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We are constantly redefining our own perspectives, and therefore tend to write a lot about our personal experiences. Many followers and contributors are living with anorexia, bulimia, body dysmorphic disorder, depression, and a variety of other body image disorders or mental illnesses, so please be respectful and remember that health applies differently to everyone. Any and all potentially triggering content will be prefaced with a trigger warning.
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“Hey, nobody is saying anything about Romney saying he likes Snooki segment of Kelly show. He says (not quote) she’s so full of energy, small and she lost all that weight! Go to the interview and right at the end he says it. That’s how women should be in his eyes….. No chubbies is better.”
I think she’s trying to relate to my liberal fat rage and she’s never done that before and it’s really cute.
“No chubbies is better” lololololol
I have just had a very emotional, difficult, but retrospectively beautiful weekend.
That woman on the left is my mother, and I love her with every bit of me. We share between us a tendency to be impatient, a trucker’s tongue, and a desire to squeeze things; like arms and shoulders and butts. We like to give hugs, get up all in yo grill, push buttons and get fucking sassy (some qualities that that also be accredited to their source, that handsome man on the right, my grandpa).
We disagree on some things, as many mothers and daughters do, but it doesn’t matter. I love the fucking fuck out of her.
She spends days upon days in the garden, going for walks, bike riding, taking “yogurt” (yoga) classes and zumba. She’s loud as fuck, loves to eat, is easy to have fun with, and full of life - even when faced with adversity.
My grandma (her mother) has had a rough go of it for a while. Then suddenly, we weren’t sure what was going to happen. I traveled with her to be with my grandmother in the hospital, to be there for my mother, to know that everything would be okay. Thankfully, it is now - because my grandma is a the tuffest little babe on the planet.
I snapped this photo when my mom squirmed her way into that chair to show my gramps how to Google things, just because she thought it’d be a good idea while my grammy was being tended to in the hospital bed next to us.
She seems dead set on getting my grandparents an iPad. They are stubborn southern children of farmers and cotton-pickers, but are also curious, so I’ll be interested to see how that transpires.
Anyway, I love this photo for many reasons, but one reason in particular is that I see so many aspects of my own body in my mother. So many. I love it.
She sometimes does not recognize how truly beautiful she is and desires to be thin again, which I assume is due to a past filled with weight-related body shame and unfair treatment. She is quite fine with herself now for the most part and usually doesn’t give a shit about what anyone thinks, but also has a Pinterest board called “debdeb* younger daydream” so I know that shit still lingers. BUT SHE COULD TOTALLY ROCK THIS SHIT NOW, I mean come on.
(^ An actual thing she pinned.)
I love seeing aspects of my body in the shape of my mother. I am so grateful to have her in my life. I hope she realizes she could totally werk some shorts and heels, right here and now, because why the fuck not? But for now when I say so, she thinks I’m being funny.
I’M NOT.
* Her name is Debbie - we call her DebDeb like we call my dad Bean, because his head is like a bean, except gray and fuzzy. My mom sets up a stool in the middle of the kitchen and buzzes his little gray bean-head every month. I fucking love my parents.