‘Fat’ is usually the first insult a girl throws at another girl when she wants to hurt her.
I mean, is ‘fat’ really the worst thing a human being can be? Is ‘fat’ worse than ‘vindictive’, ‘jealous’, ‘shallow’, ‘vain’, ‘boring’ or ‘cruel’? Not to me; but then, you might retort, what do I know about the pressure to be skinny? I’m not in the business of being judged on my looks, what with being a writer and earning my living by using my brain…
I went to the British Book Awards that evening. After the award ceremony I bumped into a woman I hadn’t seen for nearly three years. The first thing she said to me? ‘You’ve lost a lot of weight since the last time I saw you!’
‘Well,’ I said, slightly nonplussed, ‘the last time you saw me I’d just had a baby.’
What I felt like saying was, ‘I’ve produced my third child and my sixth novel since I last saw you. Aren’t either of those things more important, more interesting, than my size?’ But no – my waist looked smaller! Forget the kid and the book: finally, something to celebrate!
I’ve got two daughters who will have to make their way in this skinny-obsessed world, and it worries me, because I don’t want them to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones; I’d rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny – a thousand things, before ‘thin’. And frankly, I’d rather they didn’t give a gust of stinking chihuahua flatulence whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier knees than they do. Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons.
“Everyone who terrifies you is sixty five percent water. And everyone you love is made of stardust, and I know sometimes you can’t even breathe deeply, and the night sky is no home, and you have cried yourself to sleep enough times that you are down to your last two percent, but nothing is infinite, not even loss. You are made of the sea and the stars, and one day you are going to find yourself again. ~Finn Butler”—(via daniellelikesart)
Were I not frail and half broken inside, I wouldn’t be thinking of them, who are, like me, half broken inside. I would not climb the cemetery hill by the church To get rid of my self pity. Crazy Sophies, Michaels who lost every battle, Self-destructive Agathas Lie under crosses with their dates of…
The United States government does the closest thing it does anymore to declaring war on another nation - effectively saying that it’s going to start bombing Syria for allegedly bombing itself - and all the press is talking about is a former child star’s corporate-planned sexualized meltdown on national television involving pedophilic teddy bears and PR-planned crotch grabs.
The Romans had bread and circuses. We have twerks and Cyruses.
It’s impossible to unhear the negative and difficult to accept the positive.
Please don’t let one person’s disappointment outweigh the thousand who are proud to have supported the project. I, for one (and I know I don’t stand alone), believe that in all aspects, it was worth it.