Stuff I Dig – Volume 2

It has been a while since I have done one of these, hasn’t it.  That doesn’t mean there isn’t a whole lot of fab stuff I’d love to share with you all, I’ve just been focused on other things.

So let’s have at it hey?  As always, I really encourage  you to share stuff in the comments that you’ve been interested in, but please keep it to positive stuff – no posting some shitty journalist hating on fat people, or any other douchenozzle behaving badly.  Let’s not give those people the signal boost.  Though thoughtful and kick arse responses to douchecanoes are welcome!

Fat activism

Shannon of Nudemuse writes How Not to Talk to Fat People on the Internet

s.e. smith writes about Why HAES Doesn’t Work For Me and I can very much relate to this piece.

This post on the fear of food knocked my socks off.

More on the topic of food, Laura at Tutus and Tiny Hats raises issues with how food justice advocates often demonise fat people.

Feminism

Vanessa Willoughby writes about the criticisms that Beyoncé endures as a black feminist and reminds us that Josephine Baker received the same criticisms in her time.

Fatshion

The best thing I have seen about fatshion/plus-size fatshion in ages is this amazing video by Marie Denee talking about the importance of watching how we talk about fatshion on plus-size brand spaces:

My lovely friend Cat Pausé writes about Fatshion February.

The ever-sunshiney Olivia at Wait Until The Sunset got together with some fab fatshionista friends and showed off the new Cut for Evans collection.

Look at these leggings I bought!  Got them from Best & Less for just $12.50 – you can buy them here.

Fab Fatties

Check out this bloody amazing fat pole dancer that I discovered on Facebook!

Are you a fab fatty in Sydney who wants to dance?  Force Majeure are looking for you!

I’ve discovered My Mad Fat Diary.  Oh how I love Rae!  Look, a lovely person on Tumblr has linked up all the videos so you can watch it yourself.  My favourite moment is in the first episode of Series 2 when Rae complains to her gay friend Archie that her pretty bra is not at all supportive, and he just gently lifts her breasts and holds them up – to which she says “Actually that feels pretty good.”

Australian Politics

I’m going to be participating in March in March on Sunday, a protest rally to declare a vote of no confidence in the current Australian government.

Tom Hiddleston

You didn’t think this post would go by without any Hiddles did you?  I was lucky enough to go to a live simulcast of the British National Theatre’s production of Coriolanus last month.  It was BRILLIANT – there was not a dud note in the cast, it was amazingly staged, the camerawork for the live simulcast was excellent and Tom was… I can’t find the words for how fantastic he was.  And the man gets more gorgeous with each passing day.

Here’s a teaser video from the Donmar Warehouse theatre:

There’s also a rather wonderful video of the “shower scene” on this Facebook page.

Other interesting stuff

I’ve discovered an amazing new restaurant here in Brisbane.  The Southside Diner at South Bank is an American retro style diner, serving absolutely delicious and hearty fare.  Their cherry pie is TO DIE FOR:

Check out Shay Aaron’s miniatures on Etsy.  Her work is AMAZING!  I particularly love these pizza earrings.

Look at this amazing cartoonisation of me that @invizcit has done:

How about this brilliant cover of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck by cellist duo 2Cellos, aka Luka Šulić and Stjepan Hauser:

Mmm, sexy AND talented, what a package!

And let me leave you with something that I think would have to have anyone smiling – two bears in their underpants and a fat woman dancing to Pharrell’s “Happy”:

Stuff I Dig Volume 1

As part of trying to get back into the swing of things, I’ve decided to attempt to do a semi-regular post of things that I find online that I really dig.  Be it interesting articles, fatshion, artworks, things that make me laugh.  A kind of potted view of the things I post all over the internet, be it Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr or anywhere else I lurk about.  It gives me a chance to signal boost some cool stuff, and to talk about the things I dig with you all.  Sometimes it might have a method or layout, other times it might just be a hotch potch of stuff.

I really encourage  you to share stuff in the comments that you’ve been interested in, but please keep it to positive stuff – no posting some shitty journalist hating on fat people, or any other douchenozzle behaving badly.  Let’s not give those people the signal boost.  Though thoughtful and kick arse responses to douchecanoes are welcome!

So, let me see, what have I been into lately…

Fat Activism

Gradient Lair on Thin Privilege and Intersectionality

A powerful piece from Rebecca Shaw on coming out as fat.

Kyla the Great’s tips on dealing with haters and harassers.

My favourite piece of the past few days, Elizabeth Tamny on the visibility of fat people and THAT Elle cover with Melissa McCarthy.

Caitlin Seida writes about how her photograph was stolen online and set upon by Reddit trolls.

Fatshion Inspiration

My lovely friend Bek, she of Colourful Curves, wrote an excellent guest post on Suger Coat It on how to do fatshion on a budget.

Check out these amazing paua shell look nails by karengnails:

Here’s Jodie of Fat Additives looking as fierce as fuck in Autograph:

I made such a noise of awe when I saw this photograph of Leah from Sweet Tea Kisses:

I loved this post from Maiya Mayhem on fashion rules for fat girls:

Feminism

I love this piece by Laurie Penny on the idea that feminism needs re-branding.

Skepchick on why she doesn’t go to the police when she is on the receiving end of online threats and harassment.

A Good Cause

You know how hard it is to find a decent bra?  Well, some women have it way, way harder than we do.  And we can help them by sending them bras in pretty much any condition (yep, they need them that bad!)   So you know those bras you have kicking around that have a broken underwire, or don’t fit you?  Send them along to the Uplift Project.

Cuteness

Hear the mighty lion roar!

If you follow me on Tumblr at all, you know that I am totally besotted with Tom Hiddleston.  I mean look at how pretty he is:

No really, he’s delicious.  Look, here he is practicing swordplay for the upcoming production of Coriolanus (which I have tickets to a broadcast of!)

Nipples!

Food

Look at how gorgeous this polka dotted cake is!

Laughs

Read the reviews on these sugar free gummi bears.  Maybe don’t read them in public (or at the office lunch table like I did – I got stares!)

Jess of Ghost of Enid has done this brilliant set of Tony Abbott: Minister for Women posters.  Political statements are so effective when infused with humour.  Here’s an example:

And here’s Kermit the Frog doing his take on Miley Cyrus’ “Wrecking Ball”:

Other Fab Stuff

Does anyone want to buy me a house?  I mean look at this library:

Music

Let me finish with the most kick arse girl band you will see in a long, long time.  You need to watch to at least 2 minutes in to get the full benefit.

All I Want For Christmas…

I’ve been working on a massive audit in my day job that is frying my brain (all those numbers!!) so let’s have a little fun tonight and look at some fabulous and fat friendly things that we might like for Christmas.  Who knows, we might get some gift ideas for other fab fatties in our lives too.

Let’s start with something that I’ve already ordered for myself, but I think EVERY fab fatty needs one of these in preparation for the new year.

Yes, it’s Marilyn Wann’s 2012 Fat!So? Dayplanner!

It’s a mere $14 (plus shipping) and all proceeds will go to building the Weight Diversity Action Lounge, a community center for fun, food, fitness, and fabulousness somewhere in Oakland, California.  I mean… it’s Marilyn Wann!  Plus it’s chock full of other contributors, inspiration, tips and art… including yours truly!

How about this adorable Lovedrobe Teal Heart Print Dress from Evans?

I love anything in chocolatey browns with teal, and a heart motif is one of my favourites.

Then there’s this pretty butterfly print top also from Evans.

And this GORGEOUS floral top, again from Evans.

How about a fat positive colouring book?  I want at least three copies of Fat Ladies in Spaaaaace: a body-positive coloring book!

How awesome is that?  Colouring in fat ladies.  IN SPACE!

Then of course, what fab fatty wouldn’t want a copy of Hanne Blank‘s “Big Big Love”?

(Can you guess that my Amazon wish list is pretty long?)

How about Substantia Jones’ 2012 Adipositivity Calendar?

The Adipositivity Project has been pivotal in my journey to fat positivity and strong self esteem.

More clothes!  I long for beautiful dresses from eShakti, these are my favourites (click on the images to go to the page on eShakti):

The Artist's Wife Dress

Singing In The Rain Dress

Dzilla Brass Rings Dress

The Birds Who Gossip Dress

Aren’t they all gorgeous??  I would LIVE in dresses like these if I could.

How about some amazing shoes?  I dream of Fluevog shoes.  They are the absolute pinnacle of shoe heaven for me, and they’re very fat friendly, with their wider fittings and excellent craftsmanship.  How about this selection (again, click the images to go to the website):

Splendid in Stripes

Caspian in Black and Off-White

Zaza in Red, Pink and Grey

I think we need to wind up with some accessories.  Let me see:

How about an ice-cream charm, from Georgina at Cupcake’s Clothes, and her cute label DollyMixx:

I love the radical defiance of wearing food accessories as a fat woman.  Fat women are policed about food all the time, so let’s chant Fuck Tha Police by wearing food as accessories!

What about a cupcake ring?  This one is from Etsy store Dolly-Tastic:

And while we’re on Dolly-Tastic, I absolutely adore this Hello Kitty charm bracelet:

Another one of my favourite sources for accessories is Sick for Cute (who have a plus-size range too), and I think I really, really need these whale socks:

Whale socks on a fat woman!  I love it!

And finally, I just spotted this bag and completely fell in love.

How’s that for a Christmas List?  Of course, there are loads of other wonderful goodies out there that would also be a delight to find under my Christmas tree, but these are some of the things I’m drooling over currently.

What about you?  What fat-friendly goodies would you love to find in your Christmas stocking?  Dream big in the comments Heffalumpies!

The Power of Community

Yesterday, I found myself having a moment where it was keenly identifiable to me why the Fatosphere is so awesome.  Now when I say the Fatosphere, I don’t just mean active bloggers and activists, but to me it generally encompasses Fat Acceptance/Activism/Liberation bloggers and campaigners, as well as the readers, cheer squads, sharers of articles and photographs, allies, followers on Twitter and Tumblr… basically, anyone who believes in and supports the rights of fat people to live their lives with respect, dignity and without discrimination or vilification.  So by that definition, you dear readers, are to me what encompass the Fatosphere.

So yeah, yesterday.  I went to the home of the lovely Jen, aka Ilaeria, for a Thermomix demo with my friend Kerri.  Kez and I were driving down and I just had this moment when the awesomeness of the Fatosphere hit home for me.

I met Jen through the Fatosphere.  I think she started following me on Twitter first, is where I first “found” her.  It’s hard to remember, it seems like ages ago but it isn’t really.  Jen says she was my fan-girl at first though!  We met in real life (so to speak, I don’t believe that the internet is any less real life than in person) one day when she came to Brisbane with some friends, and we had lunch then went to see the Valentino Retrospective exhibit at the Gallery of Modern Art.   I was delighted to meet another Fatosphere friend in person, and knew that I’d encountered someone really amazing when back in January and Brisbane was suffering the devastation of the floods,  Jen and her husband Dave came up to Brisbane bring me some home baked goodies after I’d been without electricity for almost a week.  Since then I have come to consider Jen as a friend, not just a fellow fab fatty.

Here we are together, I got Kez to take a photo of us yesterday just for this blog post:

Jen’s so lovely, I’ll even forgive the jersey she’s wearing.

Since I found the Fatosphere, and have become conscious of just how many ways fat people (in general, where I once believed it was just me) are bullied, disrespected, ridiculed and vilified in our culture, I’ve also come to realise that our power is in our community.  Unlike many of the very people who feel it is acceptable to hate on someone simply for their body size (and/or appearance), we Fab Fatties have an incredible community to belong to, with so much talent, kindness, humour, wisdom, style, compassion, support, intelligence… the list goes on… right around us.  Just by opting out of the mainstream attitude about fatness, health and human worth.  The more we explore this alternative paradigm, the more fabulous, interesting, wonderful people we are exposed to.

Of course, one doesn’t necessarily connect with every single person one encounters in the Fatosphere – we’re all as individual and varied as anyone else, so there will always be people who disagree with, don’t connect with or simply dislike.  Don’t feel like a failure if you find that happening.  However you will find lots of other fab folk that you do connect with and it’s AWESOME when that happens.

I’ve found that no matter what is going on, at any time of day, there’s always someone to celebrate with, vent to, discuss things with, lend support when you need it, listen, cheer you on and inspire you.  When we need to gather our forces to take on some fat hate somewhere, there’s always a FA community on Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, YouTube, you name it to send out the #fatsignal to. (Don’t you love that hashtag?  David of Axis of Fat coined it the other day on Twitter – make sure you use it Tweeps).  But best of all, being around people who are working on their self esteem, and who are finding their confidence rubs off on you.  Want to feel awesome?  Spend time with other people who are unapologetic about their bodies and their size.  It’s like an intense self esteem treatement.  And the amazing thing is that you’re giving the same back without even realising it.

And if you can, get along to any fat positive events you can.  Keep your eye on social media, follow locals, Google for events… you won’t regret it.  I find fat positive events give me such a boost and there’s always someone new to meet as well as those you already know to catch up with.

We are so lucky to have such a strong community.  You’re all fabulous, for whatever reason you’re here, part of the Fatosphere, and I thank you.

Fat in a Swimsuit

Well, whaddya know.  Guess who fell into a big pile of self loathing in the past 24 hours.  Yup, you’re looking at her. (Ok smart arses, you’re READING her!)

Yes, it still happens.  As positive and as confident as I get, sometimes it just happens and there’s no rhyme or reason for it.  Yesterday, I wrote my previous post for the New Year’s Revolution, was feeling good, and spent considerable time posting body positive messages to my Tumblr until midnight rolled around and it was 2011.  I was feeling good.

But then, in preparation for going to the beach with my friend Kerri today, before I went to bed I decided to pull out my swimmers and pack my stuff up ready to go again.  I got a pair of new swimmers on sale the other day, so I planned to wear those.  I tried them on (I knew they’d fit, but I wanted to make sure the straps on the shoulders were the right length) and looked in my full length mirror… and it hit.

In hindsight, it’s because the top half of the swimsuit had NO bust support.  Which meant that my magnificent rack of doom had nowhere to go but down.  And it was uncomfortable, no – PAINFUL.  But instead of doing what I should have done, which is cursed out the manufacturers of a size 26 swimsuit, it became a spiral of self loathing.  I hated my breasts.  I hated my belly.  I hated my thighs.  I hated my back.  I hated my chin.

I agonised over that damn swimsuit and my body for a good hour.  Eventually I decided to put it away and wear my old swimsuit (which I only bought last year) which also doesn’t have adequate bust support in it, but I can wear a bra under that one and it isn’t visible.  I can at least know my back and chest aren’t going to hurt because I’m properly supported by a bra.

Just an aside, who the hell makes a size 26 swimsuit without adequate bust support and thinks that’s ok?  Who do they think is going to wear this?  Ok not every size 26 woman has big breasts, but wouldn’t it be better to have too much bust support than none at all?

Swimsuit designers, manufacturers and retailers, here is what I want.  I want a two piece swimsuit, the bottom half doesn’t matter that much, briefs, skirt, shorts… whatever, I prefer the shorts but will wear the others.  But the top half, I want a HALTER necked tankini style top, with fucking UNDERWIRE and proper adjustable halter-neck so that I can fit the damn thing properly, and not have my boobs dragging my back and shoulders and chest down.  I want one that has REAL support, like a proper bra, but is made of decent swimsuit fabric, in cute colours and prints, and I want you to put a reasonable price tag on it.  Not $300, but under $100.  If my size 12 friend with B cup tits can get this, why the fuck wouldn’t you be making it for people with bigger breasts?  SERIOUSLY.

Anyhoo..

Off to bed I went last night, feeling crappy.  I woke up feeling crappy.  Yes, in the midst of all the body positivity of the New Years Revolution campaign, all my talk about giving up dieting and self loathing and so on, it hit me.

Because it does.  It doesn’t just go away overnight.  It doesn’t go away at all really.  And no matter how immersed you are in fat acceptance, body positivity and surrounding activism, it still whomps you on the arse unexpectedly at times.  Some days you just can’t avoid it.

However, now that I’ve got through today, I think it’s a good thing that it happened to me when it did.  Because then I can share with all of you that it still happens, it still sucks… yet we survive.  We go on.  We keep going with this body positivity and fat acceptance stuff… because it really, truly does make it better.

Because of being part of fat acceptance, I was able to take a moment this morning, acknowledge that I felt crappy, and then consciously ask myself what I could do to try to make myself feel better.  The first thing for me is music.  I made sure I was armed with a couple of songs on my iPod that I know just lift my mood.  The second thing was to pop online and go through my Tumblr stream.  Sometimes, I need to hear those body positivity messages too.

Most importantly, I knew that the best thing I could do was put my damn swimsuit on (with bra on underneath), grab my stuff and get my arse out the door.

Kerri picked me up, I put my happy song on in her car, and I spent the day with my friend who makes me feel good about myself.  I went to the beach as planned, chucked off my sarong and went and got in the water.  I swam and fell over and laughed and got sand in places where sand should just not be, I swallowed great gobs of salt water, I talked with my amazing friend about life, the universe and everything, I let the power of the ocean take over and spent a good hour and a half being hammered about in warm salty water.  Then we went and got changed into comfy maxi dresses (I wore this one), headed up to Australia Fair, got a decent feed and wandered around the shops together.  I saw a dude who was so smoking hot that he took my breath away, our eyes met and we had a flirty moment.  Kez and I talked some more, laughed some more, shopped some more and then had a ridiculously flavoured coffee before heading home, salty, sandy, sunburnt and sleepy… but feeling great for having spent the day hanging out together.

When I hit the shower as soon as I got home, I realised I didn’t hate my body any more.  I was angry at the damn swimsuit manufacturers/designers/retailers for not providing me with adequately made swimsuits.

This is how it works my lovelies.  Through giving up the dieting and trying to change your body to something it is not, and focusing on caring for yourself, building up your self esteem, working through the tough bits, immersing yourself in positivity, surrounding yourself with people who build you up, not tear you down and living your life to it’s absolute fullest, you get through the bad times.  You learn to be able to put in place the strategies you need to get back on track.

But most importantly, you don’t miss out on all the good stuff, like spending the day at the beach with a dear friend, because you’re too filled with shame and self loathing to put on a damn swimsuit.

Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got to go shake more sand out of uncomfortable places.

Shall We Dance?

I used to dance.  A lot.  Some of my first memories are of dances and dancing.  I started learning to dance when I was a toddler.  Ballroom dancing.  Ballroom dancing has always been important in my family.  I have an aunt and an uncle (siblings) who both competed in ballroom dancing competitions, my aunt did very, very well in it.  She taught ballroom dancing.  All of my maternal family ballroom danced.  The same man, a family friend, who taught my mother to dance when she was a girl, taught me most of the dances.  I remember him teaching me to waltz, going around and around and around, him forcing me to look up into his face so that I didn’t look at my feet, and just when I got the knack of it, he’d change it up and we’d reverse waltz until I got the knack of that.  I just remembered his big belly, which meant I wouldn’t have been able to see my feet even if I did look down!

As far back as I can remember, I was going to dance halls in the small country towns where my family lived, with my grandparents, with aunts and uncles, great aunts and uncles, various cousins.  I can remember sleeping behind the thumping piano, groggily watching the dancers swirl around and around the dance floor as I dozed off.  I remember the smell of the Pops that they used to sprinkle on the beautiful wooden floors to make them slippery.  I remember the smell of my aunts hair spray and perfume.  The tulle petticoats under her ballroom dresses.  The t-bar shoes the women in my family wore.  My Grandad’s Californian Poppy hair oil.

In rural Queensland, Australia in the 70’s and 80’s, kids learned ballroom dancing in both primary and high schools.  I remember that I already knew how, and I had to deal with smelly, sweaty boys who didn’t want to hold my hand.  I did my junior debut when I was about 5 or 6.  I remember the mint green satin dress I had, and my deb partner was a boy called Duncan Bucknall.  Funny how I’ve remembered his name.  I remember the posy I carried too.

I was in the Brownies (I actually got chucked out, long story, I’ll tell it some time) and because I was musically inclined, I got to be in all of the little dance recitals we did.  I remember playing a robin in them time after time, until something happened to the lead and I was the only girl who fit the costume, so I got to be the fairy princess, in a big pink glittery dress with a wand.

Of course, I got fat at about 11, and the self esteem issues started.  But I still loved to dance.

When I got to high school, I loved going to school dances to actually dance.  Other kids sat around the walls looking bored, but once the music started, I couldn’t get on the dance floor quick enough.  I had a very camp friend named Marcus (who Kurt from Glee reminds me of so very much) that loved to dance with me.  When I embraced Goth and Punk styles, I danced to that music.  At 15, I started going to nightclubs to dance.

When we moved town to where my Grandparents lived when I was 16, and I had to rebuild all of my friend base, I started going to ballroom dances with my aunt and uncle.  I made friends of kids around my own age who went to my school through the dances, and found a few dance partners.  I had one in particular I used to dance with a lot, and we did some competitions together as well.  I discovered that I was REALLY good at ballroom dancing, and that I could really dance all night without stopping except for supper.  I could do complex dances that other people did softened versions of.  I was fucking amazing at a REAL Quickstep, with all the hopping, and people always told me how graceful I looked doing a Swing Waltz, or my favourite, the Maxina.

My self esteem struggled, but I was good at it, so that got me through.

I remember at my high school formal, my friend and main dance partner asking me to dance to one of those Jive Bunny songs, which were remixes of Glenn Miller stuff, and the bullies laughing as we walked on to the dance floor, the fat girl and the geek.  We started dancing and the whole room stopped, and we took over the dance floor.  Everyone just watched with their mouths open as we tore up the dance floor to a Quickstep, never missing a step.  A teacher who didn’t know either of us very well outside of class stopped us as we strode defiantly off the dance floor and said “That was amazing!  You two… wow… you should do that professionally!!”

I ballroom danced regularly until I was in my mid-20’s, and I loved it.

But then depression kicked in.  It robbed me of all enjoyment of most things in my life, and smashed my self esteem into the ground.  All of the shit I’d dealt with about my weight and my looks came bubbling to the surface with the depression, and I stopped dancing.  I stopped believing I had the right to dance.  Instead I believed that people would find my fat body hideous dancing.

Only once since then have I danced.  I went to see a friend’s band play at a pub, and I saw this young cowboy guy trying desperately to dance properly with my friend, who was fantastic at shaking her booty, but couldn’t waltz or any other form of ballroom dancing.  This guy was about 18, and he was desperately trying to guide her into a proper ballroom dance step, and she just wasn’t comfortable.  I tapped her on the shoulder, stepped in to his arms, set my shoulders and we took the first step… and he burst into the biggest smile and said “Wow lady, you know what you’re doing!”  We danced until they kicked us out of the pub.

I want to start dancing again.  But the problem is that there are so few male partners willing to dance (and yes, I prefer to dance with a male partner, because that’s the way I’ve learnt to dance – I don’t lead at all) and the dance groups in a big city like Brisbane are learner groups.  So I end up going and teaching other women to dance.  I don’t want to teach.  I want to be lost in the waltz, swirling around a dance floor like I did when I was a little girl, being led by Mr Sykes or my Uncle Trev.  I want to not have to think, to not have to focus on anything, just to let go and trust my partner to lead me into a beautiful dance.

There is a muscle memory to that.  I’ve seen John Travolta in movies and on Oprah of all places, step up to dance with a woman in his arms… and he has it.  I see that same pull into a leading stance, the lock up to his chest so his partner is not able to look at her (or his, in the case of William H Macy once) feet and off they go.  I remember when he told the story of dancing with Princess Diana and having to pull her out of leading.  I’d kill to dance with John Travolta.  Or to have danced with Patrick Swayze, he had it too.  Hugh Jackman has it.  Ewan McGregor has it too.  When I see these men dance on screen, my body knows how to fit and remembers the steps and the stances.

I’m putting it out to the universe that I want to dance again.  I don’t know how or where or when it will happen, but I’m trusting that I will find my way to do so again somehow.  I will not be ashamed of my fat body dancing.  I will remember how good I am at it and let that shine through.

November Challenge – Positive Posts

Well, it’s been an intense time of late with Fat Acceptance, hasn’t it?  I don’t know about you, but it’s been getting to me, dealing with all of the negativity, all of the hatred, fear, shame, bigotry and abuse.  And while it’s really important to speak up against all of this bullshit, sometimes one needs to just take a break to preserve ones sanity.

So for the month of November, I’m challenging myself to only post on positive topics about life as a fat woman.  Just for awhile, I want to focus on all of the fabulous things out there that are happening, that people are doing.

I think it’s vitally important that we celebrate the positive, acknowledge our achievements and have some fun.  I think as a bit of a mental health exercise for both myself as a writer, and any of you readers who feel the need for a bit of positive space, it will do good to have a month where we only focus on the positive.

Now I’ll need your help please.  Can you please share with me any fabulous fatty news that you find?  Either in the comments here on the blog, or on the Facebook page (linky thing is there on the right) or email.  If you have a project that you’d like to share, or you know of something awesome happening out there in the fatosphere, please let me know.  I’ll do my best to dig up some great stuff for you, but we always hear so much negativity over the positive stuff.

Also if you’d like to be featured as a fabulous fatty this month, please drop me a line. (Email)

So to kick us off, I want to share with you the AWESOME gift I got from my friend Kylie for my birthday.  Check this out:

It’s a fat cell!  Isn’t it the cutest thing you ever saw?  They have a whole range of them at www.giantmicrobes.com, but of course I just love this wee fuzzy fat cell.

Breaking the Contract

Ok so I dyed my hair pink yesterday.  Not a soft, floaty, ethereal pink.  Not a dusky, muted pink.  But a hot as possible, obnoxious, shiny, LOUD pink.  It wasn’t entirely intentional, the colour I used came out as a raspberry/cherry red last time, but this time the bleach worked a little more effectively and I had a blonde base underneath instead of a copper one.  But I am glad it went this colour because it’s far more representative of my personality, and I’m quite heartily in love with my new pink hair.

I’ve found I’ve had two basic reactions to it.  A lot of people love it.  They love the intense colour, they feel it’s daring and bold and I’ve had a few comments that have been really fun.  One colleague said it looked like a lolly (candy), and another thought it was like one of those Anime characters.  I got in the lift and a lady said “Oh!  I love your hair!  It looks like a unicorn mane!”  How’s that for an awesome compliment?

However, some people really take exception to my having pink hair.  The people who know me are polite about it, they change the subject or they say “Hmmm…”  But in the little over 24 hours since I coloured it, I’ve copped a lot of abuse from random strangers.  When I walked to the shops yesterday afternoon, in a trip that was maybe 15 minutes there and back, I had half a dozen douchebags yell shit at me out of passing cars.  Today I overheard a girl walking in front of me say to her boyfriend “Look at the fat woman behind us with the stupid pink hair.”  A guy yelled and flipped the bird at me as I waited for the bus this morning.  I got more catcalls throughout the day.

I believe there is a reason for this random hatred and the tut tutting of the people around me, aimed at me as a fat woman with loud pink hair.  It’s because I break the societal contract.

Women are not supposed to draw attention to themselves.  Fat women even less so.   We’re supposed to be demure, delicate, submissive, quiet, elegant, classy, modest, self debasing, “feminine”.  We’re supposed to feel shame about ourselves, to minimise, to be invisible, out-of-the-way.  “Nobody wants to notice your fat arse, bitch.”

Women who make their hair loud colours, or wear brightly coloured clothes, or have tattoos are loud, brash, brassy, obnoxious, unprofessional, childish, juvenile, unfeminine, silly, outlandish, ridiculous, immature… the list goes on.  The entire judgement of that woman’s character is on how she looks, without ever learning anything about her at all.  Not a thing about her intellect, wit, kindness, honesty, passion, generosity is ever worth acknowledging when her appearance is outside of what is considered “proper”.

So when a woman does something bold with her physical appearance that makes her highly visible, she breaks the societal contract.  She does what a whole host of people want to do, but don’t have the guts to do.  So they get angry and take their misery out on women like that.  How dare she do something that they want to but feel they can’t?  And she’s FAT too!  BITCH!!

How dare I not be ashamed of myself?  How dare I take pride in being noticeable and visible?  Who do I think I am?

I know y’all want to see the hair colour, even though I can’t seem to get a photograph to reflect the exact colour it is.*  So I’ve combined a photo of the hair with a message to all of the haters out there who get all sweaty lipped and twitchy over a fat woman who makes herself visible.

Behold!

*It’s more like the colour in this photo or perhaps this photo in reality – the photo makes it HEAPS darker!

Sorry, No I Won’t Hold

I’m sitting here with a little sunburn today.  Not anything really painful, just a bit pink and tender.  Lightly toasted.  My sunscreen wasn’t enough for the stunning day that was today.  Check it:

See that gorgeous purple creature there?  That is my gorgeous, wonderful, adorable bicycle Iris.  Yes, her name is Iris and she’s totally a her.  My friend Kirk named her Iris, because she’s purple and Dutch.  Dutch because she’s an Electra Amsterdam.

When I was a kid, I loved my bike.  I had a red dragster one when I was in primary school, and rode all over town in every spare moment, that bike was my freedom.  Then in high school I got a full sized ladies bike, which I didn’t like as much because it was pretty uncomfortable.  I much preferred to ride my mother’s bike, which was a lot better quality.  But I still had that mode of transport.

However, there came a time where the douchebags and bullies picking on me for being a fat arse on a bike got too much, and the bikes went into the shed and never came out again.  Eventually my mother sold them, and I no longer had that transport.

Which is fairly significant, because I don’t drive.

Last year, my Manager bought an Electra Townie bike, and I fell in love with it on sight.  I was lamenting that I no longer bicycle, and she suggested that the very perfect bike for me would be an Electra Amsterdam.  I saw the pics, and was even more in love than I was with the Townie.  I just knew I had to have a purple Amsterdam.

Well, a few months ago, I bought one.  I went to New Farm Bikes, somewhat apprehensive about how they would receive a fatty buying a bicycle.  I didn’t need to worry – it was never even an issue.  As the guy in the shop said “I’m so happy to get another bike on the road.”

Going to New Farm Bikes is just so much fun because the bikes are so pretty.  I mean, look at these:

The detail on them is just fabulous. Not all of them have decals (mine doesn’t) but when they do, look how exquisite:

Now that I have her, oh how I love my beautiful bike.  Look, if you’re a DeathFatz like me, cheap bikes just aren’t going to cut it.  You want something strong and comfortable.  Here I am with my bike:

See?  DeathFatz.  But happy and comfortable.  I went for a ride along the riverside bike/walk way today with a friend, and had an absolute ball.  What a beautiful day it was, and the ride was just so lovely.  Look at that view behind me!

I can’t believe I gave this up years ago because other people were asshats about me being fat and on a bike.

But I did.  And I regret it.  So much of my life I put on hold, waiting for when I got thin.  For 20 years I put things on hold, because I either felt I didn’t deserve them, or I wasn’t able to tolerate the bullying I got just for being a fat person living her life.

No more.  Life is too short to put it on hold.  If you do, you risk missing days like this:

Short and Sweet – Jiggly Bits

My friend Terri sent me this video.  I think I am in love with this lady:

I had never heard of Niecy Nash before, but all I can say is this is a lady living life to the full, as she is, proud of her body.  She looks like she’s having a lot of fun in life.

She looks fantastic on the dance floor too, and her partner compliments her beautifully.