Your Body is a Wonderland

(Source: community.feministing.com, via dinosrawr)

redefiningbodyimage:

lacigreen:

erosum:

Laci Green: I have three proposals to work against weight discrimination, fat shame, and fat phobia. 1: “fat” isn’t a bad word, 2: it’s not about “health,” 3: love thyself.

(full video on tumblr & youtube)

If you need any proof, just look at the comment section…

(thanks for the gif set schweetie! <3)

Oh my goodness, so powerful.

keepfighting-iloveyou:

dancing2recovery:

this is what i strive for.

(Source: breakingupwithed, via say-no-to-thinspo)

stophatingyourbody:

Gentlemen of Tumblr, hear me!

Though as men we are often loath to admit it, the truth is - we guys often have just as many body image and self-esteem issues as the girls. We don’t think we’re muscular enough, or sporty enough, or hairy enough, or… ahem… well-endowed enough. And though it might seem wussy to talk about this stuff, it actually takes real courage to stand up and say “I don’t feel confident about myself”. It takes strength to admit when you feel weak.

SHYB is a great venue for everyone, guys and girls, to talk about their body problems, but… and for many guys, this has definitely been a big but… up until now, it’s seemed pretty female-centric, right? Run by girls, mostly submitted to by girls. Which is great - more power to the girls!

But where does that leave us guys? The girls who run SHYB are awesome, but they can’t really relate to guy problems on a personal level (just like we can’t relate to girl problems on a personal level). And guys who want to submit to SHYB might feel a bit put off by that.

Gentlemen of Tumblr, I’m here to help.

With Annie’s blessing, I’m going to try and take up the role of SHYB’s “consulting dude”, doing my best to address male issues from a male perspective. If you identify as a man, I’m here for you. Submit your problems to SHYB and they’ll be passed on to me - or, if you’re more comfortable talking to another guy one-on-one, send them directly to me and I’ll answer them in confidence.

We guys can hate our bodies too. I want to help fix that.

BE BRAVE, MEN OF TUMBLR! JOIN THE BODY PEACE REVOLUTION!

(via say-no-to-thinspo)

artisticgoldfish:

Some body positivity for your morning!

(via stophatingyourbody)

gtfothinspo:

Mum, Dad, I have something I need to tell you.

I’m tall. There, I said it.

I’m exactly six foot tall (1.82 metres, Google tells me), and I’ve been so since I was fifteen (let’s skip past the fact that I’m currently sixteen…). Ever since I’ve been taller than my peers, which has been practically all of my life; the boys in my classes are only just starting to catch up, almost every single person I’ve met has at one point or other told me that I could model.

A few years ago I was an avid fashion magazine reader. I read Elle UK every single month, cover to cover. It was practically my Bible. And in fashion magazines they always have the story about the model who was ”discovered”, usually (and ironically, I think) in places like McDonalds (Gisele, I think it was.)

And at the time, I liked to picture myself walking down the street in some grunge/chic outfit, a blot of red lippy, and a casual shoe, and there! Bam! I’d be discovered by the next big modelling agency, and my career would sky-rocket! I’d be on Vogue sipping Diet Coke with Karl Lagerfeld.

I should probably also mention that at the time I was suffering with an eating disorder and self harm addiction, just a small detail, of course. One nasty girl in my maths class had taken to calling me fat at every available opportunity, but then by other peers (and adults, too), I was told how I was ”perfect” for modelling.

And yes, I suppose at the time I was. At that time I didn’t have a pair of FF breasts hanging off me, and I certainly wasn’t pushing 150lbs. I was a slight thirteen year old with a lot of mental issues, and I absorbed everything. Every comment and compliment was stored and chewed over like the food I wasn’t eating.

People told me I could model and I nodded and thanked them for the compliment, but my mind was screaming ‘How could I model!? Like they’d want some fat bitch like me to model their clothes! Marc Jacobs wouldn’t even spit on me, let alone dress me!’ Of course, none of this was the reason I had an ED, as you all know EDs aren’t really ‘caused’ by one thing, but it definitely didn’t help, and probably triggered me quite badly, looking back.

I wouldn’t eat because I thought that people were giving me some kind of ‘sign’. In my mind after a while, they weren’t compliments any more. They were, ‘Well, you COULD be a model, but you’re too fat.’ They weren’t, of course. But that’s what they felt like.

I also find (and have always found it) slightly insulting to assume that I’d even want to be a model. Everyone always just assumed. They weren’t telling me to be a model because I was sat there holding four issues of Vogue and talking about Vivienne Westwood’s last S/S collection. These were founded completely on my appearance, my height.

Being a model is, I’m sure, a fantastic career. Whatever kind of model you are, by the way. I’m not bashing modelling AT ALL. But it’s not me. And I don’t like people assuming that it is.

Slowly, as I began the recovery process, and became more at peace with my own body, people telling me I should be a model would just make me laugh. Now, I just tell people I’m far too fat to catwalk model, and watch their faces contort. They always come back straight away with ‘Oh goodness, no, no you’re not fat!’ Which I think says far more about them than anything I could tell you.

Of course I’m far too fat to be a catwalk model. If I was ever approached, I’m sure the first thing they’d tell me would be to lose at least two stone. And, I’d politely decline (well, I’d probably be polite about it. Depends how they were to me.)

I’m not saying this is some great injustice. I’m not trying to tell you how badly I’ve been treated by general society for being tall. I’m just sharing a personal experience, and asking you maybe, just maybe not to tell that 5’11” person you’ve just met that they should think about a career in modelling. Because no, it’s not a compliment.

(Unless you’re representing a body-positive modelling agency and want to sign them immediately, in which case, it just might be.)

(via sunshien)

pixiegrace:

rememberthstars:

Really, if you’re so busy worrying about your body, then you won’t be dealing with real things and become so much more.

Indeed. It really bothers me that women’s magazines are 90% diet tips and obsessing over designer handbags. Women are programmed to spend a fortune on these things to compensate for their feelings of inadequacy. Why has no-one anything better to do?

stophatingyourbody:

My experience with modeling (Trigger warning: eating disorders)

This isn’t something I enjoy talking about, but it’s something that’s had a significant impact on me. It’s something I’m reminded of quite frequently, so I thought I’d just get this out there. 

A few years ago I was a freshman in a high school, traveling to NYC from my suburban neighborhood each day. I was completely fascinated with the difference in lifestyle, culture, and race. I was 14 years old—impressionable and naive, with a limited understanding of who I was and what I wanted. I was thin, tall, and young, which is typically what agencies look for. I’m 5’11 and at the time I weighed about 135 pounds.

When I started attending school in NYC, I started receiving attention that was completely foreign to me. People stopped me on the street to tell me I was pretty, or to ask me if I modeled. I was never the girl who wanted to be a model when she grew up. “You should be a model” became something regular. I was introduced to this idea that people found me attractive, and that I should use this to my advantage. Strangers didn’t stop me to tell me I was smart, kind, or generous. After all, none of that mattered.

One day I was walking in the Time Warner Mall with a few of my friends when a man and a woman stopped me and asked me how old I was. I’m not going to disclose any names/information, so we’ll call them A and L for short. A and L were spotters from Abercrombie & Fitch. They wanted me to be an in-store model at the A&F store on 5th ave, but I was only 14 and the hiring age was 17. They told me that I should get into modeling anyway, and they gave me the card for their manager, who we’ll call Ed (some of you may recognize this reference).

I contacted Ed and he said he wanted to meet with me as soon as possible. About a week later I went to the Abercrombie & Fitch office on 56th and 5th ave. I was incredibly nervous, for good reason. I could smell the office from down the block. I walked into the office and the walls were plastered with full-sized images of skinny models in bikinis that are the Abercrombie and Fitch trademark. The secretary kept “aw”ing me and asking me questions about school. Finally, I met Ed, who was a model himself. He was about 6’5 and very thin. He gave me a hug and told me he was excited that I was there, and he just asked me questions about myself for a bit before explaining to me how agencies worked. He said, because I was so young, it would be best to sign me with Red, an agency that’s based in NYC. He said once I got a little older, they’d sign me with bigger agencies, like Ford. 

This was the first time I met with him. He didn’t mention anything about weight. He just kept showering me with compliments me and he told me to come in for head shots the next week. He told me to wear a white tank-top and jeans, and no makeup. This was all ridiculously exciting to me. Suddenly, I was set on being a model. 

I met with Ed for head shots. I wore a black tank top and black jeans. I didn’t wear white because I thought wearing black would make me look thinner, which was the objective. He told me I should’ve worn white, but excused it because I was new to modeling. I stood in front of the white wall, feeling more insecure than ever. The head-shots of models with “perfect” bodies, “perfect” faces, and “perfect” expression all stared down at me as I tried to pretend I was comfortable in front of the camera. Ed kept telling me what I was doing wrong and how to change it, so I did. “Chin up. Turn your face to the left. To the right. Part your lips. Smile. I like that look, do it again.” We finished the photos and we sat down to look at them and talk about them. He said the photos were good, but I needed to lose weight before they signed me with an agency. I needed to lose weight? Where was I supposed to lose it from? I was 5’11 and 135 pounds. He told me to lose 15 pounds. For anyone who knows me in real life that needs a comparison: I currently weigh 150 pounds. I’m 15 pounds heavier than I was back then, and I’m still thin now.

I knew he was wrong the second the words came out of his mouth, but I told myself it would be worth it in the long run. He had a way with making you feel like you were always just on the verge of being good enough. Just a few pounds away. I didn’t tell my parents because I knew they wouldn’t approve. I was obsessed with my image and this idea that it needed to be improved. This overload of insecurity happened overnight. I was constantly dissatisfied and this pushed me face first into depression. I weighed myself 3 or 4 times a day, obsessing over my BMI (I later learned that the BMI scale is inaccurate and not indicative of your health at all. Watch this Laci Green video about it.) I started eating less and exercising more. I minimized my caloric intake to maximize my quavering confidence. But I didn’t want to lose weight—I just felt like I had to. I wore a size 2, but I had to be a 0. I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for eating foods that weren’t “skinny”. I was 14 years old and convinced that my worth was directly proportional to the amount of space between my thighs. This continued for so long (and even influenced my friends) before I just stopped. I stopped contacting Ed for good.

14 is a sensitive age. I was easily influenced, and they used that to their advantage. I was silly-putty in the hands of a cruel industry. I left my security in the hands of Ed, who saw me only as a face to add to his wall.I’m immeasurably grateful that I recognized what was happening and stopped trying to lose weight. 

3 years later, I still struggle with body image. However, now I understand that your body image does not define you. The modeling industry is fueled on hate. It’s fueled on your insecurity. To have the pressure of the media on you is one thing. To get sucked into it is another. I almost became a part of the reason I hated myself. I had the ultimate Stockholm Syndrome—I was constantly trying to appease my oppressor. I was constantly trying to hide the ugliness of an industry that wanted to hide the ugliness in me. I wanted to feed the industry that tells millions of people they aren’t good enough. This industry profits when you give in to self-hate. 

I don’t regret any of of my experience with Ed. Without him, I would not understand what I understand now. Right now, I’m stronger than I’ve ever been, and I’m only getting stronger. I love my body more than ever. Ed couldn’t bring me down now. 

BE BRAVE! JOIN THE BODY PEACE REVOLUTION!

Salma Hayak (via bornonthe17th)   (via princesspolysemy, quote-book) (via allthechocolatesinthebox) (via curvesahead) (via thechocolatebrigade)

nessfraserloves:

If it was really about health, then why is your success always measured in pounds?
Why isn’t it “I can run three miles without stopping!” or “I can climb the stairs without running out of breath” or “I feel much better now that I have more muscle mass”???

Because it’s not about your health.

It’s about avoiding fatness and framing fat people as bad, gross, lazy, and wrong.

And I for one am really really sick of it.

(via thechocolatebrigade)