30 April 2012
23 April 2012
20 April 2012
Angry (Again), Or Insert An Original Title HERE
You know, I really like Victoria's Secret bras, particularly the Wear Everywhere demis and push-ups ... so comfortable and affordable, now that I know the right size (turns out I am a C cup; bigger than I thought. Given the family I come from, all I can think is, Where did these breasts come from???)
But I digress...
What I don't like are the ads for these and other bras. I mean, come on, is it really necessary to sell bras using pouty, over-sexualized prepubescent females? Am I really going to run to my nearest VS store to buy the bras that I now need because it looks sexy on a woman? I mean, maybe if I was into women...and a pedophile, given the looks of some of these models. And VS isn't even the worse from what I've seen.
There was a time that my self-worth was tied up into how sexy men found me. If they didn't find me sexy and attractive, then ergo, I was not worthy; I was washed-up, I let myself go, I was ugly.
The ultimate sin in our society—to be ugly. Not to be stupid. Or unkind. Or stingy. Or....
And of course, who defines ugly? One person's ugly could be another person's beautiful. Why did society settle on a tall, prepubescent, blonde, white-with-blue-eyes-big-tits (but not too big) and totally flat stomach as the idea? I'm betting 99.9 percent of us do not fit this idea. Short.older.brunette.brown eyes.small boobs.a round stomach...(Although I do have blue eyes. But that doesn't negate my point.)
I could go on, but why bother?
I could say what started me on this rant was the fact I had to go out and buy bras, and by God, I don't look like the pouty model(s) staring blank-eye at me while trying to convince me to buy a bra that will make-me-two-cups-bigger! Or maybe it was the totally ridiculous perfume ads from the seventies, like the one for Love's Baby Soft that shows a Jon-Benet look-alike puckered up for the camera while clutching a teddy bear. Or perhaps it was the fact that I've finally started cleaning out my closet and was suddenly disgusted by my size-three anorexic clothes, because at one time it almost cost me my life to be that size and smaller, and what was the point of it all, anyway?
But the real truth is that I'm angry at being violated in December; angry that I can't say anything else, angry because one event has caused me to almost fall apart, to stay hidden in my house like I should be ashamed, dreading the moment when I must reveal to all the world (my world, at least) everything AND angry that I've allowed this to fester inside, while everything falls apart and my house hasn't been clean for months and ...
And the other day, my first thought was after I finish my thesis, I can go back to starving myself.
So this is for YOU—I will never go back to anorexia. Never. The.end.
(Are you happy, Dr. S? You asked me to do some personal writing, and this is what you get—a feminist rant. And I am done...for now.)
But I digress...
What I don't like are the ads for these and other bras. I mean, come on, is it really necessary to sell bras using pouty, over-sexualized prepubescent females? Am I really going to run to my nearest VS store to buy the bras that I now need because it looks sexy on a woman? I mean, maybe if I was into women...and a pedophile, given the looks of some of these models. And VS isn't even the worse from what I've seen.
There was a time that my self-worth was tied up into how sexy men found me. If they didn't find me sexy and attractive, then ergo, I was not worthy; I was washed-up, I let myself go, I was ugly.
The ultimate sin in our society—to be ugly. Not to be stupid. Or unkind. Or stingy. Or....
And of course, who defines ugly? One person's ugly could be another person's beautiful. Why did society settle on a tall, prepubescent, blonde, white-with-blue-eyes-big-tits (but not too big) and totally flat stomach as the idea? I'm betting 99.9 percent of us do not fit this idea. Short.older.brunette.brown eyes.small boobs.a round stomach...(Although I do have blue eyes. But that doesn't negate my point.)
I could go on, but why bother?
I could say what started me on this rant was the fact I had to go out and buy bras, and by God, I don't look like the pouty model(s) staring blank-eye at me while trying to convince me to buy a bra that will make-me-two-cups-bigger! Or maybe it was the totally ridiculous perfume ads from the seventies, like the one for Love's Baby Soft that shows a Jon-Benet look-alike puckered up for the camera while clutching a teddy bear. Or perhaps it was the fact that I've finally started cleaning out my closet and was suddenly disgusted by my size-three anorexic clothes, because at one time it almost cost me my life to be that size and smaller, and what was the point of it all, anyway?
But the real truth is that I'm angry at being violated in December; angry that I can't say anything else, angry because one event has caused me to almost fall apart, to stay hidden in my house like I should be ashamed, dreading the moment when I must reveal to all the world (my world, at least) everything AND angry that I've allowed this to fester inside, while everything falls apart and my house hasn't been clean for months and ...
And the other day, my first thought was after I finish my thesis, I can go back to starving myself.
So this is for YOU—I will never go back to anorexia. Never. The.end.
(Are you happy, Dr. S? You asked me to do some personal writing, and this is what you get—a feminist rant. And I am done...for now.)
02 April 2012
25 March 2012
Body Issues, or Puberty (Again)
Okay, I'll just come out and say it...I now have a figure.
Curves
A curvy stomach
Curvy thighs
Curvy hips
And...
Breasts!!!
I look down and think, "Where did those come from???"
The other day I had to shop for something I haven't needed for a long time.
Bras.
Ugh!
Or, maybe not.
It was like going through puberty all over again. First I had to figure out my bra size. When I figured out I had a D cup, I knew my calculations were wrong. I mean, I have breasts, but I don't have *breasts*. If you know what I mean.
So I recalculated and realized I had a B cup...I was right back into the size I was at sixteen, when I first develop these breasts.
Then I had to find a "comfortable bra" — two words that constitute an oxymoron, in my opinion. First I went with Victoria's Secret yoga bra, figure it was close to my beloved - and oh so comfortable - camisoles.
But I couldn't wear these bras with a lot of things because of the way the shape curves up. I knew I needed a "real bra." One with underwire and hooks and shaped cups.
First I dug out some old ones that were in the size I *finally* figured out I wear, but these were padded and for some odd reason, the padded ones were too big in the cup. My cup didn't runneth over, but instead ran too small.
Then I headed for the local Kohl's, where I almost went into sticker-shock. Can anyone tell me why a piece of clothing that goes *under* my regular clothes can cost more than my regular clothes? This wouldn't be because we live in a male-dominanted society that still seeks to disenfranchise women, would it? I mean, men have it all wrapped up — they don't have to be expensive undergarments and they don't have to buy tampons or napkins every single month until they hit fifty or so.
I tried on some of the less-expensive makes, refusing to even consider spending fifty dollars for what basically amounts to a glorified bikini top...and while I'm on the subject, who decided to start selling swimwear in two or more separate pieces? What's next — selling a coat and its hood separate? A shirt and its buttons separate? (Don't get any ideas, retail!)
I was gratified to actually find a bra that I can wear all day and not feel like I'm going to die of suffocation. So here's my bra recommendation, for what it's worth: Barely There by Hanes. Most.comfortable.bra.I've.ever.worn.
Pluses: bras are prettier than camisoles (who knew that there were so many different colors for bras?) and my figure is pretty darn good (I actually feel sexier than I have for years! Now if I could find someone to appreciate all this sexiness...)
On a totally random and unrelated note: I've finished reading Unorthodox:The Scandalous Rejection of My Hasidic Roots and started reading The Hunger Games.
Unorthodox was a good read about a woman who fought against a repressive and misogynistic religious sect — and before anyone calls me an anti-Semite, I would have written the same thing about books that depict fundamentalism and misogyny in any form; i.e. FLDS or strict Southern Baptist. I grew up in the Southern Baptist Church, and they preached that it was a sin for a. girls to wear slacks and b. anybody to do anything that remotely made them happy. We used to watch films about hellfire and damnation, and it was the principle reason why I still struggle to not be afraid of God. Read Unorthodox before you judge me or Deborah Feldman.
The Hunger Games is interesting, yet depressing. I didn't really need another thing to depress me, but I'm too far into the book now to stop. I also bought The Covenant by James Michener the other day, and plan to re-read it soon. I love that book! Anyone interested in historical fiction and the history of South Africa and apartheid should read it.
Finally, I finished reading - yet again! - Black Like Me. I highly recommend it. (Read my review of it on Amazon or at Goodreads. Or just scroll down and read my review on the right of this blog.)
Curves
A curvy stomach
Curvy thighs
Curvy hips
And...
Breasts!!!
I look down and think, "Where did those come from???"
The other day I had to shop for something I haven't needed for a long time.
Bras.
Ugh!
Or, maybe not.
It was like going through puberty all over again. First I had to figure out my bra size. When I figured out I had a D cup, I knew my calculations were wrong. I mean, I have breasts, but I don't have *breasts*. If you know what I mean.
So I recalculated and realized I had a B cup...I was right back into the size I was at sixteen, when I first develop these breasts.
Then I had to find a "comfortable bra" — two words that constitute an oxymoron, in my opinion. First I went with Victoria's Secret yoga bra, figure it was close to my beloved - and oh so comfortable - camisoles.
But I couldn't wear these bras with a lot of things because of the way the shape curves up. I knew I needed a "real bra." One with underwire and hooks and shaped cups.
First I dug out some old ones that were in the size I *finally* figured out I wear, but these were padded and for some odd reason, the padded ones were too big in the cup. My cup didn't runneth over, but instead ran too small.
Then I headed for the local Kohl's, where I almost went into sticker-shock. Can anyone tell me why a piece of clothing that goes *under* my regular clothes can cost more than my regular clothes? This wouldn't be because we live in a male-dominanted society that still seeks to disenfranchise women, would it? I mean, men have it all wrapped up — they don't have to be expensive undergarments and they don't have to buy tampons or napkins every single month until they hit fifty or so.
I tried on some of the less-expensive makes, refusing to even consider spending fifty dollars for what basically amounts to a glorified bikini top...and while I'm on the subject, who decided to start selling swimwear in two or more separate pieces? What's next — selling a coat and its hood separate? A shirt and its buttons separate? (Don't get any ideas, retail!)
I was gratified to actually find a bra that I can wear all day and not feel like I'm going to die of suffocation. So here's my bra recommendation, for what it's worth: Barely There by Hanes. Most.comfortable.bra.I've.ever.worn.
Pluses: bras are prettier than camisoles (who knew that there were so many different colors for bras?) and my figure is pretty darn good (I actually feel sexier than I have for years! Now if I could find someone to appreciate all this sexiness...)
On a totally random and unrelated note: I've finished reading Unorthodox:The Scandalous Rejection of My Hasidic Roots and started reading The Hunger Games.
Unorthodox was a good read about a woman who fought against a repressive and misogynistic religious sect — and before anyone calls me an anti-Semite, I would have written the same thing about books that depict fundamentalism and misogyny in any form; i.e. FLDS or strict Southern Baptist. I grew up in the Southern Baptist Church, and they preached that it was a sin for a. girls to wear slacks and b. anybody to do anything that remotely made them happy. We used to watch films about hellfire and damnation, and it was the principle reason why I still struggle to not be afraid of God. Read Unorthodox before you judge me or Deborah Feldman.
The Hunger Games is interesting, yet depressing. I didn't really need another thing to depress me, but I'm too far into the book now to stop. I also bought The Covenant by James Michener the other day, and plan to re-read it soon. I love that book! Anyone interested in historical fiction and the history of South Africa and apartheid should read it.
Finally, I finished reading - yet again! - Black Like Me. I highly recommend it. (Read my review of it on Amazon or at Goodreads. Or just scroll down and read my review on the right of this blog.)
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