I was asked recently why I hadn't posted this video on the blog yet. I wasn't really sure why - maybe because I've been swamped with work or maybe because I've been detached from this space. I've written 31 different posts, in the middle of the night in the past two weeks when I couldn't sleep, only to find I hate what I've written and wonder why I'm even writing at all. So, really, this paragraph has nothing to do with this video, a video that most of you have been waiting for (if you hadn't seen already). 


What gets me back to a place of "ready", is knowing that I'm meant to have a voice. And, what that means to you. What makes me feel like I couldn't walk away is watching this video, knowing I KNOW what my purpose is. I feel like I'm constantly spewing my uncontrollable feelings all over this blog but I also know, that's what makes this relationship between you the reader, and me the writer, fucking legit. 

And back to normal programming...

What occurred on June 2nd, outside of the eve of my birthday, is neither here nor there. What came of it is what I hope to continue. It's been well over a month and I've spoken with hundreds of women since then about very similar stories. What I found so disappointing were the things women did find acceptable. 

"I mean, you're not even remotely fat. How could they even say that to you?"

"Well, it's different when your boyfriend tells you that because he would be saying it out of love, but for a complete stranger, that's so awful!"

"My mom tells me I need to lose weight and she's right b/c hello, look at me but man, this guy didn't even know you."

and it goes on.


I found it incredibly sad that women felt that if I were "fat" or if this boy was my partner, that would entitle him to tell me to f*cking lose weight. I know that it's cultural acceptance, I know that we are taught to think that others are just "looking out for us." And, I know that some people genuinely think they are helping, outside of those negging assholes (I attached this link because it's a real perspective of those that use negging as a real way to get women). So, here comes a speech, get ready:

Not one person, not your mother, your sister, your boss, your teacher or your partner should be able to tell you what is and isn't healthy for you. If you genuinely question your weight, see a doctor, not a friend. No one knows your DNA, what is a healthy body size or what is best for you. I hate to now know that some women really do believe this is acceptable behavior from even the closest of people. You, YOU, YOU are so awesome, so beautiful, so wonderful. Those curves right there? The most touchable. Those A cup breasts? Blessed to fit into any blouse/top/dress and look chic. That big ass? Work it. That freckle right on your nipple? Jealously unique. The pair of dimples on your thighs that look like twins? The dips and valleys make you feel real. I could go on, but you get the idea. The you that you are is ridiculously wonderful. If you feel like you want to change something? You better change it because you want to, because you'd feel better if you did so, because you know it's something that will boost your confidence. Don't get me wrong, I love a circle of trust. I love being able to be with the girls, complain about the pimple farm growing on my shoulder blade and the ingrown hairs from my bikini wax and how I don't trust my waxer anymore. However, nothing in that circle of trust solicits a doctoral diagnosis. 


All that is to say, stop letting people tell you about yourself. Be a bold bitch, own your body, own your personality. Be the most ridiculously polite or aggressive, chunky or thin, funny or serious, bold or timid, pear-shaped or apple-shaped, eccentric or conventional, reckless or safe person you are. Just be you. As cornball cheese as that is. 

And goodbye.


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