I recently received delightfully BoPo gifts that instantly inspired an idea. Since the presents in question are a hat & socks, they seemed perfect for a cute top to tail photo.
As I put my vision into action I became frustrated. My attempts to capture a simple, joyful picture of my fat body were complicated by the reaction I knew it would receive. No matter how carefully one covers provocative areas or unseductive the pose female presenting bodies are sexualised. Marginalised bodies receive even more pressure to up the sexy in order to be perceived as worthy of viewing.
As a fat woman I know from experience that any picture I put in the public domain will be insulted & ogled. No matter the context or reason for my showing the world the image I can predict a portion of the responses. Some creepy men will always make creepy remarks and fat phobic comments will appear. It can feel like I am being asked to either apologise for or eroticise my form to make it acceptable.
I’ll never apologise. I won’t forever play the sexy fatty either. My body is just as worthy as any other. I am attractive, I can be alluring. I’m also just a person. I like myself in jammies & unwashed bun. I like myself with hairy legs and tired eyes. I’m worthy when I’m limping along with my walking stick. I can find pleasure in my body just as it is.
Riots not Diets Beanie – The Spark Company Socks – Crudely Drawn Glasses – Where.light
Naked doesn’t equal sexual. All bodies are glorious and remarkable. I Iove the idea of embracing the normal. I want to celebrate all the different incarnations of me. I want others to see that they are enough.
If you enjoy my writing you can support me on Ko-Fi
It’s been one of hell of a week. On top of quite the year. I’m sure I’m not the only one still processing the gigantic mess. Sometimes I find it easier to let off steam about the little things. I invite you to join me in a big sigh of relief that Trump will soon be gone & an equally big moan about some non life & death grievances.
Trivial annoyance no 1; the shacket. You’ll no doubt have seen an influencer raving about this shirt/jacket hybrid by now. I’m afraid I must strongly protest. For starters that name gives me boak. Moreover, do not look good. Admittedly they do bring up bad memories of a really ugly quilted denim shirt I had in 1994, but they’re also useless. They’re not a great inbetweener. You end up sweating inside & shivering out. Just put your coat on and take it off when you head indoors. The shacket must go.
I know loads of folk are going to disagree with this one, I care not a jot. The pink Xmas trend can get in the sea. I’m not traditional about much, but when it comes to festive decorations I am old school. Pink does not belong on the tree. It’s not Christmassy. I don’t care if Elle decor has declared it this year’s prettiest trend. I want Christmas looks that warm my heart. Think Forrest green & twinkly gold. Candy floss is a Yuletide treat. Please stop it.
I’m heading back to the resurgence of the fashion of my youth now. Specifically, cycle shorts. I can’t quite work out how a thing I wore to P.E. when I as 11 has become ‘a look’. Moreover I’m baffled that it’s still hanging around mid November. It’s fucking cold there.
Finally, I have a complaint for our friends across the Atlantic. God, knows they’ve given us plenty to bitch about. In the spirit of keeping it light I have picked this hill to die on. Plaid is not the same thing as Tartan. As we head into prime tartan season I need the conflation of the two to cease. My poor Scottish heart can’t take the way my blood pressure soars when I see either wrongly labelled.
That felt pretty good. I highly recommend you take a minute to whine about something pointless. First thing tomorrow it’s back to the Revolution!
If you enjoy my writing you can support me on Ko-Fi
GlasGlow is back. We have taken the boy every year of his life, so this has become our own little Halloween tradition. This year was even better than last.
The boy was proper excited and dancing around; utterly adorable. It wasn’t too crowded and people paid attention to social distancing. The rain even almost went stopped for us. It was lovely.
It was a bit of struggle for me to get around the park. Post covid I’m even less mobile. I found some places to sit and took periodic rests whilst the little man enjoyed the lights.
Much fun was had. Now I’m in recovery mode and jammies all weekend.
I’m going to begin this post with a disclaimer; my brain fog is currently set to victorian horror film. The covid has made my thoughts oh so murky. Please try to factor than in if I don’t reach my usual standards.
As a fat positive activist I am naturally drawn to lots of bopo & fat spaces. Unfortunately I have increasingly noticed a slide away from the radical in some of. I’ve been mulling this topic over for a while and I really want to talk about it.
We all know that the body positive movement has been corrupted by brands & individuals trying to cash in. The centring of slim, white bodies has neutered the original message. Body image issues are not the same as the same as the systemic discrimination of fat bodies face. It is infuriating to see people in socially acceptable bodies play at being fat by contorting themselves to make rolls. However, at least that problem is acknowledged & challenged.
I find the move away from the origins of body positivity much more upsetting when it occurs in supposedly fat friendly places. Body Positivity was created by fat (mostly black) women. It’s purpose was to fight the stigma & discrimination that fat people experience in all aspects of life. Self love & positive body image have been an offshoot of that. Personally, I am very much in favour of those ‘spin offs’. I think learning to accept & eventually love your body can be revolutionary. I champion breaking down the toxic things society has taught us about our bodies, but I still recognise that body liberation is not solely about loving our bellies.
Fat activism should put the most marginalised front & centre. We must make room for those who are least often seen or heard. We should focus on making sure that those individuals feel comfortable discussing the issues they face, sharing pictures & asking for help. Sadly, this is not always what happens. Many groups in the fat world are so intent on being all inclusive that they do not realise who they are excluding.
I see too much time spent on body confidence. Straight sized people taking up space in fat groups because they feel bad about their bodies. Brands whose sizes stop at a 20 are praised & promoted. Descriptors commonly used in fat activism ( super fat, small fat) are labelled insensitive. Bigger people are sidelined. When they try to discuss how they are being pushed out they met with hurt feelings and all the reasons less marginalised people have it hard too. It’s beyond disappointing.
It seems the fight for fat equality has been forgotten. Body liberation is not about making everyone feel great about themselves. It’s about ensuring access to medical treatment, housing, employment for fat people. Challenging inaccurate measurements of health, sizism in public spaces and fat politics should be prime discussion points. We should be listening when people tell us they feel pushed out of a place that is supposed to be for them.
I believe that too many in the fat community are taking their eye off prize. We have become consumed with being welcoming & positive. Both great traits, but we have to prioritise. If straight sized and smaller fats want to be part of the movement we have to accept our privilege. Our voices should not be the loudest. We can be welcoming to allies. Those who are respectful and want to learn can included. We all have blind spots. It is ok to make a mistake or not to know something. It isn’t ok to not want to learn. If your response to uncomfortable truths is to play the victim, there isn’t any room for you in fat activism.
There are so many amazing resources available for anyone who wand to educate themselves. Instagram accounts with bite size information. Books, podcasts & blogs for every stage of learning. It isn’t fair to rely on the emotional labour of fat people who may not always have the energy to teach. It is especially unjust to plead ignorance and then object to the manner in which you are provided information. Discomfort is part of the process.
I know I have lots to learn. I step on toes without intending to. I hope I listen when I’m told I’ve caused pain. I am trying to be better. I am happy to acknowledge the privilege I hold and I aim to fight alongside those with less. I want a better world. The middle of the road is not the way to get there.
If you enjoy my writing you can support me on Ko-Fi
Poetry was my first writing love. As I’ve grown old & weary my poetic juices have dried up a little. The mood does still occasionally strike. Sometimes only poetry offers the chance to sweep my feelings out.
It’s not necessarily impressive, but it is completely effective. Reading it writing; words are a beautiful thing.
If you enjoy my writing you can support me on Ko-Fi
It’s been ‘ugh’ for a while now and I’m in danger of wallowing in a big puddle of woe is me. I’m making efforts to feel better. I started by tackling my inbox and then tried to clear some light housework. Ticks on my to do list helped me feel less useless. Now seems a good time to build on that by counting my blessings.
So, today I am grateful for,
My big comfy bed (& no one snoring, farting or otherwise bothering me in it).
My fridge holds soups & fruit juice galore. My stomach only wants these & the occasional bread product.
My demanding little purr ball.
Excellent new Jim jams. They have pockets and are so soft I keep stroking myself.
Hot running water.
The sick & ridiculous humour of the Small Town Murder podcast.
A plethora of supportive & loving people.
All the perfect little ones said people have made.
The writings of Sara Pascoe & Barbara Trapido
Free and accessible healthcare. Big love, NHS.
The freedom to drift in and out of sleep as needed.
The phone steriliser relieving covid related iPhone anxiety.
Messages of love from my big muffin.
Lemon & lavender scented heat pads.
A room festooned with beautiful blooms.
If you enjoy my writing you can support me on Ko-Fi
I’m still all about the staying at home. I have a heady schedule of resting, drinking fluids & FaceTiming cute little people. I haven’t forgotten what season it is, though. Halloween nails continue!
It’s not Halloween without some gore. A manicure ode to one of my fav scary movies is a must.
I also can’t help going a little batty at this time of year.
My fingers are currently adorned with some paranormal looking skies and very spooky trees. I’m loving it.
My familiar strongly objects to all this nail painting as it diverts attention from his needs. He’s very demanding, but so cute.
If you enjoy my content you can support me on Ko-Fi
You’ll have to excuse my silence, I have not been feeling good. What I thought was a bad cold, progressed to maybe flu & a uti. Then my sense of smell disappeared and my tongue tasted disgusting. Fevers, unrelenting fatigue, one home test and I suspect you know where I’m at.
Corona town is no fun. I’m on day 15 and I still feel like shit. I have improved a little. I can now eat toast & drink fruit juice without my stomach violently objecting. On the other hand, my cough is getting worse again. I still ache all over and my joints are throbbing. I’m losing entire days to sleep, but remain exhausted. I have a constant low level headache that periodically ramps up to ow! I’m breathless all the damn time. And of course my usual complaints are all heightened. It feels bloody horrible.
I’m stumped on how I contracted corona. I have been careful. I hardly go out. I have seen only a small group of people since this began and always in accordance with the rules. I wear a mask. I’m hand sanitiser obsessed. No one has been in my house since March. Still I managed to catch it. This bug is not messing around.
I’m very grateful this isn’t worse. I have pre existing conditions & a pathetic immune system. I feared this virus might knock me out entirely. I’m glad to be managing at home, but trust me, you do not want this. Even the not so serious covid is plenty bad.
Please be extra careful. Take care of yourselves & everyone you may come into contact with. Normal is a long way off.
It’s October which means we’re into spooky season. Like many other things Halloween is going to be different this year, but I can still do all the creepy nail art.
First Halloween design of the season was cute vampire manicure. A wee bit of sparkly blood is always a good idea.
Next up are my first attempt at Beetlejuice nails. I’m quite pleased, but I think I might still have another bash. Maybe add that big worm.
Hopefully you guys will be more impressed than Bronan.
If you enjoy my content you can support me on Ko-Fi
Fuck. This is it; the big 4-0. I am definitely not ready. Up until now I haven’t worried all that much about the number on my card. This year it all feels rather scary.
Forty is different. It’s just so huge. I have this sense of it being a before & after year. There’s the obvious sinking of youth. I’ve noticed a few changes on my face. In themselves they aren’t a problem, what they signify certainly gives me pause. I’m beginning to wonder how my body will stack up against the ageing process. Are my dodgy joints going to pack in altogether? Will my hair go white? Is menopause on the way?
40 feels like the nail in the coffin of fertility. I know that hope is already all but extinguished. Hitting my fifth decade seems symbolic; a final snuffing. There are so many unattained goals. I expected to be living a different life by now. Time is whizzing by faster than ever. Getting through the ultimate to do list is increasingly daunting.
It’s not all black. I have built a life I’m proud of. I’ve filled it with bloody lovely buggers. All my people have made beautiful babies for me to adore. I’m doing the work I’ve always wanted to do. I feel loved. So, this is 40. Terrifying, but I’ve conquered the fear before. Why stop now?
If you enjoy my writing you can support me on Ko-Fi
Something in the way she moves... 
You must be logged in to post a comment.