My tiger, my heart

itsallgonnachangeforme:

DEFINITELY a good motivation

……….

SIJUOE8FCFTVGBHKJJRFIHEW4WG

social discrimination as a reason to lose weight. BECAUSE IT’S FAT PEOPLE’S FAULT THAT FATPHONIA EXISTS.

there is so much wrong with this I can’t even….

fewer employment opportunities

fewer fucking employment opportunities

• 27 February 2012 • 44 notes

“
But then, the truth was never really the point. Thin women don’t tell their fat friends ‘You’re not fat’ because they’re confused about the dictionary definition of the word, or their eyes are broken, or they were raised on planets where size 24 is the average for women. They don’t say it because it’s the truth. They say it because fat does not mean just fat in this culture. It can also mean any or all of the following:

Ugly
Unhealthy
Smelly
Lazy
Ignorant
Undisciplined
Unlovable
Burdensome
Embarrassing
Unfashionable
Mean
Angry
Socially inept
Just plain icky

So when they say ‘You’re not fat,’ what they really mean is ‘You’re not a dozen nasty things I associate with the word fat.’ The size of your body is not what’s in question; a tape measure or a mirror could solve that dispute. What’s in question is your goodness, your lovability, your intelligence, your kindness, your attractiveness. And your friends, not surprisingly, are inclined to believe you get high marks in all those categories. Ergo, you couldn’t possibly be fat.
”

—

Kate Harding (via rhiannon-random)

another example of thin privilege, your body type doesn’t carry these negative synonyms

(via fatcatsandcurls)

I very strongly dislike the “you’re not fat” phenomenon.

(via stfuconservatives)

• 24 February 2012 • 4,878 notes

“Fat people who love themselves scare the shit out of people who don’t love themselves. Even fat people who are TRYING to love themselves scare the shit out of people who can’t do the same. We force people to have to look at why they hate their bodies because we are “supposed” to hate ours and we don’t. And sometimes they have no idea what to do with that, so they act like assholes.”

—

Tigress Osborn (via erinkyan)

dear fat-shamers, sorry your self esteem sucks, but don’t take it out on fat people.

(via danhelldanger)

(via cunthulhu)

• 22 February 2012 • 7,921 notes

“Mom, I’m Fat:” One Mother’s Inspired Response to Her 7 Year Old

hyperopiacheart:

nowfigureativelyspeaking:

by Janell Hofmann

I am sitting, cross legged, on the bathroom floor trimming my five year old daughters’ toenails. My nine year old son showers his muddy body as I lean against the tub. My three year old daughter wrestles herself into pajamas in her bedroom. My eleven year old son bursts in from football practice and hollers upstairs about reheating leftovers and having a sore throat. My husband is out dropping our minivan off for a tune up. The sun has set and we’re putting another day to rest. In the confusion of this typical weeknight, I glance up from the floor at my seven year old daughter, standing on the step stool, completely undressed, brushing her teeth. I don’t like the way she is looking at herself in the mirror. I don’t like the way she pokes at her belly and frowns at her profile. I watch her for another minute and step in.

“What’s up, girl?” I ask. “I’m fat.” she responds without hesitation. I’m instantly weak. She continues, “My stomach jiggles when I run. I want to be skinny. I want my stomach to go flat down.” I am silent. I have read the books, the blogs, the research. I have aced gender studies, mass media, society and culture courses in college. I have given advice to other mothers. I run workshops and programming for middle school girls. I have traveled across the world to empower women and children in poverty. I am over qualified to handle this comment. But in reality, my heart just breaks instead. I am mush. Not my girl.

I rally some composure and stay cool. “You are built just perfect – strong and healthy.” And she is. But this doesn’t soothe.

I flounder. This child – my first and wildly celebrated daughter – was breastfed girl power. I read picture books with only central female characters, I insisted she wrestle her big brothers, demanded family call her words like smart and brave as much as cute and adorable. I tell her we are all different – straight and thin to round and plump and millions of ways in between. I tell her it’s what makes us all beautiful. Unconvinced.

I send all the other kids away. I shut the door and we sit face to face on the floor. There is more here and I need to see it through. I tell her I looked just like her when I was seven. I tell her she will grow to be tall and strong and fierce, like me. Not good enough. I reach and scramble. I tell her how fast she runs. Remind her of the goal she scored in soccer. What an expert she is on her bike and the amazing balance and tricks she does on her scooter. I remind her of her high level reading, her artwork, her mastery of math facts. “Fat.”

I grow desperate. “Child! What is the first thing everyone tells you when they meet you?” She sighs, “I’m beautiful.” Beauty is not helping me here. I’m failing. Pleading, I ask her why. Her blues eyes meet mine. She tells me on two different occasions friends have called her “kind of fat” when they were talking about bodies this summer in their bathing suits. And she felt sad. But she also felt good because finally she confirmed that what she thought about her body was “mostly true”.

I think a few bad thoughts about her peers and their mothers and wonder what messages are being sent. I am out of tools. And now twenty minutes later, I’m out of patience too. I feel powerless to what seems certain to her. And I cannot understand how she does not see all of life’s perfection in her reflection.

I stand her up on the step stool in front of the mirror. I strip off my yoga pants, my tee shirt, my bra and underwear. We are side by side completely naked together. She laughs. I start singing a song that I’m making up as I go. It’s rap meets Raffi with lyrics like “We are perfect, just the way we are.” It’s wild and silly, but I cannot be stopped. We’re shaking everything, and she’s belly laughing and totally thrilled. I pick her up. We are a ridiculous and magnificent pair. The other kids hear the commotion and barge in. They are confused and horrified. I carry her to the bedroom raving about all the ways we are powerful and naked and women. We settle into comfy pajamas and read a story together. Fat is not mentioned again.

On this night, I have no idea if I have succeeded. I’m not sure if what I said and did had an impact, if I fixed anything, or even if I changed her mind. But I do know that I must continue to infuse myself and my children with bold confidence. I must check in, ask questions, take the time. I must build and undo. I must be open and genuine. I must but willing to dance naked in the mirror, resist the urge to see all the ways five babies have changed me, and stare straight into my reflection with love. Then together, with a twinkle in our eyes, we only see radiance shining back.

so much love for this

(via natollie)

• 15 January 2012 • 384 notes

(Source: missfetus, via kitten-pits)

• 30 December 2011 • 3,547 notes

“I’m fat positive because I’m a feminist, and I refuse to acknowledge in the magical thinking that if you’re small enough, quiet enough, compliant enough and saccharine enough, you will somehow be enough.”

— You’re Welcome - Why I’m Fat Positive (via adrowningwoman)

(via lipsbetweenthehips)

• 21 December 2011 • 1,782 notes

There’s a Fat From The Side blog that’s pretty fantastic, and now I vote someone makes something about Fat Sitting Down. I know that’s been a source of anxiety for me.

• 30 November 2011 • 159 notes

innerfatgirl:

riotsnotdiets:

teaching moments

glitterpolitic:

Dear Majestic,

So it turns out that the girl who asked me if I was pregnant on the first day of school is pretty nice. She’s a little clueless about a few things, but very kind-hearted. We’ve developed a bit of an unlikely friendship at school so she talks with me pretty openly about her life. It has been a lesson for me in compassion, openness, honesty, and trust in other humans.

While we may never be bosom buddies, I see in this girl an opportunity to teach about how life could look when you start to see all the ways that the world fucks you up for being a girl, what is stolen from you, what you are forced to give away, what you can FUCKING TAKE BACK. She is a person who genuinely listens, who has a soft soul, who is kind and nurturing and generous.

Yesterday she said some more fat-phobic stuff (OMG, YOU’RE NOT FAT - let me tell you the difference between you and REAL fat people). I just sat there quietly, breathless, like someone had punched me in my sternum. I just accepted it, took it in gently, and let it dampen my swag for the rest of the day.

I’ve thought of it constantly since, and I think, today, I’m going to sit down with her and tell her a little bit about my life and my politics outside of first year acting. I plan on freeing my epic, size 18 belly with its pretty little stretch marks and squishy reality and i’m going to show her how I’m a REAL fat person. And that talking about fat people the way she does is really hurtful and misguided. I want to teach her to think a little differently about bodies and about what it means to be a kind and accepting person like she believes she is.

I almost let this shut me down. I almost let this moment of ignorance bleed into all the other moments of ignorance that I encounter at this school. I almost let this keep me silent. But not today. Today I’m going to teach, and believe that people can learn.

all my love,

Ash

totally embracing the fact that this just made me cry a little

i’m real proud of you ash, these moments are hard and i think it’s pretty bad ass of you to start hard conversations in this tense place. i will write soon. sending so much love and so many hugs from across the ocean. xo

(via mmmajestic)

• 1 November 2011 • 87 notes

(Source: bbw girls, via fayedaniels)

• 30 October 2011 • 40 notes