What I'm Wearing

Friday, 23 May 2014


Tuesday, 20 May 2014

I remember age 8 feeling my lilac groovy chick tee shirt cling to my skin and I felt awkward. I would tug and stretch it, pulling it over my knees making a tent for my legs. To most I'd have looked like a fidgety infant. That was the first time I remember feeling fat.

I went through years of the same routine, I was academic not athletic so I favoured quavers and a book to three laps around the block. I would look in the mirror up until the age of sixteen and pull at my jawline and pin back my thighs, questioning why all my other friends got washboard stomachs and pin thin legs. In that same year I tried to squash my complex, until a group of boys literally bullied me out of a pool party saying I was fat and brave for getting in my bikini leaving me to run home hysterical in my towel. I was 16 and a size 10.

I write this now from a place where I've tried every fad diet, every shake, every juice every soup and I am tired. What if I gave all the energy I have thinking about weight loss to improving my intelligence? What if for every meal I tried to skip I instead thought about reading 5 chapters of a book. I look back on photos of myself age 8, age 14, even last year- and there was nothing wrong with me. I am about a stone lighter in all of them than I ever let myself believe. 

The pressure we put ourselves under to seek weight perfection is often so warped by an ideal that we don't realise what we already have. Being happy, healthy and intelligent lands far closer to perfection than looking like that blonde Asos model. 

I'd tell myself I was too fat for a boyfriend, that friends looked at me differently- but the truth is that's nonsense. Why would I want to associate myself with people that valued my weight over other attributes? My family have never tried to disown me because I'm a comfortable size 12, my friends have never held an intervention because they felt embarrassed when I wore shorts in public, my blog readers have never stopped reading because I no longer fit Topshop petite.

 I am off on holiday in 3 weeks, my female friends all size 8s, and instead of juicing myself to tears for the next 21 days, depriving myself of my evening kinder bueno, I'm going to read so much and watch so much that I'll have the best conversation around the pool instead of competing to be something I'm not. 

What I'm Wearing

Monday, 19 May 2014

T-Shirt // Vintage - Skirt // Topshop - Sunglasses // Anthropologie

What I'm Wearing

Saturday, 17 May 2014

  Dress // Anthropologie - Necklace // Topshop - Shoes // Topshop
Photography - Ella Grace Denton

Empowerment fixes the broken

Sunday, 4 May 2014

"Haha she's so white girl wasted" "drinking a soy latte cappuccino is such a white girl thing to do." "Such a white girl problem."
We will never banish racism by screaming over it with racism. This logic makes no sense.

"Girls who sleep with loads of guys are sluts." "Girls who wait until the 9th date to get naked are prudes."
Who are we to shame the behaviour of others? Somebody else's sex life doesn't effect you, it doesn't place you on a pedestal, there are no medals awarded for giving a name to someone who has the confidence to know what they want. 
This makes no logical sense.

"Real women have curves." Real women is every woman. Determining the sex of someone by their weight makes no logical sense. How will we ever banish the lack of confidence girls have over their body by screaming over it with more derogatory comments?
You're not fat, you have fat, you have toes, you're not toe. 

Why have we been indoctrinated to believe we can fix things with broken language?
It makes no logical sense.
Empowerment fixes what is broken, encouragement, reassurance, not replacing one ideal with another extreme. 

Shit like this shouldn't have to be addressed, it's as much common sense as knowing two wrongs don't make a right. As much common sense as knowing you shouldn't drizzle ketchup all over your chips, but set a side room on your plate to dip.


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