All My Life I Wasn't Trying To Get On The Highway; I Was Wondering Which Way To Go.

I was re-reading an old post from a year and half ago this morning... It's pretty incredible how much can change over time. At the time of the original post, I was starting to see my outfits promoted through channels which were fat-positive and more focused on fat bodies, and I think I hit the panic button. I wasn't used to reading blogs like that, and I was freaking out... I thought to myself: "Does the world think I am fat? Is that all that they see?"

When I began reading the comments, it was amazing to see the discourse the post spurred. I was more insecure in my identity at the time, and it felt like a personal attack. I couldn't fathom being called "fat" after working for years to mend the pain and self-doubt that had been caused by that word. It was really scary and new, and my reaction was to publicly state my fears (or at least try). Was that messed up? Yes, of course it was. But mistakes are an inevitably of being a silly mortal. Now I revel in the fact that I'm able to be a "unconventional" representation of personal style in both mainstream and alternative avenues (Tumbl-o-sphere, I'm looking at you). I'm loving the communities I get to be a part of.

Not to say that I am in a perfect mental state at the moment, but the past month has been very introspective for me. I was feeling quite blue this past spring, and even into summer, just confused, discouraged and lost. At the risk of sounding like a corny sap (which I kind of am anyways...so not exactly inaccurate), I think that am really starting to settle into my own skin. I'm finally relaxing. My identity is not just a singular, it's not just one thing, or a even a binary. Yes, I am a woman, one who is young and African-Canadian. Yep, I'm a blogger, and have spent large quantities of the past 5.5 years awkwardly figuring out my shit via the internet. Oh, and I'm a chubster too. I would even say that I am fat. And that's quite alright with me. I'm realizing that many of adjectives that I associate with myself (femme, feminist, body positive, beautiful, black, vintage lover, sarcastic, funny, loud, cheesy, singer, passionate, caring, loyal...the list goes on) are not the only things that define me. They aren't the sole source of my value. Sometimes elements of my personality and self are at odds with each other, but complexity and paradox are some of the most beautiful things about being human. I'm getting used to the fact that I will always be flawed. Go figure...only took 24 years to get here!

I've come the conclusion that I feel best about myself when I am able to balance my creative expression with time spent with people who love and support me. So that's what I am working on now: creative work that makes me proud, and surrounding myself with people who are open minded and support me.

On a related note, these minor epiphanies are part of why I decided to finally get my septum done. I've wanted the piercing for about 3 years, but for various reasons (including rules against facial piercing at my former workplace) I didn't actually follow through with it until now. Of course the piercing is largely an aesthetic choice; I love the way it looks, and I seldom wear jewelry. I think it adds visual interest without overwhelming me or having to put thought into it when I'm getting dressed. An easy way to adorn myself. But it is also serving as an outward signifier of significant change within myself, which is pretty rad.

This post may just end up sounding like a convulted, corny and confusing journal entry, but I'm okay with that. Just wanted to keep y'all in the loop.

the photo is from my instagram.

Fat, Part II.

First of all, I would like to thank all of you for the wonderful, thoughtful, intelligent and insightful responses to my last post. It's something that has been bothering me for quite some time, and I wasn't sure how to address it.

Although I don't think I would take back what I said, some excellent points have been made about perhaps being a little more sensitive towards/less defensive about the word fat. I think that you guys are right. Thinking about it, I find myself feeling like I am not quite to the point where I can accept/not be offended by that word specifically. I didn't mean for the post to come across as me bragging or disregarding those who are larger/fatter/curvier/whatever-er than me, because I am in awe of the multitude of stylish women who have far less options than I do. For that, I apologize. It was not my intent, and I do appreciate when people ask for my advice on where to shop. It's enormously flattering that anyone would care about my opinion on something as personal as style. Also, as Kirsty Lou pointed out, it is a privilege that I can shop in straight sized stores, one that I shouldn't take lightly.

I still have a lot of growing to do as far as my body image and sense of self, and I think that's all a part of the age that I am at. At 22, I feel far more confident and self assured than say, my 16 year old self. But I do have my moments of discouragement and self doubt. I would like to believe that will lessen over time, as it has been since adolescence.

I would love to hear more about your opinions on this topic, let me know in the comments here or on the original post. I'm blessed to have intellectual and opinionated readers, I ♥ you!

Beauty + Glamour.

As a female in the Western world, the topic of beauty and what it does and doesn't mean, seems to come up on a daily basis in one form or another. A girl's snide remark about a celebrity's nose, chit chat between friends about all the things that are "wrong" with our faces and bodies, or a quiet thought to yourself as you pass someone you find beautiful. "I wonder what it's like to look like that, everyday?" I was inspired to do this post by *cue cheesy eyerolls* this week's episode of Glee. Yes, I know it's corny, but I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be beautiful. I've touched on a similar issue before on the blog, but I feel like bringing it up again.

I have always, since I can remember, felt as though I was outside the realm of "pretty girls". When I was growing up, my parents, when praising or complimenting me, would say things like 'You're smart' or 'talented' or 'did a good job', which in hindsight, was probably a very good thing. These remarks taught me that I should value my intelligence and talents and not rely on my looks. But on the flipside, those compliments reinforced an idea in my head that I was not beautiful. Although smart and articulate, I would not be considered pretty by the rest of the world. Now, I'm sure this sounds a little melodramatic, but for a long time, this is how I felt. Then came blogging. When I started out posting photos of me in my backyard almost 3 years ago, I was sort of just doing it as an experiment. I was finding many beautiful and real girls who wore the coolest outfits, and I was inspired to try and dress to please myself, just like they were. In the beginning, I wasn't nearly as confident as I am now. But as time passed, and I got compliments and encouragment from random strangers who really had no obligation to boost my self esteem, I started to think that maybe I did have something to offer.

The world of blogging can be kind of overwhelming at times, because you find blog after blog after blog of thin, modelesque (sometimes they are models) girls, who have amazing wardrobes, perfect faces and a seemingly endless wallet. Believe or not, there are many times when I feel doubtful of myself. It could be a rude look from a stranger, or a glance at an ad that makes me think 'I'll never look like that.' And I admit, there are times when I wonder: "Is there a point to me doing this? I mean, I don't look like I just came off a runway, and I'm certainly not wearing Christian Louboutins, Marc Jacobs, or the lastest Mui Mui heels. How can I be an inspiration, or even interesting with such meager means? Would anyone even want to read my blog?" But I think that you lovely readers have shown me that just because someone is of a different background or body type doesn't make their point of view any less valid or interesting. I appreciate every email and every comment, because it makes me believe that there is room for change in the fashion industry, and even in the mainstream. As much as I may wish that I had a doll like pout like Lindsey Wixson or gorgeous freckled skin and red hair like Cintia Dicker, I'm starting to believe that the skin I'm in isn't half bad. I might look different than most of the people around me, but different doesn't have to mean bad. I'm discovering day by day what makes me beautiful...

"Glamour is profound. Glamour is saying: I want to be as beautiful as I can be -to myself first and then to anyone else who has enough sense to see" -Maya Angelou

How about you? What makes you feel beautiful? What makes others beautiful to you?

A Confession.

A disclaimer: This post is not meant to be preachy or whiny. I'm simply thinking "out loud" (in the form of this blog) and will take no offense if you find the following thoughts to be little more than internet chatter. Regardless, thanks for taking the time to read (or not read) my ramblings.

Look at this photo. What comes to mind when you see these women? Disgust? Awe? Surprise? Familiarity?

I stumbled upon this article on Glamour.com today and it got me thinking a whole flood of thoughts, most of which I'm going to attempt to make sense of.

Let's start with the beginning. Ever since I can remember (probably around 10 or 11), I've felt as though my body was an alien, hideous thing. As the only black girl most of the time, I had my mostly Caucasian friends to compare myself to, and found that I could never quite look like everyone else (as desperately as I wanted to). I felt as though there was no way that anyone could ever accept it if they knew what my body really looked like, so I had best find other reasons (like cute clothes, nice things, being funny) for people to even want to talk to me. All of this was obviously not true, but that's how I felt. Of course, part of this was simply preteen angst, and feeling like my body was betraying me as it changed and grew.
Flash forward to the middle and end of high school, after 10 years of mentally berating myself at almost any chance. An example of my thoughts? Looks in the mirror, wearing a seemingly cute outfit. Brain: "Wow, you have really fat legs. Like enormous legs. You probably should change, that's disgusting." I would think these thoughts virtually any time I looked at myself in a mirror (keep in mind that I was actually about 25-30 pounds thinner than I am right now). Any compliments I was given was countered with a "Thanks, but you don't know that ____ (fill in self deprecating excuse here)." I never felt pretty or in shape, even though I look back now at pictures and see that I was both of those things.

I'm happy to say that lately I've been trying to counter negative thoughts with positive ones, and taking all the sweet compliments from everyone on the Internet (thanks yet again!) into account. When I started outfit posting almost a year and a half ago, I was surprised by the positive feedback. Perhaps I wasn't as hideous as I thought, and maybe, just maybe, my average figure didn't repel people from reading my blog or liking my outfit. Slowly but surely, I became a little more confident, and although I must admit there are many days that I look in the mirror and wonder why I was born with the body I've been given, I try my best to stay positive and realize that who I am is unique and beautiful, no matter how little resemblance I have to a lithe, Nordic model who is 6'0 feet tall. Part of this confidence is also due to seeing all the inspiring bloggers who are so pretty and stylish, but most of which wouldn't meet the current fashion industry standard of beauty, albeit height or sizewise. Seriously, there are so many gorgeous bloggers out there, it's astounding. (A very great example of a fearless, creative and beautiful blogger is Zana. If you haven't read her blog already, start now! She blows my mind regularly, and is so confident in herself, it's quite inspiring.)

So now, back to the picture.
Glamour is proposing a revolutionary idea: filling their magazine with a wide (no pun intended) range of models, showing more diversity and (most likely) appealing to a great range of the general public. When I saw this picture, the first thing I thought was "Wow, they are all drop dead gorgeous." The second thing I thought was "Hey, wait a second...some of them look like *gasp* me!". There is no denying that these plus size models are all stunning, even if they aren't cookie cutter issue models. This would a good time to mention that I love straight size models just as much as the next fashion blogger BUT one must admit that it would be interesting and different to see high fashion clothes on various bodies, not just those which are closer to resembling clothing racks...

I think that if magazines keep going in this direction, the world of fashion (and blogging) will become stronger and more creative. As the editor in chief of Glamour, Cindi Leive said..."Beauty can exist in many sizes". Who knows? Maybe the next big thing in the blogging world will be a curvy girl of Ugandan descent from a smallish town in BC?*

*A girl can dream, right?