Ground floor. Suit gets on the elevator.
SUIT: So, how’s the baby factory?
ME: Baby factory?!
SUIT: Yeah. Suit gestures to my abdomen.
ME: Slow head shake, direct eye contact. Nope…just a fat girl.
SUIT: Really?! Suit opens my jacket and touches my body to make sure I’m not…
I gotta be honest, kids. Things are rough. This thing happens when the people that made you die, where you stop knowing how to take care of yourself. It’s like when your mom goes away for the weekend and leaves you in the house to fend for yourself and you eat nothing but frozen pizza for three…
The different parts of my gender crash together wildly, like a demolition derby. Most of the time it feels exciting and fun, but it is also frightening and painful at times. Today I shaved my face for the first time ever and while it was happening I felt a mixture of fear, uncertainty and mischievous joy. I can feel certain aspects of masculinity creeping in to the way that I understand myself and perform my gender and it unsettles me because I feel like I haven’t yet learned how to celebrate, re-purpose or trust it in the same way I have with femininity. Embodying masculinity with integrity is an intense responsibility that I don’t always feel ready for. Hot damn, that gender category comes with a lot of fucking baggage, entitlement and power, and I do not know if I am wise enough to navigate that in ways that don’t hurt other people. Gender seems so much bigger than me sometimes. It permeates everything around me in such complicated ways. Ways that I fear are unspeakable, although I guess I’m talking now. The lack of control and choice I have in this process shakes me in ways I would rather not admit. Still, here I am doing me as hard as ever, buying rogaine, shaving my face, going out in public and staring back into the eyes of those who try to erase and belittle me with their gaze. I don’t have the answers right now, so I guess all I can do is let this thing kick the shit out of me while speaking from my heart and wearing lipstick to the party.
Fatshion February #16: New Hair Editon!
My lovely date-turned-friend-turned-roommate-turned-partner-turned friend, Kingsley Cricket came to Vancouver and we recorded a bunch of songs for his debut album together. We took a narcism break in between takes to snag some hot pictures of my new hair (tits) in the bathroom. Everything I’m wearing here is thrifted.
Fatshion February: Ocean Edition
Today I had all these lofty plans of cleaning my house but then I went outside and noticed that THE GODDAMN SUN WAS OUT and I threw my To Do list in the recycling and hopped on the bus with my friend and we went to the beach.
Skirt: Old Navy
Belt: Crafted by my witch friend
Boots: Mz. Mooz
Fatshion February Day 11: Brunching With Babes Edition
Today my friend, Lincoln, called me as I was sitting on my bed absolutely naked with a full face of makeup and a toque on, having all but given up on the day’s outfit and gave me a reason to get fancy. Thank christ.
Cardigan: gifted by Majestic
Skirt and Scarf: thrifted
HUNGRY VIRGINS: EVERYTHING WAS TIM TAMS AND NOTHING HURT
Apparently everyone except us has been slamming the shit out of Tim Tams since they were born or something and we were born under a rock but we care not, because now Tim Tams are in our lives for keeps
Tim Tam Fam Slam
Thank you Frances, you perfect peach
(For background, as a wedding present, I sent Jessica/tangledupinace and Erin/mmmajestic a box of a tim tams - 2 packs of original, 2 packs of double coat, and 2 packs of caramel.)
TRANSPACIFIC OBESITY EPIDEMIC. Each biscuit is a chocolate-coated cuddle from me. <33333333
cupcakes with the hungry virgin fam
look at how fucking precious and in her element julia looks
Dudes, check it out! I started a new blog. I left Facebook so now I need somewhere to post pictures of my cleavage and be self-deprecating. I also need somewhere to think and write through my grief process and post pictures of my cleavage. I think you’re gonna like it ‘cus sometimes I think I say…
Fatshion February Day 8: Nostalgia Edition
Today I went out for $4.00 breakfast with my childhood best friend and we reminisced about our trashy working class rental complex and all it’s funny characters: the mean girls, the boys who smelled like tuna, the bikers and moms with frosted pink lipstick and rod stewart hair, and the old men who we weren’t supposed to take candy from but always did anyway.
The green cable-knit is from Old Navy and everything else is thrifted except for the boots which I’ve had for like 6 years and can’t remember where I got them.