Dear No One in Particular,
I was going to write a post about food, and scratching a goal off my Life List, because hello -- are you new here? I'm Amanda and I live to eat. I also write to eat and slang strollers so that I can afford to eat at delicious restaurants.
But.
Gorgeous Vanessa from Chicken Soup for the Dorky Soul (which is how she should introduce herself from now on) posted about something that irritated me to the point that I can no longer ignore my blog and lie on my sofa watching re-runs of 'The Office'.
Apparently blinding, psychotic rage is my muse.
I've written about fashion and public perceptions of beauty quite a bit, because I believe that the notion that fashion is frivolity and therefore below examination is really very dangerous. I would argue that the fashion and beauty industries control quite a bit of the average Western woman's life; to ignore that, or to dismiss it as fluff belies how incredibly menacing they can be.
How many stories have you heard of aspiring models being hospitalized due to eating disorders? How many skin bleaching products line the shelves of pharmacies around the world? Waving these questions off as unimportant is tantamount to waving off all the women who slave under the misapprehension that if only they were skinnier, whiter, younger -- if they simply fit the ideal -- they would be set for life.
At the centre of this maelstrom of self-hatred and misogyny is Vogue. Not just American Vogue, which, let's face it: is almost a parody of its former self, but the whole Vogue family.
Vogue Italia (which I used to hate marginally less than most Vogues) recently added a couple of subsections to their main website: Vogue Curvy and Vogue Black.
I have to admit: I kind of love both of these websites. They're well-laid out, the articles are really good, and most surprising of all: they feature what they advertise. The curvy ladies splashed about are actually curvy; no Lara "boobs = curves LOL" Stone here. 'Vogue Black', hilariously enough, opens with a giant shot of Michael Jackson, but also features Grace Jones.
Sure, I should be glad that a captain of industry such as Vogue would dare acknowledge such outliers as women with curves and black people, but I'm not -- at least, not really.
In fact, my initial reaction was: Fuck me, Vogue is obnoxious.
They are so backward in their thinking -- and so self-righteous in their ignorance that it's maddening. I thought it was just Wintour that acted like a pompous ostrich with her head in the sand, but it appears that the whole Vogue family is infected. And I LIKED Vogue Italia for a minute there, specifically when they published that fabulous Black Issue.
Vogue suffers from delusions of grandeur: they think that if they release an issue with a handful of pages featuring women who fall marginally outside of their norm they should be lauded as heroes. What's even more maddening is the way they treat such features: the copy is heavy, weighted down with style-jargon trying to explain how they dare let such freaks associate with their shining white name; the photos are airbrushed to the point of amusement; and the features only exist to highlight the "otherness" of the subject.
Vogue (and publications like it) takes gorgeous women like the ones featured on the new websites and makes them into a sideshow of freaks. They are not normal -- they're barely even human -- because they fall outside the "obscenely skeletal white teenage girl" norm that dominates Western fashion.
I refuse to believe that I'm simply bitter because I fall outside the norm. I continue to hope against hope that the fashion industry will start to look more like a rainbow rather than a gathering of emaciated Hitler Youth.
We need to stop segregating minorities from the rest of the fashion world and start not just including them, but welcoming them into fashion proper.
Fuck the fashion magazines that publish spreads with Crystal Renn and Chanel Iman and then demand praise as if they did something extraordinary. I want to open a magazine and see women that look like me: women with boobs and hips, with wild curls, and darker skin. That is a magazine I would praise with my hard-earned cash. I know that this magazine is out there, waiting to be willed into existence.
C'mon, Vogue.
--amanda
Showing posts with label why women rule. Show all posts
Showing posts with label why women rule. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Monday, September 28, 2009
Shine On
Dear No One in Particular,
When I saw this image, I became so enraged I needed to look at videos of puppies in order to calm down.
Let me tell you why this pisses me right the fuck off:
First of all, it's total nonsense. Why wouldn't inner beauty shine through make-up? Is there something in my foundation that blocks my winning personality? Does my eye liner act as a barrier for my charm? Because I am pretty fucking charming.
No, if you were truly beautiful on the inside, there would be no impediment to that coming through. Clothing, hairstyle, the dreaded makeup -- these things can not stop you from being the incredible person you are.
Really, if anyone says differently, it's because they're the asshole -- not you. Anyone who takes one look at you and dismisses you based on your looks is a Judgey McDouchebag and you're luckier for not having more of them in your life. Fuck them. You never would have been able to please them, anyway.
Second of all, how passive-aggressive is this mantra? It decides that in order to convince other people that you are, in fact, nice and worth their time you must wear your face bare, but it dispenses these pearls of wisdom in the snottiest, most condescending way possible. Stop smearing the pancake makeup on, Bozo; you're a nice enough person on the inside.
Third of all, it labours under the misapprehension that most women wear makeup because they feel ugly. Or because they have something to prove. Or because they care about what other people -- read men -- think about their personal appearance.
Let me clear this up right now: I do not wear makeup for you. I do not wear makeup to look pretty for my boyfriend, nor do I wear it in order to please anyone else. I wear makeup to please myself. And let me assure you, person who thinks this idiotic phrase is the wisest thing since Ghandi, most women do the same.
I take pride in my makeup, mostly because putting on a good face requires skill. It's an art, painting on the face. Don't believe me? Hit up a good drag bar and try to tell me different. Hairy dudes that can cover up a 5 0'clock shadow that looks like a 3 day growth and still look more fabulous than me? Artists. This chick? Artist (and a modern-day makeup Cinderella, I might add).
Naturally, I love when people compliment my purple eyeliner or the shade of lipstick I'm rocking. It feels nice to be complimented; it does not mean I'm slathering eyeshadow on in hopes of pleasing some random nobody.
I feel like I must point how how totally patronising this sentiment is. This is a graphic done by a man, obviously in hopes of making women feel bad about themselves so they might conform to his standards of beauty.
Fuck. That. Shit.
I'm tired of it.
I'm tired of being told that I'm not beautiful because I'm wearing makeup. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because I'm not wearing makeup. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because I'm not a size 2. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because my hips are large. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because my hair is curly. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because I've straightened my hair. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because I'm wearing a red shirt. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because I'm wearing a blue shirt. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because my eyes are large. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because I'm short. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because my skin is tan. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because my skin is not tan enough.
I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because I can not please you.
I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because I'm a woman and you're a man and your opinion counts for more than mine.
I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful.
I'm tired of being tired, and I'm tired of reading crap like this.
Inner beauty can shine through anything: through makeup, through outdated clothing that doesn't fit right, through an unflattering hairstyle. Through crooked teeth, through wide hips and narrow hips, through muscle, through fat, through bones. Through fair skin, through dark skin, through purple skin. Through scars, physical and invisible. Inner beauty can shine even through the neverending darkness of death.
Put on makeup. Wear a baggy sweater. Don't comb your hair. Show off your tattoos. Wear a bikini -- your body is ready for it.
You are beautiful no matter what you put on the outside.
Your smile outshines the sun. Your laughter is the sweetest music. You glow with an inner light, and only you can dampen it. Share your beauty with the world.
You're beautiful.
--amanda
When I saw this image, I became so enraged I needed to look at videos of puppies in order to calm down.
Let me tell you why this pisses me right the fuck off:
First of all, it's total nonsense. Why wouldn't inner beauty shine through make-up? Is there something in my foundation that blocks my winning personality? Does my eye liner act as a barrier for my charm? Because I am pretty fucking charming.
No, if you were truly beautiful on the inside, there would be no impediment to that coming through. Clothing, hairstyle, the dreaded makeup -- these things can not stop you from being the incredible person you are.
Really, if anyone says differently, it's because they're the asshole -- not you. Anyone who takes one look at you and dismisses you based on your looks is a Judgey McDouchebag and you're luckier for not having more of them in your life. Fuck them. You never would have been able to please them, anyway.
Second of all, how passive-aggressive is this mantra? It decides that in order to convince other people that you are, in fact, nice and worth their time you must wear your face bare, but it dispenses these pearls of wisdom in the snottiest, most condescending way possible. Stop smearing the pancake makeup on, Bozo; you're a nice enough person on the inside.
Third of all, it labours under the misapprehension that most women wear makeup because they feel ugly. Or because they have something to prove. Or because they care about what other people -- read men -- think about their personal appearance.
Let me clear this up right now: I do not wear makeup for you. I do not wear makeup to look pretty for my boyfriend, nor do I wear it in order to please anyone else. I wear makeup to please myself. And let me assure you, person who thinks this idiotic phrase is the wisest thing since Ghandi, most women do the same.
I take pride in my makeup, mostly because putting on a good face requires skill. It's an art, painting on the face. Don't believe me? Hit up a good drag bar and try to tell me different. Hairy dudes that can cover up a 5 0'clock shadow that looks like a 3 day growth and still look more fabulous than me? Artists. This chick? Artist (and a modern-day makeup Cinderella, I might add).
Naturally, I love when people compliment my purple eyeliner or the shade of lipstick I'm rocking. It feels nice to be complimented; it does not mean I'm slathering eyeshadow on in hopes of pleasing some random nobody.
I feel like I must point how how totally patronising this sentiment is. This is a graphic done by a man, obviously in hopes of making women feel bad about themselves so they might conform to his standards of beauty.
Fuck. That. Shit.
I'm tired of it.
I'm tired of being told that I'm not beautiful because I'm wearing makeup. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because I'm not wearing makeup. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because I'm not a size 2. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because my hips are large. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because my hair is curly. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because I've straightened my hair. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because I'm wearing a red shirt. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because I'm wearing a blue shirt. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because my eyes are large. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because I'm short. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because my skin is tan. I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because my skin is not tan enough.
I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because I can not please you.
I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful because I'm a woman and you're a man and your opinion counts for more than mine.
I'm tired of being told I'm not beautiful.
I'm tired of being tired, and I'm tired of reading crap like this.
Inner beauty can shine through anything: through makeup, through outdated clothing that doesn't fit right, through an unflattering hairstyle. Through crooked teeth, through wide hips and narrow hips, through muscle, through fat, through bones. Through fair skin, through dark skin, through purple skin. Through scars, physical and invisible. Inner beauty can shine even through the neverending darkness of death.
Put on makeup. Wear a baggy sweater. Don't comb your hair. Show off your tattoos. Wear a bikini -- your body is ready for it.
You are beautiful no matter what you put on the outside.
Your smile outshines the sun. Your laughter is the sweetest music. You glow with an inner light, and only you can dampen it. Share your beauty with the world.
You're beautiful.
--amanda
Friday, May 1, 2009
Suffer for Fashion, or Whatever
Dear No One in Particular,
I really wanted to write up a couple of happy and upbeat entries (especially given that I vanished for a week, leaving a screechy post raging at society to "leave Susan Boyle alone!") before I slipped into my ranting pants again, but alas, I can not hide my true, rage-filled colours.
Apparently, disposable clothing chain Forever 21 is launching their new "plus-size" line, Faith 21, tomorrow. Normally, I would be all over this like Whitney Houston on a crack pipe, but everything I've been reading about this launch is making my scalp crawl.
CNN recently published an article about Faith 21 and the fashion industry's "stretch" to produce plus-size clothing. First of all, I'm a little weirded out by the fact that CNN is reporting on the goings-on of Forever 21 -- was it an exceptionally slow news day? Totally off topic, but it's a little jarring. Second of all, can we address the fact that F21 felt the need to produce a sister line? What's wrong with simply adding larger sizes to the existing stock? Having a separate line featuring separate clothing that will no doubt be shoved into a corner of the store isn't empowering for bigger girls, it's shaming them. And we all know that what full-figured ladies need is to feel more shame about their size, especially when they're teenagers.
Which brings me to what I think may be the most hateful quote I've read in a while:
Hatefilled, deeply disturbed people like MeMe* and willfully ignorant high-end designers like Miuccia Prada continue to ignore the fact that the average American woman is considered "plus-size" in hopes of shaming them into a more slender shape. Refusing to clothe them is not a solution, just as holding up a size 00 as the ideal will not inspire them to "put the food away" and hit the gym. It will, however, inspire more disordered eating -- both of the anorexic/bulimic variety and of the overeating+depression variety. Either way, people aren't going to be healthier, nor are they going to have anything to wear.
Plus, newsflash, people: if shame could actually make people thin, there would be no fat people to hate on. Get a fucking hobby that doesn't involve passing vitriolic judgment on others. I hear knitting is very "in".
Moreover, while actually catering to the majority of women is commendable, it does not make you a saint. It makes you a sensible business owner. I know I will catch a lot of flack for this, but just as I despise the pervasive fat hatred (for lack of a better term), I don't understand the suffering stance so many are taking when they actually provide clothing over a size L/size 10. Just as the Roths and Pradas and Lagerfelds of the world need to cry themselves a river, build a bridge and get the fuck over it already, I feel that those who deign to cut a larger swatch of fabric are just as obnoxious. Again, you're drumming up further business, not sacrificing yourself for the good of the fashion industry. Now stand up straight: that martyr pose only further reveals your judgement.
I guess this can be interpreted as though I am damning the fashion industry for both ignoring AND supplying, but I'm really not. There is a difference between saying "We recognise that women come in all shapes and sizes and we're going to do our best to provide them with fashionable clothing options" and "Aren't we sooooo brave and wonderful for daring to venture into the double digits?! PRAISE US." I just don't buy into this "A for Effort" nonsense that's being awarded to designers and companies that actually dress the average woman. Especially when, as in the case of Faith 21, the sizes really aren't that inclusive: Faith 21 carries XL and XXL. This, coupled with parent F21's tendency to size smaller makes the whole exercise feel, like, well, an exercise and not so much a valid foray into offering plus-sized options.
I think there can be a happy, healthy middle ground where women and fashion can meet and discuss the new trends for the summer season. However, that middle ground rests on society's ability to recognise that women run the sizing gamut -- from a slender size 00 to a voluptuous size 30 -- and all deserve to have options. Beautiful, fashionable, flattering options that cater to the beautiful, fashionable, incredible woman wearing the clothes. We're just not there yet.
--amanda
__________________
*Based on this article -- which is HIGHLY inflammatory, and will cause you to headdesk repeatedly -- I think it's safe to say Roth has some serious psychological issues with regards to food. I genuinely hope she gets some help.
I really wanted to write up a couple of happy and upbeat entries (especially given that I vanished for a week, leaving a screechy post raging at society to "leave Susan Boyle alone!") before I slipped into my ranting pants again, but alas, I can not hide my true, rage-filled colours.
Apparently, disposable clothing chain Forever 21 is launching their new "plus-size" line, Faith 21, tomorrow. Normally, I would be all over this like Whitney Houston on a crack pipe, but everything I've been reading about this launch is making my scalp crawl.
CNN recently published an article about Faith 21 and the fashion industry's "stretch" to produce plus-size clothing. First of all, I'm a little weirded out by the fact that CNN is reporting on the goings-on of Forever 21 -- was it an exceptionally slow news day? Totally off topic, but it's a little jarring. Second of all, can we address the fact that F21 felt the need to produce a sister line? What's wrong with simply adding larger sizes to the existing stock? Having a separate line featuring separate clothing that will no doubt be shoved into a corner of the store isn't empowering for bigger girls, it's shaming them. And we all know that what full-figured ladies need is to feel more shame about their size, especially when they're teenagers.
Which brings me to what I think may be the most hateful quote I've read in a while:
"However, when you look at the human cost, what we're doing is we're on the Titanic and rather than forcing our children into the lifeboat, we're telling them to join the band. Worrying about fashion rather than worrying about the food is a horrible message that we're sending these kids," -- MeMe Roth, president of the organization National Action Against Obesity.First of all -- and I don't say this often, since it's wholly unhelpful and dismissive -- STFU, MeMe. You know not what you speak, although it is painfully obvious you speak out of your ass. Catering to women of a larger size is not "worrying about fashion" it is clothing the masses -- literally, given that the average woman is a "plus-size" 14.
Hatefilled, deeply disturbed people like MeMe* and willfully ignorant high-end designers like Miuccia Prada continue to ignore the fact that the average American woman is considered "plus-size" in hopes of shaming them into a more slender shape. Refusing to clothe them is not a solution, just as holding up a size 00 as the ideal will not inspire them to "put the food away" and hit the gym. It will, however, inspire more disordered eating -- both of the anorexic/bulimic variety and of the overeating+depression variety. Either way, people aren't going to be healthier, nor are they going to have anything to wear.
Plus, newsflash, people: if shame could actually make people thin, there would be no fat people to hate on. Get a fucking hobby that doesn't involve passing vitriolic judgment on others. I hear knitting is very "in".
Moreover, while actually catering to the majority of women is commendable, it does not make you a saint. It makes you a sensible business owner. I know I will catch a lot of flack for this, but just as I despise the pervasive fat hatred (for lack of a better term), I don't understand the suffering stance so many are taking when they actually provide clothing over a size L/size 10. Just as the Roths and Pradas and Lagerfelds of the world need to cry themselves a river, build a bridge and get the fuck over it already, I feel that those who deign to cut a larger swatch of fabric are just as obnoxious. Again, you're drumming up further business, not sacrificing yourself for the good of the fashion industry. Now stand up straight: that martyr pose only further reveals your judgement.
I guess this can be interpreted as though I am damning the fashion industry for both ignoring AND supplying, but I'm really not. There is a difference between saying "We recognise that women come in all shapes and sizes and we're going to do our best to provide them with fashionable clothing options" and "Aren't we sooooo brave and wonderful for daring to venture into the double digits?! PRAISE US." I just don't buy into this "A for Effort" nonsense that's being awarded to designers and companies that actually dress the average woman. Especially when, as in the case of Faith 21, the sizes really aren't that inclusive: Faith 21 carries XL and XXL. This, coupled with parent F21's tendency to size smaller makes the whole exercise feel, like, well, an exercise and not so much a valid foray into offering plus-sized options.
I think there can be a happy, healthy middle ground where women and fashion can meet and discuss the new trends for the summer season. However, that middle ground rests on society's ability to recognise that women run the sizing gamut -- from a slender size 00 to a voluptuous size 30 -- and all deserve to have options. Beautiful, fashionable, flattering options that cater to the beautiful, fashionable, incredible woman wearing the clothes. We're just not there yet.
--amanda
__________________
*Based on this article -- which is HIGHLY inflammatory, and will cause you to headdesk repeatedly -- I think it's safe to say Roth has some serious psychological issues with regards to food. I genuinely hope she gets some help.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
If I Were ...
Dear No One in Particular,
I first learned about Isabella Rossellini's new project, Green Porno, through the following quote:
Green Porno is a webseries hosted by the Sundance Channel. Starring Isabella Rossellini, it chronicles the sex lives of various animals. The first season was all about backyard bugs; the second, which premiered on 1 April, is about marine animals. The videos are super short -- only a couple of minutes long -- but chock-full of information and utterly hilarious.
Rossellini plays the animals featured; she begins each episode saying "If I were a ____", filling in the blank with the creature of the day. Various body parts attach to her, making her a male bee, an earthworm, a right whale. She then earnestly describes and acts out the mating rituals of whatever animal she happens to be, copulating with paper cut-outs or papier mache partners.
The webseries is unlike anything I've ever watched. It's so bizarre, I don't know what to make of it, but I know I like it. The script is fantastically funny -- I now pepper my speech with non sequitur quotes from the show, saying things like "I would light up my ass at night" and "so I don't get screwed by a bear!" -- but always smart. The science of reproduction is first and foremost; the humour and dry wit simply season the science.
Rossellini has said in many interviews that her goal was to make people laugh, but also to educate them. You giggle at the snail's confession "sadomasochism excites me!", while you learn that they shoot daggers at their mates.
My only complaint is that the videos are too short. While, admittedly, there's only so much you can say about starfish sex, the episodes are addictive and engaging. I want more! I only hope that season 2 hasn't finished yet. I want to know more about the sex lives of fish, plankton, whatever brings us more Green Porno.
--amanda
I first learned about Isabella Rossellini's new project, Green Porno, through the following quote:
"I was reluctant to do mammals, because they look so similar to us. But what's interesting about the whale is the female puts her vagina on the surface of the water, out of the reach of the male. Then she can see the males fight and she can select which one she likes, and then she turns over and lets him get to her. I thought, I can do that!"I had no idea what she was talking about, but I wanted to know more.
Green Porno is a webseries hosted by the Sundance Channel. Starring Isabella Rossellini, it chronicles the sex lives of various animals. The first season was all about backyard bugs; the second, which premiered on 1 April, is about marine animals. The videos are super short -- only a couple of minutes long -- but chock-full of information and utterly hilarious.
Rossellini plays the animals featured; she begins each episode saying "If I were a ____", filling in the blank with the creature of the day. Various body parts attach to her, making her a male bee, an earthworm, a right whale. She then earnestly describes and acts out the mating rituals of whatever animal she happens to be, copulating with paper cut-outs or papier mache partners.
The webseries is unlike anything I've ever watched. It's so bizarre, I don't know what to make of it, but I know I like it. The script is fantastically funny -- I now pepper my speech with non sequitur quotes from the show, saying things like "I would light up my ass at night" and "so I don't get screwed by a bear!" -- but always smart. The science of reproduction is first and foremost; the humour and dry wit simply season the science.
Rossellini has said in many interviews that her goal was to make people laugh, but also to educate them. You giggle at the snail's confession "sadomasochism excites me!", while you learn that they shoot daggers at their mates.
My only complaint is that the videos are too short. While, admittedly, there's only so much you can say about starfish sex, the episodes are addictive and engaging. I want more! I only hope that season 2 hasn't finished yet. I want to know more about the sex lives of fish, plankton, whatever brings us more Green Porno.
--amanda
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Love is All You Need
Dear Body,
I know we've had some issues in the past, and I haven't treated you as well as I should have. So today, in honour of National Love Your Body day, I'd like to apologise for all the cruel things I've done over the years.
I'm sorry for all the Chinatown haircuts, and that it took me so long to actually get a real, flattering hairstyle.
I'm also sorry for getting bangs in the 5th grade. That was a really bad idea.
I'm sorry for all the In-N-Out burgers and Jack in the Box fried mac-n-cheese bites. (But they were totally worth it, amirite? Fuggedaboudit!)
I'm sorry for all the times I ate a Cliff bar and called it a meal.
I'm sorry for the days when I just ate a cup of pasta, but spent hours at the gym, burning calories I didn't have to spare.
I'm sorry for forcing you to drop 3 dress sizes in a month -- you looked bangin', but you felt shitty. I'm sorry for making you feel shitty.
I genuinely apologise for all the yo-yo diets. I want to eat healthy, for once.
I'm sorry for not having my wisdom teeth extracted yet. I promise I'm going to take care of that this winter.
I'm sorry for moving to Hawaii, and for staying here. I know you're unhappy here -- I have the skin issues to prove it. We're going back to calmer climes soon!
I'm sorry for not sticking with the physical therapy.
For that matter, I'm sorry for causing all the back problems. I don't remember what I did to cause them, but I'm sorry all the same.
I'm sorry for wearing flip-flops for so long, and I'm sorry I haven't put insoles in my shoes to correct the damage.
I'm sorry for not wearing my glasses.
I'm sorry for that pedicure -- you know the one where the woman slashed open the top of my big toe? Yeah, that one.
I'm sorry for carrying around gigantic purses loaded down with tons of books and crap. I'm also sorry to tell you that it's not going to stop any time soon. What can I say? I have a lot of junk, and it needs to get hauled around.
I'm sorry I don't like vegetables, and that I keep forgetting to take my vitamins.
I'm sorry for all the times I stuffed my size-10 hips into a size-7 skirt.
I'm sorry it took me so long to get a decent bra.
I'm sorry for cutting, for pinching, for scratching, for twisting the skin off my hands and arms. And I'm truly sorry for not getting help sooner.
I'm sorry for not telling you "you are beautiful" every single day.
We are beautiful.
Love with all my heart,
amanda
I know we've had some issues in the past, and I haven't treated you as well as I should have. So today, in honour of National Love Your Body day, I'd like to apologise for all the cruel things I've done over the years.
I'm sorry for all the Chinatown haircuts, and that it took me so long to actually get a real, flattering hairstyle.
I'm also sorry for getting bangs in the 5th grade. That was a really bad idea.
I'm sorry for all the In-N-Out burgers and Jack in the Box fried mac-n-cheese bites. (But they were totally worth it, amirite? Fuggedaboudit!)
I'm sorry for all the times I ate a Cliff bar and called it a meal.
I'm sorry for the days when I just ate a cup of pasta, but spent hours at the gym, burning calories I didn't have to spare.
I'm sorry for forcing you to drop 3 dress sizes in a month -- you looked bangin', but you felt shitty. I'm sorry for making you feel shitty.
I genuinely apologise for all the yo-yo diets. I want to eat healthy, for once.
I'm sorry for not having my wisdom teeth extracted yet. I promise I'm going to take care of that this winter.
I'm sorry for moving to Hawaii, and for staying here. I know you're unhappy here -- I have the skin issues to prove it. We're going back to calmer climes soon!
I'm sorry for not sticking with the physical therapy.
For that matter, I'm sorry for causing all the back problems. I don't remember what I did to cause them, but I'm sorry all the same.
I'm sorry for wearing flip-flops for so long, and I'm sorry I haven't put insoles in my shoes to correct the damage.
I'm sorry for not wearing my glasses.
I'm sorry for that pedicure -- you know the one where the woman slashed open the top of my big toe? Yeah, that one.
I'm sorry for carrying around gigantic purses loaded down with tons of books and crap. I'm also sorry to tell you that it's not going to stop any time soon. What can I say? I have a lot of junk, and it needs to get hauled around.
I'm sorry I don't like vegetables, and that I keep forgetting to take my vitamins.
I'm sorry for all the times I stuffed my size-10 hips into a size-7 skirt.
I'm sorry it took me so long to get a decent bra.
I'm sorry for cutting, for pinching, for scratching, for twisting the skin off my hands and arms. And I'm truly sorry for not getting help sooner.
I'm sorry for not telling you "you are beautiful" every single day.
We are beautiful.
Love with all my heart,
amanda
Goodbye, Victorian Rose
Dear No One in Particular,
I received wind of some particularly sobering news this morning: American Girl has announced that they are discontinuing the entire line of Samantha dolls. For good. Tears all around.
Samantha was my absolute favourite, but she wasn't my introduction to the American Girl series.* I remember seeing her picture in the catalog and falling in love with her because we shared a hairstyle (I could be a very shallow 8 year old, but at least I liked to read historical fiction). But really, Samantha was the bomb-diggity. She was incredibly rich, with all the best toys -- her party set was THE best thing a girl could have: little painted petit fours, a working ice cream maker, and don't get me started on her fabulous wardrobe! Fur muffs! Velvet dresses! LINED PURSES, YA'LL. I seem to remember a steamer trunk, too, but I can't be quoted on that.
But despite her very My Super Sweet Sixteen-seeming lifestyle, Samantha was the tops as a girlfriend. She was BFF with her maid/"servant girl" Nellie, and somehow, the relationship didn't seem contrived or condescending. Samantha truly saw a kindred spirit in poor illiterate Nellie, and it didn't matter the stations they were born into.
Samantha was witness to a changing world (really, most of the girls were) and her experiences shaped a lot of little (real) girls' view of history and the world around them. Samantha's grandmother was a hard-ass Victorian prude, but her beloved uncle and his glamourous girlfriend were automobile-owning suffragettes! Samantha was privileged, but she was by no means sheltered. I remember reading the historical notes at the back of "Samantha Learns a Lesson" and crying over the pictures of children working in factories. I had no idea how good I had it, and neither had Samantha. Petting her long brown curls, I realised that we had both learned a lesson about the world and it's cruelty.
R.I.P. Samantha Parkington, raddest American girl of them all. (Kit Kitredge is a punk.)
--amanda
-------
*That would be Felicity, the spunk sprightly colonial girl ... or something to that effect. My grandmother gave me her entire set of books one Christmas and I read them until they fell apart. I blame Felicity for my love of colonial American history.
I received wind of some particularly sobering news this morning: American Girl has announced that they are discontinuing the entire line of Samantha dolls. For good. Tears all around.
Samantha was my absolute favourite, but she wasn't my introduction to the American Girl series.* I remember seeing her picture in the catalog and falling in love with her because we shared a hairstyle (I could be a very shallow 8 year old, but at least I liked to read historical fiction). But really, Samantha was the bomb-diggity. She was incredibly rich, with all the best toys -- her party set was THE best thing a girl could have: little painted petit fours, a working ice cream maker, and don't get me started on her fabulous wardrobe! Fur muffs! Velvet dresses! LINED PURSES, YA'LL. I seem to remember a steamer trunk, too, but I can't be quoted on that.
But despite her very My Super Sweet Sixteen-seeming lifestyle, Samantha was the tops as a girlfriend. She was BFF with her maid/"servant girl" Nellie, and somehow, the relationship didn't seem contrived or condescending. Samantha truly saw a kindred spirit in poor illiterate Nellie, and it didn't matter the stations they were born into.
Samantha was witness to a changing world (really, most of the girls were) and her experiences shaped a lot of little (real) girls' view of history and the world around them. Samantha's grandmother was a hard-ass Victorian prude, but her beloved uncle and his glamourous girlfriend were automobile-owning suffragettes! Samantha was privileged, but she was by no means sheltered. I remember reading the historical notes at the back of "Samantha Learns a Lesson" and crying over the pictures of children working in factories. I had no idea how good I had it, and neither had Samantha. Petting her long brown curls, I realised that we had both learned a lesson about the world and it's cruelty.
R.I.P. Samantha Parkington, raddest American girl of them all. (Kit Kitredge is a punk.)
--amanda
-------
*That would be Felicity, the spunk sprightly colonial girl ... or something to that effect. My grandmother gave me her entire set of books one Christmas and I read them until they fell apart. I blame Felicity for my love of colonial American history.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Barack the Vote!
Dear No One in Particular,
Are you registered to vote? I sincerely hope so, since a lot of state deadlines have already passed. We're getting so close to the election, and despite what we've been told, every vote counts.
I know a lot of people who refuse to vote simply because they don't like the candidates. I think this is unbelievably selfish, especially within the context of this election. Simply look at the candidates' voting records and you can see the ramifications of a non-vote. Look beyond your own personal misgivings and think about how the presidency in the hands of Candidate A would be be different from Candidate B. Consequences people; nothing occurs in a vacuum.
I would like to say that this is perhaps one of the most important elections in history, and it's true. We have the opportunity to vote a minority into the White House -- why this hasn't happened before, I don't know. But it's more than that: women's rights are on the table, inexplicably, Roe v. Wade is on the table.
I wasn't going to write a pro-voting post, but reading about a 106 year-old nun voting for the first time in 52 years is an incredible inspiration.
So please: do like Sister Cecilia and vote.
--amanda
Are you registered to vote? I sincerely hope so, since a lot of state deadlines have already passed. We're getting so close to the election, and despite what we've been told, every vote counts.
I know a lot of people who refuse to vote simply because they don't like the candidates. I think this is unbelievably selfish, especially within the context of this election. Simply look at the candidates' voting records and you can see the ramifications of a non-vote. Look beyond your own personal misgivings and think about how the presidency in the hands of Candidate A would be be different from Candidate B. Consequences people; nothing occurs in a vacuum.
I would like to say that this is perhaps one of the most important elections in history, and it's true. We have the opportunity to vote a minority into the White House -- why this hasn't happened before, I don't know. But it's more than that: women's rights are on the table, inexplicably, Roe v. Wade is on the table.
I wasn't going to write a pro-voting post, but reading about a 106 year-old nun voting for the first time in 52 years is an incredible inspiration.
So please: do like Sister Cecilia and vote.
--amanda
Monday, September 15, 2008
In what way, Charlie?
[Edit: arg! The videos aren't embedding properly. Links to the NBC website instead.]
Dear No One in Particular,
I'm sure you've seen it already, and it's been discussed to death over the water cooler, but how awesome were Tina Fey and Amy Poehler as Gov. Sarah Palin and Sen. Hillary Clinton? TOO AWESOME, for sure. It almost makes me want to watch SNL again. (Then again, Tina made me want to watch again after she hosted and endorsed Hillary, but that never happened ...)
At any rate, Tina was spot on as Palin, but really, it was all about Poehler in my mind. The little eye-bug? Her sarcastic undercuts? Were just as amazing as Fey's rifle-pose.
But my absolute favourite part? "I invite you to grow a pair. And if you can't, I will lend you mine." That, right there folks, is my new mantra.
"I can see Russia from my house!" is my new catchphrase.
--amanda
P.S. Yes, I am supposed to be working on my mass media paper ... what of it?
Dear No One in Particular,
I'm sure you've seen it already, and it's been discussed to death over the water cooler, but how awesome were Tina Fey and Amy Poehler as Gov. Sarah Palin and Sen. Hillary Clinton? TOO AWESOME, for sure. It almost makes me want to watch SNL again. (Then again, Tina made me want to watch again after she hosted and endorsed Hillary, but that never happened ...)
At any rate, Tina was spot on as Palin, but really, it was all about Poehler in my mind. The little eye-bug? Her sarcastic undercuts? Were just as amazing as Fey's rifle-pose.
But my absolute favourite part? "I invite you to grow a pair. And if you can't, I will lend you mine." That, right there folks, is my new mantra.
"I can see Russia from my house!" is my new catchphrase.
--amanda
P.S. Yes, I am supposed to be working on my mass media paper ... what of it?
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Soooo-ie!
Dear No One in Particular,
This is just too awesome. Add Doris Probst to my list of heroes, if only for her moxie. It takes some guts to get up on that stage and just hog call like there's no tomorrow. Congrats, lady!
In other news, I really want to try hog calling. I figure I can yell really loudly and can squeal so loudly it throws the neighbourhood dogs into a frenzy (wish I was kidding). I wonder if it works on Olympic swimmers ....
--amanda
This is just too awesome. Add Doris Probst to my list of heroes, if only for her moxie. It takes some guts to get up on that stage and just hog call like there's no tomorrow. Congrats, lady!
In other news, I really want to try hog calling. I figure I can yell really loudly and can squeal so loudly it throws the neighbourhood dogs into a frenzy (wish I was kidding). I wonder if it works on Olympic swimmers ....
--amanda
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
White is alright?
Dear No One in Particular,
While I have long been aware of the prevalence of skin-bleaching products in south, east, and south-eastern Asia, I was recently reminded of how detrimental such products are by this article on Jezebel. *
Interestingly, this article comes to me only a day after my mother received a huge care package from her relatives in the Philippines, which included an exorbitant amount of whitening products. Her sister sent her not one, not two but SIX bars of whitening soap and two tubs of whitening deodorant. Three of the soap bars are made with placenta -- whose placenta, I do not know, but apparently, afterbirth is a great skin bleach!
The fact that there is such a prevalence is incredibly disturbing. Jezebel links to a number of separate sites and articles that show just how dangerous such products can be. Not to sell women short, but the onslaught of media messages telling us that no matter what, we are not good enough has deadly ramifications.
I can only speak from experience on this subject, and as a woman who is part Filipina, I am no stranger to being told that I am "too dark". Of course, as an American woman -- specifically as an American woman living in Hawaii, where tans are not only de riguer, but mandatory -- I love being tan. Personally, I feel that I look better tan than fair -- I have olive skin, and as I get paler, I look more yellow and thus more sickly. Sure, there are people out there who can rock the lovely porcelain skin, but I am not one of them.
At any rate, as soon as my mother saw me she commented on my skin tone, saying that I look so dark. Really, she said I looked black -- I can't honestly comment on whether or not there is a difference between the two (she was speaking to me in Filipino) but I know that the feeling was there -- I was too dark, and needed to lighten my skin tone.
One of my Filipina aunts slathers herself in sunscreen and drives with a covering on her left arm for fear of becoming too dark. As a child, she had naturally very tan skin, and from what my mother tells me, she was teased A LOT. She also had kinky curly hair, which she now has permanently straightened. I wish I could tell you that she looks good, with her flat-ironed hair and pale skin, but she doesn't. Like me, she is olive-toned, and really, olive =/= porcelain. She looks a bit peaked all the time, but don't tell her I said so.
Naturally, this goes beyond just vanity. There are a myriad of race-related issues surrounding this. My naturally curly, tan aunt for example, was often called "black" (as in African) as a taunt, and, for her entire adult life, has endeavoured to escape that cruel taunt by becoming as white (as in Caucasian?) as possible.
When was it decided that anything dark is bad? Look at the dearth of black supermodels -- at the root of it, the myth that dark = ugly is being perpetuated. We need to stop perpetuating the ridiculous notion that to be considered beautiful, women need to be fair-skinned and straight-haired. You know who else perpetuated that ideal? HITLER. (Kidding, kind of.)
Truthfully, the entire beauty industry needs an overhaul. More models of colour (not just black, but Asian, Hispanic, and hapa!), less skin bleach. More curls, less flat-irons. More acceptance, less hatred.
--amanda
*Great website, or greatest website?
While I have long been aware of the prevalence of skin-bleaching products in south, east, and south-eastern Asia, I was recently reminded of how detrimental such products are by this article on Jezebel. *
Interestingly, this article comes to me only a day after my mother received a huge care package from her relatives in the Philippines, which included an exorbitant amount of whitening products. Her sister sent her not one, not two but SIX bars of whitening soap and two tubs of whitening deodorant. Three of the soap bars are made with placenta -- whose placenta, I do not know, but apparently, afterbirth is a great skin bleach!
The fact that there is such a prevalence is incredibly disturbing. Jezebel links to a number of separate sites and articles that show just how dangerous such products can be. Not to sell women short, but the onslaught of media messages telling us that no matter what, we are not good enough has deadly ramifications.
I can only speak from experience on this subject, and as a woman who is part Filipina, I am no stranger to being told that I am "too dark". Of course, as an American woman -- specifically as an American woman living in Hawaii, where tans are not only de riguer, but mandatory -- I love being tan. Personally, I feel that I look better tan than fair -- I have olive skin, and as I get paler, I look more yellow and thus more sickly. Sure, there are people out there who can rock the lovely porcelain skin, but I am not one of them.
At any rate, as soon as my mother saw me she commented on my skin tone, saying that I look so dark. Really, she said I looked black -- I can't honestly comment on whether or not there is a difference between the two (she was speaking to me in Filipino) but I know that the feeling was there -- I was too dark, and needed to lighten my skin tone.
One of my Filipina aunts slathers herself in sunscreen and drives with a covering on her left arm for fear of becoming too dark. As a child, she had naturally very tan skin, and from what my mother tells me, she was teased A LOT. She also had kinky curly hair, which she now has permanently straightened. I wish I could tell you that she looks good, with her flat-ironed hair and pale skin, but she doesn't. Like me, she is olive-toned, and really, olive =/= porcelain. She looks a bit peaked all the time, but don't tell her I said so.
Naturally, this goes beyond just vanity. There are a myriad of race-related issues surrounding this. My naturally curly, tan aunt for example, was often called "black" (as in African) as a taunt, and, for her entire adult life, has endeavoured to escape that cruel taunt by becoming as white (as in Caucasian?) as possible.
When was it decided that anything dark is bad? Look at the dearth of black supermodels -- at the root of it, the myth that dark = ugly is being perpetuated. We need to stop perpetuating the ridiculous notion that to be considered beautiful, women need to be fair-skinned and straight-haired. You know who else perpetuated that ideal? HITLER. (Kidding, kind of.)
Truthfully, the entire beauty industry needs an overhaul. More models of colour (not just black, but Asian, Hispanic, and hapa!), less skin bleach. More curls, less flat-irons. More acceptance, less hatred.
--amanda
*Great website, or greatest website?
Thursday, July 3, 2008
I Don't Wanna Grow Up
Dear No One in Particular,
A few weeks ago, I cited the incredible Rosie Swale-Pope as one of my personal heroes. While I still wish I had her gumption, I am totally in love with Doris Lessing, the curmudgeonly octogenarian Nobel Laureate. Her initial reaction upon receiving her Nobel Prize for Literature was "Oh Christ." When questioned about it further, she commented that "If I may be catty, Sweden doesn't have anything else. There's not a great literary tradition, so they make the most of the Nobel." LOVE.
I can see why Lessing might turn a lot of people off. However, I see her as an elderly woman who simply doesn't want to deal with all of the attention being showered upon her. Mad props, Lessing, for having the moxie to tell it like it is. Far too many people worry about pleasing others, or sounding proper. In my opinion, Lessing cares not a whit about being labeled a "bitch" -- I think she might actually delight in such a label, and then flip off whoever was foolish enough to call her that.
At any rate, I am definitely picking up her award-winning Alfred and Emily as soon as it becomes available in the U.S. It doesn't hit American shores until early August, so I'll have to do some research and pick up another of her books in the meantime. Any suggestions?
--amanda
A few weeks ago, I cited the incredible Rosie Swale-Pope as one of my personal heroes. While I still wish I had her gumption, I am totally in love with Doris Lessing, the curmudgeonly octogenarian Nobel Laureate. Her initial reaction upon receiving her Nobel Prize for Literature was "Oh Christ." When questioned about it further, she commented that "If I may be catty, Sweden doesn't have anything else. There's not a great literary tradition, so they make the most of the Nobel." LOVE.
I can see why Lessing might turn a lot of people off. However, I see her as an elderly woman who simply doesn't want to deal with all of the attention being showered upon her. Mad props, Lessing, for having the moxie to tell it like it is. Far too many people worry about pleasing others, or sounding proper. In my opinion, Lessing cares not a whit about being labeled a "bitch" -- I think she might actually delight in such a label, and then flip off whoever was foolish enough to call her that.
At any rate, I am definitely picking up her award-winning Alfred and Emily as soon as it becomes available in the U.S. It doesn't hit American shores until early August, so I'll have to do some research and pick up another of her books in the meantime. Any suggestions?
--amanda
Monday, June 23, 2008
Go, go Granny!
Dear No One in Particular,
I want to be exactly like Rosie Swale-Pope when I grow up. The kick-ass grandma is set to be the first person to run around the world. She's suffered frost-bite, snow blindness, a breast cancer scare and nearly 30 marriage proposals and she's still going strong.
I love her. I want to be her. I shall devour her book once it comes out, since I can not get enough of the anecdotes shared in the article.
--amanda
I want to be exactly like Rosie Swale-Pope when I grow up. The kick-ass grandma is set to be the first person to run around the world. She's suffered frost-bite, snow blindness, a breast cancer scare and nearly 30 marriage proposals and she's still going strong.
I love her. I want to be her. I shall devour her book once it comes out, since I can not get enough of the anecdotes shared in the article.
--amanda
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