for class, and then I am going to eat a whole pizza on my own, hate myself for it, and watch Glee.

Ah, life.