Massive congratulations to the winner of February's Blog of the Month poll...
The next poll will open tomorrow, with slightly different terms, because of Body Image Season.
LoveLoveLove
- The BSB Team -
Guest post by Caroline of Second Hand Shopper.
Hi, I’m Caroline, and I’m indescribable. I can’t be called fat (though it has been known to happen…) and I can’t be called slim, because, well, I’m not. I’m a size 16 in most clothes (though I tried on two size 16 pencil skirts at lunch time that would strongly deny it) making me square on average sized for this island we Brits call home. And clothes were not made to fit me.
I learned long ago that clothes sizing on the British high street is there to cause shoppers as much stress and frustration as possible. Alongside said too tight skirts this lunchtime I did actually make a purchase, a lovely grey work dress that fits like a glove. In a size 12.
When picking out clothes it’s the overall proportions that dictate whether something will fit me. What this means in practicality is that a lot of the time clothes cut for the high street are not cut for my form, that I’m too hippy for the average store’s size 16 but too narrow-waisted for the smallest plus size fitting. What this means emotionally is that shopping can reduce me to a state of complete self-loathing as I dissolve into tears on the fitting room floor.
The word “fat” has become something of an expletive in modern society. We describe women as curvy or voluptuous, men as heavy set or sturdy, children as chubby or as carrying puppy fat… We bring out “fat” only when being vindictive or vitriolic, to sting or berate. “Fat” is a word I pull out when I want to torture myself, a stick I use to beat myself into submission when my wavering hand is reaching for the cheese at 10pm. It’s a short, sharp, shock of a word that can bring down the most beautiful, successful and independent of women and stop my greed in its tracks.
And we need to undo this evolution of meaning, to give fat back over to its purpose as an adjective rather than an insult. The way to do this is often seen to be to embrace “fat” a la Beth Ditto, and learn to love bodies for all the amazing things they do for us – whatever their shape.
But what if fat doesn’t embrace you back?
That’s where the issue lies for indescribables. Because neither fatties nor skinnies will take us. We are the ultimate rejects, uncared for, uncatered for and unloved.
Poor body image, we are told, affects us all. A recent blog post [http://secondhandshopper.wordpress.com/2010/02/12/wide-load/] I wrote about being overweight and its effect on everyday activities like eating in public, travelling by train and sounding out of breath after a brisk walk, provoked comments, tweets, emails and conversations from dozens of women simply stating “that’s EXACTLY what goes through MY brain”. It also provoked comments from women at the other end of the spectrum, who happily confessed to being equally aware of what others might be thinking of them. Everyone, it seems, has their own personal vendetta against their body, their face, their hair...
But what no-one ever tells you is that it doesn’t have to be this way. Almost a year ago now, a Times Online article lead me to write another body-image inspired blog post following their comments about the amazingly beautiful Christina Hendricks (see image). The article was the oft-churned-out “curves are coming back” fluff, and heralded Joan Holloway (Christina’s character in Mad Men) as the ideal example of the new shape, while deriding Christina Hendricks for being “big” (an opinion recently reiterated to many a blogger’s disgust by a commenter on the Daily Mail website):
“Every time Christina Hendricks (Joan in Mad Men) is interviewed and photographed in contemporary clothes, you are reminded that casual, undone and edgy do no favours for the hourglass figure. In that early 1960s look, with asset-packing sheath and immaculate up-do, any woman would die to look like her. But in a thigh-skimming asymmetric number with a frill down the front or, God forbid, jeans and T-shirt, she looks like the big girl who doesn’t quite have what it takes.”
(Source: HERE)
I’m sorry, what was that now? “The big girl who doesn’t quite have what it takes”?? Have you seen this woman?
Thankfully, unlike other “curvy” celebrities, Christina seems to have a truly healthy relationship with her shape. In the feature the image is lifted from, she states unequivocally that she was, until the media started waxing lyrical, completely oblivious to the fact that her body looked any different to any other actress’s. In fact, she’s fed up with her body being centre stage and would like to just please drop it already.
Which we could all learn from. Our bodies are all unique. And every one of them does the miraculous job of holding us up every single day, of mastering as many as five senses, of letting us work and play and laugh and cry and live. If we really want to expend so much energy thinking about our bodies, wouldn’t we be infinitely better off using it to sing their praise?
Every morning, my hair and I do battle. This battle is largely based on the fact that my hair sits right for precisely five minutes a day; the five minutes before I leave the house... meaning that I spend most of every day glancing in every reflective surface to see if it still looks as attrocious as last time. It nearly always does.
On a good day, my hair can look beautiful; I have the kind of golden-brown curls that make Grandmas go weak at the knees. On a bad day, my hair looks like Hermione Granger before she discovered straighteners and Frizz Ease. The problem is that good days are becoming rarer and rarer:
Amy's hair through the ages
And the last time a semi-decent photo was taken of it:
You can see the development from managable and cute to irritating and weird there, I think. Anyway, the reason that my hair and I have such a poor relationship is based largely on the fact that I have a) natural frizz and b) a genetically weird scalp, requiring medicated shampoo.
Over the years, though, I've learned one or two lessons about patience with hateful hair, and I thought that (as hair hasn't been tackled by Body Image Season yet) I'd pass them on...
Appreciate every good hair day you have
Seriously. You may be a member of Facebook's wonderous group "Why isn't my hair cooperating with me?", but if your hair does sit right for one day, enjoy that day!
Nod and smile
When your mother tells you that she loves your hair just the way it is. If you don't, you shouldn't settle for second best.
Do your research, and try out different styles
You might no believe it from those photos, but I have, and I'm now in the process of growing my hair out again, after trying it out short. Short was not a good look for me. Neither was straight; and don't even mention the word "layers"... I now know that the only way to wear my hair is to wear it long, and keep trying products...
On which note;
Try out different products
And don't believe the advertising slogans. Aussi Formula claims to de-frizz any frizz. Oh ho, it failed on me, and some! Also, don't take your friends' advice... unless their hair is identical to your own.
And... wait.
And, if in doubt, write a really angry blog post about your hair-based issues, and see what your readers recommend!
On which note... what do my readers recommend? :)
Good luck, fellow hair-haters - I feel your pain!
LoveLoveLove
- A -
I don't think that quote has ever been more fitting than in the case of Melissa Smith. She got in touch to tell me her remarkable story about how despite a disability, which causes the equivalent of third degree burns on her body each day, she has embraced her body and a sense of style.
I was born with a rare genetic skin blistering condition, called Epidermolysis Bullosa (or EB as it’s better known). The best way I can describe it, at least the type I have, is waking up every day with new second degree burns, caused by smallest amount of friction or trauma, like turning over in bed. The effects of EB are incredibly visible; I have to wear bandages covering my limbs, I regularly have blisters and wounds on my face and neck, my left eye is scarred, and I’m often in my wheelchair.
As you can imagine, this can have a devastating effect on one’s body image and self-esteem. Especially when people decide to stand staring and pointing in public, or ask the ever-tactful question “what’s wrong with you?” I’m happy for people to ask, but phrasing is important!
But among the things that make me happy are clothes. I love clothes. I adore them, and I always have!! I am a qualified practitioner of retail therapy, and I happily brush up on my shopping skills at every available opportunity. I love the look, the feel, even the smell of clothes, all a part of anticipating the first time you will wear them. Several of my friends have requested that, should anything happen to me, I bequeath my extensive wardrobe to them. Which is a bit worrying, now I think about it…!
At face value, an entire day spent shopping often seems like a vacuous waste of time, but clothes and accessories can have almost magical powers. They can make you feel on top of the world, when really it’s resting on your shoulders, and they can help you to love parts of your body that you usually loathe. For example, my feet are a source of great pain to me, but when I look down at my beloved biker boots or patent wedges…all is forgotten (for a while at least!). My belly, distended because several surgeries, is much less troubling when underneath my favourite French Connection or Ducie dresses. And why would anyone stare at my hands when they can look at a gorgeous, one-off bracelet? When I want to hide my sore neck, it’s just an opportunity to wear a great scarf or cowl-neck knit.
Clothes make people look at me differently, but in a positive way. More and more often people ask not why I wear my bandages, or why I’m in my wheelchair, but who made my jacket or where I got my dress. How I dress allows me to embrace the fact that I stand out from the crowd, and use it to my advantage. Clothes and accessories level the body image playing field in many ways, too. I mean, how many women are lucky enough to be able to pull off every style, colour, material? Being short, very long earrings and maxi dresses will never do me any favours, but that’s nothing to do with my disability! Yes there are styles and cuts that do more for my body image than others (shorts and tights? Yes! Bodycon? No!), and I can’t wear sleeveless tops without a shrug of some sort, or heels bigger than an inch-and-a-half. But when I wear my favourite outfit, I feel like I could dance down the street, singing “I’m Every Woman”. Because we are all the same really, aren’t we? Our hang-ups are just concentrated on different areas, or sparked by different events. We just need to know our bodies, and how to work with them, not against them.
What we wear can be a great medium for making statement, whether about politics, religion, culture or ethics. But I think the most important statement we can make, in this age of what borders on body fascism is, simply, “I feel great about myself today”.
You can follow Melissa on Twitter and/ or Tumblr
I'm taking care of BSB for the next few day's while Amy is lucky enough to be at London Fashion Week. Her task for me was to find two guest bloggers, the first of which is for today. I'm lucky enough to know the brilliant Alli Denehy of What Alli Thinks, she bravely agreed to talk about how she viewed her own body as a growing teen and how things have changed.
Being a teenager is supposed to be the best time of your life. You are believed to become an individual. Your body grows in all sorts of weird and wonderful ways that we just can’t help. It’s how we are supposed to be.
Recently I stumbled upon this picture when looking for underwear online and it’s transformed my opinion of plus size women. I’ve always thought I’d have to hide away under my clothes, not show off anything because I had convinced myself that no one would want to look at me. I thought they would be disgusted and appalled by it. Well I was wrong, I have now found a pair of and I’m not afraid to show off my curves.
Fashion and style is all about you feeling comfortable with yourself. Not what everyone else is doing or wearing. Do what you want to do because people will love you more for being yourself then being one of the many clones.
Whatever day of the week it is you should feel in love with yourself. Self confidence will get you so far in life.
What is the point of this exercise I hear you ask? Well it’s to prove you can all are beautiful no matter if you have wide hips, small breasts, flicky hair, bad skin. We are all perfect and we don’t need to be clones to prove it. Individuality is the key to life and don’t let anyone tell you different.
As a teenager we are always going to hate the way we look all because we want to look like the latest celebrities and follow the latest trends. I’m constantly worrying. It’s normal. Every person in existence is going to worry about the way they look once in their teenage years. We always have these niggles that something’s wrong .Nothing is wrong, everyone is their own being.
and as the song goes It's my life It's now or never I ain't gonna live forever I just wanna live while I'm alive. Live how you want to live, look how you want to look.
