feminist-space:

asherofwinterfell:

Big Fat Deal: The Big Ballet is a troupe of dancers from Russia who weigh a minimum of 220 pounds each.

Because the ballet tag features too many people of only one body type.  Let’s not pretend you need to be a certain weight to be able to perform fouetté en tournant.

Pointe!

omg. this is glorious.

(Source: catofwinterfell, via tobey)

my mom married into big people.

meaning, she’s always been petite. my father and i are very… not petite. at all. 

during college, i really didn’t care about my wardrobe and now that i’ve graduated and moved back home, it’s become a serious topic of concern for her. now, i dont mind stuff like getting new clothes for church or new clothes in general, but it’s all about… the size of what i’m wearing. for example, she told me not to wear leggings to church because i’m “not a fan of long shirts”. now, my shirts always come at least to the top of my behind because that’s how i’m comfortable… so what this translates to (in my mind) is “your ass is huge and gross, cover that all the way up”. 

anddddd when she came home the other night, i had on boxers. i was doing laundry, why not? she goes “what are you wearing? hmmph. something that’s too small for you.”

I’M IN THE HOUSE. DOING LAUNDRY. WHAT?

idk. i can understand (sorta), but i really just feel like she’s trying to put her views of my body onto me. at 22 years old, i’m finally starting to get comfortable with my body and its size and proportions. why, when i’m finally okay with not wearing all baggy clothes? i think i can wear things that fit and not feel like i’m a horrible person…

so, i’m sick. probably tonsillitis or strep throat. the main point is, it hurts like fuck to swallow anything. so, of course, my body has been trying to avoid swallowing (which i realized when i woke up on a drool-covered pillow — fun!). anyway, i haven’t had an appetite at all and today i passed a mirror and i thought…

what if this kept up for a week or two and i dropped some weight?

and then i went and weighed myself. and felt slightly proud because i was down about 15 pounds lighter than the last time i weighed myself.

…wow. 

i’m in pain and sick and my thoughts automatically jump to if it’ll make me skinnier. that’s such a problem. 

and i know it’s not just me… my father is my best friend and my hero, but i know he’s super self-conscious about his weight, too. he stopped me a few days ago and asked “does my weight make me look grotesque?” and i wanted to cry because he’s 48 and he’s the strongest person i know and the most loveable and the most confident and he’s worried if people think he looks grotesque. it’s heartbreaking that as much as we (he and i) do and accomplish and see, we’re always worried about being too big. 

yesterday, i found out that i gained 10 pounds or so. this puts me at…. well, let’s just say i weigh more than a good number of professional football players. today, it was a TINY bit warmer earlier, so i wore my oversized deep purple sweater, black leggings, and black Timberland boots. as i’m headed home (also wearing a thermal-lined hoodie and scarf, so i’m kinda padded by now), this random guy yells out to me, “YOU HAVE A GREAT BODY, MA.”

HELL YEAH

FUCKIN RIGHT