Fashion Failure

I am not a fashion expert. It is one of the things that I am very, very aware of. In fact, I am probably the opposite of a fashion expert - whatever that makes me! It is the one thing about my personality that has always made me feel like I was lacking in the feminine department. Because girls love clothes and shopping, right? And I hated both of those things. I wear clothes because I have to but I never really know what to wear.

Yesterday I was watching a programme and a moment happened where a dress was made for the female teenager and she was happy with the dress but the grandmother refused to accept her happiness because she was crying for joy. Adjustments were made but still no tears. So the girl explains how she doesn't know who she is or what clothes she likes or how to describe who she is but that she loves x, y, and z. The next time you see her open the clothes bag, she physically cries of happiness. Inside her grandmother has created a pant suit of perfection and it is exactly what the girl wanted.

I have never felt this way.

I wish I have. I see things on the clothing rails and I love them but they aren't me. I love clothes on other people too, and love when they look super comfortable and lovely in them too. Always wishing that I could feel that way too.

But I don't.

Last summer I brought some dresses and I really liked them. I wore them out and felt happy that I was wearing dresses for the first time in a very long time. But deep down, I didn't feel comfortable in them. I know that I looked nice and I liked how I looked in them but I didn't feel like they showed who I was.

And I think the biggest problem is that I don't know who I am. I don't know how to dress myself because I don't know what my style is. I wear jeans and hoodies the most because they make me feel comfortable but as I am growing older, I feel that soon I need to ditch the hoodies because I'm too old. But once they go, where do I go from there?

In all honesty, when shopping for clothes these days I mostly just look for things that fit and cover up my hideous skin and do my utmost best to find longer shirts to hid my "builder's bum" because I seem to have a horrible problem about keeping my trousers up. - I am someone who is almost always between sizes and belts help only so much.

So I'm hoping that one day inspiration will strike and I will know exactly what kind of clothes I want to wear.

But for now, I will cling to my jeans and my hoodies and hope that I don't age too quickly.

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Jeans, Jeans, Jeans

I hate clothes shopping. Like, really, really hate it. It’s one of those tasks that every girl is supposed to love so when I was growing up and I hated it, I felt alone, secluded and like something was very, very wrong with me. I, of course, know now that this is not the case but I definitely had an identity crisis as a teenager and just tried so hard to fit in by forcing myself to love clothes shopping but it just did not happen.

So when I got older and online clothes shopping arrived, I was extremely happy. I’d go click happy on the purchases and then return anything that didn’t fit. No going into thousands of shops and getting more and more deflated when more and more clothes did not fit right or look good or flow perfectly. Long gone were the days of feeling fat and the wrong shape all day. Walking home red-faced and empty-handed.

Or so I thought.

Recently my favourite pair of jeans that I wear mostly every day and have done for the last 5 - 7 years died. It was about time really but I was devastated but I put them to rest and opened up the webpage for the store I bought them from (and every other pair of jeans I own) and ordered a few pairs to be delivered to store.

They arrived the next day and I popped in happily and picked them up. They’d obviously fit as they were the exact size I always buy from this store. So it was a bit of a shock to find that, in fact, they didn’t fit. The first pair were a bit too baggy around the crotch and the second pair were fine at first but felt uncomfortable after a while and the third pair didn’t even have pockets! Annoyed, I returned them and decided to try again on a longer leg length.

Four new pairs later. Guess what happened?

All four pairs were called “Skinny” Jeans. I have always worn skinny jeans. I know what Skinny jeans are. These four pairs of jeans were all so tight I felt like my legs were struggling to breathe. I would have definitely advertised these as super skinny. So I do not even want to think about what their super skinny jeans do feel like!

Anyway. I returned all four jeans to the store and this time thought I’d have a look around and see if I could find any straight jeans that they were advertising on their “different styles” board. But no. No straight jeans. So with a sad little sigh I decided to put this store behind me and try another.

In the second store I was faced with the same issue. All the jeans were skinny. And I started to feel all that loathing I have for shopping creep in. I never shop the fashion style, never seem to like what everyone else does and now I’d be stuck wearing Jeans I felt uncomfortable in simply because the fashion world doesn’t care for the minority like me.

Fortunately in the third store I tried, hidden by the thousands of skinny jeans I found a pair called slim fit and in my size! After trying them on and finding they do in fact fit all over the leg. I ran back to rack and found another pair and bought them quickly!

Upon leaving the store and waiting for a bus, I couldn’t help noticing that everyone in jeans were more or less wearing skinny jeans and now I can’t help but wonder - are all their thighs screaming in pain too?

While this shopping trip was finally successful, I'm still not sure I'll be making a habit of going clothes shopping. I still hate the way clothes that don't fit make me feel fat and ugly and undesirable. So I really hope these jeans last a while so I don't need to go through that hell all over again. One day, maybe the world will realise that women come in all different shapes and sizes and we all like different styles, but sadly that day is not today.

And don't even get me started on the difference between jeans for women and jeans for men!

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Big and Beautiful?

I am a fat girl.

I haven’t always been a fat girl. As a teenager I fluctuated between a UK size ten and twelve, it was only when my agoraphobia developed and I started taking antidepressants that I began to pile on weight. At my largest I was a size 22 and as of right now I am a size 16-18. Since putting on weight I have never really been comfortable in my body and have felt that it is something that I should be ashamed of and try to hide. I’ve avoided the bright and fashionable clothes that I wanted to wear in favour of dark tunics that hide my figure, there are fashion trends that I haven’t tried because I didn’t feel like I could “get away with them” and there are jeans that I’ve bought in a smaller size to entice me to lose weight.

Big and beautiful are two words that you never see together in a sentence and this year I’ve been really challenging why that is. What is it about being a bigger woman that is so unacceptable in our society? After a lot of research and questioning it seems there are two main reasons society tells us that we cannot be both big and beautiful.

1.) Being fat is unhealthy 

2.) Fat people are unattractive

Last week I went to see my doctor for a check-up, he asked me to step on to the scales so that he could update my medical file with my current weight. Turns out in the last few months I’ve lost almost a stone. My doctor, a medical professional, praised me for this weight loss and told me to keep up the good work. He did not ask me how I had come to lose the weight and if he had I would have told him that it was through a month of barely eating anything because my anxiety and depression were so bad and because stress would make me physically sick every day. As far as my doctor was concerned this weight loss was good and healthy, but was it really?

There is a lot of misinformation out there saying that fat people are lazy, that we eat too much junk food and are unhealthy but I have come to learn that that isn’t always true. I can’t claim to have the heathiest lifestyle ever but I do eat well and I do exercise. I eat fruits and salad for breakfast and lunch, I don’t drink alcohol or caffeine and every day I exercise when I take my dog out for a walk or run. I am not unhealthy and I’m not the only person who is carrying some extra weight whilst still living a healthy lifestyle - check out Faye’s brilliant post on the subject here. Assuming that every single fat person is unhealthy is like assuming that every thin person has an eating disorder. Bodies come in all different shapes and sizes that aren’t necessarily influenced by lifestyle. So is being fat always linked to being unhealthy? I’m gonna have to say no.

Body shapes and sizes go in and out of trend as much as fashion. In the fifties society thought it desirable to have a fuller curvier figure like Marilyn Monroe. In the nineties a thin straight up and down frame came into fashion with the arrival of Kate Moss and now in 2016 women are paying money to have the curves in all the right places look that the Kardashians are so well known for. What this tells me is that the “perfect body” is always changing, so doesn’t that suggest that there isn’t one superior body type? That every size is perfect and has been celebrated at some point throughout history? Despite Marilyn, Kate and Kim having very different bodies they all have one thing in common: confidence. They have each stepped out into the limelight rocking their body shapes unapologetically. I think that the confidence in their own skin is what’s desired here, not the actual body type and that the two things often get confused. So are bigger ladies really unattractive? Again, I’m going to have to say no.

Upon realising that the reasons most commonly given on why big can’t be beautiful are totally false and inaccurate I took a long hard look at my own body in the mirror. It was like taking off this lense that we’re all conditioned to develop and for the first time I saw myself for who I truly am and I liked what I saw in the mirror. Before, if a stranger was to ask me how I would describe my body I would say "curvy" or "full figured" to try and soften the image of what my body looks like. The F word was big and ugly and undesirable and wrong. But now I am learning to reclaim what it means to be fat in the same way that homosexuals have reclaimed the word queer and made it into this word that they identify with and how nerdy people have shown that being a geek really just means being smart and passionate. I think it’s time that we did the same thing with the word fat. I’m reclaiming it as my own by being unapologetic about who I am showing that fat means confidence, fat means healthy, fat means happy. When being fat becomes reconditioned in your mind to mean all of these wonderful things instead of what society tells you it should mean it suddenly takes away the power that word has to hurt you and turns it into something beautiful.

This year I have been on a journey in coming to terms with who I am and loving all of me, not just the parts that society deems acceptable. I’ve learnt that it’s okay to love the parts of you that society says are not worthy of love. Flip them the bird and show them that a big butt looks awesome in jeans, that you can rock the latest trends no matter your size, show the fuckers that you are beautiful and most of all worthy of love, self-love, the best kind of love that there is.

I am big and I am beautiful and no matter your body type you are too.

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Sweating like a P.I.G

So newsflash; women sweat. I’m not talking the ladylike, flowery-scented, dewy perspiration that some arbitrary voice of societal authority deemed was acceptable for women, I’m talking the “shit-my-deodorant-has-totally-given-up-on-me-and-it-smells-like-something-died” kind of sweating that isn’t caused by a gym session that would make Daisy Ridley proud. Yet I can’t honestly recall a time I had a conversation with girlfriends about sweating and body odour during high school but it was something that I spent a good deal of time panicking about and trying to deal with on a daily basis. It’s something I still have to deal with and spend more time than I’d like thinking about it every day.

It’s a fact of my body that if I don’t shower in the morning or forget to apply deodorant that within about an hour or so, even if I’m doing nothing more strenuous than sitting at my desk I will be sweating and starting to smell. Sometimes I have showered *and* applied deodorant and still found myself dabbing my underarms with tissues before blitzing the body spray to hide the odour that I’m positive everyone else can smell. To make things even weirder my right armpit is sweatier than the left, so that side could be bone dry while the right pit is literally dripping. What the hell biology?

Sweating is a constant inconvenience when you start questioning what colour/material/style of tops you can wear without ending up with enormous dark, sweaty rings under your arms after a few hours of just existing. I’ve had to throw away several t-shirts and vest tops because the under-arms were stained and still had a lingering smell of BO even though they’ve been through the wash several times. I surreptitiously check for stains with alarming frequency if I’m wearing light-coloured tops and it’s not beyond belief that I’ve swapped tops during the day because I’ve effectively sweated myself out of my clothing. That can happen even in winter since my body is stupid and can often sweat more when I’m freezing cold than when it’s roasting.

 It’s not just underarm sweating that causes problems, women with larger than average breasts often have to deal with under-boob sweating which can end up causing soreness when combined with their bras chafing. It’s another sucky card that big-boobed ladies get dealt along with all the things that Jess discussed in her post on Growing up with Big Boobs a few weeks ago. Like thanks Mother Nature. Y’bish.

Taking things even further south, I’m gonna take a moment to put it out there that I’m not the only woman who spends a week out of every month *convinced* that everyone around me can smell the blood that is oozing out of my nether regions. Because surely if I can smell it while I’m fully dressed, SO CAN EVERYONE ELSE?? But since I don’t get people saying “what’s that smell?” while they’re sat next to me (although let’s be real, us Brits would never say that, we’d just tweet about it) I’m guessing that the odour is only really obvious to me because I’m used to my own smells. Right?

This frustration and paranoia also applies to general sweating around your groin and upper thighs. What the hell are you meant to do if you get so clammy and yuck that your knickers are soaked and not in the way we'd prefer them to be. It's not as easy to mop up sweat from your groin while you're sat at your desk as it is to discretely stuff some tissues under your arms, and you'll get some *very* odd looks if someone finds you crotch-first under the hand-dryer in the toilets frantically trying to dry out your vaginal region.

I never really thought about particular methods to combat body odours beyond having showers and applying deodorant but Jess linked me to this video earlier which gives lots of different tips and tricks for dealing with body odour and sweating. If you swap out the use of a hairdryer in a public toilet for the infinitely more likely hand-dryer then you get one of my more frequently used methods for de-soggying my top after I’ve fervently dabbed my pits with tissues. Can’t say I’m really into the idea of chucking vinegar or vodka onto my clothes but some of the hacks she recommends are things I have done myself.

I know that there are some medical conditions which cause excessive sweating so some of the things mentioned in the video might not be of any use. I'd recommend consulting a medical professional on the best methods for managing these conditions. Same goes for if you have sensitive skin or allergies, don't chuck anything at your skin that you know is only going to cause you pain or discomfort.

I'd best be off, I have deadlines looming and I'm cold-sweating like the weirdo I am. Seriously my hands & feet are ice cubes but I'm sweating. What even is my life?

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Guest Post: Going Braless by Caitlin Lomas

I need to start this post with the disclaimer that I have small boobies. If you read this and think "what does she know sitting there with her B cups" I am aware this whole process has been easier because I have a small chest. And I am by no means saying everyone should stop wearing all kinds of bras, more asking you to consider WHY we wear underwired, padded, push-up, cleavage-boosting ones. Are we all on the same page? Good. Off we go, then.

My first ever bra was, I think, a 28AAA. Seriously. It wasn't even a bra; it was a bra-shaped crop top. My mum got it for me because, at 13, I really didn't have any breasts at all but felt self conscious about not wearing a bra in P.E; my crop tops felt childish. Like a lot of girls, I think, I grew up thinking breasts were the ultimate sign of femininity and that NOT having breasts meant I was less of a girl. Eventually I got enough in the breasticles department to fill a cup that wasn't a made up size and off I went and I never looked back.

 A few years ago I finally came to terms with how much I fucking hate bras. They've never fitted me properly even after being professionally measured, they always seemed to make my boobs hurt all the freaking time and despite being fairly thin I always got that weird mini fat roll between my bra-encased breasts and my arms that made me feel ugly and fat and self conscious. “But I can't stop wearing them!” I thought. “That would...just be WRONG. Everyone wears a bra! What would people THINK. What would they SAY.” I struggled on. Then, just over a year ago I decided I didn't give a rat’s ass what people think. I’m uncomfortable enough in my body from the pain of my chronic health condition, without voluntarily adding extra discomfort. So I took the plunge and I did not wear a bra. And no one said a goddamned thing.

Without a bra, I felt free. My boobs stopped hurting. The level of comfort I now experienced was just...indescribable. But more than that, I felt powerful. For so long I wore a bra because I thought that, as a woman, it was what was expected of me. It was part of the social contract. And going against that, and feeling better for it, made me feel strong. I started to wonder why I'd even started wearing one in the first place. I'd not needed the support because of back pain, so why had I bothered?

Because I felt like I was supposed to. Wearing a bra was a sign I was a woman, like starting my period or growing pubic hair, it was a sign that I had Made It. I was part of the club. And I started to feel like the only reason I ever wore a bra was, not because I needed to, but because everyone else needed me to. Because it was expected that my breasts sit at a certain place on my chest and be a certain shape and not move very much and, heavens forbid, never suggest I have nipples. And the more I thought about it the more I felt I'd been duped. I'd been wearing these godforsaken things for a decade and I really didn't need to.

Aside from this, there’s also the issue that the fashion industry expects your breasts to be within a certain size range, and if yours fall either side of this range, you’re punished by being offered bras that aren’t pretty, or sexy, or whatever it is you like to see in a bra, and instead are boring (or ugly) and often expensive, with limited options on offer in limited places. No fair.

Obviously, bras have many practical applications. I know many of us breast-bearers opt for bras for a range of reasons, and going totally braless is not necessarily an option for all. I do think that when we think 'bra' we think of the underwired variety, probs with a bit of padding for maximum boobage and to guarantee nipple coverage on even the coldest of days, and designed to hoist our breasts up to their socially desirable position about an inch below our chins. Boobies are not supposed to go this way. If they were, that's where they'd be already. The point of this post is more to get us to think about what we put our boobs in, rather than just reaching for what we've always reached for. There's bras without underwire, sports bras, camisoles with built-in support cups. Regular camisoles. And yes, going totally braless.

So next time you try on a totally amazing top or dress, but are going to leave it in the changing room because "I can't wear a bra with it" try it on without one. I bet you look bangin'.

For more from Caitlin follow her

 

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Choosing Happy Not Skinny

Disclaimer: This post is being written from a privileged position of someone who has never been “over-weight” or had any weight-related disorders and is only *my* feelings on this subject as they relate to *my* body. I’m not trying to tell anyone what is right and what isn’t. Your body is yours and nobody can tell you how it should look or how you should feel about it or what you should do with it.

So I’m going on holiday tomorrow. Yep that’s right- tomorrow. As I’m writing this I’m trying to get the packing for me and Le Boyf done (because I have the odd need to be in control of the packing so I know we don’t forget anything), I have to work Wednesday before we drive over to my parents that night so I’m understandably a bit stressed right now.

I did some shopping the weekend before last to get some clothes to take on holiday and had a rather uncomfortable wobble with my self-confidence. I’m well aware that over the last year or so I’ve put on about a stone but since I don’t buy new clothes that often I’ve not had to deal with the nightmare that is women’s clothing sizes. It wasn’t all that fun.

If you didn’t see my tweets about my shopping mishap then here you go. Basically I opted to get vest tops a size larger than I thought I would need in the end rather than have to suffer through wearing super-clingy clothes while in America. Baggier is better when you’re feeling kinda delicate about your middle. The number on the label is bollocks anyway when you think about how wildly sizes vary from shop to shop. A Topshop 10 could be a Hollister XXL (because damn it if the clothes in there are made for human-sized Pepperami sticks).

Growing up I was always very lucky to be able to eat what I felt like and even with the minimal amount of exercise I did, not have to worry about putting loads of weight on. I was pretty much a size ten for all my teen years, maybe a size 12 for tops to accommodate my boobs. Apparently I have some genes on my side in that my biological father (who we’ll *not* be talking about further) was always fairly slim without trying. Silver linings I guess.

But now I’m in my mid-twenties I think the environmental factors *cough pizza cough* are getting the upper hand. I’m hovering around the 9st 12lb mark at the moment which is not making me all that happy. Most of that extra stone has ended up on my boobs (which isn’t an entirely bad thing because, hey bitchin’ cleavage) and round my hips and stomach.

This is what’s making me dread somewhat going on holiday. Currently my stomach is anything but flat and I have noticeable love handles on my hips. Add in the fact that my body is weird and has zero fleshiness around the middle of my hips before curving back out on my thighs makes it very difficult for me to like seeing what I look like in bikinis right now.

I know that my weight is perfectly normal for someone of my age and height (According to this chart anyway) but that doesn’t stop me from feeling horribly insecure about my middle and how crap *I* think it looks in tight fitting clothes. The other weekend I bought a stretchy body-con dress and the moment I tried it on I knew it was going back with NO swapping for a larger size. Even if I bought a size 12 it still would've only drawn attention to the oddness of my hips which just doesn’t work with that style of dress.

I know that the feeling like you don’t quite fit your skin is one that most girls and women experience all too frequently as they grow up. Society shoves these unrealistic ideals of what women’s bodies should look like down our throats from the moment we’re old enough to consume media. As a teen I didn’t really give a shit about being a size 6 and felt comfortable being the size I was which considering how my friendship group comprised of at least three girls who ate little more than fruit and diet coke every lunch it is surprising that I didn’t feel more pressure to be thinner than I was.

Even now I don’t want to be super-thin, I just want to feel comfortable in my own body. I’d like to be able to look at myself naked in the mirror and not frown at the handfuls of flesh that I can grab. I want to fit into all the clothes I own so I don’t have to keep buying new things that I can fasten without sucking in my entire gut. I want to feel happy to wear a bikini on holiday even if the only people who will see me will be my boyfriend and my immediate family.

Artwork by SiminiBlocker

I don’t give a shit if I’m not the magazine ideal of a bikini body (seriously though fuck that), I’m not trying to feel sexy for other people or even myself really, I just want to be able to look at myself and not immediately see flaws. Which I know is a lot to ask when we’ve all been pretty much conditioned as a society to constantly seek out the minutiae of our bodies and obsess over how it doesn’t adhere to some unattainable aesthetic standard.

There’s a pretty damn epic quote from Julie Murphy’s book Dumplin’ that ought to be the mantra of every single woman regardless of her size. It's what I'll be repeating to myself while I'm on holiday when the traitor part of my brain is saying that I should avoid going in the pool because I won't "look good" in my swimsuit.

Those thoughts need shutting down before they dig into your subconsciousness and linger like a poison, slowly dismantling your self-confidence until all you want to wear is baggy clothes that hide everything.

Now it's unrealistic of me to say that I'll feel better about my body by the time I get home from America. With the quantity of guacamole that I intend on eating it's likely that I'll feel even worse for a while but then I can begin to address those feelings and work on getting my body back to a size that feels right for me. Just me. No one else's opinion matters. 

Skinny or not, bikini body here I come. (By that I mean a bikini is going on my body. obvs.)

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Wearing A Mask

It seems to me that society has a way of telling girls and women that the only way to really fit in and be a girl or woman is if you wear make-up. Every single film, tv show, magazine, book cover, etc, seems to show a picture of a female who has professionally done make-up, and lets not go down the photoshop road where we remove all spots and blemishes too. But, needless to say, staring everyone in the face is this idea that without make up, females just aren't doing it right.

This is how I felt growing up. I would watch as my eldest sister got ready to go to school and it would take her over an hour just to put make-up on. I'd go to school without it and meet up with my friends who were all perfectly made-up and liked to spend time discussing the newest line that had been released at the weekend while I sat feeling a little confused and alone. 

I don't remember when I first started wearing make-up. I don't know what it was that made me walk into Superdrug and buy my first product. But I have now come to a point in my life where I am physically incapable of living without it. In fact, I actually did an experiment last month just to see if I could live without it and it was hard, I felt uncomfortable, and eventually I was incredibly glad the month was up. I ran back to my BB creame and plastered it on my face with an odd sense of glee.

This was a revealing moment for me. As I grew up without a clue, it's odd to realise that I now struggle without make-up. Essentially the only make-up I use is foundation. Occasionally I might branch out to some mascara and a bit of blusher but that's as far as I go. Mostly because I wouldn't even know where to start when it comes to the rest of the make up range. But what I discovered about make-up and me is that I find that wearing foundation is similar to wearing clothes.

When I walk out of the house without make-up, I feel naked. It doesn't matter that usually by the end of the day my foundation has washed off anyway, the fact that to start the day I was free of it, left me feeling so uncomfortable. It felt like everyone was looking at me. Like they were looking at all my ugly freckles, at my face blemishes, at the ugly spots and the moments when my cheeks would heat up, and they were judging me. (They weren't, but that's what it felt like to me). It's a bit like when you get home and realise you have something stuck between your teeth and you realise no body told you about it. To me, not wearing make-up and having no one say anything felt like they were just being too polite. 

So while it took me a while to first put make-up on, and while I don't think it's something that women have to wear, I thought it was interesting to discover that I have now become someone unable to go make-up free. To me, make-up is as essential as wearing clothes. Without it I feel naked, on show, and looked at. Make-up lets me blend in and I'm able to sit in the background unnoticed.

Because with society making it seem normal to wear make-up, not wearing it can definitely make it seem like you've got a spotlight on you. (But you don't, you really don't). So what I want to end this post with is to say that while I am unable to leave the house without make-up on, in some ways I wish I never started wearing it. Because I shouldn't have to. I shouldn't feel this uncomfortable about not wearing make-up. If you're someone who doesn't wear make-up, good on you. If you're someone who does, good on you too.

I guess what I'm trying to say is; ignore society. Whether you wear it or not, do it because YOU want to. Do what makes you comfortable. Because at the end of the day, that's the most important thing in life, right?

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