Fat Book Reviews: “No Fat Chicks” – Margaret Clark
Wednesday, October 6th, 2010
It’s no secret to those who know me that I’m a voracious reader. I’m the child who got told off for trying to read at the dinner table, who was teased mercilessly in grade five for spending my lunch time reading, who carries a book with her everywhere she goes. I buy handbags based on whether or not they’re big enough to fit a book in or not.
Specifically, though, I adore Young Adult fiction – always have. And I have very fond memories of Australian teen writer Margaret Clark, so when I wandered into my local second-hand bookstore and spotted a copy of “No Fat Chicks” for $10AUD (this is cheap, fyi – books in Australia are very expensive), I thought it would be the perfect subject for a review.
No Fat Chicks (cover)
This is the blurb on the back:
“No fat chicks? When Mandy Miratoosi sees that bumper sticker on her brother Mark’s car, she’s ready to pluck his cocksure tail feathers once and for all. Mandy’s a big girl, and Mark’s mates need to know that lean is not always dream material. Featherweights and bantamweights beware. Mandy is out to show that big chicks can be winners!”
Clark’s writing style is simple, fresh and engaging, and while this book isn’t perfect, it’s about as close as I’ve read to a pro-fat acceptance message in Young Adult Australian fiction.
The premise is straightforward: Mandy Miratoosi is fifteen, an ace at maths, and a big girl. Her mother died when she was three, and her father remarried, his new wife bringing three kids from her previous marriage into the family. Bennet is quiet, friendly and sweet, studying second year Arts/Law at university. Markerton, Mark for short, is seventeen, conventionally very attractive and, frankly, a fuckwit of the highest order who makes Mandy’s life hell. Then there’s seven-year Babeth, a gorgeous child model and pageant attendee, seemingly at the behest of their mother. The story revolves around Mandy coming to grips with her intelligence and her size with charm and humour.
Mandy refers to her stepmother as ‘mum’ and her stepbrothers and stepsister as brothers and sisters, and clearly has a lot of affection and love for Pandora (mum), Bennet and Babeth, and even Mark, despite the way he constantly torments her.
In chapter one, Mandy wakes up to find her brother Mark has plastered a “No Fat Chicks” bumper sticker to her mirror, and shortly afterwards discovers she’s topped the state in the Maths Competition, and the action snowballs from there.
Let’s talk about the positives. This book shows real depth and nuance in articulating fat acceptance for teens, particularly in the way it intersects with feminism, and Mandy is remarkably self-aware. When Mark insults her for eating a croissant, Mandy knows it’s pointless to argue with him (p6). And on page 7, she thinks:
I was over it with all the references to my shape. It wouldn’t matter how little I ate. I’d still be big large with big bones. Maybe covered with a bit less fat, but still big.
Mandy tries to rip the sticker from her mirror, but only manages to tear of the ‘N’ of ‘No’. So she grabs a texta and scrawls a ‘G’ next to, creating the slogan ‘Go Fat Chicks!’.
I’ll resist the urge to go through the plot chapter by chapter, so here’s some choice quotes:
We had netball practice at the civic centre which is in a large park only a short walk from Newberry [High School]. Both Krys [Mandy's friend] and I play for the Dodgers, nicknamed the Podgers by Mark because there’s five fairly hefty girls on the team including our friend Lexie. But we’re running second on the summer premiership ladder, so maybe strength and stamina count.
I love this – it’s so matter-of-fact: of course these girls play sport, they’re active! For those who haven’t heard of netball, there’s a summary here. I played it for about eight years, and let me tell you, it’s not for the faint-hearted. Mandy’s friend Lexie, who’s mentioned here, is also a fantastic amateur car mechanic, and this is used to great comic effect later in the book.
When the girls at Newberry High discover that the NFCC (No Fat Chicks Club) have plastered No Fat Chicks stickers all over their lockers, Mandy steps in amidst the bickering:
“There’s only one to deal with this,” I said. “We have to form our own vigilante group and get our own stickers to plaster over theirs. This is war.”
[…]
“It’s action time. Pass this message,” said Roxy. “All females a size 14 and over are to meet in the Girl’s Common Room at lunch time.” (p76)
We get a little dose of how fat is a feminist issue, too, when the girls discuss how their English teacher and one of their male classmates are fat and don’t have the same campaign against them. In fact, scrawled beneath the sticker on Mandy’s locker are the words “If you can’t root ‘em, shoot ‘em”. (‘Root’ is Aussie slang for ‘fuck’ in the sexual sense). This is incredibly frightening. Advocating murdering fat women simply for the heinous crime of not being fuckable. So, so disturbing.
This meeting is one of the greatest things I’ve read depicting fat acceptance, or even any form of social justice.
At lunchtime Lexie, Krys and I hurried over to the Girl’s Common Room. It was crowded. I hadn’t realised there were so many size fourteens and over in our school. And of course a whole lot of them hadn’t come: either too embarrassed to say that they were size fourteen, or not into attending radical meetings. There were also a few thin girls in the crowd. That was okay if they wanted to listen in. (p80)
Straight away, Clark makes it clear that this is about the fat girls, but that they’re inclusive as well. It’s like holding up a little mirror for what I hope thin women see in FA – a movement that includes them, but asks them to check their privilege at the door.
There’s discussion about how ‘No Small Dicks’ would be a good comeback, and here Clark surprises me again:
“We know it’s sexist and rude and thoughtless for guys to have a No Fat Chicks club and stick labels all over the place. It’s a put-down. Now, we could do the same: say we don’t want small dicks, or thick ones, or whatever. But then we’re stooping to their level of mentality.” (p81)
I’m thrilled to see the sexism connection, and we get a great moment where the meeting disintegrates into shouting, but Mandy takes charge. Much discussion occurs over whether men should be allowed to join their club, or thin women, what sort of slogans to have, how they’ll pursue their agenda, but the main thrust is that it’s collaborative, and that these high school girls have serious agency. I approve.
This may be my favourite quote of the novel (sorry about the length, it works better in context):
“What’s all this crap I hear about you starting an all girls’ fat club?” asked Mark at the dinner table that night.
“That’s a good idea,” said Mum. “Healthy eating and exercise. I’m proud of you, Mandy. I can get some of my modelling friends to come along and give your club some tips on how to minimise your size by wearing the correct colour combinations and give you some make-up lessons if you like.”
“Mum, it’s not that kind of club,” I said. “We’re promoting the right of women to be large.” (p86)
This is AMAZING. No ifs, no buts – the right of women to be large. Not only does Mandy stand up to her mother, but is incredibly matter-of-fact about it. Love love love.
In the middle, Mandy has a discussion with her horrid brother Mark about why he does these things, and it’s a fantastically, frighteningly accurate portrayal of the way increasing numbers of men view women – as hilarious playthings for their amusement:
“It’s just a bit of harmless fun. You girls get all wound up. That’s why we do it.”
I sighed.
“Why do you want to wind us up?”
“I told you. It’s fun watching you all spin out. It was fun watching Krys try to impress me. [...] It’s fun driving down the road with ‘No Fat Chicks’ written on a bumper sticker. Nothing bad or evil. F-U-N.”
“So you’re causing all this aggro and grief to people because it’s fun,” I said. “You’re stucking offensive signs on lockers at school because it’s fun [..].”
Terrifyingly on point. Clark illustrates perfectly how thoughtless these tormentors can be.
The book isn’t perfect – there’s talk about how Mandy wears a black dress because it’s ‘slimming’, references to women as ‘females’ and a couple of other things that set my radar off, but these are minor issues in the scheme of the overall themes of the book.
There’s so much more to this novel than I can give justice to in a blog post, so I really encourage you to seek a copy out if you can. It’s an easy 200-page read, and given its shortness, deals with the issues of being smart, the beauty culture and being fat in a remarkably nuanced way. It may be difficult to procure for international readers, but Australians will have a good chance of finding it in a library or second-hand bookstore.
One last quote to end with, after Mandy wins a waterslide competition at Wet’N'Wild:
“On behalf of all large females I will use this victory in my campaign to fight against the ‘No Fat Chicks’ mentality,” I shouted into the microphone.
If that isn’t activism, I don’t know what is. Love ya, Mandy.
—
No Fat Chicks by Margaret Clark
Published by Random House Australia, 1998
City Chic rips off Jibri
Friday, September 24th, 2010
You know, when a plus-size brand makes copies of runway fashion, or designers that only go up to a size 14, I’m pretty sanguine about it. It’s not the best situation, but if regular retailers aren’t going to make clothes in a wide variety of sizes, then more power to the plus-size stores for making fashion available to fat people.
What I don’t condone is a plus size chain store ripping off a smaller, independent plus size designer.
Kiki of Why, Kiki, Why? broke the story here, but I felt I had to chime in.
City Chic, who are one of Australia’s few plus-size fashion chains, have blatantly and unapologetically ripped off Jibri, an independent plus-size retailer who sells through etsy.
Here is City Chic’s Bumba top, a part of their current Spanish Rose Collection:
And here is Jibri’s Plus Size Ruffle Front Halter:
Eerily similar, don’t you think?
I contacted City Chic via their contact form to complain – I know that technically designers can’t copyright their products, but I was (and am) so angry that I wasn’t thinking super-clearly:
I am frankly appalled to discover that City Chic has blatantly lifted a design from a small, independent plus-size manufacturer. Your Button Bumba top is an obvious rip off of Jibri’s plus size ruffle front halter (http://www.etsy.com/listing/50369223/jibri-plus-size-ruffle-front-halter). I will not shop at stores that participate in the theft of small designers’ intellectual property.
Kind regards, Zoe (www.axisoffat.com)
I didn’t hold high hopes of getting a particularly interested response, and I was right:
Hello,
Thank you for contacting City Chic customer care. Your concerns have been sent through to our buying and supply team and they will look into this further.
Kind Regards,
Jasmine
While I’m heartened that they might actually forward this on to their buying and design team, the official response from City Chic’s facebook page doesn’t fill me with hope:
City Chic Hi Jen,
Yeah, as Sarah said, all designs are copied… Our buying team set out to different locations around the world, and check out what’s happening in the fashion world with trends, and upcoming must-have-items… It’s not about stealing… credit from other designers, it’s here for you to have, not only for plus sized ladies to wear, but at a fraction of the price!!!!
Hope this answered your question!
♥ CC, x
It’s this comment that makes me want to facepalm so badly. Because here’s the deal: Jibri charges $90.00 for a custom-made garment. City Chic? $79.95. For mass-produced garment. Which, if you were buying internationally (and City Chic does seem to be trying to crack the international market), would actually be more than Jibri’s price, thanks to the cost of international shipping and the strong Australian dollar.
The comment about “credit from other designers” leaves a nasty taste in my mouth, given that there was no credit whatsoever given to Jasmine, the designer of Jibri.
City Chic might think it’s appropriate to copy from small, independent, plus-size designers, but I don’t. And that’s why I won’t be shopping there from now on. If you value supporting small businesses, up-and-coming designers and high-quality, well-priced fashion, I highly encourage you to vote with your wallet and take your business elsewhere.
Remember; despite what City Chic wants you to believe, there are other options out there. If you want to support Australian businesses, why not try Entitled, or Dream Diva?
As Kiki and Derryn would say: Shame, City Chic, shame.
http://www.etsy.com/shop/jibrionlineJi
Why can’t a short fat women wear a trapeze dress, anyway?
Sunday, September 19th, 2010
A lot of fat bloggers have covered this topic, including the fabulous Axis blogger Definatalie (Rejecting the notion of the flattering outfit), but I’ve been thinking about this a bit recently.
OneStopPlus.com, a US-based plus-size clothing website (that doesn’t ship to Australia, sigh), recently held a runway show as part of New York Fashion Week. This is a pretty big deal, as it’s the first plus-size fashion show to be featured at arguably the most important event in a fashionista’s calendar.
I got my coverage from Jezebel, which I skim over every couple of days to see if there’s any articles of interest.
The clothes generally didn’t do much for me, and judging by the comments, most Jezebel readers felt the same way – although perhaps not necessarily for the same reason. The most common thread of the discussion seemed to talk about how everything was very muumuu-esque, and “unflattering”. Apparently all fat women ever should wear tight, fitted, tailored garments that show off one’s curves (but only the socially sanctioned curves – no one wants to see the curve of my belly, I expect). And short women especially are not allowed to wear flowing, drapey silhouettes, because they’ll overwhelm, and make them look like they’re wearing curtains, apparently.
I don’t wear fitted, tailored garments too often (clothes with a reasonable amount of spandex or elastane notwithstanding). You know why? Because it’s uncomfortable. Waistbands dig in, things ride up or down over my stomach, my arms are constricted. As much I want push the envelope with what’s fashionable in my outfits, I also want to be comfortable. And when my waist expands by several inches when I sit down because of my apple-shape, it’s not a good idea to have wide waist belt cinching my curves into something more acceptable.
Everyone rails against trapeze tops and dresses, because they’re so unflattering (and boy, do I hate that word). I have big breasts, and yes, wearing a trapeze dress creates a boob shelf, yes, it can create the illusion of being bigger than I actually am, but who cares? They’re fun, they’re comfortable, and I think I look good in them – one might say that I make it work, as it were. I’m short and busty, and I love flowing, drapey clothes. I love layers, and weird hemlines. I love things that are challenging. One of my favourite dresses is a dolman-sleeved sack from Asos.com that’s a blue chintzy print that looks like something you might find on a sofa. I do have and wear clothes that make me look thinner, or more hourglassy, or that highlight my breasts – clothes that are “appropriate” for fat women. But that isn’t my priority when I get dressed in the morning. I don’t want to look appropriate. I wear clothes that challenge people. I want more retailers to make clothes for fat people that are interesting, that challenge what’s conventionally “flattering” for fat women, that are subversive.
I didn’t really like the OneStopPlus.com collection that was shown at NYFW, because it was safe.
It involved colours that I generally don’t like, lots of tight waist belts which I find horrifically uncomfortable, and not enough dresses. It had capri pants. The silhouettes weren’t interesting. It looked like the clothes I could find in Autograph or Myer in Australia, or perhaps Avenue or Lane Bryant in the US.
It also didn’t seem terribly cohesive – there were no unifying elements, it just seemed like a show of “here are some fatty clothes, now walk down that runway!”. Part of the problem was no doubt to do with the fact that this wasn’t the creative vision of a particular designer, putting out a collection. If you’re going to show at Fashion Week, show me fashion. Show me an edited, tight, cohesive collection with a distinctive vision. Show me clothes that challenge, that break out of the plus-size stereotypes.
It’s obvious that OneStopPlus.com can’t be everything to everyone; it can’t be a catalogue retailer as well as a serious contender in NYFW. What’s the solution? I don’t know. In an ideal world, fashion would be for everyone, and designers would make their clothes available in wide variety of sizes. The trends would filter down to stores that stocked garments in sizes 0-44W, and everyone would opt in or out of fashion as they so pleased. People wouldn’t mock others for those clothes they wear, and gossip rags that make a lot of mileage of fashion dos and don’ts would go out of business.
Hey, a girl can dream.
But until the fat hate stops, and the serious cachet that being thin (and white, and wealthy, and all the other myriad privileges associated with having access to high fashion) carries is removed, I don’t think much will change.
In the meantime, I’ll keep buying straight-size stuff and making it work, wearing trapeze dresses and flowing layers, and being happy while doing it.
Calling it out: casual anti-fat bigotry sucks.
Sunday, September 12th, 2010
I’ve been away from the fat-o-sphere for a few months – I’ve still been reading, but I haven’t been blogging, or being terribly activist-y at all. But I’m back now, and I hope be blogging regularly for you all at AoF!
It’s been an interesting time for me – lots of changes and decisions, lots of stress. But lots of good times too, especially with my friends.
I do everything I can to make my life a safe space. I cultivate friendships (both online and off) with people who hold similar beliefs to my own, who are anti-bigotry in all its insidious forms. I try to call people in my life out on their problematic usage of language and stereotypes. It’s not always easy.
About six weeks ago I started a new job in a state government department. The people I work with are universally lovely – helpful and friendly, and very welcoming to new staff members. I was having a bit of a chat with my co-worker and another girl who works with our department but on another floor one afternoon, when the conversation segued into a discussion about public transportation, and its limitations.
Now, I’m a huge (heh) advocate of public transport. I’m 24 years old, and don’t have a driver’s licence – not even a learner’s permit. At some point I will do it, but it’s fairly low on my list of priorities; I live very close a major busway stop, in an inner-city suburb. Technically I’m within reasonable walking distance of my workplace, though I catch the bus most mornings. I’m also only a fifteen minute walk from a train station.
So, I love public transport. We talked a little bit about the issues with it – rising fare costs and the like – when one of the girls leaned forward conspiratorially and said (paraphrased slightly): “You what I hate though? When I’m sitting down, and an obese – you know, morbidly obese – person gets on and I’ve got a free seat next to me.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What’s the problem?” I asked.
She looked a little flustered. “Well, you know, if they sit next to me, they’re going to touch me. I hate that!”
I remember resisting the urge to tear strips off her, and said mildly, “Well, R___, I’m morbidly obese, so I hope it wouldn’t offend you if I sat next to you.”
I nearly gave up on the conversation when she responded with, “Oh, but you’re not like that – I mean people that literally hang over the edge of the seat.”
“It’s fortunate that you aren’t actually paying for a seat on a bus, then – we pay to get from point A to point B, there’s no guarantee it’ll be comfortable,” I said, and went back to my desk, gritting my teeth.
The seats on Brisbane buses aren’t large. I carry most of my weight in my belly, so my hips aren’t super wide, but I do hang over the edge of the seat a little. I’m a size 22. How could I not? Seating is not made to accommodate fat people. It’s this kind of casual bigotry – ew yuck I don’t want fatties touching me – that makes me incredibly annoyed, and I try to speak up against it whenever I can.
Interestingly, there haven’t been any negative repercussions. I still get on well with this co-worker, we chat about mundane stuff, our work and the like. But she hasn’t brought up the subject again. I doubt I’ve converted her – we all know how difficult an idea size/fat acceptance is in our thin-privileged culture – but if I can sow the seeds, start the thought process towards someone beginning not to hate themselves and other fat people, then it’s a conversation that’s well worth having.
I went to Sydney for a few days in July. I’ve not had trouble with airline seats so far – they’re occasionally a tight fit, but I can get my seatbelt done up without an extender. No trouble this time either, though the seatbelt on the return trip seemed shorter, and no one was rude to me when they sat down next to me either.
But I’m flying to New York City (OMG OMG) in early November, and I’m a little nervous about that. It’ll be the longest flight I’ve ever done (13 hours BNE-LAX, and 5 hours LAX-NYC, the same coming back) – the closest I’ve done to that is the nine hour flight to Japan. Hopefully QANTAS’ seats will be comfortable; I’ve never flown with them before so it will certainly be an experience.
I’m ridiculously excited about this trip, NYC has been a dream destination for me for years. Any suggestions on things to do? I’m going to go see lots of shows, and of course I’ll be hitting up Re/Dress – can’t wait to finally see it for real!
Bonus photo: It was the lovely Sonya’s birthday party last night, and being very mature women, we decided that a riff on this meme would be hilarious:
HURRRGGHHHHH
We totally challenged the dominant paradigm. Also we are fancy! Sonya is wearing an Asos dress, I am wearing a Monroe (Myer) dress, and we are wearing the same black oxfords from Betts. In fact, we bought them at the same time! Fatty shopping bonding. <3
Art imitates life…
Sunday, August 22nd, 2010
I took my daughter to the art gallery today – we went and saw the European Masters exhibition here in Melbourne.
Art Galleries make me happy – they feed my soul.. and part of the reason is because they give me some nice examples of beauty that doesn’t fit the modern ideal.
They remind me that once upon a time, my shapely arms, hips, belly and thighs were considered very beautiful indeed…that they way I look, was, in fact, the popular ideal.
I look at these paintings and I see me – or I see people I know. At the very least I see bodies that are like the bodies around me. I see the familiar. I also see how all these different shapes and sizes are beautiful..
Strange isn’t it – that in this day and age of photography and video that we struggle to find images we can similarly relate to in our popular media. The advent of the “size zero” ideal, along with the photoshop wizards have robbed us of a benchmark the majority of people can relate to.
In an age where we ought to be able to more accurately reflect “real” bodies.. we have all the tools to show EXACTLY what normal, regular, average people in all their glorious diversity look like right at our fingertips… instead, for some reason, what our magazines and billboards and catwalks show us is a hugely distorted view….
When we look backwards, to the age where they didn’t have photography, we see more realism shown through painter’s brushes than we do through our photographers’ lenses.
Strange, don’t you think?
Here’s some of the beautiful, beautiful fat people I was admiring today:
I don’t know about you, but just looking at these makes me feel more at peace with my own body.
Hide my unsightly cellulite? No thanks.
Sunday, August 15th, 2010
Despite knowing how bad they can be for me and my mental health, I am still a reader of fashion magazines. I am a bit of a consumer at heart. I get a little thrill when I open the pages and the amount of “WANT. NOW.” overwhelms my senses and I am enthralled.
What takes me out of my “Oooo shoes!” trance is reading icky body shaming comments disguised as “helpful advice” for the girls.
My own fault for expecting something different from a mainstream women’s fashion magazine, I’m sure, but I was still disappointed to read a column in the latest issue of Shop ‘Til You Drop (September 2010), especially after their recent body love issue.
A writer from Australian Harper’s Bazaar has been writing a regular column for Shop from the viewpoint of being a plus sized woman in the fashion industry. I expect working in the fashion industry, being surrounded day in and day out by fabulous clothes that largely exclude a plus size body would take a toll on a person’s viewpoint of themselves, no matter how confident they usually are. The comment made in the column (“No one looks good with cottage cheese thighs” [pg. 60]), made me sad.
Yeah, ok, it’s probably seen as a pretty innocuous comment. Innocent, even. But couched in the “just us girls” rhetoric and the attitude that whenever girls get together, all they do is gossip about the state of their bodies, what they ate, what they bought, who is a bitch, how hot that guy is, it seems problematic at the very least.
Not everyone is at the stage of loving their bodies. I don’t love my body 100% of the time, 24 hours a day. To expect people to do so would be unrealistic. Everyone has their moments.
But, I worry about the influence of these comments and columns in a mainstream fashion magazines on impressionable teenage girls (hell, impressionable women and people who identify as women). I worry that it convinces them that it’s expected of them to hate their bodies, that they’re expected to tear themselves apart.
I’ll admit that, for a moment, I focused on my cellulite, the dimples on my arse.
Until I shook myself out of it. Until I remembered that I like my thighs, my arse. I’m still not quite at the love stage yet, but I’m getting there. And I don’t care if “no one wants to see it”, I will be happy when I’m ok to see it.
Things I hate about plus-size fashion
Thursday, September 24th, 2009
I’m in a sassy mood today, and I’ve been looking at online plus-size fashion retailers while trying to help a friend find a dress to wear to a wedding. It’s SO frustrating! Even though the plus-size fashion market has improved, I still see a lot of things that bother me – the most of all being that some labels and manufacturers only consider fit models with a certain body type and don’t pay a thought to those of us who do not have a “classic hourglass shape”. In the spirit of snark and temper tantrums, I bring you “Things I hate about plus-size fashion”!
[img_assist|nid=109|title=|desc=|link=none|align=none|width=223|height=338]
Fake necklaces
Fat women are not too lazy to put their own accessories on. This is insulting. Also, the chain is typically full of nickel, which I have an allergy to. It’s gross and insulting, way to go!
[img_assist|nid=110|title=|desc=|link=none|align=none|width=231|height=242]
Short dresses
Sure, tiny hemlines are progressive, if you slept through the 60s. However, some of us prefer to wear more modest hemlines when we have certain social engagements. Too many retailers are chopping off skirts on otherwise beautiful garments and still charging the same amount.
[img_assist|nid=111|title=|desc=|link=none|align=none|width=233|height=205]
Tops with bandeau hems or gathered waists
I have a big tummy, there is no way I want to be wrestling with elastic or a thick waist/ hip band all day. There are only two ways these styles work on me – they either slide up to sit under my boobs or down to sit on my thighs. FAIL.
[img_assist|nid=112|title=|desc=|link=none|align=none|width=235|height=235]
Necklines that ignore my boobs.
This is a double pronged attack – I hate necklines that are too low, and too high. There are LOADS of styles of tops and dresses that incorporate my most hated thing – the cross-over bust. It’s a cheap and nasty manufacturing ploy, because the pattern doesn’t need to be drafted as much to fit the bust through shaping and darts. It means that the neckline basically sits below the bust and shows off miles of your bra if you have larger breasts. Necklines that are too high also bother me. Do I not have a chest? Someone needs to find the Goldilocks solution to this problem so they can have all of my money.
[img_assist|nid=113|title=|desc=|link=none|align=none|width=220|height=332]
Giant graphic print tops
I have seen so many different abominable prints on plus size clothing ranging from news print to butterflies to “empowering” words. Gross. Get it away from me.
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Bedazzled jeans
I want to wear plain denim jeans, maybe with a rivet in each corner of the pocket. That’s all. I do not want you to harass my jeans with a bedazzler, sequins, glittery embroidery or your label’s name across my glorious arse.
[img_assist|nid=115|title=|desc=|link=none|align=none|width=250|height=490]
All of this
Diagonal lines, awful massive prints, sheer fabrics, etc. In the words of my friend “I really despair at TS (Australian label TS14+)”. In the words of me, “It looks like a shitty graphic designer vomited all over her”. Even their cardigans are wonky. It’s insanity.
Obviously, we all have our own list of things we’d prefer not to ever wear – and I’m fairly certain a few people will actually like the garments that bother me so much! What are your fashion hates?
Skinny Jeans: The People’s Jeans
Wednesday, September 9th, 2009
Skinny jeans are not just for skinny people. Skinny jeans became for me when I found them in my size (actually, Zoe found them in my size – in Japan of all places!) Now, you might consider me to be the sort of person who loves her body unconditionally and while it’s definitely something I aspire to, I do cast a very critical eye over myself and always seem to end up glaring at one part in particular. My knees.
The idea of my knees in skinny jeans used to be preposterous. Ridiculous! Sheer absurdity! Now I have to admit, it was because I could not ever imagine my legs in skinny jeans – because they simply weren’t available in a size that could contain my legs. When Zoe mentioned that she’d bought a pair from a label called “Smile Land” I was initially hesitant, but then warmed to the idea as I actually pictured myself in outfits designed around the notion of skinny jeans.
In the months since I got that first pair of bottle green skinny jeans, I’ve bought another pair in black and worn them happily, joyously, on numerous occasions. I’ve also realised how silly I was to think that I could not wear skinny jeans. I wear tights, I love tights! Tights emphasize the shape of my legs much more than jeans, yet I had no issue wearing them for years and years! In fact, I’ve posted OOTD (Outfit Of The Day) photos on Flickr, Fatshionista and FUCKYEAHDEATHFATTIES (PS submit to FYDF!) and received heaps of compliments.
I’ve also received enraged comments from concern trolls slapping away furiously at their keyboards, telling me that “Oh noes, skinny jeans are for skinny jeans! Think of your heath!” And you know what? I’ve laughed at them and pulled my jeans on once more. Skinny jeans are so named because the cut is skinny. Straight cut jeans don’t discriminate if you’re gay. Boot cut jeans don’t mind if you wear them with flats. Slouch jeans probably look fantastic with a collared shirt and vest too. Haters gotta hate and don’t mind if I giggle at you, while I look fabulous in my skinny jeans.
“Stop empowering fat people.” Wait, WHAT?
Tuesday, September 8th, 2009
Seriously, that is the title of the op-ed piece that’s been spewed across the front page Australia’s biggest news website, news.com.au, and printed in the Herald Sun.
Now, I’m kind of pissed off, so this blog isn’t going to be all tra-la-la citing studies and the like.
It’s a visceral fucking reaction to the idea that fat people are empowered. Um, NO. In fact, I would go so far as to say EPIC NAH. Because we aren’t empowered. We’re fucking marginalised.
Let’s dig a little deeper, shall we?
First, some standard skinny-bashing:
Indeed, this month’s Fashion Week In Melbourne abandoned the usual stick insects for some models who were size 14-18
Can’t have thin women feeling good about themselves, nope.
Let’s be honest.
Oh, this ought to be good.
While these women might make us feel better about our bulging butts and guts, the truth is, few women over a size 14 are in a healthy weight range.
So feeling good about yourself is unhealthy? I’m just going to time out for a second here, and point out that your mental health is so important, and so often pushed aside in favour of the more visible physical health. Healthy self-esteem is incredibly good for you.
As for the horseshit about being over a size 14 and OMG OBESE, I shall direct you to Kate Harding’s BMI Project. See what underweight, normal, overweight and obese really look like. It might surprise you.
Most of the women on catwalks are freaks of nature and it is only right that the pendulum is swinging towards more achievable bodies.
So if you’re skinny, you’re a freak, but if you’re a size 14, you’re OMGOBESE?! Narrow standards of beauty indeed.
But there is a limit. I know it’s not fashionable to say this, but some of the women being embraced as positive role models and ambassadors for larger people are obese and should lose weight for health reasons.
Oh heehee, I know it’s not PC! UR SO EDGY BB.
Except, you’re not, because you’re espousing a view that is the norm. THE NORM.
And of course, it’s not because people are ew yuck gross fat. It’s just for their health. Of course. Because by looking at someone you totally can guess every aspect of all their health issues. Great! No more going to the doctor – just email them a photograph and they can diagnose you like that?
Also, hey, Susie O’Brien? You’re not an MD. SO SHUT UP. (Come on, if she was an MD, she’d have mentioned it. Just sayin’).
Okay I need to point something out here:
And, reflecting the expanding girth of many Australians, more and more retailers, such as Myer, Sportsgirl and even Ed Hardy, are jumping on the bandwagon, and offering larger sizes.
Sportsgirl goes to a SIZE SIXTEEN. That’s one size above the national average, and is considered a missy size. And last time I was in a Sportsgirl (admittedly a long time ago, because it’s overpriced Supre-esque cack, in my humble opinion), the size sixteens are not generous. At all.
Yes, larger teens deserve to be able to wear fashionable clothes, like everyone else. But the discourse of self-empowerment surrounding the move is stopping us asking why so many young people are size 16 or more in the first place.
No, it’s not. Fat teens can wear fat clothes while you pontificate about losing weight. It’s not an either/or situation, people.
And this is nearly making me cry: a discourse of self-empowerment.
Why, why, why do people want others to feel bad about themselves? How is it productive? How is it helpful? Whether it’s being fat, skinny, or any other trope, why is being different so offensive?
Sure, such moves reflect the reality of a rapidly growing population, but they also serve to normalise a size that is not healthy for most young people.
And back to the diagnosing entire swathes of people based on how they look.
Ooh, cognitive dissonance time:
In recent weeks the debate has been spurred on by the larger thighs and flabby tummy of 20-year-old model Lizzie Miller in Glamour magazine in the US.
Readers in the millions embraced the image of the gorgeous, naked young woman letting it all hang out for the cameras. But at 180cm and 76kg, she’s hardly plus-sized.
Okay, so she’s got large thighs, and heaven forbid, a flabby tummy.
But suddenly she’s not plus-sized? WELL GEE, WHO’D HAVE THOUGHT. Whose side are you on, anyway, Susie?
Losing weight is hard work. It takes sacrifice and effort. As a mother of three in my late 30s with a new gym membership, I know this first-hand.
The tiniest violin in the world, bb. And maybe an *emotear*. Seriously, you have post-pregnancy weight? Maybe it’s just because you gestated three new human beings inside you. That’s pretty awesome, and tends to change your body shape. Yeah. And as for sacrifice – well, yeah, if you mean sacrificing your mental health, probably your physical health once you gain it back (because why would we have a diet industry if we could all lose weight and keep it off?), and hell, any interesting kind of food. I don’t know about the rest of you, but food’s pretty awesome.
It’s much easier to accept the pro-fat manifesto than hit the treadmill.
Just, no. If it was easier to be pro-fat, we’d have taken over by now.
Let’s face it, Australians – like Americans – do not need any encouragement or permission from role models in the media to put on weight.
Thanks for fighting the good fight against positivity and healthy self-esteem in the media, Susie! Fortunately for you, size-acceptance is still a significant minority in terms of media coverage, so not to worry there. A nice underhanded anti-American slight too – very smooth.
Alarmingly, a new Australian study of more than 30,000 people shows obese and morbidly obese men are less depressed and less suicidal than those of a normal weight.
You know why Susie? You really want to know why? C’mere, I’ll tell you a secret.
…
FAT PEOPLE EAT. People who don’t eat or diet tend to (anecdotally, this is my experience) feel like absolute shit because they are hungry all the fucking time. It messes with you.
But it’s time to get real – fat people may be happier but they’re also digging their graves with a fork, and we’re all paying for it.
Well, you should be happier that we’re killing ourselves! Because then you’ll get to stop paying for us! (As stupid as that concept is, because we have semi-socialised healthcare here).
And we get to the crux of the article. Underneath all the ‘but it’s for your health’ hand-waving, Susie O’Brien just thinks fat people cost too much. And are ugly.
Look, if you don’t want to give us nice clothes to wear, that’s fine. Just get us a clause to go around naked.
Source: News.com.au (careful of the comments, they tend to represent the lowest common denominator.)
Size 12 is not Plus Size
Monday, August 3rd, 2009
So I’m reading the online paper today and I come across this article. I was thinking that it was great to see Myer taking the issue of plus sizes seriously.
So I click on the link and read further. You should too, since I figure they might not be happy with me cutting and pasting the whole article. The article is titled “Fuller figures on display as Myer show thorws a curveball“.
I’m reading and reading and reading and it all sounds like great stuff. They’ll be stocking large sizes and you can even order custom briadal wear up to a size 24. They even talk to (or quote from a press release, who knows these days) one of the fuller figure models.
Brisbane model Bree Warren will be one of them and she said she wasn’t perturbed by the plus size tag.
“I know that I’m happy and healthy and I think that I’m in proportion,” she said.
“I think you’ve just got to be confident with how you look and who you are as a person.
“I think it’s so exciting that they’ve decided to include curvier girls this year in their shows.”
I kept the original link as included in the article to the model’s page on the Dallys Models website. I wasn’t sure if I read correctly at first, but it’s there in black and white. Well white and black.
SHE’S SIZE 12 AUSTRALIAN.
Since when did Size 12 Australian, which although I’m no expert I’m lead to believe is Size 8 US, is not plus size. I’m glad that she’s happy and healthy. Confidence is great too. But I don’t see how she can be thrust forward as the face of a plus size revolution by Myer.
Bring on the size 18 to Size 24 women, or even larger. Get hot sexy men of a larger size (like me for example) and dress them in AWESOME outfits. Make me want to come into your store and go “OMFG I can finally get some great threads and look as stylish as I feel.”
Just don’t lie to me ok?
