Are you a Kitteh? or are you a Bloomer?
Which blog do you follow?

So earlier today I was scrolling through Facebook trying to just pass the time not take too much energy to really just be and I stumbled upon something that made my blood just boil. Now, normally, I would just ignore links that I happen to see, but this one, this one really just happened to catch my eye. And for those of you who see the pictures, you might be able to take a guess as to what this is gonna be about, but please, let me continue.

Above are pictures of myself. I put them in black and white to high light the shadows for one purpose and one purpose only- too highlight the shadows. I can classify as barely 5’3 and I weigh over 140 pounds (I think, It has been a while since I have stepped on a scale). Now, some people say that’s not too bad. I can say the same because I remember a time when I was small enough I could slide into size zero jeans and wish to be smaller. Let me reiterate something: SMALLER. Thinner. tinier. Why oh why some of you might ask? Because I saw some things and felt fat. I saw some things, and I felt obese. I saw things on every day Television, Magazines, and Internet that made me feel absolutely disgusted with myself. I hated the person I saw in the mirror, because I didn’t see a person. I saw a thing covered in fat, when I really wasn’t. I went days without eating breakfast, or lunch, just one meal a day. Dinner. And even then I tried not to eat much. It was ridiculous. I remember going shopping as time passed and wanting to cry because my size zero turned into a two, then a four, then a six. I would cringe as I would shop getting scrutinizing looks from girls who were less than half my size as I pulled a medium off the rack. I wasn’t beautiful. I was disgusting.

Now looking back, I see what I had fallen into. A trap posed by modern media to produce more girls that bought into their propaganda. Beauty was only skin deep to them. Well, it still is to the modern media. So now I’m here, typing to all of you and expressing my deepest concern, and utmost revulsion to what utter bullshit fills magazine pages and plagues television and internet sites. Cosmo recently released a picture of a model, a teaser to what bathing suits are to come (Or possibly passed, I’m not sure at this point). That’s perfectly fine. The girl was beautiful, drop dead gorgeous. She, unlike some modern Hollywood famers, looked Healthy. I think that was what originally caught my appeal to the picture. Then Cosmo’s comment destroyed my faith and belief in near everything as to what the Fashion World stands for. This young woman, who was one hundred percent beautiful, was now considered a plus size. Sorry folks, looks like she and I could wear the same size easily. So tell me, does that me a plus size now too?

I have a friend, she is beautiful and has made it her goal to become a plus size model. She’s beautiful. She works her ass off too, just like many plus size models today. So when I hear people say that being a “Plus Size” is easy, it takes every fiber of my being to not punch them in the face. Tyra Banks, a world renown model, has even said that she has even tried working out with some of her plus sized coworkers and they work harder than she does. I find myself going back and thinking about getting back into modeling, but today, the fashion industry tends to frown on girls eating anything other than salads and dietary pills attached to that miracle water (which did nothing more than make me have to urinate more). I look in the mirror and see a girl, a human being, that struggles still with her self image because she has a little pooch that just won’t go away. She see stretch marks and the scars of a hard life. She sees the bags under her eyes. She sees the fat. She sees everything that’s ugly when everyone around her sees the beautiful. Yep. That’s me. And even though I try to hide it, I do sometimes struggle with the fact that I’m not back in a size two. (Two months with no Mcdonalds and I’ll be there, but dollar burgers seem to be a best friend to a girl who gets tired of ramen noodles.)

So girls, if you’re reading this. I want you to know you are beautiful. We are all beautiful. Those bags under your eyes cause you’re pulling grave yard shifts to support your family. They’re beautiful. Those scars that mar your skin, they’re proof that you run deeper than your own skin, and so does your beauty. The stretch marks you got cause you’re a little “chubby” or you had a baby, girl they are BEAUTIFUL. Do not, I beg of you, feel unpretty or not beautiful by any means because some ass hole of a writer decided to “redefine” plus size. If a man can’t handle your curves honey, kick his ass to the curb and love a man that can and will love you for all that you are. If society can handle your curves, tell them to hit the highway because they can’t seem to appreciate the scenic route. We are beautiful. No shortcuts, no lies, no photo shop. We are all beautiful. So keep that in mind next time you don’t want to go shopping. Keep that in mind as you scroll pass advertisements for clothing shops that don’t offer your size. Keep that in mind the next time some insensitive jerk calls you a fat ass or tells you you need to lose weight. Keep that in mind, because I think your beautiful. I think you’re fucking perfect.


Oh and below are links to Huffington Post’s review over what H&M said was “Plus Size” and then a link to some of the hottest plus size models out there today, because Plus is NEVER a bad thing.

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