My name is miaou and I am writing to you because my great friend miaoumiaou and I are wondering if you are polyamorous. If you are, we should all hang out right now. In particular, I like your front teeth, your slight regional accent, and the fact that you know everything. Other things too, but I will not say them. We should all three (you, me, and miaoumiaou) eat vegan food together in a park under the shade of a tree and talk about the afterlife or the lack thereof, as well as other things like childhood and Boohbah and mewesikh. Even if you are not poly (which miaoumiaou and I are not anyway), we want to become your great friends. We also wonder if you are vegan and if you want to be our friends too. Because we are quite sincere about wanting to be your friends.
“Whenever anyone has called me a bitch, I have taken it as a compliment. To me, a bitch is assertive, unapologetic, demanding, intimidating, intelligent, fiercely protective, in control — all very positive attributes. But it’s not supposed to be a compliment, because there’s that stupid double standard: When men are aggressive and dominant, they are admired, but when a woman possesses those same qualities, she is dismissed and called a bitch.
These days, I strive to be a bitch, because not being one sucks. Not being a bitch means not having your voice heard. Not being a bitch means you agree with all the bullshit. Not being a bitch means you don’t appreciate all the other bitches who have come before you. Not being a bitch means since Eve ate that apple, we will forever have to pay for her bitchiness with complacence, obedience, acceptance, closed eyes, and open legs.”—
You probably don’t realise it yet but we are apologising for our sexuality every time we put on our clothes. When did feminism become a dirty word? Did it ever stop being a dirty word? Along with the right to vote, why didn’t my legs, tits and ass achieve freedom of expression? Why do i have to cover my body when i sit on a sydney beach? Are my nipples really a source of outrage? & did you notice they are the same colour as my lips?
Apart from the frustrations that come with being a sexually liberated woman, of any size shape colour or creed, I am also a fat woman. So the thought of even wanting to expose my body should inspire outrage. No? When i started this post i really wanted to ask if you ever felt like you are apologising for your size and shape when you put on your clothes? Do you find yourself having these kinds of conversations with your reflection in the mirror?
Q:Is your skirt too short for those thighs? A:Maybe you should wear some leggings.. Q:Are your breasts too big to show that much cleavage? A:Maybe you should buy a minimiser bra? Q:Do my arms look flabby… Do my calves look too big…Is my head too fat for this haircut….
A: NO. Embrace it.
eg. When i sit down at my sewing machine to make something fabulous for my best friend, she says “…and i don’t want to show my arms…” I want to shake her and say WHO MADE YOU THINK THERE WAS SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOUR BEAUTIFUL ARMS!!!!!!!!!??? WHERE ARE THEY??? I’LL HURT THEM!!!!
The simple truth is, our mothers said it, our grandmothers said it, their mothers and grandmothers and society in general.
The only person perpetuating it is you.
If you’re a big girl and you like to dress well and look sexy- & you know that you deserve respect and admiration - I know there are countless women and men who will respect and admire you, i’m just one of them.
I’m not here to talk about fatshion. I want to make fatshion
My label will be showing at GISELARAMIREZ.COM.AU in the next few months - or even longer… don’t take my word for it!
Tumblr is actually me giving myself a proverbial kick in the butt to do more work
I hope you enjoy my blog and my clothing
I just sat down and read every page of this woman’s blog and it is automatically one of my favorite Tumblrs, and Gisela is one of the most gorgeous and inspiring women I’ve seen. Also, I’m reblogging this post because I find it incredibly important.
When I was writing the movie Mean Girls—which hopefully is playing on TBS right now!—I went to a workshop taught by Rosalind Wiseman as part of my research. Rosalind wrote the nonfiction book Queen Bees and Wannabes that Mean Girls was based on, and she conducted a lot of self-esteem and bullying workshops with women and girls around the country. She did this particular exercise in a hotel ballroom in Washington, D.C. with about two hundred grown women, asking them to write down the moment they first “knew they were a woman.” Meaning, “When did you first feel like a grown woman and not a girl?” We wrote down our answers and shared them, first in pairs, then in larger groups. The group of women was racially and economically diverse, but the answers had a very similar theme. Almost everyone first realized they were becoming a grown woman when some dude did something nasty to them. “I was walking home from ballet and a guy in a car yelled, ‘Lick me!’” “I was babysitting my younger cousins when a guy drove by and yelled, ‘Nice ass.’” There were pretty much zero examples like “I first knew I was a woman when my mother and father took me out to dinner to celebrate my success on the debate team.” It was mostly men yelling shit from cars. Are they a patrol sent out to let girls know they’ve crossed into puberty? If so, it’s working.
I experienced car creepery at thirteen. I was walking home from middle school past a place called the World’s Largest Aquarium—which, legally, I don’t know how they could call it that, because it was obvious an average-sized aquarium. Maybe I should start referring to myself as the World’s Tallest Man and see how that goes? Anyway, I was walking home alone from school and I was wearing a dress. A dude drove by and yelled, “Nice tits.” Embarrassed and enraged, I screamed after him, “Suck my dick.” Sure, it didn’t make any sense, but at least I don’t hold in my anger.
(I’m actually taking a weekend off, but i might do one or two scattered posts between now and Monday. No guarantees.)
What i do want to say before the weekend is:
It really bothers me when people screenshot/snip an image of “soandso replied to your blog…” rather than simply copying and pasting the text—which is not only quicker but also, and more importantly, the more considerate and accessible thing to do. Particularly if you don’t even both to write an image description.
I don’t see the point. Just copy paste the text so that more people can enjoy the content.
Hmm, I’d never thought about this before, so I’m glad you brought it up! I only did screencaps because I liked the look of it—it looked more like an Ask. In fact, I wish Replies functioned more like Asks. But since you’ve bought this up, I will forever and from now on copy and paste so that all people who visit my Tumblr can read replies. :)
I was in my ethnic studies class talking about how evil white people are. Being the only white person in the class, I felt as if the teacher was ardently demonizing white people.
Hatred filled the room, almost everyone in the class would shoot me a dirty look so I raised my hand to defend myself.
My hand was raised in the air for about 3 minutes as she continued going on about how white people held down the African-Americans.
I couldn’t stand it any longer so I interrupted her and said, “I’m sorry, but you need to refer to white people as European-American. If not, you need to stop that African-American bullshit and start calling yourself black. If I’m white, then you’re black.” The class went completely silent waiting for the teacher to respond, but I didn’t let her and continued, “This isn’t even ethnic studies, it’s more like a white hatred class. I wonder why there aren’t any white ethnic studies teachers? Oh, and it’s a fucking mystery why I’m the only white person in this class.”
Our teacher Ms. Mack sighed and said to the class as I got up to leave, “You see, this is exactly the type of white ignorance African-Americans have had to put up with for centuries.”
Frustrated beyond words I responded, “At least I can go to sleep knowing when I wake up in the morning and look in the mirror, I’m going to be white.” Then I left.