Shelby Buster was celebrating her birthday the way many 14-year-olds do — by taking a trip to the local mall in her hometown of Eugene, Oregon. She and a friend popped into a store called Rue 21 where Buster was planning to buy some perfume with her birthday money when she was approached by a store employee. According to Buster, the employee decided to forgo a traditional customer greeting in favor of a much ruder message: “Hey, you’re too big to be in this store, I need you to leave.” Buster and her friend went to get her mom, who escorted the girls back to the store and demanded an apology on her daughter’s behalf. One of the employees eventually apologized, but when Buster got home, she decided to share her story publicly, writing “Thanks for ruining my birthday, Rue 21!” on the company’s Facebook page. 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 »
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 »
According to a new survey, the average woman still spends an obscene amount of time obsessing about calories and worrying about her weight. Over the course of a 67-year lifespan, we lose about one entire year of our life to thoughts of whether or not you should have that side of french fries and what they might do to your ass. And imagine if you live to be 100. If you still can eat solid foods/care about how your body looks, the lost time would be staggering. These stats are completely unsurprising, but when you really think about it, is worrying about dieting really worth losing an entire year (or more) of your life over? I say NO. Think about all the other things you could be doing with that time: like filibustering or volunteering at an animal shelter or writing a novel. The takeaway of the survey says, “Counting calories is a part of modern day life.” I don’t think we have to accept that. [Daily Mail UK]
This weekend I was riding the A train, as I do nearly every day, and I received the first stranger comment about my weight in a long time. He had been sitting next to me for several stops and was talking to another girl with a stuffed Nintendo Mario character backpack near us, clearly trying to pick her up. I suspected he was drunk. I kept reading my book and said, “Excuse me,” as I walked past him when we got to my stop.
He loudly said to my back, “You should go on a diet,” as I was getting off the train. I had a pause waiting for the doors to open. Usually I ignore these kinds of things, but this time I turned to the 20-something white dude, looked him dead in the eye and said, “My body is none of your business, nor is anyone else’s.”
He started to rebut as I got off the train. I just kept going. I realized as I was walking away I said that not so much to change his mind but for the benefit of anyone else listening that might think it’s okay to talk about someone else’s body. Keep reading »
I was a full-blown feminist by the time I started college. I also had a full-blown eating disorder. As a teen I marched on Washington for women’s rights. I put out a zine called Wonder Woman. I played drums (and by “played” I mean I aggressively and skill-lessly beat the shit out of a floor tom, a snare and a cymbal) in a punk band whose songs included “Penis-Shaped Missile” and “Cute Band Alert.” I prepared all varieties of soy-based hippie stews for Food Not Bombs, though I don’t recall ever sampling any of them. And it wasn’t because of the soy. Or the hippie. While my dog-eared copy of Naomi Wolf’s The Beauty Myth was proudly displayed on my bookshelf, my equally well-worn calorie counter book was hidden out of sight in my desk drawer.
I was terrified of gaining weight. I restricted. I binged and purged. I hated my body. Keep reading »
Let’s face it, we all occasionally judge couples we see on the street. Things quickly pop into your brain, like a running narrative. Oh, they’re cute. Eck, get a room! I can’t believe she’s with him. I can’t believe he’s with her. You get the point. But most of us keeps our traps shut about it. But that isn’t the case with Gloria Shuri Nava, who has been dating a hot Scottish guy for almost two years. The problem? Gloria is overweight. Her boyfriend is not. And people just can’t seem to believe that he would want to be with her unless he had some nefarious purpose in mind.
In an essay for Yahoo!, Gloria writes that wherever the pair go, “people give us confused looks that say, ‘He can do better than her!’” Gloria might be a bit paranoid. However, she says that people do more than just stare. They also say things like, “Is he blind?”; “He’s only with you to get a green card”; and “It’s great he can see past your looks.” Seriously, where does Gloria live? Rudeville?! Read more on TheStir…
I eat my secret cookies in the middle of the night. There is something clandestine, furtive about my stealthy trip to the kitchen, long after the world has gone to sleep. I am mostly asleep myself, I reason. This is hardly even happening. I can’t help it, it’s not my fault, I don’t even know what I am doing. These cookies don’t even count!
There is evidence in the morning — a cookie or two missing. We won’t speak of it. Who can remember what happened during the dead stretch between the dregs of the night and the pale creep of dawn? I can’t!
But wait a second.
What is really wrong with eating a cookie or two? What makes it an act of quiet self-deception? What about it requires sneaking?
I’ll be blunt. I mean, that’s why I’m writing this — to be blunt and confessional for a moment because I think that’s really the only way to address this sort of thing.
In my head, there is this eternal, infernal, absolutely obnoxious connection between food and failure. And you may find this next statement ridiculous, but: I think I’m actually pretty healthy about food. Keep reading »