a Minute Scene

I mean, raise your hand if you’re fat and you’ve ever been disrespected while innocently exercising. Um, me too.

Don’t know what we’re talking about? Close your eyes and imagine our fat woman du jour, smiling while standing next to an elliptical machine. Or maybe she’s gleefully jogging through a random park, bundled up in unnecessarily bulky sweatshirts and baggin, saggin’ sweatpants.

But quick- what’s left out of these shots? How about the other gym patrons, who are usually quick to rudely ogle and/or offer unsolicited advice to our fat heroine. Also left out of the spotlight? The passerby who decides that it’s appropriate to cat-call our heroine while she finishes her jog in the park. On a regular basis, fat athletes are mocked, discriminated, and emotionally assaulted.

So what’s the deal? Are fat women supposed to be grateful for the opportunity to be disrespected? Nah, I don’t think so. Instead of waiting around for the rest of the world get with the program, I’m just going to continue embodying the worst living nightmare of fat shamers and haters.

I will continue to wear sport bras (like this very comfortable and functional little number from Catherine’s) while exercising outdoors. I will continue to show my stretch marks. I will continue to wear cute, form fitting leggings that show off my curves. I shouldn’t have to hide my body because it makes other people uncomfortable.

Furthermore, I don’t need weight loss as a goal in order to enjoy a healthy and fulfilling lifestyle. Wellness isn’t about body size- it’s simply  a commitment to being  a happy and joyful creature, both inside and out. So even when the gym patrons gawk and passerby cat call, I resolve to decline the opportunity to be disrespected. I’m gonna hold my head high and know that I don’t need the approval of people who hate happiness and want to breed negativity. Everything I need in order to be happy and healthy is inside of me.

Photos by my love @alliemullin

“The fate of the world is in your hands.”

august was every feeling i ever tried to name, even when i wanted to say savagery, wildness / despair? august was every promise i ever made to myself, but i broke them all for you again.

sometimes through a grimy window i’d try to see some piece of you that didn’t try to run itself down. sometimes, even your afterimage wasn’t waiting for a miracle anymore. and i know: maybe i hurt everything i try to become. maybe i wasted my summer falling in love with things i couldn’t have.

texting your ex

erasable pens

plastic knives