We’ve all got to pay rent somehow. Kristy Love from Atlanta, Georgia, uses her 48NN boobs — but not the way you think. Love is a “busty masseuse” who smothers and massages clients with her large breasts. Keep reading »
It wasn’t long ago that Special K was selling us on the idea that we could “drop a jean size in two weeks” by replacing meals with cereal, shakes and their other food-ish products. In fact, the cereal has long been marketed as a weight loss/weight maintenance plan. This is a brand that once recommended pinching yourself on a regular basis to determine if you should watch your weight. “Can you pinch more than an inch?” Try the Special K breakfast! (Results not typical. May result in bruising.) But now they are singing a different tune. Sort of. Kellogg’s has figured out a new golden formula. Here’s a 5-step breakdown of how it works:
Step 1: Women believe we’re not thin enough, pretty enough, good enough because for decade after decade, advertisers have told us these things in order to sell products as the solution to the insecurities they stoke. Keep reading »
When I was a chubby nine-year-old, I worked up the nerve to ask my crush to “go out” with me. Well, I didn’t ask him. I sent of my friends to do it for me. That’s bravery, fifth grade style. They came back from the monkey bars looking cagey. I was hyperventilating. “Well!?” I asked, hopefully.
“Um … he said no –” my friend said gently. “Because you’re too fat!” the other interjected.
Obviously, I was devastated. But these things happen when you’re a kid. Children say the meanest shit. It’s a fact of life. From that moment on though, I began the long process of trying to never feel fat again. Let me tell you, that’s a losing battle. The feeling fat part, not the being fat.
By the time I was 13, I had shed the baby weight. Puberty and healthier eating habits helped with that. At 34, I would say I still carry around the mental weight. I’m 5′ 6″, 125, fit and healthy, but I have days when I look in the mirror and think I’m fat. It’s not like body dysmorphic disorder where I think I look fat. I know I don’t actually look fat, it’s more of an internal feeling. If I had a bad day, or did something that I perceive as negative, my go-to insult is to call myself FAT. You’re fat. And the crazy thing is that the insult has disassociated itself from weight, and even my physical body. It’s become a state of mind synonymous with negative feelings or poor self-esteem. Fat is bad, even though, intellectually, I know this isn’t a statement of fact. On bad days, I’m in a fat state of mind. Keep reading »
You might have already expected as much, but those before/after picture for the supplements that claim to help you drop 30 pounds in 30 days or give you an overnight six-pack or whatever insane thing they say they’ll do are all a bunch of hogwash. Aussie personal trainer and fitness blogger MelVFitness demonstrated how those pictures are nothing but an optical illusion by doing her own photo transformation in 15 minutes.
“Check out my transformation! It took me 15 minutes. Wanna know my secret? Well firstly I ditched the phonewallet (fwallet) cause that shit is lame, swapped my bather bottoms to black (cause they’re a size bigger & black is slimming), Smothered on some fake tan, clipped in my hair extensions, stood up a bit taller, sucked in my guts, popped my hip — threw in a skinny arm, stood a bit wider #boxgap, pulled my shoulders back and added a bit of a cheeky/Im so proud of my results smile. Zoomed in on the before pic- zoomed out on the after & added a filter. Cause filters make everything awesome. What’s my point? Don’t be deceived by what you see in magazines & on Instagram.. You never see the dozens of other pics they took that weren’t as flattering. Photoshop can make a pig look hotter then Beyonce.”
Keep reading »
Originally appeared on Role/Reboot. Republished here with permission.
I threw away all my underwear today. Scratch that. Today, I threw away all of my underwear that would be classified as “lacy little things,” “thongs,” or, in Victoria’s Secret parlance, “cheekies.” Scratchy, itchy, barely-there? It had to go.
I have never lived alone, but in two weeks I will be moving into my first solo apartment. I will be sans-roommate, single girl-ing all up in this city; I am woman, hear me roar! Among the many horrid chores of moving, there is one beacon of joy: the Great Purge. I am a packrat by nature — note every 5K bib I’ve preserved, the melted plastic cup twisted by a deck fire, the tile from the floor of a hostel in San Juan — but moving is the kick in the butt I need to separate what I hoard sentimentally (all of the above) and what I hoard lazily.
The underwear is lazy. No pair has been purchased in the last four years. No pair has been worn more than five times. No pair brings a smile to my face or a steamy memory to the forefront of my mind. The truth, quite simply, is that I hate them all. About a hundred bucks and eight ounces of lace and elastic are now buried by garbage and I feel fantastic. Keep reading »
I think we can all agree that the society’s issues with weight and body image have reached rock, rock, rock bottom when women are purposefully ingesting tapeworms to shed pounds. An Iowa woman had to seek medical attention last week after purchasing a LIVE tapeworm off the internet and swallowing it. She was advised to get on anti-worm medication as soon as possible to avoid illness or possible death. The woman’s lapse in judgment prompted the Iowa Department of Public Health to issue a statement warning against using tapeworms as weight-loss aids. Keep reading »
One of my clearest memories is of sitting in a diner with my mom and a family friend when I was a kid. I’d just ordered a chocolate milkshake (a treat since my mother only kept fruit pops in the house) when the friend pointed to a fat woman sitting at the counter nearby. In my memory, the woman’s bottom was so large the stool looked too small for her, and her bright, pink top showed off every roll.
“Be careful,” the family friend said, gesturing toward the woman.
In hindsight, I’m horrified at this memory. The woman, who was already brave enough to wear an eye-catching top, had to have heard our friend implying that her body was disgusting. But for my grade-school self, this just inspired feelings of shame and defiance. I wanted to enjoy my treat in peace for once, rather than be reminded yet again how I already had trouble finding clothes that fit. Keep reading »
Although Abercrombie & Fitch has been hit hard with criticism for not carrying larger sizes in stores, they’re far from the only company ignoring the plus-size customer base. We already knew anything over size 10 is considered “plus size” at Forever 21. Now, according to Huffington Post, Lululemon Athletica, a Canadian clothing company that focuses on yoga and running attire, also is biased against customers who require larger sizes.
As company that sells athletic gear, Lululemon wants to portray an image of health and wellness. How healthy a person is, however, is not to be confused with how skinny a person is. This is where Lululemon goes wrong.
Keep reading »
When it comes to judging — or rather, assessing — the appearance, weight, and other such physical attributes of People That Are Not Me, I am forgiving to the point that someone close to me refers to me (endearingly? maybe? I hope?) as “Shallow Hal” (post-hypnotherapeutic incantation, obviously). It’s not that I can’t see it, I just don’t care; what you look like means absolutely nothing to me. I tend to see a person with a personality, rather than a body with a face. And yet, when it comes to myself, I am cruel as can be. I say things to and about myself so callous and demeaning, I literally would not say them to my worst enemy. Look, I don’t even have a worst enemy, but in the event that I did, I would not be even half as mean to them as I am to myself. Body Dysmorphic Disorder: I got it on lock. Comedian Annie Lederman (who, by the way, looks really familiar, and I’m not sure if it’s because I ran into her at a party or something or because she bears a striking resemblance to Emily VanCamp, nor will I ever know, but we do have one mutual friend on Facebook) did an uncanny job of capturing the dichotomy between what you see when you look at me, which is an average, acceptably attractive human female, and what I see when I look in the mirror, which is Danny Devito. ACCURATE. [Annie Lederman via Huffington Post]
This weekend, 27-year-old Nick Gilronan won the title of “Smallest Penis In Brooklyn” and the $200 prize that came along with it. But don’t be feeling bad for this single UPS store Assistant Manager (who models and acts on the side and technically lives in Queens) for being a “grower, not shower” — not only is he not embarrassed of his manhood, he’s proud as hell of his junk. He’s using his pageant win to speak out about the important of having a good body image. Here’s what he had to say on the matter in an interview with Gothamist:
“The size of a man’s penis does not matter for who he is as a person or in a relationship. Same thing with breast size. We’re all made in different shapes and sizes, but the media puts pressure on people to look a certain way. Most people do not look that way. Some people let that false sense of body image upset them and they shouldn’t be upset at all. Even worse, some people use those false standards and judge other people. It’s disconcerting… My advice for [less endowed men] is don’t worry about things you cannot control. All that does is waste time. Always move forward and do the best you can.”
Keep reading »