This week, the retro fashion shopping site ModCloth made a public commitment to transparency in the media by signing a pledge let customers know if they Photoshop their models.
The Heroes Pledge for Advertisers, which is a campaign of the Brave Girls Alliance, asks companies to commit to informing users if they tangibly alter a model’s appearance in any way, reading: Keep reading »
Dr. Keith Ablow, professional douchebag/member of Fox’s “Medical A-Team,” is known for his general assholery and sometimes-shady health advice. On Tuesday, he appeared on the show “Outnumbered” and made a remark that was bold even for him: he said he couldn’t take Michelle Obama’s school nutrition campaign seriously because she needs to “drop a few” pounds.
Yes, he just called the First Lady — this First Lady — fat. Keep reading »
We all know pop culture doesn’t always depict average people’s lives or inner thoughts realistically. Unless Pink or Alanis Morrisette have new music out, mainstream pop music doesn’t much reflect the realities of my life. No matter how catchy a song like “Problem” or “Fancy” might be, they are pure sonic sugar. So, when I first saw the music video for Meghan Trainor’s song “All About That Bass,” it was exciting: not only were her retro outfits totally cute, but her song was straight up body-positive. Trainor sings about accepting and loving her curves, not being a size two and realizing the images she sees in magazines have been Photoshopped and aren’t real. As a curvy lady — hips, boobs, butt, all of it — this was exciting to hear in one of summer’s top pop songs.
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Samm Newman, a 19-year-old college student, was shocked when she found out her Instagram account had been removed for “violating community guidelines.” A photo she posted of herself in her bra and underwear (which adheres to Instagram’s rules against nudity) was flagged by users as inappropriate. Newman told NBC4i, “I’ve seen [lingerie] pictures like that all over Instagram.” Newman is a size 24 and suspects that size discrimination is the reason action was taken against her account while many thinner women continue to post as many bra selfies as they want. It would hardly be the first time Instagram has booted a plus-size lady’s account for simply posting images of her body. Keep reading »
Here are all the things I know about my body: My angular face no longer gains weight at the same rate that the rest of my body does, so when I gain weight my head looks smaller even though everything else looks about right in ratio to each other. I have proportionately very large thighs, and specifically proportionately very large quadriceps. My hamstrings and calves aren’t as developed. My ankles are likewise really wide. I have splayed breasts and my nipples don’t point quite forward. My rib cage is just about as wide as my hips. My hips are very wide. My butt has a pretty round shape but it doesn’t sit very high and I still don’t know if that can change via infinite squats (or if I care?). I have thin fingers but knobby knuckles. I have wide shoulders. My upper arms have some heft, so when they’re flat to my sides they splay out a little. My toes curl into each other. The tops of my feet are kind of hairy. I have a genuinely big-boned frame. The way I carry fat on my body has changed significantly in the last 10 years. I bloat up the week before my period. My skin never tans, it just gets sort of burnished. My legs are short for my height. I’m 70 inches tall, I weigh 176 pounds, and I have 24 percent body fat.
None of these things are criticisms — well, none of them are criticisms anymore. I spent the larger part of my life avoiding looking in the mirror, and when I did, I would only catch glances. It’d be a glance here at my legs, a glance there at my arms. It was always part of a subconscious effort to compare a part of my body to a part of someone else’s body — not just celebrities, but women I’d see walking down the street. So I only knew about my body the things that didn’t match up to someone else. Keep reading »
I recently signed up for six sessions with a personal trainer, LaMarcus, and told him my goals: get more toned and lose a few pounds.
Then he weighed me. I clocked in at 125, and he asked me if that’s what I expected. “Yeah, but I’d prefer to be closer to 122,” I told him. WHAT? As the words came out of my mouth I realized how ridiculous that probably sounded. Why do I even need a trainer for that? I’m not overweight. I know this (if not by looking at myself, then by furiously Googling “healthy body weights”). But that doesn’t stop me from telling myself that I am. Sometimes. I’m a pretty confident person. But, on some days, I can’t help but hate my body.
My self-diagnoses? I’m a Body Image Waffler. Keep reading »