Lead on, oh Kinky Turtle

And now I’m following like 3 Josh Hutcherson blogs and I don’t know what’s happened to my life. 

like, whyyyyyy do i have to feel this way right now.

i don’t know what to do with all these pent up feelings.

i seriously just want to flip tables and break shit with a hammer. 

For the first time, even though I’ve been learning and blogging and becoming more aware ofjust how racist this country is, and how dangerous it is to exist while Black/Brown for awhile now, it’s really hit me that they aren’t safe. My nephew is 9-years-old now. In just a few short years, he could be Trayvon Martin. And I’m terrified because I know my sister isn’t preparing them—she’s not getting them ready for the warzone they’re gonna have to live in because our family is white—we never had to be sat down by our parents and have it explained to us to be afraid of cops, to be careful around cops, to be aware of where we are because our skin color makes us a target.

But even beyond this, beyond my own personal investment and pain and fear when it comes to what happened to Trayvon Martin, I know that it is nothing compared to the pain and fears of PoC who have to send their children out in this world every day, knowing that they could be dead with no one batting a fucking eye about it by the end of the day. I know that it is nothing compared to the experiences of PoC who have lost children, fathers, mothers, cousins, friends—my sister and I are white, we’d probably get a modicum of sympathy or justice if anything happened to my nieces and nephew (and I’d bet fucking money that no bitch-ass reporter would make a fucking joke about my dead nephew eating chicken to my white face).

But for Black families, nope—none, not a fucking ounce of justice from the White Supremacist system that basically tells them that their children aren’t worth the time, the sympathy, the empathy, the tears. With countless white motherfuckers around them trying to rationalize and make it like this is just the isolated actions of one racist motherfucker. When the reality is that we, as white people, are all complicit in letting this happen. We let it happen, do you understand? 

White people, we all have Trayvon Martin’s (and countless others’) blood on our hands.

on some real shit, i haven’t had sex in like…a long time. like, i’m in a long distance relationship. the sex is on phone/skype. and it’s good, really good; i gots me a more fulfilling sex life than some folks i know who have close-quarters relationships. but semester started and shit and we have jobs and class and friends and lives and shit and so the sex just hasn’t happened for awhile.

i need it to tho, for real. because this bitch gets sad and angry when the sex doesn’t happen. 

legit. sexy times. hopefully soon. or i will cry. 

• Being by mahself.
• Watching You Deserve a Drink and playing the built in drinking game. I’m two episodes in (on top of two previous glasses of wine) and I am feeeeeelin it.
• Orderin dominos cause bitches be tipsy as shit and touching an oven is out of the question.
• Cinnastix, ya’ll. For real. 
• Mamrie Hart is my patronus.

I know it’s the beginning of the new year and you’re trying to capitalize on the hundreds of people who have vowed to lose weight in the coming 365 days. But I have a few major problems with this commercial.

And before I get my rant on, I just want to say that I am in no way trying to invalidate any person’s feelings of strength, happiness or accomplishment; if you lost weight and it’s what you wanted and you’re happy about it then I am genuinely happy for you as well.

Losing weight would not make me a stronger person. I am not fat because I am weak. I am fat because I am fat. I am already strong. You wanna talk about strength? I spend every single day of my life living in a fat female body in a society that tells me that I am wrong, ugly, unhealthy, unsexy and nonsexual, gross, and disgusting. A society that treats bodies like mine like a joke, like huge inhuman masses that are worthy of nothing but derision. 

I weigh somewhere between 260-280. I have a very big, round, stretch-marked stomach, breasts that are small relative to my size, thick, fat thights and large, round shoulders. This is my body. I take up space, I have rolls.

Commercials like the Jennifer Hudson Weight Watchers commercial, with words like “strength” and “confidence” flying around her head, maintain that people with a body like mine do not lead fulfilling lives. That we avoid things like the beach or dance clubs or dating because our bodies are just so horrible and shameful. These commercials would have you believe that to have a truly fun and amazing life, you have to release the skinny person inside you! You have to WORK to be that thin person, otherwise you’ll be a fat sad person and life will pass you by.

And the saddest part about it is that so many people just swallow this fallacy right up. They believe that they can’t or shouldn’t have a happy beautiful life because their bodies don’t meet some ridiculous standard.

Well, Weight Watchers, this fat girl is here to say “fuck you”. I live with confidence and happiness every damn day. I’m lucky enough to have the confidence to ignore the daily shit saying my body is worthless, that I am worthless. I dance. I walk on the beach in a swimsuit. I create. I have good sex, all the time. I love and am loved. And I don’t need anyone to tell me that I’m sexy or pretty or gorgeous or worth it. I don’t need to take up less space to prove that I am strong.

I am fat. This is the body I live in and goddammit, I will love it every single day.