Basically my body type.

And I love it.

Reblogged from Free Bird

 

Photo

Reblogged from Lavendar Labia

And while we're on the subject of self/body-love,

Reblogged from come correct

I think one of the most radical things we can do, as oppressed peoples, is reclaim our bodies as our own and reject those normative standards of beauty. We need to see our bodies, our lives, as beautiful. We need to not only be ok with our bodies but also celebrate them for their difference, their gorgeousness. We need to look in the mirror and be able to masturbate to our own image. We need to see our wild, natural hair and our thick thighs and see them as the epitome of splendor. We need to be able to dance in the street and shout that we are fucking hot!
Is this easy? Hell no! We need to deprogram decades and decades of messages that tells us that we are ugly, worthless and unworthy of love. This is hard work! And it is only done with the gentleness of a community of people that love and affirm us. Because otherwise, the constant batter of hatred that we face in everyday life will convince us that we are ugly, worthless and unworthy of love. We need to have the place to come home to to heal and recover and remember who we are.

--witchymorgan (via freedom fighter)

“Fat people who love themselves scare the shit out of people who don’t love themselves. Even fat people who are TRYING to love themselves scare the shit out of people who can’t do the same. We force people to have to look at why they hate their bodies because we are “supposed” to hate ours and we don’t. And sometimes they have no idea what to do with that, so they act like assholes.”

- Tigress Osborn

Reblogged from freedom fighter as well

Well then rawr

Reblogged from Choosing Pancakes

“Fat people who love themselves scare the shit out of people who don’t love themselves. Even fat people who are TRYING to love themselves scare the shit out of people who can’t do the same. We force people to have to look at why they hate their bodies because we are “supposed” to hate ours and we don’t. And sometimes they have no idea what to do with that, so they act like assholes.”

- Tigress Osborn

Reblogged from come correct

What's wrong with our society, rather than with our bodies:

US Magazine Reveals Shocking Disparity Between Sizes of Models and Real Women: MyFoxDC.com

And while we're talking about things that make me angry...

I dislike commercials all the time. In fact, I think it's safe to say I dislike most of the commercials that are on television. Sometimes I even dislike them enough to talk with other people about disliking them. But I've never gone so far as to look up the video on YouTube so that I can 1) dislike it, and 2) rant about it here. 



But while weight loss commercials--well, really, weight-obsessive American culture, but that's a whole different ballgame--generally don't sit well with me, with all the implicit criticisms of people's "Before" selves and the tiny print at the bottom of the screen that reads "Results Not Typical". I have gotten used to be annoyed by these things. 

This new Jennifer Hudson and Weight Watchers commercial takes it a little too far, though.

I won't even start by mentioning that no one will ever win my favor by singing Whitney's song from The Preacher's Wife. That's beside the point. 

The ENTIRETY of the problem is that heavier Jennifer from the past sings "I was looooooost," and then thinner Jennifer sings, "and now I'm freeeeeeeee." That's it! That's all I'm taking issue with. But my issue with it is huge.

Now, let me come out and say that I am NOT by any means hating on Jennifer Hudson for losing weight. She looks GOOD. In fact, let me further say that I'm not hating on Jennifer Hudson for anything, because she didn't design the damn commercial.

But I want to be really articulate about what I'm upset about. This commercial isn't just your average run-of-the-mill hey, look, I lost a lot of weight and I'm happy about that; watch skinny me talk about how my whole life changed. Those commercials imply some negative emotions or understandings of having been overweight, but oftentimes shift the blame for that negativity to other people and in a small sense could be interpreted as advocating for the rights of heavy people by drawing attention to how others demean them. (Don't worry, I'm not foolish enough to believe that actually happens, but hey, a girl can dream.)

But this commercial takes it a step further. By heavy Jennifer singing her line, "I was lost," it's like Weight Watchers is trying to shame heavy people. They're suggesting that people who don't have flat abs or could stand to lose a little arm flab have "lost their way," have made bad decisions, are bad people. And then new skinny Jennifer is "free," having found the path to enlightenment in a size whatever. That's the message I'm supposed to be getting, right? There is an academic term for what they're doing: fat-shaming. And it's not okay, not even a little bit.

Depending on where I'm shopping, I'm sometimes a plus-sized woman (because society keeps trying to convince women that smaller and smaller sizes are the norm), and no matter what I'm a large-structured curvy woman. My skeleton probably weighs more than most fashion models whole bodies. And I'm fine with that. I am not lost, and I don't like Weight Watchers insinuating that I am just because I don't count calories and obsess about being toned and defined. I refuse to let them shame me into thinking there's something wrong with me, my body, or my mind.    

Le cosign

Reblogged from come correct

Oh hell yes!

Reblogged from PostSecret

Ideal womanhood?

Reblogged from Indie. Radiant.

What do I think it means to be beautiful?

Miss Jenkins of Rewriting Herstory has posed this question, and I think it sounds like a good thing to talk about, but before I share my thoughts, I want to share hers with you, because they're inspiring:

"Eventually, I realized that my outward appearance was a reflection of how I felt about myself.
Beauty is a combination of attitude and appearance.
Sure, physical beauty is a noticeable attribute based on appearance alone. But when I think about the people I consider “beautiful,” he or she usually carries him or herself in a way that makes you feel good when you are around them. Even if their outward appearance isn’t billboard worthy, so to speak, people usually enjoy their presence because of something that you can’t usually put into words. They look good partly because they exude a positive attitude and confidence.
It’s about how you feel about yourself.
I used to be kinda miserable. Complaining wasn’t hard for me to do. I could find a reason to criticize even positive experiences. I still have my moments, but I’m working on it. When I look at back it, I was mostly reflecting how I felt about myself. I would constantly criticize myself. I didn’t enjoy simple things, like going shopping with my friends because I hated to try on clothes (and because I was usually broke). I didn’t like shopping because I didn’t think anything could make me look good. I didn’t think anything could make me look good because I wasn’t as pretty as they were. I wasn’t as pretty as they were because something was wrong with me.
I’m learning to do away with those self-damaging thoughts about myself. I’m not weighed down by as many of them anymore. And people have noticed. I have gotten compliments about how much better I look. But it’s not because my wardrobe has significantly changed. I haven’t gained or lost a significant amount of weight. I haven’t had any physical work done. I’ve only done work on and for myself. I’m starting to appreciate what makes me beautiful on the inside and I’m learning to let it show." --Miss Jenkins

*a round of applause for her accepting her own fly-ness* 

I know that this struggle to see your own reflection as beautiful or to accept other people's suggestion that you are beautiful runs rampant amongst women who don't fit the media's image of beauty MOST WOMEN. Maybe you're a woman of color. Maybe your size isn't a single digit (double zeros, you are not included in this sympathy group). Maybe you don't have long silky wavy hair. Maybe your skin tone isn't even or you're prone to breakouts or you're just "plain". Maybe you are a human walking around in the real world rather than an airbrushed/Photoshopped image in a magazine. And whatever one or combination of these you are, you subsequently grew up thinking there was something "wrong" with you. You started brushing it off or being embarrassed when someone called you "beautiful," because they had to be just taking pity on you or trying to make you feel better. I think the thing most women (most people, I'm sure, but "beauty" is generally female territory) are raised to have in common is insecurities that could eat us alive. 

And the cold hard truth is that insecurity is not beautiful. When your insecurities are ruling you, you don't walk in beauty. You hide your smile behind your hands. You try to dress how you think you're supposed to dress, rather than adhering to your own personal style. You use make-up to hide rather than to accentuate. Generally, you are afraid to own the things that make you unique. A guy once told me that confidence makes a woman sexy, and I think something similar can be said about what makes women beautiful. I think it's hard, if not impossible, for a woman who does not love herself to feel beautiful. Maybe she can feel hot, or sexy, or desirable, or cute, but so much of beauty dwells in self-acceptance.

That's not to say there's no room for self-improvement in the quest to find your own beauty. Quite the opposite, in fact--I think people who love themselves must always want to better themselves; when you love someone, don't you want to encourage them to be the person they can be?  If you're overweight, wanting to lose weight doesn't mean you hate yourself, or that you think your current body is anything but beautiful. It just means you recognize that healthy is beautiful too. Even more of a sidenote: I can't stand people who criticize women who "go natural" but still wear makeup or perfume or eat things that aren't organic--I didn't say I was purifying my entire existence.

Society tries to say beauty is a physical thing, but I say beauty manifests itself in physical ways. Anyone can look put together. People are randomly born with perfectly symmetrical faces. Lots of people work really hard to have tiny waists, and some don't have to work hard at all. But I think the people who focus on biological/physical/external beauty like that are focused on something that is ephemeral and will inevitably fade as you get older (even if by the time we're 80, anti-aging everythings have made 80 the new 30). Beauty like that is...vapid. It's 2-D. It's...pretty. I think beauty is the antithesis of pretty. "Pretty" is a qualifier. If your teacher says the class average on an exam was "pretty good," you are less relieved than if he said the average was "good." "You did __insert thing here__ pretty well, but..." is a common phrase. "Pretty" might as well be regarded as a euphemism for "not quite good enough," "close, but no cigar", or "can be settled for but isn't the best it could be." "Pretty" is an insult.

 Coming back to what I'm supposed to be talking about here, I think beauty is walking with your head held high. It's letting your hips sway however they sway, not trying to put more into it or tone it down. Beauty is smiling wide enough to show the gap in your teeth, or not being embarrassed about having a loud laugh. Beauty is having style, with regards to your clothing, your mannerisms, your words, the whole package. Beauty is individuality rather than conformity. Beauty is being true to yourself, because truth is beautiful. Beauty is showing the world that you love and care about your whole self, rather than just your appearance. That once-over you give yourself in the mirror before leaving the house in the morning to make sure everything is in place is such a minor aspect of beauty, especially because you won't ever think everything is alright on the outside unless you have all those inner issues worked out.  I think beauty is a state of mind that your physical appearance adapts to represent, not the other way around.

Sigh.

*goes to Forever 21's website because she thinks they sell really cute stuff*


*clicks on Tops* 


*filters by size X-Large* 


*sees ONE MEASLY FUCKING TANK TOP* 


*remembers why Forever 21 mass-marketed standards of beauty piss her the fuck off*

Reblogged from Treasured Tresses

"Every girl learns to hate her body by watching other women hate theirs or hate on each other’s." -- Lisa Bloom

 Ladies, look in the mirror and repeat after me, "Girl, you are gorgeous."

Stephen Colbert is winning so hard

in the game of my affections right now. 

I wanted to blog about these ads last week, but didn't know how to type STEREOTYPICAL, RACIST, and CULTURALLY INSENSITIVE in large enough letters. Or how to convey that I'm fucking sick and tired of women being told that their bodies aren't good enough at every damn turn. SUMMER'S EVE, YOU ARE CREATING A PROBLEM HERE TO INCREASE YOUR REVENUE (and exacerbating lots of other problems in the process). So much shaking my goddamn head here. 

But that's just me whining. Colbert did something so much better than whine. He launched a counter-attack [though I must say that the fact that simply making a very similar ad tailored to men reveals the ridiculous nature of the situation just goes to show how accustomed we've become to women's bodies being problematized in the media...]: 

The Colbert Report
Get More: Colbert Report Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,Video Archive

 

Chillin with no makeup on

Something about my skin before I went to bed last night...I felt pretty. :)

2nd 30 Day Letter Challenge: Day 28--Letter to Someone You Did Something Crazy With

Dear M**,

I'm pretty sure most people, or at least most of the kinds of people I know and am close to, would describe what we did one evening after dinner in my dorm room last semester with only my makeup mirror on as mood lighting as pretty damn crazy. Most of the friends I've told judged me. If my parents ever saw the evidence, they'd kill me. I never actually got the reaction of the person I ostensibly did it for, but I'll bet he was rather surprised. Hell, I was rather surprised when I emailed you to say I'd do it. 
It was just a favor for a friend, in theory, and I had no obligation to volunteer, but no matter how many times I saved the email as a draft instead of sending it, I just couldn't resist. It seemed so naughty, so taboo, so downright wicked. It seemed like something past versions of me would never have done and that just made me want to do it more. This was a private act of rebellion: I waged war against timidity, a war in miniature, behind locked doors (you checked). It was an awkward cross-campus walk, as you asked whether I had any props and we discussed who'd get to see the results. You are officially the only person I've ever let browse through my underwear drawer. It felt silly, considering what we were about to do, but I turned my back to you to strip. With my back arched and my hands undoing clasps came the first click.
It was easy to take your directions and to offer suggestions. Like this? No, like that. It was easy to stop caring about trying to suck my stomach in or whether I looked good from that angle. It stopped feeling scandalous almost immediately. It stopped feeling wrong. All I needed to be was me. All I was doing was being me, being me in front of you. Talk about losing inhibitions... Subject rather than object of affection or desire, more than skin and scars and flab, I was art. Little old me! Now that's crazy...and it's a feeling I haven't let go of since.  I have the evidence in a box in my closet, and though I haven't seen all of it in all its glory, I can already tell these are some of the best of me.

So thank you for letting me get a little crazy,

Maya

Allow me to be narcissistic for a moment

Let's begin with an excerpt from one of my favorite blogs, so you can see where I'm heading with this discussion of narcissism:

"I imagine that one who is beautifully Self Centered (or Narcissistic) is…

• Gracefully centered in herself. She knows the inner workings of her being better than anything else on earth. She understands that she & her happiness are her first priorities.
• One that listens to her heart. She only makes decisions that will benefit her contentment & is unapologetic if her choices make others flustered. She realizes that she cannot change others & that it isn’t her duty.
• Completely self loving. She is sensual. She revels in the sight of her naked body. She radiates a kind of eroticism that is subtle & intimate. She seduces herself on a daily basis to celebrate the fondness she has for her being.
• Perfectly self-possessed. She exudes confidence & poise, so much that she practically walks on air. She never lets anyone get in the way of her own convictions. She doesn’t allow any one thing to label her or tell her what she isn’t.

We should all venture on the path to being unapologetically Self Centered & Narcissistic, if only just a little bit. I have a feeling that the moment we do that we will see ourselves in a new light, one that illuminates our entire being authentically & freely." --from Sex, Love[,] & Liberation (I refuse to abandon the Oxford comma.)

So one of the unexpected furnishings of my subletted room in my big empty house in New Brunswick was a full-length mirror, something I'd been woefully missing since an unfortunate incident involving my delusions of being a basketball star and throwing a glass bottle halfway across my dorm room in the direction of my trash can [which my mirror sat behind]. As I expected, however, my room didn't come with a dresser, which means that with the exception of my undies, which reside semi-sketchily in one of these contraptions from B^3, all my clothes are organized in my surprisingly large closet. The mirror is attached to the little bit of wall surrounding the doorway into the closet. This means that I very often find myself standing in front of it more-than-half-naked while I try to figure out what I want to wear for the day. 
At pretty much all times of my life prior to this [with the notable exceptions of the two times in my life I have used a mirror to get a good look at the parts of me that until 3 months ago no other human being had ever seen, once when I was 10 as inspired by a book about puberty my mom bought me and again this February, as inspired by AZ's performance in the Vagina Monologues, about a man who wanted to LOOK at her, which made me want to look at myself...], mirrors have been used primarily for finalizing the look [like, since coming to Princeton, mostly daily makeup-application] or quick-checking the finalized product before walking out the door. A recovering one-piece-bathing-suit-addict, I've never made it a habit to look at myself when I'm not properly covered up. Until now. 
And this morning, like yesterday morning, and a very large number of mornings for the past month, I stood in front of that mirror in shorts and a bra thinking about what shirt I wanted to wear and was interrupted by the passing idea You are so sexy. It wasn't a self-affirmation, not a task I'd set out for myself to do when looking in the mirror in the morning...it traveled through my brain as a simple statement of fact, like It's raining outside. I've realized that this idea has been growing in strength over the past month; it started with something like surprise, like Wow I don't look half-bad. Then it became In fact, I might even look kinda good. Suddenly it wasn't so hard to accept the idea that someone could want me. A couple nights ago when my friend C called me to talk about how I was dealing with the break-up, I didn't even laugh too hard when she said I was too gorgeous for him anyway. It was like somewhere along the way I actually started to believe that I might be objectively attractive in my own way. 
I'm not saying I used to sit around thinking I was the ugliest mothafucka on the planet or anything. But I certainly didn't think that I might, in fact, be hot. [Despite the fact that T says it all the time...she totally wants me ;) ] I'm trying to understand how this happened. 
I guess somewhere around the time when I went natural, I also began to change my style of dress a little bit and not feel like I had to dress up so much for daily life. I wanted to look put-together [it's a thing], yes, but I still wanted to look like me. So I added more t-shirts to my wardrobe along with more dresses. I bought flats and eventually allowed them to replace the heels in my life. I know people say this so much it's becoming a cliche, but going natural really did give me this general aura of confidence, like I wasn't afraid to be me despite because of the fact that I didn't fit the norm. I danced at parties even though I know I'm not good at it, and one or two guys started to dance with me. [This had never happened before.] And while I was perusing the interwebs in search of a Halloween costume last year, I found this and imagined it hugging my curves and WASN'T AFRAID TO FACE THE WORLD IN IT. So I bought it, and I wore it, and I got more compliments that night than ever before on a single day of my life (with the possible exception of graduation). Girls were jealous and WHITE MEN I DIDN'T KNOW danced with me--in other words, the world was crazy. And those reactions prompted me to get a little daring and buy SHORT DRESSES to wear to semi/formals in the spring, because evidently my legs didn't need to be hidden, and again, compliment after compliment. I bought fancy underwear sets and felt like a goddess in them. Dirty little secret time: I posed nude for a friend taking a photography class at Princeton who needed a female model. And even if I don't love how I look in every picture, there are some that are priceless and I love the fact that I did it. From there, I bought a bikini and have worn it to the beach multiple times--WITHOUT GIVING A FUCK THAT MY BODY ISN'T A STICK. I bought shorts that aren't bermudas and thus actually hug the curves of my ass.
What I'm trying to say is I love my body. And not just because of the six pounds I've lost without trying since summer started. And not just because someone else loved my body. He helped in that process, sure, but this came from within me. Haters can hate...today I say, with the promise of again saying tomorrow, that I am gorgeous, honey.  

Summer is here! (I'm backkkk)

I did something totally and completely unheard of yesterday. Something I haven't done since the early days of high school sometime, when going to the beach/pool was a once-or-twice-a-summer occurrence and didn't really warrant any worrying or forethought. Something that even then, was only really done in front of my family, who wouldn't judge me too hard. 

I, Maya Reid, of sound mind and body, wore a two-piece bathing suit. And I'm not talking about a tankini or a little skirted thing--full on bright blue bikini. PUBLICLY. To the beach. In front of people I haven't seen in years and people I'm very close to. And total strangers I'll never see again. And besides being worried that every single wave was going to result in my boobs popping out of that halter top--(d-cup bikinis from dELIA*s are totally not designed for anyone with actual d-cups. Fyi. Anyone know where a busty woman can get a bikini that won't try to flash everyone as soon as it gets wet?), I wasn't nervous or embarrassed. I had brought along my old skirted one-piece in case I felt uncomfortable, but I never even thought about changing into it! And yeah, maybe the other girls who were with me in bikinis were skinny little athletic bitches, but it didn't matter. Because I felt comfortable in my own skin. And it has been a long time since I've been able to say that and really mean it.


I think the single most valuable thing that I've gained this semester/year/a little bit every day is confidence. It's the thing I remember lacking most severely in high school and one of the biggest changes I can see in myself over the last year or two. Emotionally, intellectually, physically...I'm not scared anymore. So what if I cry at everything and get emotionally attached ridiculously quickly? So what if my ideas don't match yours--the world would be boring if no one ever argued or played devil's advocate. So what if I'm not a size two and my hip bones don't protrude from my body like all the bikini models? All that stuff isn't me. I'm me. And I'm happy being me. I love me. And somebody else loves me. There's something about being loved like that that makes me feel beautiful in a way that can't be messed up by a lack of makeup or bed-head or an overabundance of curves--he's helped me bridge the gap between feeling like beauty is something I do and realizing that beauty is something I am. So if I had any haters yesterday, fuck y'all. I'm beautiful.