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#so i could literally just be told that yeah i’m overweight and i clearly need help but i can’t get help because insurance
pollenallergie · 7 months
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:/
#tw disordered eating#personal#i have a consultation appt coming up soon with a bariatric weight loss program and i’m v nervy#i’ve always been fat and fairly unhealthy bc i didn’t have access to good food growing up (bc poor)#but i also struggle with self-control/impulse control because… obviously#so i binge a lot and then feel really bad afterwards (physically and mentally) but i struggle to tell myself no#so i go through periods where like one day i’ll eat absolutely nothing at all to punish myself & the next i’ll binge until i’m sick#but no psychiatrist has ever wanted to diagnose me with an eating disorder because… well… the psychiatrists in my area aren’t great…#and i’m fat…. so i don’t fit their idea of what someone with an eating disorder should look like#so i’ve never been able to get treatment for my disordered eating#so i’m excited about my consultation…#but i’m also nervous that i won’t be able to actually lose the weight#because most of my family has the same type of disordered eating#and they grew up poor so they don’t have the best idea of nutrition nor do they currently have the means to afford good food (still poor)#so regardless of what information i’m given#my family is likely going to continue to buy the same tempting unhealthy foods#and i just don’t trust myself :/#also i’m not sure if my insurance will cover my appointment if the clinic chooses to take me on as a patient#so i could literally just be told that yeah i’m overweight and i clearly need help but i can’t get help because insurance#which wouldn’t do anything for me except for make me feel 1000x worse about my current situation#but also i’m so tired of feeling/being this way#not necessarily being fat but being unhealthy and feeling like i don’t have control over my own impulses and actions…#like i don’t have the power to stop myself from binging#it’s just very frustrating and really taking a toll on me#sorry for the rant#but life is a lot for me right now#and i can’t talk to anyone in my family about this because they’ll think i’m a danger to myself#(aka going to off myself) & they’ll take me to the hospital & then i’ll have to go in inpatient again (i haven’t been inpatient since 14/15)#& i really just don’t want to deal with that because like… that’s not what’s happening here#tw mental instability
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taylorinthetardis · 3 years
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Wallflowers - A Henry Cavill x Reader fic
So I did a thing! Rather than continue to work on my larger, more complicated Pride and Prejudice fic, I decided to make a fanfic out of the fantasy I had at work the other day!
There will most likely be a part two to this, I just thought I was at a good stopping point and wanted to see what you guys thought about it.
Full disclosure: I didn’t mean for this to whole ass turn into a Bath and Body Works ad, but it kinda did. For those of you reading in countries that do not have Bath and Body Works, its basically just a body and home care store. In the US their scents are legendary. Pretty much every young girl went through a BBW phase where that was all they used for soap and perfume. That all being said, in the interest of further disclosure and covering my ass, I own neither Bath and Body Works nor any of the trademarks on the scents listed herein. I also do not own Henry Cavill because owning human beings is a crime.
This is my first Henry fic so be gentle with me! It’s a bit longer than I had anticipated and un-beta’d.
Warnings: just a lot of fluff. some self-deprecation. loads of swearing. don’t know if I should warn for slight bashing of the religious but I will anyway so no one gets mad at me.
Wallflowers
It was shaping up to be another boring ass day at Bath and Body Works. I had started working here during the Pandemic after I was laid off from my job at the movie theatre. I had planned on it only being temporary, but even after things got better and I got my theatre job back, I decided to stick around. What can I say; a bitch is broke. Nothing wrong with double-dipping.
There was something about Sunday mornings in the mall. Probably because people around here still went to church in the mornings. Like it matters. Sunday mornings are always so slow, here and at the theatre, but the day always picks up after 1, when morning church services finish. It was me and Samantha up in the front room this morning, working out the leftover boxes from yesterday’s shipment. She was one of the first people I really bonded with here, both of us being super into both Marvel and DC, specifically Sebastian Stan and Henry Cavill. They had just started filming the next Superman movie and they were going to be shooting scenes up in Michigan again, like they had for Dawn of Justice.
“I’m just saying, we should really consider asking for a few days off and just going up there and scoping it out. I mean, it’s Henry fucking Cavill. He’s less than an hour away from us. Right now. Less than an hour. When is that ever gonna happen again? I can use some of my vacation time at the theatre, so at least I’m not missing out on money from them. It’ll be a blast. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? We don’t see him? I mean at least we’d have tried. I’d rather try than stay down in stupid Ohio with the knowledge that he’s that close.”
“Do you really think Ann’s going to give us time off to stalk Superman?”
“We ain’t gonna tell her what it’s for! Just lie, c’mon now.” I laughed. I dropped a box of Gingham body cream into the understock drawer and broke the box down. Out of the corner of my eye I caught movement, oh goodie, a customer. Samantha was quicker to greet them.
“Welcome to Bath and Body… OH MY GOD!” I turned around and was met with the sight of none other than Henry fucking Cavill, sheepishly running his hand through his now jet-black curls, obviously embarrassed at having been recognized. Damn, am I glad I put make-up on this morning. Alright Y/N, this is your fucking chance. For once in your damn life, be fucking cool. You can do this. You look good, you smell like Champagne Toast, you’ve got this. I pulled my hair down from its messy bun and shook it out a bit before walking over to where Samantha was still trying to collect herself. The store radio started playing Halsey’s Bad at Love and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from bursting out laughing at the absurdity of the situation we were now in. Not five minutes ago we were talking about seeking him out and now here he was in all his brick-shithouse-ness. I looped my arm through Samantha’s in a show of support.
“What a wonderful coincidence! We were just talking about you and now here you are! It’s crazy how the universe works, isn’t it? I’m Y/N, this is Samantha; what can we help you with today, Henry?” I smiled my most adorable smile at him, the one that makes my little cheek dimple pop out, and, honestly, they both looked shocked. Samantha was clearly surprised that I was more capable of speech than she was, and to be honest so was I, and Henry seemed shocked that I would openly admit that we had been talking about him before he got there, which probably wasn’t a great thing to say, but I panicked.  
“Well, I was told this was the best place to go for candles and air freshener-y type things. The house I’m renting just has this odd odour that I can’t get rid of. I’ve been airing it out during the day, all the windows open, and I come home and it still smells funky. I know I could just find a different place, but it’s close to a park and that’s been nice for Kal and I don’t want to make a fuss, so…” Henry sort of shrugged, the buttons on his plaid shirt straining with the movement of his broad shoulders, and gestured around the store as if to say “that’s why I’m here”.
“Well, you’ve definitely come to the right place. All of our home care is in the second room, grab a basket, I’m sure we can find you some scents you’ll like.” He walked over to the basket tower to grab one as a couple more customers walked in. Samantha nudged me towards the second room; I was going to have to handle Henry alone for now, it seemed. He followed me over to the Wallflower wall. “So, these are our Wallflowers. They’re sort of like the Glade Plug-ins, I don’t know if you’ve seen those, you plug this diffuser into any power outlet and screw the fragrance bulb in and it diffuses the scented oil into the room. They last for about a month or so. These’ll probably be the best option for you, well these and maybe a room spray or two to start with. The candles are good, but obviously the scent is gonna be strongest when they’re burning and it’s probably not a great idea to light a bunch of candles and then leave for the whole day.”
He chuckled. “No, I’d say you’re right about that. I definitely don’t want to burn the place to the ground. Are there any scents that you’d recommend?”
“Well, I mean, it obviously all depends on your personal preferences. I like sweet scents. I like my space to be smelling like a bakery or a candy shop at all times, so I tend to go for anything like that. We actually still have some of our holiday scents that we’re trying to get rid of and there’s this really great one in that line called Spiced Apple Toddy. It smells like apple pie. I love it. It’s only out during fall and winter so I stocked up. I need it all year long, honestly. I still have so many other scents at home, but like I’m probably never gonna get sick of it, for real, it smells so good. Or I might go every other month swapping between that and Black Cherry Merlot because that’s awesome too. And then there’s Champagne Toast, I mean, that one might be a bit too feminine for you, but I love it. It’s sweet and just a tiny bit citrusy. I can’t do any of the floral or like, outdoorsy scents, they set my allergies off. And honestly there’s some of these that I smell them and I’m like, who is putting this in their house? Like, what nutjob thinks this scent is good? How many people have senses of smell that are this screwed up?” At this point I was rambling, talking excitedly and with my hands, handing him testers to smell and trying to gauge his reactions to know what to hand him next. He didn’t have any bad reactions to anything I gave him until I handed him the tester for Fresh Balsam. His nose scrunched up in the most adorable way and he very carefully set the tester down on the counter as far from him as he could manage. He handled my word-vomit good-naturedly, with a small smile on his face, nodding and chuckling when he thought something I had said was funny. Our fingers brushed a few times as I handed him the testers and after the third time, I began to feel like it was deliberate on his part, but it couldn’t have been, could it? He couldn’t really be interested in me. He’s Henry Cavill. I’m just, well, I’m just me.
Me, with my two minimum wage jobs, still living with my parents, inching ever closer to 30 years old. Why would he want any of that? Why would he be interested in me physically either? I mean, he’s literally flawless and I’m short, overweight, I eat like shit, I don’t exercise, hell, I barely know how to put on make-up correctly. Yeah, I look good today, but that’s not par-for-the-course.    
He put a few each of Cinnamon & Clove Buds, Black Cherry Merlot, Limoncello (for the bathrooms, he said), and Laundry Day (for the laundry room, obviously) in his basket along with enough of the plugs so he’d have one in each room. He also grabbed a Black Cherry Merlot and a Limoncello room spray off the shelf next to the Wallflower display before turning back to me. “So then, where do you keep this Spiced Apple Toddy that you like so much, or did you hide them so you could have them all to yourself?”
I chuckled nervously and ran my hand through my hair, sort of disbelieving that he was actually paying attention to what I had said. Boys never listen to me when I talk, I always have to repeat myself, but I guess that’s because I usually end up talking to the dumb ones. Henry’s not dumb. He really is just fucking perfect, isn’t he? Pretty and he listens? That shouldn’t be such a difficult combination to find, but for me it had been. “They’re on the table over here with the rest of our leftover Christmas stuff. Hopefully the tester is still there somewhere.” I put my hands in my apron pockets and I could feel the jolt of confidence I had had just minutes before leaving my body. His charm had worn me down, bringing me back to my normal, anxiety-ridden self. I caught the toe of my boot on the corner of one of the other tables as we walked towards the center of the room. I stumbled, but before I could fall his arm was already out to steady me, wrapping around my waist to keep me upright.
“Are you alright Y/N?” A look of genuine concern was on his face and I swear to God I swooned. Like, fuck, I just stubbed my stupid toe, it’s not that serious. I mean yeah, I stubbed my toe and then almost fell into a table covered with candles in glass holders, but like, I didn’t fall, you caught me, please stop looking at me like you care. You can’t give me that much hope. It isn’t fair. And goddamnit I love the way my name sounds coming out of your mouth. Like, fuck it’s never sounded so good. This isn’t fair, why is this happening?
“Yeah, Henry I’m fine, just a stubbed toe. Thank you for…you know.” I gestured down to his arm, which was still around my waist. The sound of me bumping into the table drew the attention of the rest of my co-workers, however, who were now coming out of their various positions to see what was going on and to make sure no one had broken anything. Samantha popped her head in from the front room and Kelynn and Mira came out from the cashwrap with Pilar and walked to the edge of the third room to peek in. All they saw was me, blushing profusely, with Henry Cavill’s beefy-ass arm still wrapped around my fucking waist. “Everything’s fine guys. I promise.”
“Holy shit, is that…”
“Mira!”
“But Kelynn that’s fucking Superman!”
“You can’t cuss in front of him Mira, he’s a customer!”
“Will you guys cut it out? You’re embarrassing us in front of the hunky British dude!”
“Hey, I’ve got an idea. How about we all pretend like this isn’t happening right now? Pilar can go back to the cashwrap, you two can go back to whatever it was you were doing, and I’ll go back to what I was doing, namely making a damn sale!” I extricated myself from Henry’s grasp so I could shoo them back towards the cashwrap. They turned and walked away, bewildered looks on their faces. I turned back to Henry who was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his curls, leaving them messier than they were before. An errant one fell over his forehead and I wanted to brush it out of the way, but he just left it.
I walked over to the table that I was originally heading for and found the Spiced Apple Toddy Wallflowers. There wasn’t that many left, but there was still a tester. I grabbed it and spun around to bring it to him, assuming he hadn’t followed me, but as I turned, I found myself going face first into his massive chest. I put my unoccupied hand up to steady myself and pushed on his chest to force him back. He was just too close. Why was he so close? He opened his mouth to say something but I beat him to it. “Here. This is what I have in my bedroom right now, this is Spiced Apple Toddy.” Oh god, why did I say it like that? The one I have in my bedroom. Jesus Christ. He quirked his eyebrow at me and cocked his head to the side, smirking a little. Instead of taking the tester from me, he took my much smaller hand in his, guiding it up towards his face so the tester was close to his nose. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. A serene smile spread across his face and I felt my face get hotter. He opened his eyes, looking down into mine. Fuck I could drown in those ocean eyes.
“Oh, I like that very much. You were right. I think that one’s my favourite.”
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imagineaworlds · 6 years
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04//Mike the Inconvenience
summary: Olivia Grace is a motherfucking Magician. Yeah, she’s British. Yeah, she’s got a LOT of secrets– but doesn’t everyone? And she’s totally fucked up.
pairing: margo hanson x female!oc
word count: 2,505
warnings (for entire series): cursing. drug and alcohol use. drug and alcohol abuse. sex.
(1) - (2) - (3) - (4)
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Grace was stumbling down the stairs just before she was knocked into by someone running up the stairs. She rolled her eyes and looked at the boy in front of her. It was Todd, one of the Physical kids living in the cottage, but forgotten by Grace and all of her friends.
“Sorry,” Todd apologized, then continued running up the stairs, afraid. Grace continued down the stairs, and she heard the laughter of Margo and Eliot.
“Todd?!” Margo joked. They continued to laugh as Grace leaned over the staircase railing and sighed. Eliot was first to notice her to which Margo turned around for. “Oh! Liv! Come here,” Margo waved her hands in her own direction. Grace threw her head back and unwillingly went down the stairs. “Question,” she whirled around to reveal a small pink bikini with gold chains covering her body. It was weird to have friends who trusted her to the point they were willing to show off their bodies to her. “Does this scream Ibiza or what?”
Shyly, Grace nodded.
“Liv,” Eliot gushed. He turned back to his packing and talked about his plans for Ibiza.
“Hey, El?” Margo stopped him. He looked up at her. “We haven’t invited anyone. Have we?”
Eliot shook his head. “No, but Ibiza’s our thing. It always has been. You can’t be serious. Dean Fogg would never allow it.”
Margo smiled, “Olivia, go grab your things. You’re coming to Ibiza with us!” Margo ran up a couple of steps to meet with Olivia. “Come on, you're going to need help packing all of those drugs in your case, ‘cause they are sure as hell coming with us,” she pulled Olivia up the stairs.
“I’ll just use a packing spell Alice taught me… Thank you, though,” Grace said uncomfortably.
“Nonsense,” Margo clapped her hands on Grace’s shoulders to stop their walking through the hallway. “I insist.”
For the next hour Grace and Margo were packing bathing suits on bathing suits, drugs on drugs, and the occasional shirt and shorts, but never anything noticeable in the pile of white and green in plastic bags. Grace had asked as a joke if everyone at Ibiza was always nude, and Margo plainly responded with a yes, then laughed hysterically. When it was all packed Margo helped Grace take the bags downstairs. Eliot was shuffling through papers and scratching his head. He was looking for some kind of spell in Arabic, or at least that’s what Grace could see from the papers and books he was rummaging through.
“I’m looking for a present for the elders who invited us, but I can't decide,” he admitted, tossing a book on the ground, frustrated.
“What did you guys do last year?” Grace asked.
Eliot opened another book. “A working bag of dicks.”
Grace immediately laughed. “Brilliant. Did they love it?”
“Oh, yes, they did…” Margo smirked, swaying her hips to the side as she bit her lip. “What are you deciding between, El?”
Eliot sighed and threw another book on the floor. It was the last book he had to throw, and all the other papers were crumpled, telling both Margo and Olivia that he was out of resources. “I heard some kids talking about a magical gin. Problem is, I only have half of the spell and there’s nothing in the cottage that even mentions the word gin.”
“Okay? So?”
“We,” he looked at both the girls, “have to go to the library.”
Margo’s face scrunched, her nose wrinkled, and it was all joined by a whine, “You must be joking.”
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They had put it off all day. Margo, Eliot, and Olivia were doing everything they could to stay away from the terrible fact that they had to go to the dusty, long forgotten library somewhere in the middle of campus where all the nerds hung out. They even resulted to Google Magic for answers, but clearly everyone online didn’t have a clue or didn’t give a shit about actual magic. So the ugly truth became clear, and the three best friends walked to the library prepared to stay up until morning if they had to just to find the spell for the magic gin. When they got there, the place was empty except for the old and disgusting librarian. She was stubby, a bit overweight, and her back was hunched. Her grey hair resembled that of Albert Einstein, which made Grace want to laugh and point the joke out, but she stayed quiet. The librarian was stern, and if you made any noise louder than a whisper, she threw you out and banned you from the library, which didn’t sound all that bad to Grace, truth be told.
While Grace and Margo sat down, Eliot’s fingers skimmed over book spine’s and his eyes scanned the titles, looking for anything that could be helpful to their search. When he returned ten minutes later, he held five books. He slammed them on the table then grabbed the top book, falling into the chair next to Margo and across from Grace. Margo took the second book, and Grace the third. Upon opening the book, Grace noticed that it was all in Arabic, but when she focused on the letters she could suddenly understand everything she was reading. To make it weirder, she had never taken a foreign language class in her life, not even Spanish, and she had never seen an Arabic word in her entire life as far as she knew.
“What even is this?” Margo complained.
“It’s Arabic,” Eliot and Grace said at the same time.
“Ugh,” Margo shut her book, “A bag of dicks is sounding awfully good at the moment,” she joked, taking Eliot’s hand in hers. Grace laughed and got back to reading, taking a few notes.
“Copy that,” a man said from behind Eliot, still looking at the bookshelves. When he noticed that the attention had drifted to him, he faced them.  “My name’s Mike. You guys are reading Arabic, no?”
“We are…” Olivia answered.
“I aced it here a couple of years ago,” he began, “And without cheating.”
“Woah,” Margo whispered. The comment wasn’t made for Mike’s name or his ability to read and understand Arabic or his courage to make fun of Eliot, it was pointed at his looks. And gosh, he had looks. Grace thought to herself.
Mike did not differ from any other New Yorker, yet he managed to catch all of their eyes. Gay or otherwise. His blonde hair was cut short— definitely not long like Quentin’s or Eliot’s— He was wearing a plaid shirt with a suit coat and khakis. It was an acquired taste, supposedly. Margo was clearly suspicious of him, or jealous, Grace couldn’t quite place her finger on what Margo was feeling, or let alone the difference between the two when it did come to Margo.
“Eliot,” he held out his hand. “By the way.” Mike shook Eliot’s hand, but they didn’t let go. Grace and Margo looked to each other.
“Margo and Olivia,” Margo said, pointing to both the girls, but Eliot and Mike didn’t break gaze with one another.
By the time they were back at the cottage, they had found the spell (Without Eliot and Mike’s help, Margo would want everyone to know that it was Grace who found the information.) And when they were building for the spell, Mike and Eliot were still not helping, which irritated Margo to the point she yelled at them: “Just bang! Now!” And that’s what they did. For over two or three hours the two of them were in Eliot’s room, shaking the cottage. Literally.
“So I want everyone here to know that the two of you did nothing,” Margo snapped at the two men once they came downstairs. “Except for each other.” Margo and Grace had finished, finally, and it seemed that the boys did too. “Todd did more than you.”
Todd looked excited, but Grace gave him one nasty look and he was quiet.
“I’m sorry, Margo,” Mike said sincerely. “I really do hope that we get to know each other. You, too, Olivia.”
“Oh, um, Mike,” Eliot stopped him. “Margo and I are fortunate enough to get away with calling her Olivia… I don’t want to find you dead,” Eliot joked and looked at Grace.
She gave him a sour smile before starting the machine for the gin. It rattled for a while, then came to a stop. Nothing happened.
“Well, that was underwhelming.”
Following Eliot's comment that came too early, the bottle filled to the top with what looked to be a liquid. Margo made a snide comment and gripped the bottle, ordering Todd to get olives and glasses as she popped the cork off. The lights flickered and smoke filled the room. It wasn’t magic exactly, but instead a crappy looking, real life CGI-ed genie.
“Shit…” Eliot muttered. Noticing everyone’s confusion in the cottage, he turned to them and explained, “It’s not gin, as in: g-i-n,” —Eliot loved spelling those kinds of things out—  “It’s jinn: j-i-n-n. The Arabic word.”
Margo laughed, “No fucking way. What kind of jinn is he? Like a three wish kind o’ guy or an any wish means endless possibilities?”
Todd stepped forwards, “Actually, Margo… Because you opened the bottle and freed him, he’s in your service and will only respond to you.”
“Mental,” Grace whispered.
She watched as the jinn eased and bowed to Margo. “نعم عشيقة.” Is what he said, which Grace easily translated to: “Yes, mistress.” Then he walked to Mike, pushed Eliot out of the way, and gripped at Mike’s neck. Everyone was in a state of panic by such point because the jinn was attacking someone, and even Eliot tried to help, but the jinn and Mike disappeared as Eliot was about to trap them.
“Okay, Bambi, what the hell?” Eliot exclaimed when he stood up straight. “Why did you wish away my boyfriend?!”
Margo laughed and set down the jinn bottle on the table. She was frustrated with him and his accusations, and why he felt it was okay to treat her like shit just because they weren’t as close anymore. Or at least that’s what Grace got from the way Margo was responding. It was hard for Olivia Grace to understand what everyone was saying because they were screeching in each other’s faces and she had taken a few extra ecstasy pills once she and Margo were done packing her stuff for Ibiza.
Ibiza. That was something Grace was looking forward to while she fell onto the couch, blocking out her friend’s bickering. She needed to get away from Brakebills and Quentin, though both he and Alice were at Brakebills South and would be until the day after the girls went to Ibiza for break. Two weeks of alcohol, drugs, and sex was what Grace needed to forget everything and move on with her life. She was at Brakebills to learn magic, become like her mother and father, and live out the rest of her life as a legitimate Magician. That’s what excited Grace the most. She finally had something to put effort towards. High school was fun and all, but college and magic was really what made sense to her. Sometimes she feared magic would become an addiction too. What’s the harm in one more addiction? Grace kept reminding herself.
Just remember, Vivie, you’re the disappointment. The one who’s different from the rest of the world, loves someone for their personality and not their sexuality or gender. You’re the one who never made the cut for Brakebills until two months after the official Exam. That’s what Grace kept saying to herself, and, yes, most of it was true but it never meant she had to beat herself up about it. Liam always told her it was important to stay true to yourself and not lie to anyone about it. If people had any issues with Olivia, they’d have to talk to Liam about it, which usually meant a black eye or two and a few broken bones and teeth. Big brother’s have the tendency to be overprotective, and Grace had her protector.
Once Margo and Eliot were finally done arguing and had agreed that Margo could have possibly been responsible for Mike’s disappearance, they went on a hunt for El’s sudden boyfriend, which neither Margo nor Grace approved of. Like Eliot cared. They were headed to the library, where they met Mike. Margo admitted she thought Mike should go back from where he came, which Todd figured out was where ever they met Mike. Just so happened, that was at the library, the one place they thought they would never return to. Grace was being pulled Margo who was following a half clothed Eliot.
“You don’t think he’s mad, right?” Margo said to Grace. Olivia shrugged her shoulders as she walked on her own and not being dragged around. “I mean… They only met today, banged a couple of times in one day, and that’s it. It’s impossible for them to be in love and shit suddenly. Isn’t it?”
“Margo, why don’t you just talk to him? We go to Ibiza tonight, so talk to him before that,” Grace guided. Margo sighed and looked at Eliot’s back and his long curls, longing for her best friend. She smiled at Grace and rested her head on the Brit’s shoulder as they continued to walk. Margo Hanson may have not had Eliot Waugh wrapped around her finger anymore, but she sure had Olivia Grace under her trance—  Metaphorically speaking.
Margo was ready to leave for Ibiza, the hub of partying for Magicians. Grace was still upstairs, thinking about why she was leaving and what good would come from it if she stayed or left. But against everything running through her mind she picked up her suitcase and went to the stairs. She could hear Margo complaining about Eliot not going to Ibiza with her, but Eliot responded with an apology, followed up by him saying some things about Mike.
“But what about Olivia?” Eliot snickered, “Hm?”
There was an unauditable retort from Margo.
“Oh, come on, Bambi! Just tell me you’ll at least kiss her.”
“I don’t know what you're talking about,” she said, followed by something else unauditable to Grace.
“I see the way you look at her…”
Margo sighed, “It’s not that obvious,” she declared. “Is it?”
Eliot laughed. “Come here, Bambi.” Grace pictured them hugging and swaying together. “You have fun without me, you hear? And remember, sun screen, waxing, and a lot of drinking. I’ll be disappointed if you return with more than a single swimsuit.”
Grace took this as her chance to show them she was there. “Are we ready?”
Margo turned to her, “Yeah, just one more thing. Todd!” she called. Todd came running in from the kitchen as if he too were eavesdropping. “Grab a swimsuit. You’re coming to Ibiza with us ladies.”
“Actually?!” Todd jumped up and down.
“Yes. So get a move on.”
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leointhemoon-blog · 5 years
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my past with dieting
wow, i think this post might end up being long.
to begin with, i was a fat kid from the very start. i don’t think i was obese but i was, i guess, overweight. now that i look back at it, it might have been the baby fat that added to the illusion. or maybe not, since i was fatter than everyone else in my grade. 
before i even started school, i was just known to my family as that toddler that loved to eat. as with every story about eating disorders (disclaimer: i never really had an eating disorder but i guess... i almost did if that’s possible.), a likely factor would be the bullies. so in my story, my first bullies would’ve been my relatives. 
it’s funny because the word and notion of “family” are supposed to resemble people who support you and care about you. i’m not saying my family doesn’t, but i guess they just have the worst ways of showing it... maybe it’s part of being asian? 
anyway, i would remember when my parents dropped me off at my uncle’s place. he’s the second oldest brother of my mom. the uncle would every so often pick at me and say “oh who’s the chubby baby? it’s you” or some cringey baby talk that people do to toddlers-- except it’s usually “who’s a good girl” not “who’s the chubby kid”. lol. there was my cousin, his daughter, who is like at least a decade older than me who didn’t hide her dislike towards me and constantly ask “why do you eat so much?” i often didn’t answer because tbh, as a really young child, i wasn’t much of a person that reacted.
they weren’t wrong ofc. i actually did eat a hella lot. damn, i was a fat kid, deadasssss. even my mom joined on in the pinching of my belly and teasing. i think my first time being self-conscious about it was when i kept sucking in my belly as much as possible when my mom tried to force me into some uncomfortable ass jeans.
when i was a student at my third elementary school (my family moved multiple times), that’s when the bullying started. there’s a ton to say on that matter, maybe i’ll make a separate post, so i’ll just talk about the moments that really matter here. in general, the girls would often refer to me as the fat kid and sometimes would even throw in a comment or two. damn, why are kids so mean sometimes? even now, as a near young adult, i still see kids bullying each other and i can’t help but sigh in disappointment how it’s innate nature of humans to bully others. it’s kind of ridiculous. if you’re going to dislike someone, don’t show it enough to make them feel utterly terrible about themselves. if it gives you power to do so, you’re rotten trash. literally, you’re the real ugly one here.
i remember once when i was sitting a couple of rows behind the rest of the girls in my class in the auditorium of my elementary school, i was watching them talk. and they talked loud so i heard everything. they were just saying stuff like “i do this to my hair to make it look prettier” and “omg your hair is so long it’s so pretty”. i guess they caught me staring so one just smiled and said “(my name) can never be pretty enough with that short hair” to which another said “she’s kind of fat anyway”. ok, first of all-- i loved my damn ass dora the explorer hair cut ok? i was excited to go to the barbershop as a child to request the dora haircut specialty, bitch, i rocked it. i was sorta hurt by both the short hair and fat comments but like again, i didnt say anything i just looked away. 
after that, the next time my dad brought me to the hairdresser, i was rebellious as heck. i didnt want short hair. i wanted to keep it long. but you know, there’s only so much 6 year old me can do, so i got my hair cut anyway.
fast forward to fifth grade. after years of constant teasing about my shape and weight, i think i had my awakening after i finished some good ass sandwich at barnes and nobles. i told my mom i was going to use the bathroom and so i did. after washing my hands, i looked into the mirror. ahh, the mirror that makes all the self-conscious people shudder. but i think i had never felt extremely self-conscious and distraught until then. 
nobody was in the bathroom at that time, so i was brave enough to continue staring. i took in the sight of my flabby arms (which honestly wasn’t that flabby but it wasn’t thin) and most of all, my round belly. i was horrified as i turned to the side and gaped at how my stomach protruded out of my abdomen. it was like i have never noticed before. then as if a dam has been broken. all those comments and pinching at my body flooded my mind, screaming at me that yes, you are fat. you just realized? again, remind you, i literally wasn’t obese. i was overweight. two totally different things. if i want to make myself feel better, i guess i was borderline overweight only but idk, i was still fat. 
i went home that night looking up on the internet “how to be cute” and “how to be pretty” like the naive kid i was and i gave up reading on tips on how to stand or how to dress. i decided i was going to diet. 
when i refused to eat more when my mother offered another helping at dinner, i told her i was going to diet. immediately, she yelled angrily and was probably shocked, like who gave my daughter that idea what-- i was and still am a stubborn person so i persisted... i’m not going to go too deep into this because it was often just her trying to feed me and me trying to eat less and less. 
i remember when we were at this shopping mall we frequently visited and i was in the dressing room trying to fit on new bras. when my mom helped me buckle up my bra after i finished trying on things, she said, “(my name), you got skinnier. i don’t even need to clasp your bra at the outermost row.” there were three sections for adjustment. i had managed to go from the outermost one to the innermost one. her voice held disappointment, but my heart had felt so light. i was elated.
this continued on into sixth and seventh grade. that’s right, it continued on deep into middle school. except it gotten worse. not only was i cutting down on portions of meals at home, i even did so at school. i skipped lunch, opting to avoid the lunch lines. i managed to skip breakfast when one day i got the idea of lying to my mom. “dont give me breakfast at home. i can just eat the school breakfast” to which she believed and sent me off to school without realizing i really wasn’t going to eat anything. i spent classes with awkward stomach growling. at that time, i didn’t know people could hear your stomach make noises when it’s hungry so i was fine with it lol. i slimmed down by a whole lot. 
just to mention, if you’re going to lose weight, make exercise a thing. don’t strictly diet like me. i should’ve probably exercised but nah, i just depended on eating less or not eating at all. like any other rant, i’ll mention this: the rough start of my depression started at the beginning of eighth grade.
i was sick of “friendships”. sick of being used. sick of being second or third or anything else not first. sick of being manipulated. sick of being easily thrown away. most of all, i was just so sick of myself. i felt like i could never be able to have a friend. a friend i could depend on. i cut off all ties, if they barely even existed. i went into complete isolation. eighth grade was the grade i spoke not a single word to anyone. unless ofc i had to answer some question in class or do some group discussion. but even then, i honestly went so quiet. more quiet than i ever was before.
when i did speak a word outside in the hallway once, my classmate thought he was funny and said “wow, (my name) can talk?” and laughed like it was just that damn funny. idk bro, you got nothing better to laugh about? it’s nice that i matter so much to you, you had to make a comment, let alone say my name because clearly my attention wasn’t even on you in the first place. 
anyway, hell yeah, i was hella emo. and when i’m emotionally depressed af, my appetite is ruined. starting that year, i fell into constant times of not feeling like eating. by then i was already thin enough i guess. i admit, i wasn’t skin and bones. but i wasn’t overweight anymore. my skin grew paler. it became harder for me to stand up without feeling lightheaded. i began catching colds more often than i ever had before. none of that deterred me from dieting though, despite by the start of my depression, i was already midway through not strictly dieting anymore.
depression continued that for me though. it hurt to eat sometimes. when i feel like crying, when my throat feels rough, my heart feels heavy, why add to the pain by forcing myself to swallow food? i’m not bulimic, i never was. i just avoided food. i would constantly protest “mom, i’m not dieting, i really just am not hungry.” did i ever mention that throughout my years and still up to this day, my mom would constantly throw shade at me for choosing to diet in the past? it hurts every time she does. in fact, i started writing this long ass post just because she did it again today. 
i think she also started to notice my increase in depressing mood so sometimes she won’t say much if i refuse to eat. it was like my body hurt when i saw food and my mind drove me somewhere else to avoid the food placed in front of me. food repulsed me. my stomach turned at seeing it. near the end of eighth grade, i gotten into my first serious relationship with some girl 2-3 years older than me online. it lasted for about a year. honestly, it was a very rocky one. i constantly felt depressed. she was depressed too. she made me feel more depressed than i’d be if she wasn’t there, if i had to be honest. 
the week following after our breakup, i was utterly broken. 14 year old me had no idea what i was supposed to do. it was halfway through my freshman year at high school. i didn’t have much friends. i only had one. even then, they weren’t there to support me. the other one...who’s now my best friend...i had lost her contact number. it wasn’t until four months later til i finally got in touch with her again so she wasn’t there to help me through my post break up either.
if me skipping meals often because of emotions was bad, this week was the worst. i legitimately didn’t eat more than 3-4 small bites of food a day. even now, i’m surprised how i managed to survive that week on so little food and how my mom didn’t even say much. she did notice and ask “why arent you feeling hungry these days? something wrong?” to which i’d brush off. i cried a lot. a hella lot. most of the times, it was heaving like i was trying to throw up my heart. i mean, i still have my crying sessions as i’m still...hella...depressed and yeah it feels like that. it be like that sometimes. and then the moments besides “most of the times” was me sniffling on the school bus because i just couldn’t stop thinking about it.
i could’ve killed myself. i nearly could’ve. midyear exams were coming. the stress from both school and my personal life was overwhelming. my body was destroyed. but somehow, i manage to overcome myself and get myself back into focusing on the exams. damn, i was hella scholar. now i’m not though lol. but then, i was focused since i was only a freshman that had just gotten into a prestigious school. the exams had managed to make me forget about what happened temporarily.
now, i still constantly look down on my body and wonder if i’m too fat. i still fat check. i squish my thighs, stare at them, hold them, then stare again. i look at my belly, i pinch it, i stare, i hold it tight wishing i can make the fat disappear. i’m not fat per se. people now call me skinny af, call me a pile of bones (i’m not, they’re exaggerating but i wish i was tbh). i hold my arms, squishing them to see if they’re too thick or not. i still look in the mirror observing the width of my body. i still try to calculate how much i’ve eaten on a daily basis. thinking about what i ate today and how much i’ve eaten. 
perhaps, i’m not actively starving myself anymore, but those actions of paranoia and self-consciousness never left me...my stomach is probably ruined. will that stop me? probably not. i’ll be honest.
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elderwyrm · 6 years
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I‘m so angry
I fell asleep on the couch and had this dream that made me irrationally angry.
 My sister and I had snagged Thanksgiving Day Parade Tickets for part of the parade that was going past the section for the famous “Today! America” morning talk show. (They’re the ones that had the empty concentric half-circles logo that everyone still knew was a rainbow, even when it wasn’t in color. When it was in color, it looked more like a sunrise.)
I was super excited, because we had the unassigned bleacher-seating section, where we could see Elon Musk, who was in his solo music “group” Imagine Dragons. He would be singing his #1 hit from his latest album, “Winter Coat.”
 Super great.
 Even better, the Today! America’s t-shirt bot, the one that looks like a caterpillar of mars-rovers with two long horizontal coat racks on it that extends out into the audience to give billboard-style matching t-shirts to 12 audience members at a time, was going down the isle and still had shirts! I was going to get a special Today! America Elon Musk Imagine Dragons 1/12th Thanksgiving Day t-shirt! If my sister and I could sit down fast enough!
Fortunately, I could fly and teleport, so I totally spotted the outdoor seating section that, in true dream manner, was inside an old restored theater.
 My sister somehow got there first? She didn’t teleport or float, she just walked sensibly.
 Anyway, since it was up in some rows, and I didn’t fly/float very well, what with being overweight, I didn’t want to float over the people in the first few rows – I’d hit them in the head with my shoes. So I yell to my sister to save me a seat, and GRAB a 2XL Today! America Elon Musk Imagine Dragons 1/12th Thanksgiving Day t-shirt when the t-shirt bot is driven by, which it was doing before I could get up in the outdoor/indoor restored movie theater/cement bleacher seating!
And she did it!
And mine was this gorgeous sea-foam green shirt with a really nice 1/12 slice of the Today! America logo!
Then the usher, who was a midget with a shaved head who’s age could not be determined, wearing a disturbingly nice ventriloquist dummy’s tuxedo, made a snide comment about how it was winter tones and I wouldn’t be able to pull it off.
 I’m like, the fuck? I have beautiful skin tones – I look good in any color.
 And I tell the little bastard that, and he’s like, “Yeah? I don’t believe it. But I know a section of the Old Theater House… that has… every… color… you could show me in it.”
 So, I’m like “Hell yeah – I’ll float us over there and be back in time for the Today! America parade cameras to catch me in my awesome new t-shirt!”
 And he say’s that’s fine, so I lift him up under his arms and start flying him in the directions he’s indicating in his creepy voice. I make a joke about being too high at a concert, and he ignores it and keeps telling me to go deeper into the Old Theater House, until we get to a section that has big double fire-escape doors that are open and set up like a haunted house entrance, where there are trash bags cut up into long slices that you walk through and can’t see where you’re going. So I put him down and he leads the way into a tunnel that’s like something out of the scene from Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory (you know, the boat scene?), but without the horrifying chicken footage playing on the tunnel walls. It was, I don’t know, kind of cheap looking? But it’s still projecting every color.
So I stand there and say, “See? I’m gorgeous. See ya later.”
 And he goes “No. We need to go deeper.”
 And I’m getting super impatient because I want to be on TV wearing my awesome sea-foam green Today! America Elon Musk Imagine Dragons 1/12th Thanksgiving Day t-shirt. So I’m like we need to make this quick, I don’t have time for this.
 I follow him deeper into the Old Theater House’s mysterious dark hallway, into an old, but massive, entrance into an indoor amphitheater. And in this foyer is a ticket-taker/DJ who’s running this setup that’s made to look cheesy, but is clearly actually camouflage for a very real and dangerous event.
 It’s advertising a “see the Slasher Movie Monsters! For real! In person!” and the loud speakers have Disneyland-esq Haunted Mansion Music playing over them while this 90’s movie announcer is talking about the horrible Slasher Movie Monster you’ll get to see – in person.
For Real.
In a once in a lifetime experience.
The most thrilling thing.
 So the bald midget in the disturbingly nice ventriloquist dummy’s tuxedo says “this way…” and starts walking toward the ride’s entrance.
 Like I’m going to follow him or something.
 I just stand there and say “You want to feed me to an obscure movie monster made real.”
And he and the creepy ticket-taker/DJ start getting super nervous and are like, What? No. That’s crazy. Just come here. Get into the attraction.
 And I point out the fact that the loud speaker is literally saying that this will happen, just as the announcer starts describing the monsters and the sort of effects the poisons have on the audience members-made prey.
 So the midget start’s sweating while I’m leaving angrily through the hall of every color, and he’s begging me to come back to the attraction because they just can’t compete with today’s video games.
I’m like “you asshole, videogames don’t kill you.”
And he’s trying to explain that the poison the slasher uses usually doesn’t kill audience members! It just makes them susceptible to a zombie-like state where the monster can use mind control!
 What a jerk! I’m so mad!
 I fly back, and go through the entrance, and… the show has started. I went the wrong way and Elon Musk from Imagine Dragons is singing “Winter Coat” to audience members and I would have to walk past him to get to my seat, and he already noticed me and is clearly trying not to let it bother him because he’s cool but he also clearly finds it inconsiderate.
 So I lie down on the floor being more embarrassed than I ever have been in my entire life.
 And he clearly still knows I’m there.
 So I muster my will and teleport to my seat, even though it makes muted Star Trek noises and has a bright blue glittery special effect which was distracting to the audience members.
 My sister mouths “where were you?” and I just turn bright red in embarrassment.
 I am still furious at the bald midget of unguessable age in the disturbingly nice ventriloquist dummy’s tuxedo for making me late to Today! America’s presentation of Elon Musk Imagine Dragons Thanksgiving Day show.
 Also, I’m still pissed he tried to feed me to a monster.
  ...Shit. I should have told security.
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rustcricket · 4 years
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Let’s Ramble About: My current health Pt. 2
Update: My back is not entirely better, but it’s not as continuous an issue anymore. More at the end.
See, I still have not heard back from my doctor’s office. At all. In fact, I found that I could view my appointment requests and the likes on their website and they are marked as “not yet read by staff”. Cool. Cool beans. Chilled Legumes. 
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I tried calling but after being on hold for forty minutes, I gave up.
Well, I went to the grocery store last week to pick up a handful of things. Quite literally a couple cans, some tortillas and a pepper. Within five minutes of arriving, I could barely move without feeling dizzy and nauseous from the pain ratcheting its way up my back. I focused as best I could on the task and got out of there as quickly as possible because I had a serious suspicion I was going to pass out if I stood still for too long.
I sat in my car for twenty minutes reclined in the seat a bit until I felt like I could drive safely. Still, part way through the drive, I realized I still felt like I was going to throw up from the pain, and so I diverted paths. I went to an urgent care near my home that has repeatedly been an issue for me, but it was all I could think to do.
Thankfully it was fairly empty for the day and after about twenty minutes in the waiting room I was brought back to an exam room, my vitals were taken and the nurse?assistant? asked me some questions and left to get the doctor. I think I was visibly out of it, I was having trouble focusing because of the pain in my neck, my vision kept blurring and I was having trouble finding words or explaining myself. I was able to at least communicate clearly where the pain was, for how long it had been going on, that I did not remember any injury or activity that could have caused it.
I sat in the room alone for a while. I don't know how long because I couldn't keep track of much of anything at that point. The doctor finally came in and at first my stomach dropped a bit, because I knew this doctor.
Last Time!
I came in months ago because I was having spells of being suddenly intensely dizzy and nauseous to the point that my partner asked me repeatedly to convince him as to why he shouldn't take me to the ER then and there. After explaining those symptoms to her, she looked me over in under a minute, told me I had allergies and that I was overweight. She then added three pages onto my discharge papers about how I was overweight and needed to lose weight immediately.
For reference, I am about 5' 4'', and weigh about 150lbs. This is maybe, at best, 20lbs too high for a healthy BMI. The issues I was experiencing had absolutely nothing to do with my weight, nor did her presentation of the matter seem remotely appropriate.
I had to return later in the same week to this same doctor for some blood tests which ignored a couple things that would have been great to know, such as not testing for Vitamin D when I live in a state with chronic Vitamin D deficiency. This time I got asked questions about how I marked myself as suffering from anxiety and depression. The doctor softened her tone a bit when going through these questions and when she told me how I had shown some concerning severity and offered resources on getting help. At the end of the appointment she reiterated that I am overweight and attached the same three pages about my weight to my discharge papers. 
Oh, and also, I did get my Vitamin D tested eventually. As you can see, I scored  great. 
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Back to the present!
To my utter relief, the doctor spoke softly this time, though she was still very quick with her exam. She ran through testing the strength in my arms and hands in a flash, touched my back for maybe ten seconds (in which she declared 'oh wow, yeah those muscles are tight'), and prescribed me some muscle relaxers, higher dose ibuprofren and opioid painkillers, as well as a one-time injection of an anti-inflammatory on site. She warned me if I started losing strength in my arms or the pain spread into my left arm (most of the pain focused on my left side) to come back immediately or go to an ER.
She then left. The whole appointment lasted maybe five minutes after waiting nearly an hour-ish overall, but at least this time I got the impression more that she was just harried rather than uncaring. I got the anti-inflammatory injected into my ass- a great experience, truly, and then had to truck myself across the street to the pharmacy. Thankfully because I'm on my state's semi-decent medicare, my medication was covered.
The night the anti-inflammatory cleared up the majority of the pain. Since then the muscle relaxers have kept it from flaring back up too badly, and I haven't needed any of the painkillers. Right now I can still feel some pain in my neck and down my spine and may need to take another muscle relaxer before I go to bed. Who knows if I'll ever hear from my doctor's office about this.
Oh, and yes, my discharge papers from the urgent care did indeed include a single paper this time regarding my weight. She didn't bring it up to my face however, and the discharge papers commented that I had high blood pressure, which might be related to my weight. So, fair enough this time, but only this time.
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5hfanfiction · 7 years
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Blame It On Bad Luck - Chapter 19
mild trigger warning
*    *    *    *
“I can’t believe you finally took her on a date!”
“Ugh,” Lauren groaned, pulling the phone away from her ear at the sudden loudness from her best friend on the other line. But really, she should have seen that coming when she told her about what had happened the previous night. “For the love of God, Ally, it wasn’t a date.”
“You literally went on a date with Camila last night and you can’t convince me otherwise. I’m so proud of you for finally asking her!”
“I immediately regret this conversation.”
“I’m so happy for you guys!” she shouted before a muffled voice came from somewhere on her end and Ally directed her next words away from the phone. “Yeah! She took her on a date!”
“Finally!” Lauren heard clearly and she rolled her eyes while rubbing her temples, knowing exactly who was there with her.
“I know!”
“Can you both calm down?” she asked the pair when she realized she was on speaker. “And you need to stop telling Normani everything I tell you about my whole…Camz situation.”
“We’re both on your side anyway. Even Mani could tell that her going on all those dates was upsetting you.”
“Well it’s not like I can just outright say hey don’t go on dates with other people anymore.”
“Girl, yes you can,” Normani said, and Lauren could tell she was pulling the phone closer to her so she could talk. She closed her eyes and tried not to sigh too loudly. “And she went on the date with you anyway-”
“It wasn’t a date-”
“Oh would you give it a rest,” Ally said, interrupting them both. “Did she think it was a date?”
“I…maybe,” she mumbled, feeling her cheeks reddening at the sound of sheer and utter delight coming from the two girls on the other end. “Shut up.”
“Lauren I don’t know why you get so annoyed and worked up; you’re so cute when you’re in your feelings.”
“Ally, I swear to God…”
“Just embrace it,” Normani agreed with her roommate, “she has a point.”
“We’re not talking about this anymore.”
“Yes we are,” Ally chimed in again. “Because we need to figure out what you’re going to do next so you don’t mess it up.”
“What do you mean by we? And what makes you think I’m going to-” she stopped herself and huffed in annoyance, “okay what did you have in mind?”
“Well did you guys finally talk about it?”
“…No.”
“Lauren!” they both yelled at the green eyed girl over the speaker.
“Stop yelling at me!”
“Stop having your head up your ass!”
“What Ally means,” Normani cut in, “is maybe just tell her how you feel?”
“That sounds like a terrible idea.”
“Oh okay because kissing your roommate slash friend and the whole no strings sleeping with her thing while you obviously have feelings for her isn't a terrible idea?” Ally challenged.
“I…don’t have to respond to this.”
“Lauren…”
“Ugh leave me alone,” she grumbled in frustration, lying back until she was flat on the couch with her feet up on the arm of it next to the overweight cat that was lounging on top of it.
“Tell her how you feel!” her best friend’s voice rang loud and clear in agreement and they started talking animatedly to each other, ignoring the green eyed girl’s obvious annoyance.
“Ooh! She should ask her out on another date!”
“Girl, yes, that’s what I was thinking!”
“Yeah, she can be all romantic and-”
“Oh my God…” she groaned, shutting her eyes as she waited for them to stop.
“You want my advice?” Normani asked and Lauren held the phone between her ear and shoulder as she picked at her nails.
“Not really but you’re probably going to tell me anyway.”
“Just take her on a date, like, a real one…where you both agree that it’s actually a date.”
“What if she doesn’t want to?”
“She already did,” Ally said.
“It wasn’t a date!”
“Then what was it?”
“It was just…I don’t know. I felt bad she kept going on these shitty dates with shitty people and she was really upset and…”
“You know, you’re being awfully protective over a girl who not too long ago you wanted to throw out of a window.”
“Don’t get it twisted; I still want to throw her out of a window.”
“Really, it’s a mystery how you two aren’t together yet,” she said sarcastically, “you know, ignoring how adorably heart eyes you’ve become for her.”
“Shut up, I am not.”
“You are. And it’s cute as hell. Just accept it.”
“You’re both on my last nerve.”
“Okay so let’s go back to asking her out,” Normani said cheerfully, ignoring her words. “Where would you take her?”
“I…what? I don't know,” she let out pathetically, feeling somewhat shy about talking about it with her…or just like, in general, really.
“Well what would you want to do?”
“What are you talking about?”
“What’s your favorite thing to do on a date?”
“Cancel.”
“Okay…well for the sake of, you know, showing her that you have feelings for her I’m going to go out on a limb here and say don’t do that for this one.”
“Brilliant advice, thank you Normani,” she replied dryly, running her fingers over the fuzzy black throw blanket draped over the back of the couch.
“I’m just saying!”
“Okay hang on Lauren,” Ally cut in before the two could start bickering—well, before Lauren could start picking fights. The green eyed Latina took in a sharp breath as she glared up at the ceiling all while her best friend’s muffled exchange with her roommate barely reached her ears. “Alright it’s just you and me now. I know you’re not exactly Mani’s biggest fan.”
She knew she shouldn’t be so cold with the girl when she was just trying to offer her advice on something she really had no actual experience in. And really, she was trying. She wasn’t nearly as bitchy to her as she had been in the past.
She was just so used to brushing off Normani any time she would talk to her, much like she did with pretty much everyone else in the world.
And, okay, she was maybe kind of nervous about actually telling Camila how she feels. The thought of even just seriously asking her out on a real date was driving her anxiety through the roof.
“I’m sorry,” she said genuinely, which shocked the petite blonde on the other end. “I know she has a point and she means well, it’s just…”
“What is it, Lo? Talk to me.”
“Look, I don't do dates…or relationships…or feelings or anything like that, okay?” She sighed and looked over at the wall, trying to convince herself that this was a good thing, that it wasn’t going to end up badly, that maybe Camila did feel the same…possibly? She shook her head stubbornly. “This is stupid.”
“What?”
“This isn’t…I’m not…I’m just going to…just forget about it. I’ll get over this dumb shit and we can go back to normal.”
“Okay, first of all, y'all were never normal to begin with,” Ally explained. “And second, why won’t you even just try? Why would you just assume it’s not worth being honest with her?”
“Because, Ally, it’s going to end badly and quite frankly, I’m not really up for hearing her excuses.”
“Ugh, Lauren you’re so annoying. You have no faith in yourself. Stop being so pessimistic. Why wouldn’t she feel the same?”
“Um, for starters, I’m an ass.”
“So stop being an ass.”
“I…don’t…understand these words that you’re saying to me.”
“Jesus Christ, you’re so stubborn!”
“Are you like, just meeting me for the first time or…?”
“Stop deflecting. Why are you so nervous about this? It’s just Camila. You guys have been fooling around anyway for how long now?”
“I know but still…” she trailed off, her voice quiet and a lot softer than it was before. She tapped her fingers against her thigh, her other hand gripped the phone by her ear. All of her emotions bubbling in the pit of her stomach was similar to a ball of hot lead—a nagging pain that she tried desperately to ignore until it landed her in an emergency room or something. Her voice was reminiscent of a child. “What if she says no or she doesn’t feel the same? We live together. It would be so weird.”
“Well you don’t know that for sure. And you’ll never know how she feels if you don't try.”
“No, it’s a proven fact that admitting your feelings to someone is a one way ticket to hell and will ruin your life.”
“That’s not even true. You’ve just never been in love before-”
“I’m not in love.”
“Okay well not yet but it’s a possibility.”
“Love is a hoax, but go on.”
“I’m just saying. Don’t throw something away before it even has the chance to start just because you’re afraid it might end badly. You’ll be living the rest of your life with a giant what if hanging over your head and I promise that’s worse. You’re just psyching yourself out. You do this with everything.”
In theory, it made sense. Everything her best friend was saying had some type of validity and she knew she wasn’t saying any of it to push her or to meddle in her life. Ally had always had her best interest at heart—it was one of the many things she loved about the girl.
Still, Lauren couldn’t help but feel nauseas at the potential prospect of the events that would ultimately unfold should she pluck up the courage to reveal everything that was on her mind to her roommate. Sure, it was nice to think about, the idea that she may even return some of those sentiments but the looming rejection was far too overwhelming for her to see it through.
Besides, this was Lauren. She didn’t do the whole feelings thing.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
She predicted the disappointed sigh the moment the words left her mouth.
“Lauren…”
“Seriously Ally, just forget it.”
“Fine. I won’t bug you about it. But it’s not just you in this so please…don’t do anything stupid.”
She mulled her words over in her head, pressing her tongue into her cheek before hanging up the phone. She let out a long, dramatic huff which startled the cat, rubbing her eyes in annoyance. She wasn’t sure at what or who though.
She pulled her phone back up and dialed a different number.
*
Camila wiped at her eyes with a shaky hand, the other firmly grasping the steering wheel of her car making sure to keep at least that one steady. She tried desperately to just breathe and forget about it, forget about the day she’s had, forget about seeing…
“I shouldn’t have gone,” she muttered to herself, shutting her eyes once she finally approached a red light. She rubbed her cheek again before groaning loudly, thankful that she was alone.
The hollowing feeling in her chest only worsened and nothing seemed to distract her from it. Every thought went back to earlier that night, the drive home seemed to be taking forever—not even her favorite songs playing were doing anything for her. She just wanted to go home and crawl into bed and pretend the day never happened.
She nearly cried all over again from sheer relief alone when she made it to her and Lauren’s apartment and she thanked God she could just go upstairs and relax for two seconds. She checked the time on the radio before shutting off the engine.
The trip to her floor was a routine blur; ridiculously slow elevator, a few other students passing through the hallway, someone playing their music way too loudly. Camila dug through her bag for her key when she reached her door but froze when she found it, looking up at it with narrowed eyes when she realized the loud music was coming from her apartment.
“What the hell?” she said to no one, fumbling with her key before letting herself in only to be met with way too many fucking people crammed into her not that big apartment. The music was significantly louder and she didn’t think she even recognized anybody.
Everyone was either drinking, playing drinking games or chatting amongst themselves; no one even noticed Camila walking in and she figured no one probably even knew that this was her apartment. Her eyes scanned the place for a certain green eyed pain in her ass that was going to get a serious earful the moment she found her but didn’t see her raven haired roommate anywhere.
She pushed past a few people, calling out her name. It was a nightmare. All she wanted after the day she had was some peace and quiet and Lauren had the nerve to throw a party in their apartment without even telling her. She was just in the middle of cursing her roommate under her breath when she bumped into a very beautiful—and very intoxicated—brunette holding a red plastic cup that seemed to match her red lipstick.
Camila blinked a couple times but the girl just laughed it off, recovering easily and seeming to compose herself a little more—but barely—when she noticed who she bumped into. She eyed her up and down, seemingly pleased with the turn of events and Camila felt nervous under her gaze for reasons she could not explain.
She cleared her throat to find her voice just enough to get out a rushed, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” the girl slurred out and Camila wondered how she was even still standing let alone still drinking. She had a hazy glint glassing over her eyes and a drunken smile plastering her ruby red lips. “Did you just get here? I don’t remember seeing you before.”
“Yeah, I…” she started but felt tense with the close proximity they were forced to share due to how crowded her normally empty apartment was. “I’m sorry do you know where Lauren is?”
“Who?”
“Lauren,” she shouted over the music and she couldn’t read the expression that crossed this girl’s features at the recognition of the name. But whatever it was it was soon replaced by a smirk and she shook her head, chuckling as she brought the cup up to her lips to take a sip of whatever alcohol she was drinking.
“Lauren's busy,” she laughed, but then sighed—this long, dramatic sigh that Camila didn’t quite understand. “Last I saw she was still in the bathroom with Lucy sooo…” she trailed off, rolling her eyes, and Camila felt her stomach drop a little bit.
“…What?”
“Yeah, so…my guess is she’s still in there. Which sucks,” she continued, ignoring the uncomfortable look on her face. She had this image of her roommate in her head with some girl, locked in their tiny bathroom for God knows how long, and all she wanted was to get out of the apartment to get some air to breathe. “Because Lauren’s like…so hot.” But her words caught Camila’s attention again and she shifted awkwardly on her feet as the girl placed a hand—rather ungracefully—on her arm. “Like have you seen her? God. You know, I was hoping to get her alone in the bathroom, or anywhere really,” she rambled, “but I guess Lucy beat me to it.”
“That’s…that’s um…” she tried to come up with some sort of response but her insides were still stirring with the brunettes words, knowing Lauren was not too far from where she was standing…with someone else.
She shook her head to stop herself from thinking about it.
“Oh well,” she shrugged, taking another sip from her cup and dropping her hand from Camila’s arm finally. “I’m Keana by the way.”
“It’s…it’s nice to meet you, um…I really…have to…have to go,” she stuttered clumsily, trying to ignore every unpleasant feeling coursing through her body. Keana said something else to her but she didn’t get a chance to catch it as she rushed past her and the other people around them.
She eventually made it to the back of the apartment where her and Lauren’s bedroom was, the bathroom not too far across from it. She stared at the door for a moment, contemplating her next move.
This was stupid. Why was she getting so worked up? It’s not like Lauren and her were together or anything. They slept together sometimes and yeah, they kissed randomly and—okay maybe—Lauren’s been a bit more affectionate with her lately and her words and touches seemed more caring and genuine and she thought there might be a possibility that Lauren felt…
No, she was being stupid, she decided. But despite her denial, she couldn’t ignore the fact that she felt like she’d been punched in the stomach at Keana’s words earlier. And she hated feeling like she wasn’t even giving Lauren the benefit of the doubt regardless. Maybe it wasn’t what she thought.
It was hard to think otherwise, not knowing…literally anything; Lauren’s relationship with her, Lauren’s relationship with Lucy, hell…her own damn feelings. All she knew was she didn’t like the way she felt in that moment and that’s all it took for her to raise her fist, beating her knuckles against the door urgently.
She strained to hear voices on the other side over the loud music but didn’t hear anything so she tried again. And that time she heard someone moving around and what sounded like…shushing?
“Uh…a little busy, sorry,” was all she got as a response. And it wasn’t Lauren’s voice.
Camila swallowed, ignored the twisting in her gut, knocked again.
No response.
She leaned in closer so that her ear was just barely against the door. She could hear who she assumed to be Lucy talking over the music.
“Come on, Lauren, we have to get up,” she said. Camila held her breath with her hand ready to start knocking again. “Let’s just go to your bedroom. We can’t stay in here.”
Camila shook her head, brows furrowed and the uneasiness in her stomach and chest bubbling up like spoiled food. Her heart raced as she knocked again but she was ready to just turn around and leave.
“Hang on!” Lucy shouted from the other side and Camila bit her lip, feeling frustrated but finally finding her voice.
“Look, can you just tell Lauren that next time she decides to throw a party at our place the least she could do is at least tell me before-”
“Wait, our place? Hold on, hold on,” she cut her off quickly and Camila could hear someone moving again. Before she could let her emotions get the better of her and walk away the door opened but only just enough for Lucy to poke her head out. She used her hand to keep the door as closed as possible. And Camila felt another drop in her stomach because she wasn’t expecting her to be so fucking pretty. “You’re Lauren’s roommate…” she said. But Camila was still sort of transfixed on staring at her gorgeous features, how effortlessly beautiful she was.
“What?” she snapped out of her trance when she realized this girl was talking to her and she remembered Lauren was still in that bathroom. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Ugh thank God,” she exclaimed in such an exasperated tone, like she’d been expecting her for some time now and Camila was simply late. “Get in here.”
“What in the-” Her words were cut off when a hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her urgently into the bathroom, nearly colliding with Lucy as the door slammed shut behind her. She scrunched her eyebrows in confusion and was about to swat this random girl’s hand away until she noticed the very green eyed roommate she was looking for, lying on the floor on her side with her knees tucked close to her chest. “What the hell is going on?”
“Lauren, look, Camila’s home,” she said to the raven haired girl on the floor, ignoring Camila’s question. At the mention of her name, she opened her eyes and turned to look up at the brunette and Camila swore a look of relief washed over her features.
“Camz, you’re back,” she slurred and Camila could immediately tell how drunk she was. Before she could process what was going on or even think of something to say she felt another hand on her wrist, pulling her down to the floor awkwardly until two arms wrapped around her. “I’m so glad you’re here,” Lauren mumbled into her shirt, her face pressed to her back from behind.
“Um…what exactly is going on?” she asked again to both girls in the bathroom—mainly Lucy, seeing as that Lauren was in no state to be particularly helpful.
“I don’t know; she was fine and then she was quiet for a bit then all of a sudden started feeling super dizzy and had like, a cold sweat. I thought she needed to puke so I brought her in here but she said she couldn’t breathe. I think it might have been a panic attack. She just kept saying how she needed to get out of here and she was mumbling a bunch of stuff but she seemed to feel better when she was sitting on the floor so she’s been like that for a while now. I keep telling her she should go lie down in her own bed but she won’t move,” she explained in a rush.
Camila frowned just before Lauren’s arms tightened slightly around her as she hugged her close. She could feel her attempting to breathe steadily and her hand instinctively moved to hold Lauren’s wrist gently. Her mind was struggling to keep up with what Lucy was saying while she was still so focused on the way Lauren was holding her comfortably on the ground.
She swallowed and prayed she wasn’t going to be disappointed with the answer when she looked up at the brunette in the bathroom with them and asked, as casually as she possibly could, “Did she, like…take something?”
“What? No. I was with her the whole night. We were just drinking. Like, I said; it kind of came out of nowhere, as far as I could tell.”
“Okay…hang on,” she said before shifting in Lauren’s hold, tapping on her arm. “Hey, Laur, can you let me get up for a second.” She loosened her grip without a word, allowing Camila to pull herself up to a standing position beside Lucy who was looking down at her friend worriedly.
“Is she going to be okay? I didn’t know she had anxiety like this. I would have tried to get rid of everyone sooner but she kind of just went along with everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“She didn’t even plan this. A few of us were just hanging out and some of our friends suggested inviting a few more people. And well…Lauren didn’t really say anything about it so I guess people just took that as an invitation to keep inviting more people.”
“Yeah she didn’t mention anything to me.”
“I’m sorry Camz,” Lauren mumbled from where she lay on the cool tile floor. “Don’t be mad at me.”
“It’s okay,” she sighed, rubbing her forehead with her eyes shut tight before facing Lucy again. “Thank you so much for staying with her, really.”
“Of course. I wasn’t going to just leave her.”
Camila gave the girl a grateful smile, feeling somewhat guilty for jumping to conclusions. Well…Keana certainly didn’t help. But she knew Lucy was a friend of Lauren’s and it was nice to know that she seemed like a genuinely good one at that, willing to look out for her and make sure she was okay. She knew Lauren wasn’t too familiar with that in the past.
“I’ll leave you guys alone and start trying to shut this party down, okay?” she offered with her hand on the doorknob and Camila nodded silently in appreciation. “Let me know if you need me. I’ll keep this closed behind me.”
With one last nod Camila locked the door behind Lucy and crouched back down where Lauren was resting. She had experienced Lauren’s anxiety before, having dealt with a handful of panic attacks as a result of her withdrawal. She had gotten somewhat better at helping her through it all but it didn’t make it any easier to see.
She was still frowning when she reached her hand out to softly brush her hair behind her ear. Her eyes landed on the scar above it, disappearing into the mess of raven locks and she traced her finger over it carefully, crossing her legs as she sat beside her friend. Lauren opened her eyes and looked up at her.
“Are you mad?”
“What? No I’m not-” she paused and exhaled, “I mean I’m not thrilled about the party but it’s okay. Right now I’m just concerned about you. Are you okay? How are you feeling?”
“I really didn’t take anything,” she insisted, ignoring her question. “I promise I’m still clean.”
“I believe you, Lauren.”
“Okay…okay, good.”
“But are you okay? What happened?” she tried again and Lauren took a deep breath, letting it out shakily as Camila continued gently running her fingers through her hair. The gesture seemed to help calm her down in the past and it seemed to be working at the moment. “It’s okay; just breathe, slowly. Focus on me,” she instructed, running her fingers down the length of her arm to her elbow and then back up to her shoulder, repeating the motions in a steady rhythm.
“I don’t know, Camz. It’s just…all the people and the whole…party scene; I haven’t really been around it since I stopped using and it kind of…it was all too much I guess. I don’t know. I thought I could handle it.”
“I didn’t even realize it could be, like, triggering for you or something.”
“The alcohol didn’t help. But…God, I just started thinking about it and then I started thinking about Kayla. You know, I went to go see her earlier today. Her birthday is coming up soon; she’s going to be five,” she explained, keeping her eyes shut and taking a moment to keep her breathing even again, focusing on Camila. But her next words were even shakier than before. “I just…I can’t stop thinking about how much I’m hurting her, every time she asks me to come to something or when I’m coming back home and I see it break her heart when I tell her I can’t and I keep letting her down and my parents and Chris and Ally and you and I…I don’t…”
She paused, choking out a sob but Camila couldn’t see any tears in her eyes yet. She shifted in her seat so that she could rest Lauren’s head in her lap and the green eyed girl immediately turned her face towards her thigh. She rested her hand on her back, moving up and down until she calmed down again.
“I hate feeling like such a failure. I hate feeling…like I did when I first had Kayla. I don’t want to feel like I can’t do this. I don’t want to feel like I’m not good enough but I can’t help it.”
“Hey, look at me,” Camila said softly, moving her hand back up to push some of her hair away from her face. It took her a moment or two but she was finally met with those sad, green eyes and she felt her heart break a little bit. “All these things you’re feeling…all these things your brain is telling you, they’re not true okay?” she reassured her, remembering the many times she had to remind her of the same thing back when she first started to get clean and the anxiety from her withdrawal was just…the worst.
“But-”
“You can’t think like that. I know it’s a lot easier said than done but I know you can do it. You didn’t think you could come this far and look…you’re still keeping at it. And don’t think you’re letting me down. I’m actually proud of you for doing this and even coming this far.”
“It hasn’t even been that long,” she mumbled, frustration boiling in her tone.
“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t even think you could quit at all. And your family will see that you’re trying. Just give it time, Lauren. It’s not going to get better right away. But you have to remember this is just temporary, okay? It’s not going to last forever."  She stopped her hand’s motions to give her shoulder a soft squeeze. "It’s only a bad night, not a bad life.”
“Fuck…” she muttered, covering her face with her hands. “I’m sorry about all this. I tried calling you before but you wouldn’t answer.”
“Really?” she said, feeling guilty again. “I’m so sorry; my phone died before I got in the car. I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine.” She sighed quietly against her leg, resting her hand on top of it, her finger mindlessly tracing the fabric of her skinny jeans. “Where were you tonight anyway?”
“I…” she trailed off, moving her hand again to push her own hair back as she swallowed, almost having completely forgotten the terrible evening she had before coming home, why she was so desperate to come home in the first place. “Nowhere,” she lied, not wanting to divulge her whereabouts to her roommate. She wanted to avoid the conversation that would surely follow afterwards at all costs. “I just had a thing after work.”
“A thing?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I just wish I would have known earlier so I could have come back sooner.”
“Well I can’t exactly predict when it’s gonna happen but it’s okay.”
Before either of them could say anything else they were interrupted by a knock on the door. They both looked up from their position on the floor and Camila remembered she had locked themselves in. She reluctantly got up, earning a pout from Lauren, and opened the door a crack to find Lucy on the other side.
“Hey, everything okay in here?” she asked cautiously, eyes flitting down to her friend still on the floor.
“Yeah, she’ll be fine.”
“Okay, good. I tried to get her to calm down and it would work but then she’d get herself worked up again and it was kind of a never ending cycle so I didn’t know what else to do. I’m glad you came home though.”
“Why didn’t you try calling Ally?” Camila asked, turning toward her roommate again who was now in the process of sitting up.
“I knew she had a family thing tonight…I didn’t want to bother her,” she admitted somewhat sheepishly.
“Lauren, she’s your best friend; she would’ve been there for you regardless.”
“I know but…ugh, can I just go lie down or something.” Her eyes were everywhere but the two other girls standing in the bathroom and Camila took the hint that she didn’t want to talk about it anymore so she sighed.
“Yeah, actually I got a lot of the people inside to leave. Everyone’s pretty much heading out now,” Lucy chimed in, breaking the silence before things turned awkward. “I’ve just been trying to clean up a little bit because um…well they weren’t exactly kind to your apartment.”
“Thank you so much, you didn’t have to do that; I was just going to clean up later or tomorrow in the morning.”
“Don’t even mention it,” she waved her off as Camila reached down to help Lauren stand up and they both led her out of the bathroom and into the shared bedroom. “Your cat’s freaking out underneath one of your beds by the way so I hope he’s alright too.”
“Oh shit, I forgot about Fatass,” Lauren said, her head snapping up and her eyes slightly wide. Lucy leaned in a little towards Camila and lowered her voice.
“Tell me the cat’s name is not really Fatass.”
“Are you surprised?” she said back just as quietly, causing the girl to shake her head while biting back her laughter. Lauren stumbled over her own two feet, the effects of all the alcohol resuming tenfold now that she was standing and moving around again. Camila grabbed onto her to keep her from falling. “Careful!”
“Wow. This floor is terrible. What kinda fucked up foundation…bullshit architects…”
“The floor is fine, Lauren. You’re drunk,” she explained while Lucy held her other arm and they directed her to her bed.
“I’m not…that drunk…”
“No, you just have the grace of a partially sedated orangutan and the attention span of a cheese sandwich.” She fell on it, face down, and Camila rubbed her eyes. “Jesus, how much have you had?”
“Mmm I don’t know.”
“Of course…well…just lie down and relax. We’ll be right outside okay?”
“Wait, where are you going?” she whined, that childlike tone back in her voice, as she turned over onto her side to look at Camila.
“I’m just gonna finish cleaning up and I’ll be right back, I promise,” she assured her and Lauren hummed in response, dragging it out before mumbling a tired okay. The two exited the room, leaving Lauren to drunkenly laze in bed in solitude.
“I never actually introduced myself before I just realized; I’m Lucy by the way.”
“I figured,” she chuckled, scanning the apartment and frowning at the mess she had to deal with. Thankfully it seemed to be a lot better than when she first walked in since Lucy attempted a slight cleanup. And thankfully everyone had finally gone home. “Lauren’s mentioned you a few times before. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she told her honestly. Because despite everything she felt and whatever preconceived notions and assumptions she may have had, she appeared to be a sweet girl.
“You too; it’s nice to finally put a face to the name. I’ve had to listen to Lauren rant about you quite a bit.” At her words Camila’s head perked up with her full attention and she furrowed her brows.
“Oh God…I can only imagine what she’s told you,” she groaned, knowing how much her roommate loved to insult and mess with her.
“You’d be surprised,” she said, her tone neutral, but a curious look on her face that Camila could not decipher.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” she shrugged with a smile, grabbing her coat from the closet where it was stowed. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help finish cleaning?”
“No, please, you helped enough already. Really, I appreciate it. And for staying with Lauren, again, thank you.”
“It’s no problem at all. Tell her to call me in the morning, yeah?” she asked, opening the door. Camila nodded her head. “Thanks. Have a good night, Camila.”
“You too.”
She let out a breath once the door closed and she locked it before looking at the apartment once more, deeming it clean enough. She was too tired to deal with it and more importantly, she just wanted to get back to Lauren and make sure she was okay.
She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before shutting the lights off and heading back to the bedroom only to find Lauren staring up at the ceiling with her hand on her stomach, the other arm dangling off the side of the bed. Captain Fatass had come out from hiding and was now lying comfortably right in the middle of Camila’s bed.
“You couldn’t even take your clothes off?”
“What?” Lauren asked, struggling as she lifted her head up slightly.
“You’re still in jeans…and your shoes.”
“Oh.” She glanced down at her outfit, frowning at the daunting task of getting undressed. She dropped her head back down instead, closing her eyes. She didn’t reopen them again until she felt someone grabbing her ankle.
“Lazy ass,” she mumbled under her breath as she undid the laces of her boots, pulling them off her feet and tossing them aside. Lauren caught her comment anyway and laughed with her arm over her eyes. Once she got the other one off she tapped her leg to get her attention. “Get up.”
She was answered with another whine and she rolled her eyes, although fighting a smile, and reached over the bed, finding the waist of her jeans. Lauren peeked down just as Camila started undoing the button and zipper and her breath hitched in her throat as she lifted her hips off the bed so she could tug them down her legs easily.
She didn’t feel her hands anymore but Lauren could hear her moving around the room. She lifted her arm up to see Camila changing into her own pajamas before coming back from her dresser with a t-shirt in her hands. Before she could say anything she tossed it towards her and the fabric hit her in the face.
“Come on, put a clean shirt on and drink the water I brought for you,” she said, gesturing towards the bottle she had retrieved from the kitchen. Lauren sighed and sat up a little to pull the shirt she was wearing over her head before clumsily replacing it with the new one. She attempted a few times to get it on correctly but she couldn’t seem to get her arm through the other sleeve and Camila had to come adjust it for her. Once she pulled it down she brushed some of her hair away from her face, flushed with a bright pink hue. “Better?”
“Thanks, Camz,” she mumbled with a half shy, half guilty smile, showing all of her teeth. Camila couldn’t help but laugh at how annoying and endearing she was, shaking her head and shoving her back against the pillow playfully. “Hey!” she squealed, grabbing onto her arm. “The room’s still kind of spinny don’t be mean.”
“You’re an idiot. Drink your water.” Lauren did as she was told, reaching over and chugging down the cool liquid as if her life depended on it, not realizing until the water hit her lips just how unbelievably thirsty she really was. “Slow down; you’ll make yourself sick.” She listened again, taking smaller sips until the bottle was empty and she set it down before dropping her head back on the bed. “You feeling okay now? Are you hungry? Do you need to eat something?” she asked but Lauren was busy idly moving her fingers across Camila’s thigh again—not even in a sensual way, just casually tracing random patterns, not even paying attention to what she was saying. “Lauren?”
“Hm?”
“I asked if you were hungry.”
“Oh, no I’m okay.”
“Okay, good. I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she said, pushing some of her hair back for her. She closed her eyes at the soothing contact before opening again and looking right into Camila’s. And despite being so intoxicated, Camila could see the genuineness in them where she would normally put up a front and try to act as nonchalant as humanly possible about what she was really feeling.
“I’m glad you’re here, Camz,” she admitted for the second time that night. “I know I love to give you shit all the time but I…” she paused, stopping herself before letting out a sigh. “I’m just really glad you’re here.”
“That might actually be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Camila smiled down at her but Lauren rolled her eyes.
“Don’t expect it all the time now, Karla Chameleon.”
“Seriously you need to never call me that, like ever,” she tried to say but the green eyed girl was taking in a deep breath and she had that look that Camila just knew meant she was about to get on her nerves. “Don’t you fucking dare start sing-”
“Karla, Karla, Karla, Karla, Karla Cha-mphhmm,” her singing was cut short and muffled by Camila’s hand clamped tightly over her mouth, the tiny brunette glaring at her roommate in annoyance. “Rude.”
“Ass.”
“Loser.”
“Okay, goodnight, Lauren,” she said loudly before attempting to get up only to be held in place. Lauren held onto her wrist, preventing her from leaving, and smiled up at her innocently with hazy green eyes.
“I don’t know where you think you’re going when Fatass has hijacked your entire bed; it’s not like you can kick him off. That’s his bed now.”
“How convenient.”
“I guess you’re just going to have to sleep here.”
“Smooth, Lauren,” she said jokingly, narrowing her eyes a bit at her roommate who put her hand on her chest, scoffing. Camila pulled her arm from her grasp and got up to go shut the light off before returning to Lauren’s bed. Because no matter how much they bickered and joked around about it, Camila was more than okay sleeping in Lauren’s bed.
“What? I didn't tell him to take your bed.”
“I know that; I was kidding you fucking ding dong.”
“Um, stop bullying me; I had a rough night.”
“My poor baby,” she said sarcastically, earning an eye roll as she climbed in to lie next to her. “You know, it’s a good thing we both fit or else sharing these beds would be so uncomfortable I would never stand for it.”
“I’m honestly surprised we do.”
“Hey but I’m like really tiny though.”
“Yeah but your ass might as well be another person.”
“Lauren! You’re so-”
“So annoying,” she said for her, mimicking her voice like a child as she wrapped her arms around her waist tightly, pulling her closer. Her fingers lightly tickled her side making Camila both laugh and yell.
“Stop! Lauren, stop it!” she managed to get out between her fits of laughter. “You’re such an ass! Stop!” She finally let up and gave her a chance to breathe before she turned around—still in her arms—and she slapped her chest. “Jerk.”
Lauren was about to say something snarky back. And really, she had planned on it. But at that moment she seemed to realize just how close they were, Camila practically pressed up against her with her arms still holding her loosely. Her own laughter died down and she couldn’t seem to come up with any words, or do anything at all besides stare at the brunette in her embrace.
Camila was at a loss as well with the way she was looking at her again, the same way she was looking at her the night before when she offered to take her out, the same way she was looking at her the last time they slept together.
She had come home to think she was going to find her roommate hooking up with somebody else. And it didn’t hit her until then just how upset it made her to think of Lauren with anyone that wasn’t her. They might not have started off that well, and they might not have been together, but there had to have been something there. Camila was sure of it.
“Camz?”
“Hm?” she hummed and moved her hand to trace her pale skin, dimly glowing in the moonlight coming from the slats in the window blinds. Lauren had been fighting with herself since it happened but the alcohol was still making her brain a little foggy and she didn’t have the will to argue it with her drunk self.
So she bit the bullet and told her.
“I don’t…I don’t want you to…go on those dates anymore,” she admitted, so warily, catching Camila’s attention once again.
She trailed her fingers down the side of her face, all while Lauren watched her intently with a bated breath, unsure of what else to do or what else to say. Before she could panic at potentially messing things up, Camila leaned in, brushing her lips carefully over hers—as if it were the first time they’d ever kissed and she was making sure it was okay.
Her heart raced, hammering against her chest, as their lips moved together slowly. It felt different somehow but still so familiar. Camila exhaled through her nose, moving her hand through her hair, before pulling back—their foreheads pressed against each other. And neither of them spoke; just soft breaths and closed eyes in the darkness of their bedroom.
“I don’t want to either.”
*    *    *    *
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Day 9 Love Lost
Day 9: The next morning was full of promise. A guy I didn’t mention in the last post told me a place called (won't say) pizza was hiring. Time to go. A fellow and his lady, and another couple all homeless went to spend time at the library… and asked me to join  them. Why not? What could go wrong? The names here are Sony and his girlfriend Sany, and the other two, more interesting, we’ll call Big Head, (in both a literal and iliteral sense) and his wife Maganime. Now Maganime took quite the interest me. She’s a short, kinda overweight, short dark haired woman who described herself as one of those emo girls. Her husband walked ahead alone in front of us and it was easy to tell that he was not happy that his wife took an interest to me. He was right to feel that way, but we’ll get to that later. When we arrived at this nice, air conditioned library we all sat and talked a moment. I don't care for reading much. I’m just tryna chill. Well his wife is still giving me the 20Q and asks me if I watch anime. Not really, but Dragon Ball Z is and will always be the shit. She asked if I read magna’s and no I don’t… until she mentioned Dragon Ball being in the library. I wanted to see them real bad and I asked her where they were, and she starts pleading with her husband to let her show me the magna’s. So she did show me them, and next thing I know she’s bitching about her husband and telling me that we have so much common… some men might be delighted, but I don’t think with that head anymore. Never come between another man and his marriage. Ever, unless you just don’t mind the consequences. Soon Bran was calling her back saying her husband was jealous. I played stupid. I'm pretty good at playing stupid to get out of situations. When I went to walk to the store she wanted to go and begged her husband to go. Hm. When we departed she flew compliments at me and started talking about her mental problems. I ain't scared of nobody with problems unless it’s the killer kind. I wasn’t phased, but I knew I was right to not touch this situation with a ten foot pole…. Or at least should’ve known. But no. The things she was saying about him, and how she clearly didn’t want him… I told her to do what she thinks she should do. Fuck up number one. She wanted a drink, I got her one. Now she wants to talk about… how we could have a future and… why wait? Christ. Maybe if I called Brunswick home haha. I COULD’VE HIT it. Knowing that was enough. We got back they started to argue and on the way back she stops dead in her tracks. “Big, I’m sorry but…( STARES AT ME ) I’M SORRY BUT I DON’T WANT TO BE WITH YOU ANYMORE.” “Wha…” Sony and Sona walked off, I left with them. Simple. When I returned a black man who claimed he was an apostle of Jesus Christ approached me. I spoke with him at the well, he had a lot nice clothes, and a really nice car, though now I cannot remember what kind of car it was. Just shiny and white. He carried around his grandson with him who was something like an interpreter. He had a speech impediment from a bad stroke. Poor guy. He could say like two or three words for his pops before he had to start again. He asked me if I wanted to talk about God over some pizza, and that he needed a friend. I reluctantly say yes. We had some deep talks about our past and my life and his life. His house was compact but nice. Well really it was his mom's house I think. He told me his mom revived him in the name of Jesus. She confirmed it. Not too hard to believe, she wasn’t crazy from what I could tell, and after all it takes the faith of a mustard seed to move a mountain… so yeah. After we ate pizza he got all teary eyed and talked about how he thinks he finally found a real friend that didn’t steal from him. Cool, that made me feel good, until he asked me to go to Florida. Whoa. He wanted me to speak for him… dude. It all makes sense. This dude has his act together… he’s looking to make a name for himself somewhere but because of his speech he needed help… or so it seemed. I’m getting there now. When I told him I wasn’t really interested he tried to guilt me HARD. He's trying to make me feel bad. It's a good thing I followed my instincts and didn’t let him buy me shit. Less complicated. When we arrived back I questioned him about his abilities, without even asking them to be tested. All I had to do was open the bible with him… he did not know it well. As a matter of fact he didn’t really know the Bible. Anyone who claims to be a prophet will know the book. He did not. We talked for a couple of hours, and when he caught on that I was presenting the truth in front of him he said he needed to go. Off he went. When I re entered a black man I’ll call Neon asked me where I’ve been. I told him. He said that man was “trying to fuck me in the ass.” Who knows? FTM I'm going to have to do a bunch of days at once to catch up at one point, I'm forgetting stuff. Anyway I went by that pizza place, they were gonna hire me... until I told them I was homeless. Mistake learned. Have a good day.
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ouraidengray4 · 6 years
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Is the Body-Positivity Movement Going Too Far?
In 2010, Linda Bacon, Ph.D., published Health at Every Size, which promoted the idea that everyone should have respect regardless of their weight. Bacon also started a group of the same name to give people resources to stop dieting and find professionals that agree with the idea that fat doesn’t always mean unhealthy. From there, the body-positivity—or fat-positivity—movement grew and began to reduce the stigma of being heavy. People are finally hearing the message that everyone should love their body, no matter what the media or diet industry might say.
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Well, doesn’t that sound lovely? What a wonderful world, where overweight people would be seen as ordinary folks, instead of lazy, stupid failures with no self-control. But things don’t stay nice for long. At least, not if the internet is involved.
Some members of the body-positive movement have started to promote some pretty extreme concepts. Like when Everyday Feminism wrote, "Let’s make something clear: Having a goal for intentional fat loss is not body positive." Or when Ashley Graham lost some weight and received comments like, "I am no longer a fan of yours. You betrayed a lot of people!" as reported by CNN. Or when body-positive blogger Ragen Chastain said, "There is not a single study where more than a tiny fraction of people have succeeded at weight loss long term, and there is no study that shows that people who lose weight live longer or become healthier. Prescribing weight loss for health is like prescribing learning to fly for knee pain." And don’t forget Salon, with its piece comparing weight loss to gay conversion therapy, which... no.
This is why we can’t have nice things.
But how can body positivity be bad?
First of all, the basic ideals of body positivity are not bad: People should not be mistreated because of their weight, and we should never feel pressured to get our bodies to fit some model ideal of "thinness." That’s clearly not possible—or remotely healthy—for most people. And we should all learn to love ourselves, whether we’re a size 4 or size 24.
But it’s not that easy. In fact, for some people, like myself, the body-positivity movement only makes things more complicated: Fat people now get the privilege of being judged by others for being too big while simultaneously being preached at that they should just love themselves, muffin-top and all.
"I find body positivity an unrealistic expectation," says Kimberly Hershenson, LMSW, a therapist with years of experience treating eating disorders and weight issues. "People in general struggle to ‘love their bodies.’ Someone who has struggled with body image issues cannot suddenly change from body-hatred to loving the way they look."
Hershenson advises her clients to focus on things outside of their body to find self-love. Instead of trying to suddenly love the body you’ve always hated, she suggests thinking of your body as a neutral. You don’t have to love or hate it—it’s just a body, and the self is so much more than just its outer packaging.
Outside of the unrealistic expectation to simply start "loving yourself at any size," some body-positivity activists insist that weight has nothing to do with your health. Sadly, this isn’t true. As Aditi G Jha, M.D., of JustDoc.com says, "Central obesity is the number one factor associated with diabetes, hypertension, and infertility, in their respective orders."
Psychologist Deb Thompson, Ph.D., adds, "Obesity is clearly recognized by world and national health organizations as a leading risk factor for disease and death. The body-positivity movement's denial of science is troubling."
Also, for most people, being heavier really does not feel better. As a lucky lady who gained a ton of weight over the course of a year, I felt the difference: I got winded easily, my body ached more, and I started developing plantar fasciitis. Though I’m still big, I’ve lost about 30 pounds so far, and it feels better.
So the body-positivity movement isn't wrong, exactly...
Sure, there are some extreme people who are making the movement look like a bunch of jags. For example, it’s beyond unfortunate that Chastain and Salon both compare fatphobia with homophobia. I’m not saying it’s easy being a fat person, but gay panic has caused a lot more harm throughout history. At the height of homophobia, gay men were labeled as mentally ill, pedophiles, or both. People were jailed and castrated just for being gay. Sure, fat people might get called names and crappy looks from people on the train, but few people have been literally murdered just for being fat.
My hatred of the anti-gay/anti-fat correlation aside, most of the body-positivity movement isn’t wrong. Even though statements like "weight loss is not body positive" sound extreme—they have a point.
True body positivity means you can do whatever you want with your body as long as you do it with love. Some people do need to lose weight for their health, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. Others want to lose weight to look better—and that’s their right. If you aren’t obsessed with losing weight, then I don’t think it’s a problem.
But dieting culture is a problem for a lot of people.
Let’s take a little journey through my fatness, to illustrate the unfortunate effects of our dieting culture.
Personally, I was always chubby, and I never felt bad about it—until junior high. I wasn’t made fun of or criticized for my weight. In fact, if I ever said, "Oh, well I’m so fat," I’d hear an instant chorus of "Oh, my God. Don’t say that! No, don’t think that about yourself."
Though I wasn’t allowed to say fat, that didn’t stop every other girl I knew from commenting on her appearance. Once we hit 14, a part of every lunch period was devoted to each girl talking about how fat she was—these were all thin girls, by the way. So, I thought, If they think they’re fat, they must think I’m some monster! This began my wonderful journey of hating my body that continues to this very day.
You might hope that all this "I’m so fat" talk would disappear after high school, but it’s still going strong. About half the time I hang out with a group of women, we get into a whole "my [insert body part here] is so horrible" conversation. Of course, I can’t actually join in on the contest of who hates themselves more because if I talk about feeling fat, people just sadly look away, a faint, "well..." passing through their lips.
Now I truly am fat, and people—friends—act like it’s the saddest thing I could ever be. Friends who don’t even realize they’re acting this way and would never purposely say anything to make me feel bad. Even if they’d never consciously judge a fat person negatively, they’re responding to a little, internal voice that says, "Yeah, but if she just tried a little harder..."
We’ve been trained to think of "fat" as "bad," and you can’t reverse a lifetime of thinking in a couple of years’ worth of blog posts.
So when people talk about body positivity and dieting, it’s understandable why people in the BP movement get upset. Blogger and YouTuber FatGirlFlow discusses her history with eating disorders, doctors who continually told her to lose weight, and how dieting to be "healthy" nearly killed her. Eventually, she found the body-positivity movement, which "saved her life."
So although it sounds extreme to say that dieting and weight loss are not part of body positivity, I think there’s some truth to that statement. That doesn’t mean you can’t lose weight or want to lose weight and still think positively of yourself. Individuals should do whatever they want.
But there should also be some space out there on the internet for women not to have to hear about dieting, because when you say you need to diet, that makes girls like me feel like we need to diet. When body-positive activists like FatGirlFlow say "keep dieting out of body positivity," they aren’t telling you not to lose weight—they just need a break from hearing that weight loss will always be the answer.
Does body positivity promote obesity?
Think about it: Can a couple of bloggers and a Dove ad really make thin women binge on Häagen-Dazs and gain 40 pounds? This movement isn’t nearly big enough to really make people feel good about being obese, and it’s certainly not going to convince people that fat is the new black.
Sure, some of the claims that obesity has no link to health are misleading. But the truth is that the science around health and obesity is far from clear.
"Yes, weight can affect your health, and there has been research to show that there may be some correlation," says Zach Cordell, registered dietitian nutritionist. "However, in the scientific community, we know that correlation is not causation. Just because obesity and diabetes rates have risen in tandem doesn't prove that they are connected. You could also draw that correlation between the availability of organic foods and diabetes. Does that mean that because more organic food is available, more people have diabetes? No, it is just a correlation."
Cordell says that obesity and diabetes have quite a few links, but that a person’s behavior is more predictive of disease than their size. Yes, many obese people eat poorly or don’t exercise. But that’s not always the case. Some overweight people don’t eat junk food all the time and are still heavy. And there are quite a few thin folks who frequent the McDonald’s drive-thru. Though obesity is a symptom of unhealthy behavior, it’s not necessarily the cause of all disease.
Then, take a look a nutritional information. Doctors’ recommendations change drastically every ten years or so (remember when Snackwells would save us all?). Now, this isn’t a bad thing: It’s good that science is always evolving. But it’s frustrating when you’re told to eat a bunch of eggs, then five years later, you hear that all those omelets will probably give you a heart attack.
Even now, you can read material written by Joel Fuhrman, M.D., and be convinced that his almost no-fat, vegan diet is the only way to get thin and healthy—and he’s got the scientific studies to prove it! Then, you read The Obesity Code by Jason Fung, M.D., and learn that the amount of fat you eat has exactly no correlation to weight gain. In his opinion, insulin is primarily to blame for weight gain, so you should intermittently fast and eat a diet high in fat and low in carbs—and he’s got the scientific studies to prove it!
Now, I’m not a doctor, but the studies for each of those diets seem equally valid, even though they’re diametrically opposed. Cordell agrees that either of those diets, or anything in-between, can work for people. Cordell says that it doesn’t really matter what the results of all the new studies are—you have to choose a way of eating that works for you and that you can keep up for the rest of your life. Almost any diet can prove some kind of weight loss, but those studies don’t reveal the fact that to keep the weight off, you have to eat healthily forever.
And weight loss isn’t always the answer.
I know from experience that weight is not the primary factor of healthiness. When I was 275 pounds, all my bloodwork was good: low blood pressure, low cholesterol, good everything. Now, I didn’t feel good at that weight, but I was technically fine.
We’ve been trained to think of "fat" as "bad," and you can’t reverse a lifetime of thinking in a couple of years of blog posts.
But when you’re heavy, the first thing a doctor tells you is "lose weight." This has happened to me—when I weighed a lot less—and to many others. When I last went to the doctor, she said, "Eat 1,200 calories a day. You can eat up to 1,500, but try to keep it closer to 1,200."
Now, this is bad for a few reasons: One, I’m a fat lady in her 30s. Do you think I’ve never tried dieting before? Have I lived under some fat-blocking rock for the last three decades and suddenly emerged as my unpleasantly plump self? No. I’ve tried lots of diets, my friend.
Also, if you have a bad history with obsession and weight, there’s no better way to trigger that than having a doctor tell you to starve yourself. (Also, this doctor was my same weight and said how she "felt sorry for Harvey Weinstein" after all the allegations came out. Just to paint a clearer picture of my hell.)
My little story is just one of many, but if the body-positive movement can help bigger people not get immediately brushed off by every doctor, that would be a huge victory in and of itself. I’m not saying doctors shouldn’t mention weight. But when weight loss is the only answer they give, that’s a problem.
Also, doctors should always approach weight with empathy: Ask the patient if they have a history of eating disorders. Ask them why they want to lose weight and why they’ve had trouble in the past. Then work with them to find an eating plan that the patient might actually stick to.
People can be overweight and healthy. Chastain just completed the Life Time Tri, a mini-triathlon. Now, can people be obese and healthy? I don’t know. But what’s better? Someone who’s able to live an active life at a heavy weight or someone slightly smaller who devotes all their mental energy to dieting? I know there are shades between those extremes, but believe me, if you’re trying to go from obese to a normal BMI, it’s very hard to keep obsession from kicking in.
I’ve had mixed feelings about the body-positivity movement, but I’ve become more positive for body positivity than I would have thought. To me, they’re asking that we end the cycle of obsessing over our bodies. Sure, some proponents of this movement go too far and claim that people who lose weight are traitors. But most advocate just appreciating yourself as you are, and that means being OK with wanting to lose weight or being OK with staying heavy.
Still, there aren’t a lot of winners here. Most people are stuck in this weird limbo between fatphobia and body positivity. Model Ashley Graham got criticized for losing weight but also got crap for "promoting obesity" when she was on the cover of Sports Illustrated. People who try to slim down get lots of positive attention when they start to lose, but if they lose too much, the folks around them start saying things like, "Are you sick?" or "You’re getting too skinny. It’s not healthy." You can never win.
And you want to know the really sad thing? When I see people like FatGirlFlow and Ragen Chastain, a part of me applauds them for their self-acceptance. But also? A little voice always says, "Yeah, but if she just tried a little harder…"
Amber Petty is a freelance writer in Los Angeles. If you like easy crafts and Simpsons gifs, check out her blog, Half-Assed Crafts.
from Greatist RSS http://ift.tt/2ndPE0Z Is the Body-Positivity Movement Going Too Far? Greatist RSS from HEALTH BUZZ http://ift.tt/2DEiheL
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Is the Body-Positivity Movement Going Too Far?
New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/health/is-the-body-positivity-movement-going-too-far/
Is the Body-Positivity Movement Going Too Far?
youtube
In 2010, Linda Bacon, Ph.D., published Health at Every Size, which promoted the idea that everyone should have respect regardless of their weight. Bacon also started a group of the same name to give people resources to stop dieting and find professionals that agree with the idea that fat doesn’t always mean unhealthy. From there, the body-positivity—or fat-positivity—movement grew and began to reduce the stigma of being heavy. People are finally hearing the message that everyone should love their body, no matter what the media or diet industry might say.
You might also like
displayTitle READ
Well, doesn’t that sound lovely? What a wonderful world, where overweight people would be seen as ordinary folks, instead of lazy, stupid failures with no self-control. But things don’t stay nice for long. At least, not if the internet is involved.
Some members of the body-positive movement have started to promote some pretty extreme concepts. Like when Everyday Feminism wrote, “Let’s make something clear: Having a goal for intentional fat loss is not body positive.” Or when Ashley Graham lost some weight and received comments like, “I am no longer a fan of yours. You betrayed a lot of people!” as reported by CNN. Or when body-positive blogger Ragen Chastain said, “There is not a single study where more than a tiny fraction of people have succeeded at weight loss long term, and there is no study that shows that people who lose weight live longer or become healthier. Prescribing weight loss for health is like prescribing learning to fly for knee pain.” And don’t forget Salon, with its piece comparing weight loss to gay conversion therapy, which… no.
This is why we can’t have nice things.
But how can body positivity be bad?
First of all, the basic ideals of body positivity are not bad: People should not be mistreated because of their weight, and we should never feel pressured to get our bodies to fit some model ideal of “thinness.” That’s clearly not possible—or remotely healthy—for most people. And we should all learn to love ourselves, whether we’re a size 4 or size 24.
But it’s not that easy. In fact, for some people, like myself, the body-positivity movement only makes things more complicated: Fat people now get the privilege of being judged by others for being too big while simultaneously being preached at that they should just love themselves, muffin-top and all.
“I find body positivity an unrealistic expectation,” says Kimberly Hershenson, LMSW, a therapist with years of experience treating eating disorders and weight issues. “People in general struggle to ‘love their bodies.’ Someone who has struggled with body image issues cannot suddenly change from body-hatred to loving the way they look.”
Hershenson advises her clients to focus on things outside of their body to find self-love. Instead of trying to suddenly love the body you’ve always hated, she suggests thinking of your body as a neutral. You don’t have to love or hate it—it’s just a body, and the self is so much more than just its outer packaging.
Outside of the unrealistic expectation to simply start “loving yourself at any size,” some body-positivity activists insist that weight has nothing to do with your health. Sadly, this isn’t true. As Aditi G Jha, M.D., of JustDoc.com says, “Central obesity is the number one factor associated with diabetes, hypertension, and infertility, in their respective orders.”
Psychologist Deb Thompson, Ph.D., adds, “Obesity is clearly recognized by world and national health organizations as a leading risk factor for disease and death. The body-positivity movement’s denial of science is troubling.”
Also, for most people, being heavier really does not feel better. As a lucky lady who gained a ton of weight over the course of a year, I felt the difference: I got winded easily, my body ached more, and I started developing plantar fasciitis. Though I’m still big, I’ve lost about 30 pounds so far, and it feels better.
So the body-positivity movement isn’t wrong, exactly…
Sure, there are some extreme people who are making the movement look like a bunch of jags. For example, it’s beyond unfortunate that Chastain and Salon both compare fatphobia with homophobia. I’m not saying it’s easy being a fat person, but gay panic has caused a lot more harm throughout history. At the height of homophobia, gay men were labeled as mentally ill, pedophiles, or both. People were jailed and castrated just for being gay. Sure, fat people might get called names and crappy looks from people on the train, but few people have been literally murdered just for being fat.
My hatred of the anti-gay/anti-fat correlation aside, most of the body-positivity movement isn’t wrong. Even though statements like “weight loss is not body positive” sound extreme—they have a point.
True body positivity means you can do whatever you want with your body as long as you do it with love. Some people do need to lose weight for their health, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. Others want to lose weight to look better—and that’s their right. If you aren’t obsessed with losing weight, then I don’t think it’s a problem.
But dieting culture is a problem for a lot of people.
Let’s take a little journey through my fatness, to illustrate the unfortunate effects of our dieting culture.
Personally, I was always chubby, and I never felt bad about it—until junior high. I wasn’t made fun of or criticized for my weight. In fact, if I ever said, “Oh, well I’m so fat,” I’d hear an instant chorus of “Oh, my God. Don’t say that! No, don’t think that about yourself.”
Though I wasn’t allowed to say fat, that didn’t stop every other girl I knew from commenting on her appearance. Once we hit 14, a part of every lunch period was devoted to each girl talking about how fat she was—these were all thin girls, by the way. So, I thought, If they think they’re fat, they must think I’m some monster! This began my wonderful journey of hating my body that continues to this very day.
You might hope that all this “I’m so fat” talk would disappear after high school, but it’s still going strong. About half the time I hang out with a group of women, we get into a whole “my [insert body part here] is so horrible” conversation. Of course, I can’t actually join in on the contest of who hates themselves more because if I talk about feeling fat, people just sadly look away, a faint, “well…” passing through their lips.
Now I truly am fat, and people—friends—act like it’s the saddest thing I could ever be. Friends who don’t even realize they’re acting this way and would never purposely say anything to make me feel bad. Even if they’d never consciously judge a fat person negatively, they’re responding to a little, internal voice that says, “Yeah, but if she just tried a little harder…”
We’ve been trained to think of “fat” as “bad,” and you can’t reverse a lifetime of thinking in a couple of years’ worth of blog posts.
So when people talk about body positivity and dieting, it’s understandable why people in the BP movement get upset. Blogger and YouTuber FatGirlFlow discusses her history with eating disorders, doctors who continually told her to lose weight, and how dieting to be “healthy” nearly killed her. Eventually, she found the body-positivity movement, which “saved her life.”
So although it sounds extreme to say that dieting and weight loss are not part of body positivity, I think there’s some truth to that statement. That doesn’t mean you can’t lose weight or want to lose weight and still think positively of yourself. Individuals should do whatever they want.
But there should also be some space out there on the internet for women not to have to hear about dieting, because when you say you need to diet, that makes girls like me feel like we need to diet. When body-positive activists like FatGirlFlow say “keep dieting out of body positivity,” they aren’t telling you not to lose weight—they just need a break from hearing that weight loss will always be the answer.
Does body positivity promote obesity?
Think about it: Can a couple of bloggers and a Dove ad really make thin women binge on Häagen-Dazs and gain 40 pounds? This movement isn’t nearly big enough to really make people feel good about being obese, and it’s certainly not going to convince people that fat is the new black.
Sure, some of the claims that obesity has no link to health are misleading. But the truth is that the science around health and obesity is far from clear.
“Yes, weight can affect your health, and there has been research to show that there may be some correlation,” says Zach Cordell, registered dietitian nutritionist. “However, in the scientific community, we know that correlation is not causation. Just because obesity and diabetes rates have risen in tandem doesn’t prove that they are connected. You could also draw that correlation between the availability of organic foods and diabetes. Does that mean that because more organic food is available, more people have diabetes? No, it is just a correlation.”
Cordell says that obesity and diabetes have quite a few links, but that a person’s behavior is more predictive of disease than their size. Yes, many obese people eat poorly or don’t exercise. But that’s not always the case. Some overweight people don’t eat junk food all the time and are still heavy. And there are quite a few thin folks who frequent the McDonald’s drive-thru. Though obesity is a symptom of unhealthy behavior, it’s not necessarily the cause of all disease.
Then, take a look a nutritional information. Doctors’ recommendations change drastically every ten years or so (remember when Snackwells would save us all?). Now, this isn’t a bad thing: It’s good that science is always evolving. But it’s frustrating when you’re told to eat a bunch of eggs, then five years later, you hear that all those omelets will probably give you a heart attack.
Even now, you can read material written by Joel Fuhrman, M.D., and be convinced that his almost no-fat, vegan diet is the only way to get thin and healthy—and he’s got the scientific studies to prove it! Then, you read The Obesity Code by Jason Fung, M.D., and learn that the amount of fat you eat has exactly no correlation to weight gain. In his opinion, insulin is primarily to blame for weight gain, so you should intermittently fast and eat a diet high in fat and low in carbs—and he’s got the scientific studies to prove it!
Now, I’m not a doctor, but the studies for each of those diets seem equally valid, even though they’re diametrically opposed. Cordell agrees that either of those diets, or anything in-between, can work for people. Cordell says that it doesn’t really matter what the results of all the new studies are—you have to choose a way of eating that works for you and that you can keep up for the rest of your life. Almost any diet can prove some kind of weight loss, but those studies don’t reveal the fact that to keep the weight off, you have to eat healthily forever.
And weight loss isn’t always the answer.
I know from experience that weight is not the primary factor of healthiness. When I was 275 pounds, all my bloodwork was good: low blood pressure, low cholesterol, good everything. Now, I didn’t feel good at that weight, but I was technically fine.
We’ve been trained to think of “fat” as “bad,” and you can’t reverse a lifetime of thinking in a couple of years of blog posts.
But when you’re heavy, the first thing a doctor tells you is “lose weight.” This has happened to me—when I weighed a lot less—and to many others. When I last went to the doctor, she said, “Eat 1,200 calories a day. You can eat up to 1,500, but try to keep it closer to 1,200.”
Now, this is bad for a few reasons: One, I’m a fat lady in her 30s. Do you think I’ve never tried dieting before? Have I lived under some fat-blocking rock for the last three decades and suddenly emerged as my unpleasantly plump self? No. I’ve tried lots of diets, my friend.
Also, if you have a bad history with obsession and weight, there’s no better way to trigger that than having a doctor tell you to starve yourself. (Also, this doctor was my same weight and said how she “felt sorry for Harvey Weinstein” after all the allegations came out. Just to paint a clearer picture of my hell.)
My little story is just one of many, but if the body-positive movement can help bigger people not get immediately brushed off by every doctor, that would be a huge victory in and of itself. I’m not saying doctors shouldn’t mention weight. But when weight loss is the only answer they give, that’s a problem.
Also, doctors should always approach weight with empathy: Ask the patient if they have a history of eating disorders. Ask them why they want to lose weight and why they’ve had trouble in the past. Then work with them to find an eating plan that the patient might actually stick to.
People can be overweight and healthy. Chastain just completed the Life Time Tri, a mini-triathlon. Now, can people be obese and healthy? I don’t know. But what’s better? Someone who’s able to live an active life at a heavy weight or someone slightly smaller who devotes all their mental energy to dieting? I know there are shades between those extremes, but believe me, if you’re trying to go from obese to a normal BMI, it’s very hard to keep obsession from kicking in.
I’ve had mixed feelings about the body-positivity movement, but I’ve become more positive for body positivity than I would have thought. To me, they’re asking that we end the cycle of obsessing over our bodies. Sure, some proponents of this movement go too far and claim that people who lose weight are traitors. But most advocate just appreciating yourself as you are, and that means being OK with wanting to lose weight or being OK with staying heavy.
Still, there aren’t a lot of winners here. Most people are stuck in this weird limbo between fatphobia and body positivity. Model Ashley Graham got criticized for losing weight but also got crap for “promoting obesity” when she was on the cover of Sports Illustrated. People who try to slim down get lots of positive attention when they start to lose, but if they lose too much, the folks around them start saying things like, “Are you sick?” or “You’re getting too skinny. It’s not healthy.” You can never win.
And you want to know the really sad thing? When I see people like FatGirlFlow and Ragen Chastain, a part of me applauds them for their self-acceptance. But also? A little voice always says, “Yeah, but if she just tried a little harder…”
Amber Petty is a freelance writer in Los Angeles. If you like easy crafts and Simpsons gifs, check out her blog, Half-Assed Crafts.
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foursprout-blog · 6 years
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Is the Body-Positivity Movement Going Too Far?
New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/health/is-the-body-positivity-movement-going-too-far/
Is the Body-Positivity Movement Going Too Far?
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In 2010, Linda Bacon, Ph.D., published Health at Every Size, which promoted the idea that everyone should have respect regardless of their weight. Bacon also started a group of the same name to give people resources to stop dieting and find professionals that agree with the idea that fat doesn’t always mean unhealthy. From there, the body-positivity—or fat-positivity—movement grew and began to reduce the stigma of being heavy. People are finally hearing the message that everyone should love their body, no matter what the media or diet industry might say.
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Well, doesn’t that sound lovely? What a wonderful world, where overweight people would be seen as ordinary folks, instead of lazy, stupid failures with no self-control. But things don’t stay nice for long. At least, not if the internet is involved.
Some members of the body-positive movement have started to promote some pretty extreme concepts. Like when Everyday Feminism wrote, “Let’s make something clear: Having a goal for intentional fat loss is not body positive.” Or when Ashley Graham lost some weight and received comments like, “I am no longer a fan of yours. You betrayed a lot of people!” as reported by CNN. Or when body-positive blogger Ragen Chastain said, “There is not a single study where more than a tiny fraction of people have succeeded at weight loss long term, and there is no study that shows that people who lose weight live longer or become healthier. Prescribing weight loss for health is like prescribing learning to fly for knee pain.” And don’t forget Salon, with its piece comparing weight loss to gay conversion therapy, which… no.
This is why we can’t have nice things.
But how can body positivity be bad?
First of all, the basic ideals of body positivity are not bad: People should not be mistreated because of their weight, and we should never feel pressured to get our bodies to fit some model ideal of “thinness.” That’s clearly not possible—or remotely healthy—for most people. And we should all learn to love ourselves, whether we’re a size 4 or size 24.
But it’s not that easy. In fact, for some people, like myself, the body-positivity movement only makes things more complicated: Fat people now get the privilege of being judged by others for being too big while simultaneously being preached at that they should just love themselves, muffin-top and all.
“I find body positivity an unrealistic expectation,” says Kimberly Hershenson, LMSW, a therapist with years of experience treating eating disorders and weight issues. “People in general struggle to ‘love their bodies.’ Someone who has struggled with body image issues cannot suddenly change from body-hatred to loving the way they look.”
Hershenson advises her clients to focus on things outside of their body to find self-love. Instead of trying to suddenly love the body you’ve always hated, she suggests thinking of your body as a neutral. You don’t have to love or hate it—it’s just a body, and the self is so much more than just its outer packaging.
Outside of the unrealistic expectation to simply start “loving yourself at any size,” some body-positivity activists insist that weight has nothing to do with your health. Sadly, this isn’t true. As Aditi G Jha, M.D., of JustDoc.com says, “Central obesity is the number one factor associated with diabetes, hypertension, and infertility, in their respective orders.”
Psychologist Deb Thompson, Ph.D., adds, “Obesity is clearly recognized by world and national health organizations as a leading risk factor for disease and death. The body-positivity movement’s denial of science is troubling.”
Also, for most people, being heavier really does not feel better. As a lucky lady who gained a ton of weight over the course of a year, I felt the difference: I got winded easily, my body ached more, and I started developing plantar fasciitis. Though I’m still big, I’ve lost about 30 pounds so far, and it feels better.
So the body-positivity movement isn’t wrong, exactly…
Sure, there are some extreme people who are making the movement look like a bunch of jags. For example, it’s beyond unfortunate that Chastain and Salon both compare fatphobia with homophobia. I’m not saying it’s easy being a fat person, but gay panic has caused a lot more harm throughout history. At the height of homophobia, gay men were labeled as mentally ill, pedophiles, or both. People were jailed and castrated just for being gay. Sure, fat people might get called names and crappy looks from people on the train, but few people have been literally murdered just for being fat.
My hatred of the anti-gay/anti-fat correlation aside, most of the body-positivity movement isn’t wrong. Even though statements like “weight loss is not body positive” sound extreme—they have a point.
True body positivity means you can do whatever you want with your body as long as you do it with love. Some people do need to lose weight for their health, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. Others want to lose weight to look better—and that’s their right. If you aren’t obsessed with losing weight, then I don’t think it’s a problem.
But dieting culture is a problem for a lot of people.
Let’s take a little journey through my fatness, to illustrate the unfortunate effects of our dieting culture.
Personally, I was always chubby, and I never felt bad about it—until junior high. I wasn’t made fun of or criticized for my weight. In fact, if I ever said, “Oh, well I’m so fat,” I’d hear an instant chorus of “Oh, my God. Don’t say that! No, don’t think that about yourself.”
Though I wasn’t allowed to say fat, that didn’t stop every other girl I knew from commenting on her appearance. Once we hit 14, a part of every lunch period was devoted to each girl talking about how fat she was—these were all thin girls, by the way. So, I thought, If they think they’re fat, they must think I’m some monster! This began my wonderful journey of hating my body that continues to this very day.
You might hope that all this “I’m so fat” talk would disappear after high school, but it’s still going strong. About half the time I hang out with a group of women, we get into a whole “my [insert body part here] is so horrible” conversation. Of course, I can’t actually join in on the contest of who hates themselves more because if I talk about feeling fat, people just sadly look away, a faint, “well…” passing through their lips.
Now I truly am fat, and people—friends—act like it’s the saddest thing I could ever be. Friends who don’t even realize they’re acting this way and would never purposely say anything to make me feel bad. Even if they’d never consciously judge a fat person negatively, they’re responding to a little, internal voice that says, “Yeah, but if she just tried a little harder…”
We’ve been trained to think of “fat” as “bad,” and you can’t reverse a lifetime of thinking in a couple of years’ worth of blog posts.
So when people talk about body positivity and dieting, it’s understandable why people in the BP movement get upset. Blogger and YouTuber FatGirlFlow discusses her history with eating disorders, doctors who continually told her to lose weight, and how dieting to be “healthy” nearly killed her. Eventually, she found the body-positivity movement, which “saved her life.”
So although it sounds extreme to say that dieting and weight loss are not part of body positivity, I think there’s some truth to that statement. That doesn’t mean you can’t lose weight or want to lose weight and still think positively of yourself. Individuals should do whatever they want.
But there should also be some space out there on the internet for women not to have to hear about dieting, because when you say you need to diet, that makes girls like me feel like we need to diet. When body-positive activists like FatGirlFlow say “keep dieting out of body positivity,” they aren’t telling you not to lose weight—they just need a break from hearing that weight loss will always be the answer.
Does body positivity promote obesity?
Think about it: Can a couple of bloggers and a Dove ad really make thin women binge on Häagen-Dazs and gain 40 pounds? This movement isn’t nearly big enough to really make people feel good about being obese, and it’s certainly not going to convince people that fat is the new black.
Sure, some of the claims that obesity has no link to health are misleading. But the truth is that the science around health and obesity is far from clear.
“Yes, weight can affect your health, and there has been research to show that there may be some correlation,” says Zach Cordell, registered dietitian nutritionist. “However, in the scientific community, we know that correlation is not causation. Just because obesity and diabetes rates have risen in tandem doesn’t prove that they are connected. You could also draw that correlation between the availability of organic foods and diabetes. Does that mean that because more organic food is available, more people have diabetes? No, it is just a correlation.”
Cordell says that obesity and diabetes have quite a few links, but that a person’s behavior is more predictive of disease than their size. Yes, many obese people eat poorly or don’t exercise. But that’s not always the case. Some overweight people don’t eat junk food all the time and are still heavy. And there are quite a few thin folks who frequent the McDonald’s drive-thru. Though obesity is a symptom of unhealthy behavior, it’s not necessarily the cause of all disease.
Then, take a look a nutritional information. Doctors’ recommendations change drastically every ten years or so (remember when Snackwells would save us all?). Now, this isn’t a bad thing: It’s good that science is always evolving. But it’s frustrating when you’re told to eat a bunch of eggs, then five years later, you hear that all those omelets will probably give you a heart attack.
Even now, you can read material written by Joel Fuhrman, M.D., and be convinced that his almost no-fat, vegan diet is the only way to get thin and healthy—and he’s got the scientific studies to prove it! Then, you read The Obesity Code by Jason Fung, M.D., and learn that the amount of fat you eat has exactly no correlation to weight gain. In his opinion, insulin is primarily to blame for weight gain, so you should intermittently fast and eat a diet high in fat and low in carbs—and he’s got the scientific studies to prove it!
Now, I’m not a doctor, but the studies for each of those diets seem equally valid, even though they’re diametrically opposed. Cordell agrees that either of those diets, or anything in-between, can work for people. Cordell says that it doesn’t really matter what the results of all the new studies are—you have to choose a way of eating that works for you and that you can keep up for the rest of your life. Almost any diet can prove some kind of weight loss, but those studies don’t reveal the fact that to keep the weight off, you have to eat healthily forever.
And weight loss isn’t always the answer.
I know from experience that weight is not the primary factor of healthiness. When I was 275 pounds, all my bloodwork was good: low blood pressure, low cholesterol, good everything. Now, I didn’t feel good at that weight, but I was technically fine.
We’ve been trained to think of “fat” as “bad,” and you can’t reverse a lifetime of thinking in a couple of years of blog posts.
But when you’re heavy, the first thing a doctor tells you is “lose weight.” This has happened to me—when I weighed a lot less—and to many others. When I last went to the doctor, she said, “Eat 1,200 calories a day. You can eat up to 1,500, but try to keep it closer to 1,200.”
Now, this is bad for a few reasons: One, I’m a fat lady in her 30s. Do you think I’ve never tried dieting before? Have I lived under some fat-blocking rock for the last three decades and suddenly emerged as my unpleasantly plump self? No. I’ve tried lots of diets, my friend.
Also, if you have a bad history with obsession and weight, there’s no better way to trigger that than having a doctor tell you to starve yourself. (Also, this doctor was my same weight and said how she “felt sorry for Harvey Weinstein” after all the allegations came out. Just to paint a clearer picture of my hell.)
My little story is just one of many, but if the body-positive movement can help bigger people not get immediately brushed off by every doctor, that would be a huge victory in and of itself. I’m not saying doctors shouldn’t mention weight. But when weight loss is the only answer they give, that’s a problem.
Also, doctors should always approach weight with empathy: Ask the patient if they have a history of eating disorders. Ask them why they want to lose weight and why they’ve had trouble in the past. Then work with them to find an eating plan that the patient might actually stick to.
People can be overweight and healthy. Chastain just completed the Life Time Tri, a mini-triathlon. Now, can people be obese and healthy? I don’t know. But what’s better? Someone who’s able to live an active life at a heavy weight or someone slightly smaller who devotes all their mental energy to dieting? I know there are shades between those extremes, but believe me, if you’re trying to go from obese to a normal BMI, it’s very hard to keep obsession from kicking in.
I’ve had mixed feelings about the body-positivity movement, but I’ve become more positive for body positivity than I would have thought. To me, they’re asking that we end the cycle of obsessing over our bodies. Sure, some proponents of this movement go too far and claim that people who lose weight are traitors. But most advocate just appreciating yourself as you are, and that means being OK with wanting to lose weight or being OK with staying heavy.
Still, there aren’t a lot of winners here. Most people are stuck in this weird limbo between fatphobia and body positivity. Model Ashley Graham got criticized for losing weight but also got crap for “promoting obesity” when she was on the cover of Sports Illustrated. People who try to slim down get lots of positive attention when they start to lose, but if they lose too much, the folks around them start saying things like, “Are you sick?” or “You’re getting too skinny. It’s not healthy.” You can never win.
And you want to know the really sad thing? When I see people like FatGirlFlow and Ragen Chastain, a part of me applauds them for their self-acceptance. But also? A little voice always says, “Yeah, but if she just tried a little harder…”
Amber Petty is a freelance writer in Los Angeles. If you like easy crafts and Simpsons gifs, check out her blog, Half-Assed Crafts.
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thoughtsfromparis · 7 years
Text
Allison and D.J. Fix Your Stupid Problems About Your Look
Everyone wants to love what they see staring back in the mirror. And, I’m not referring to that inner-beauty nonsense that isn’t real. Well, inner beauty can be real, I guess. But your outer beauty is always being evaluated. Mostly by you. And I’d bet, if you’re like near everyone else on the planet, that you focus on the imperfections. When we check out our crooked nose or thinning hairline, it’s a reminder that not only are we imperfect, but we’re imperfect and aging. Those are two very heavy trips, dig? So, we asked for your questions about how to cope with said imperfections. Allison Arnone and I did our best to lighten your load. Read on, where we help you co-exist with your warts and all. (Oliver Cromwell reference, sucka!)
I hate the bump on my nose and wish I didn’t have “white girl butt.” Should I get them fixed or just deal?” – Jen
Allison – When I was in Jr. High, I decided I hated my nose.  It’s a ‘family’ nose; I come from a long line of folks on my mom’s side who don’t exactly have cute little pug snouts and instead have pretty substantial schnozes.  I never wanted a Sweet 16 party (believe it or not I don’t like that kind of attention) (no, seriously) so I half-jokingly asked my parents for a nose job instead.  They always laughed it off, and guess what?  I got older, and I stopped caring.  My nose is fine.  It’s fine!  It’s not adorable or cute or little and it’s certainly not perfect but when I see my other family members rocking similar honkers, I’m glad I didn’t fix mine.
So, yeah. I’m willing to bet that bump on your nose is more of a tiny speed bump that only you notice and no one else – so I say leave it.
As for the butt?  Yeah, I have that problem, too.  I don’t know, guess you could do squats?  Wear butt pads?  Get that surgery that all the Kardashians have but deny having?
D.J. – Hi Jen. Here’s the thing about certain body parts – you literally never see them. I believe it’s the reason why so many women have horrible back tattoos. I’ve dated 27 women with horrible back tattoos and I always go, “That’s a horrible back tattoo.” And they go, “Yeah, I know. I should get it fixed or lasered off.” But they never do. Why? Because they never see it. Out of sight, out of mind.
But you have to stare at your nose bump for the rest of your life, every morning while applying foundation. You can’t escape it. And it’s going to piss you off every morning. Life is hard enough. Get the bump fixed, but not for vanity or sexiness – but because it makes you feel crappy and feeling crappy is not a great way to start the day.
As for your butt being “white girl” I’m assuming you wish it were bigger. Let me quell your fear. I have never heard a man say, “Ugh, my old lady’s fanny’s too small!” Not once. But (pardon the pun) we do complain if it’s too big. Less is more.
My husband and I have a great/healthy relationship, but he always “jokes” about how I should get breast implants. I’ve had a relatively flat chest my whole life and clearly it wasn’t a deal breaker for him, but should I consider surprising him and getting them?? -A-Cup
Allison – Do YOU want breast implants?  Feminist rant time: we’re currently living in a world where a bunch of men are trying to make decisions about women’s bodies.  Cool!  Personally, I have this crazy little rule where I only do things as it relates to my own body/mind if *I* want to.  You want to go from a 32A to a 34DD?  Go right ahead!  But do it because you want to join the Big Titty Commitee and not because your hubs “jokingly” pressured you to.  Also, have you “jokingly” let him know about all the penile enlargement procedures that are out these days?  Haha, what fun jokes!
D.J. –  Your husband sounds like a true delight. Joking about a woman’s breast size is a universal no-no. It would reduce even the most confident feminist to a pile of tears. I’ve dated As to DDs. Real and fake. And you know what? None of it really matters. If you’d feel better with giant bombs, go ahead. Or just tell your husband that joking about your cans isn’t cool. I’d suggest you make fun of his physique but I’m sure he’s already got six pack abs and a massive wang.
I look too much like my parents, who are toxic and whom I’ve recently cut out of my life. – Tits McGee
Allison – Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiikes.  I’m sorry you have a bad relationship with your parents, but hopefully it’s not to the point where you want to full-on alter your appearance.  But if you DO, I suggest using whatever surgeon the Kardashian family uses, since they all did a good job of obtaining brand new faces that don’t even remotely resemble the ones they were born with.  (I’m aware I’ve mentioned the Kardashian family twice already, but… #relevant)
D.J. –  Okay, but Ms. McGee, were your parents attractive? Because if Brad and Angelina’s oldest emancipated, that kid would still look like Brad and Angelina. Which is not the worst lot in life. Now, if your parents had unfortunate jawlines and asymmetrical eye heights, then you should probably get on that face transplant list. You usually have to be attacked by a rabid monkey to qualify, but if you’re ugly enough, you might already look like that. Get a new face is what I’m saying.
I want (need) to lose weight, but I don’t want to diet. Or exercise. HALP -Dee
Allison – Girl, same.
D.J. –  Easy – cut out sugar and grain. The weight will peel off within days. And let’s face it, you’ve eaten enough bread and Skittles for a lifetime. Oh, and you should sell your car and run everywhere. Now, I know you said no exercise. But if you don’t have a car, running seven miles to the Piggly Wiggly is just called “getting groceries.” It’s a brain trick, yo!
I have always been overweight and I think it makes me look hideous -Monica
Allison- This makes me sad.  If you’re truly unhappy, make some changes.  I wrote a blog post about this (click HERE if you want to read) where I talked about changing the things in your life that you actually DO have control over, since there are so many things we actually can’t control.  One of those things?  If you’re truly unhappy with your body, you can eat better and exercise.  I certainly don’t think it’s easy – in fact I know it can be very hard – but it is doable, especially when you’re ready, willing and motivated.  Good luck!  And don’t be so hard on yourself!
D.J. –  Chicks have it tough with their bodies. Us guys can lose weight easily just by cutting calories and hitting the gym. You birds have all sorts of hormones that screw with water retention, fat storage, and metabolism. So, at the end of the day, there’s probably not a ton (pun INTENDED) you can do about your weight. Might just be genetics. Now, here’s the good news – your mind really only cares about effort. If you bust your ass in the gym six days of seven and say no to the office danishes, you’re going to feel awesome. Because you did something hard. Just keep doing hard things, and let the physical chips fall where they may. You’ll be happy regardless.
I have a cowlick just to the left of center at my hairline. It has been tormenting me my entire life. It is a wild, untamed beast. IT MUST BE STOPPED. What would you do? – Alyssa
Allison – I, too, have a cowlick right where I part my hair on the left.  I once cut bangs and it was glaringly obvious that I had rogue hairs that would NEVER be tamed and go where I wanted them to go, so I quickly grew the bangs out.  Now?  I just kind of deal with it because these are very scary times we’re currently living in and cowlicks should be the least of our problems.  Also, whenever I picture an actual cow licking someone’s face I laugh because that’s kind of adorable.
D.J. –  Since I only made it through two years of Harvard Medical School, and I never got to the cowlick lecture, I’m not wildly qualified to answer this question. But, from Catholic high school I learned that God can fix just about anything with miracles. But he never did much with hairlines, from what I read. Moses, however, did part the seas for the Jews. And all he did was ask God for a little help. So, I’m guessing God can part your hair correctly. So throw your hands high to the heavens and ask that HE answers your prayer. Report back. Bonus tip – God responds well to flattery so maybe start with a compliment about his booming voice and how it’s really sexy sounding.
In the new year, I am trying to (surprise, surprise) lose weight. I also am trying to date more. That is where the problem lies! How can you be healthy while dating? So far, I told one guy on a first date and he did everything to sabotage me and I couldn’t lay the law down because I am trying to be nice… TRYING… Lol. That didn’t last. I definitely don’t want to be a cliche “I’m on a diet girl” when dating… Help! -F
Allison – Ugh.  Men want us to be all cute and skinny but they ALSO want us to gorge on chicken wings and pizza with them.  MAKE UP YOUR MIND, BOYS!  I think there’s a happy medium here.  Go on a first date and get a couple of drinks (nothing too sugary or high in calories) and if you DO get food, don’t completely go batshit and eat something terrible.  You don’t have to eat a plate of kale but you also don’t have to split sky-high nachos, either. Keep in mind there’s also something called “living a little” and “cheat days” so don’t go too nuts if you’re putting in work the rest of the week.  Good luck!  (with both the dieting and the dating, cause they both suck.)
D.J. –  Am I the only guy that loves it when you take a date to the best steakhouse in town and she only nibbles at her petite filet? You know why that’s sexy? Because I know she wants to wolf it down like a pig, but she’s showing restraint. That’s attractive. Ooh, but here’s the pitfall of that strategy – don’t leave 95% of the steak for the busboys. Tell the date, “I’m eating this tomorrow” and get a take-home bag. Nothing pisses us off more than when I woman orders a $75 ribeye and then leaves it. So, as long as you’re willing to walk around the rest of the night with a smelly piece of rotting steak in your Kate Spade clutch, you’ll have an awesome breakfast the next day.
Do guys really notice small things like eyebrows and nails?? -Fran
Allison – I’m not a guy so I’ll let D.J.  take this one.  But if I had to answer I’d say, “who gives a shit?”
D.J. – Not only do I not notice such things, I don’t even notice eye color. I’m not kidding. I’ve had many long term relationships and I’m not confident which of them had brown eyes or green. In fact I just had to double check my own. They’re blue.
Nails? I’ve never once thought of a woman’s nails. Neither has any man. Just don’t get too weird with it where you’re painting each one with a stenciled design and when you look at them all together it spells your name or something.
What is the best way to make sure I don’t have resting double chin face while in public? -Double Chin City
Allison – Hope you have an Amazon Prime account cause this bad boy is designed to take that double chin and transform it to the single variety.  And it’s not weird looking at all.
D.J. –  I have a far more simple solution. You know how photographers always shoot you from above your head facing downward to eliminate double chins in pictures? Simply make sure that all the people you hang with are taller than you. Sure, it might mean getting a new set of friends, but hey, the current batch probably weren’t all that great to begin with. What was their solution to your double chin? Probably nothing! Ditch ‘em and find better, taller people.. Your new friends will never even see your chins!
How do I make myself look more like the “Wendy” from the Wendy’s logo, and not like my dad, Dave Thomas, in a wig? -Wendy Thomas
Allison – Just so I’m clear, you want to be a young freckle-faced redheaded girl with pigtails?  I’m sure that can be arranged, but I personally think Dave Thomas is a stud. (RIP)
Ooh, I like the way you work that spatula, Mr. Thomas.
D.J. – I’m hoping that you’re not more that seven years old, Wendy. If you’re an adult I’m sending the men with the white coats to come pay you a visit. It’s for your own good.
What is the best way to hide my wobbly bits during sex? – Anonymous
Allison – Two words: lights. off.  Always.
D.J. – Reverse cowgirl, duh.
https://thoughtsfromparis.com/wp-content/uploads/dave-thomas-wendys.jpg
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