Back in the early days of adolescence, being well-endowed in the breast department seemed like a pretty big deal. Maybe you were teased by boys and asked if you were wearing cardboard under your shirt (yes, this most definitely happened to . . . a friend of mine), or maybe you were busy buying padded push-up bras to give illusions of bigger boobs. Either way, it was on the mind. As we got older and wiser, the, ahem, perks of having smaller boobs became apparent — and thank you Keira Knightley for being our celebrity spirit animal — but we can’t say we don’t still wonder sometimes what it might be like with a bit more in the way of breasts. Here are some things that small-breasted women will understand about going through life armed with only an A cup. Read more on Tres Sugar…
I have a Shelf of Oddities (yes, I capitalize it in my head) that contains a toy bust of a Black Barbie, a miniature black Frank Kozik Gipper Bust, a School House Rock soundtrack, a vintage Franc, a chunk of pyrite, a bag of semi-precious rocks (mostly also pyrite), a paper knife, the rubber-band detritus of having performed Lygia Clark’s “Estruturas Vivas,” pieces of a broken sonic screwdriver toy that held someone’s weed before I scavenged it from their garbage, a six-sided die that has no 1 or 6 but two 2’s and two 3’s, a small vial of gallium (a metal that melts at extraordinarily low temperatures), a tungsten drill bit, dozens of pins that I had to take off of my backpack before I started traveling, and — here’s the important one — several pieces of multi-colored, multi-flavored hard candy that I took from Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ “Untitled (Portrait of Ross in L.A.)” and pocketed instead of eating, as theoretically one is intended to do.
“Portrait of Ross” is a pile of 176 pounds of a candy called Fruit Flashers that’s usually housed in the contemporary wing of the Art Institute of Chicago. It’s 176 pounds because that’s the weight Ross Laycock, Gonzalez-Torres’ partner, was when he was healthy, before they both got AIDS. It’s a metaphor for Ross’s body, and viewers are supposed to take a piece of candy — by so doing, the body deteriorates. Keep reading »
I have probably asked every person I know “Do I smell?” or “Want to smell my armpits?” this week. For this week’s Beauty Test Drive, I’ve been taking whiffs of my own pits as frequently as possible. That’s right, mid-Pilates I was caught turning my head to confirm this natural deodorant was actually tackling my B.O.
I can honestly say I have never tried a natural deodorant before, and was skeptical of Lavender + Sage Schmidt’s glass jar. I try to be health conscious, but I have never looked at the ingredient list of my deodorant. I’ve considered the ingredients in my soap, lotion, and makeup … but my deodorant? What could my armpits possibly have to complain about? If it keeps them smelling fresh from dawn to dusk, what more could an armpit ask for? Keep reading »
Half the office is down with a nasty cold this week, me among them. I’ve been laid up for the past couple of days, and can’t remember what the outside world looks like (kidding! Not really). We imagine some of you are also experiencing your first or fifth cold of the season, so we’ve cataloged the 10 horrible stages of a virulent winter sickness. Share your extra stages in the comments, please. Keep reading »
Ariana Page Russell has a skin condition called dermotographia, a condition where her mega-sensitive skin swells up at even the lightest contact. Rather than wallow in her condition, Russell opted to turn her condition — and her skin — into art. Russell draws complex patterns, poems and designs into her skin, creating a creepy/cool meta-statement on how women’s bodies are appropriated as objects. Check out more of Russell’s body of work (okay, pun intended) after the jump. [Empty Kingdom] Keep reading »
I used to work retail and “fitting room” was my favorite shift. While my other coworkers dreaded it, I thought it was friggin’ hilarious. Let me tell you, what people say when they’re in their underpants trying to squeeze into something is comedy gold! As a grownup fat kid, I’ve always struggled with my body issues, from my back titties to my general spherical nature. Nowhere was I ever able to laugh at myself more than in that dressing room, where I’d hear hot women of all shapes and sizes completely rip on themselves … instead of blaming, oh, the cut or the designer. It was ridiculous! And the best part was, the woman who picked the most ill-fitting clothing always bought the most. Self-acceptance is a cosmic joke. So, let’s laugh together with these completely true, yet hilarious, things women are insecure about when it comes to their bodies. Keep reading »