Fashion Is For The Skinny

I know I have touched on this subject before...but here I am again! Recently, what with not having cable, I've been practically living on the internet. I have also been stumbling upon a lot of good fashion blogs lately. Personally, I can't really stand fashion blogs because they irk me. For some reason, everything always seems so contrived. The poses, the perfection of the details, the looks on their faces...Whatev. It's sort of hard for me to put my irritation into words. Conversely, I also really like looking at them because I like to see how other people put clothing together.

But yet again, I see one common denominator. These chicks are skinnier than most. Not model skinny, of course, but that kind of thin that makes them look good in anything. Like, I know fashion blogs are not for replication, but it's like...of course these girls look good in ripped tights and a home-sewn minidress...when you're slim, it's hard to look bad in a lot of things that are fashionable. I mean, I don't know. I guess on the one hand I just want there to be average looking girls doing these fashion blogs. Can't a size 6 start documenting what she wears everyday? And on the other hand, it's not my job to solely regulate body size for fashion blogs. I mean, really.

Oh well. I am a study in contradictions. I would start documenting what I wore, but that would just be cliche and yet another heel-print in the worn down path of self-promotion. Life is confusing, and annoying, and fattening. Fashion is too.

What is the real message here? I need cable.

Deuces,
Erika

If You're Fatty And You Know It Clap Your Hands

Did you know that Lucy Ball was a size 12? And she was a model, but one of her legs was longer than the other so she had to wear special orthopedic shoes.

Whoa...this post is about to go from shallow to deep so fast I advise you to just put on your floaties now because you won't have time once you get pushed from the kiddie pool into adult swim. Oh yeah and stop me if this gets too "Sarah Morrison" Mr. Anonymous Fucker, but really fuck you and fuck off.

I'm not actually fat. Not by any standards, except maybe for the modeling industry, which, funnily enough, is what I'm choosing to base my body image off. I know, I know, bad Erika. Don't you know those bitches are starving themselves? Of course. Don't you know most of those photos are Photoshopped to oblivion? Hell yeah. Don't you know that's an incredibly unhealthy standard by which you choose to measure yourself? Do you think I'm stupid?

But using that logic, I must be because I still do it. Up until around 8th grade, I was a skinny girl. My metabolism was fucking out of this world. People used to worry about whether or not my mother fed me. You could've probably wrapped your pinky and thumb around my wrist. Then in high school I got lazy. I moved out of my old house (leaving behind my old friends) and into a big new neighborhood full of girls that weren't the outdoorsy type. I got stir crazy because I'd hung out with all guys in my old neighborhood. We rode bikes, played basketball, walked to Blockbuster, went swimming, played tennis, handcuffed each other and did various things (hey we were pretty sex-crazed little kids), but we could never stay indoors. If the temperature was above 20* and below 100* we were outside. But my new friends in my new hood were different. They were the girliest chicks I'd known. The only time we were outside was to walk to the car because we were going to the mall or the movies. When we went to the pool it was to tan. Sometimes we played Frisbee but someone would always get tired and suggest going inside to watch MTV.

So I just ate and ate (no, pot didn't help this) but never exercised. And I got heavier. In my freshman year I told myself by the time I was a senior I would be able to confidently wear a bikini. I tried to work out but I could never get my eating in order so it didn't make a difference. By the time I graduated HS, I certainly wasn't confident enough to put on a fucking bathing suit, let alone a bikini. I began to obsess about the bodies in the magazines and how gorgeous they were. My own body image got so skewed I didn't know what was fat or skinny anymore.

But I know I'm not fat. The last time I was weighed at the doctor, I was 132 pounds. That's not fat, of course it isn't. I'm a healthy size 6/8. Fuck, sometimes I wear a 4. And sometimes I wear a small. And then sometimes I wear a large. It's really whatever. But even at 132, I feel like I have a lot of weight to lose. I can't really tell what is and is not beautiful. Sometimes I can look at a magazine and see a girl with a flat stomach, tiny hips, no breasts, and a flat ass and I say, "Oh she's gorgeous." Then my bf's like, "Ugh, she's awful looking. I want a woman who looks like a woman." Which I suppose accounts for why he's with me. I certainly have a womanly body. The curves, the bosom, the hips, the huge ass. I try to force myself to be comfortable with it, but it's certainly a struggle.

I've starved myself before. I've been on a liquid diet. I've gone to bed hungry...a lot of times. I've denied myself food all day if I knew I would eat dinner with friends. I've measured every inch of my body with a tape measurer. It's extremely depressing. I've eaten out my stresses and worked out till I felt sick. I hate having so many issues with my body. I hate my body. As the legendary Tracie Egan once said (and I'm totally paraphrasing), "Some women look good for men and some women look good for women."

I don't do it for the men. Whatev. I like sex but I also like vibes. I do it for the women. For some reason, I feed off that feeling you get when you look good (and you know you look damn good) and as you walk past, chicks stop conversing just to watch you go by. I hear "There She Goes" by Sixpence None the Richer in my head. I feel unstoppable. I feel thin.

Deuces,
Erika