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Role Models
Please note that while my archived posts remain, I primarily blog at my own website I have too many role models to list completely, but a few are: all my fabulous co-bloggers <3 Marianne Kirby of The Rotund and Lesley Kinzel of Two Whole Cakes. Dr Samantha Thomas of The Discourse. Beth Ditto. Every fabulous fattie I interact with on Twitter and tumblr.
Distinguishing Characteristics
My hair, which is bleached blonde, often in a beehive and full of secrets.
Fashion Style
Falling somewhere between a 1990s opshop reject and mish-mash of current trends.

Posts by cutselvage:

Trendy, Chic and Cheap

I am generally an advocate of saving up and dropping decent amounts of cash on quality clothing that will ultimately last, provided that you care for it well. For anyone who follows my Twitter, a fortnight or so ago I tweeted “I get a smug sense of satisfaction when I handwash my clothes. Look! I am prolonging the life of my garments! *SMUG*”. If you have the time, learn to love the handwash.

Anyway, I digress. As much as I love buying gorgeous, high-quality fashion, when it comes to seasonal trends, I’m perfectly happy to buy and cheap and cheerful garments. The best example I have of this recently is harem pants. I know, I know, we called them hammer pants or (ew) poocatchers for a reason, but hear me out! I have two pairs of harem pants, from Dorothy Perkins and – shock horror – Best and Less. Big W also have a pair that I have my eye on.

These are the Dotty P ones:




Tee: Uniqlo (JP)

Jacket: Nissen (JP)

Harem pants: Dorothy Perkins

Sandals: Birkenstock by Papillio

Necklace: Gift

Sour face: Courtesy of my job, I suspect


And these are the Best and Less harem pants:


Tee: Threadless (this is what a girly 2XL looks like on an AU18-20)

Harem pants: Best and Less

Shoes: Melissa

Wrist cuff: Gift

Sunglasses: Christian Dior

Both pairs are pretty different – the Dotty P pants come to a point just below the hip, which causes the drape to the tapered ankle. (I suspect these are actually supposed to hit mid-calf, but that’s the joy of being short). The ones from Best and Less, on the other hand, are pleated all around the waistband, and fall to fitted cuff mid-calf. So there’s harem pants and harem pants, it’s just a matter of finding the pair that work for you. I’m fortunate enough to be able to work in a very casual office, so I often wear mine with a Threadless tee and my Birkenstocks, but you can dress them up or down however you please! I recommend with choosing a fitted or tight top, to balance the volume of the harem pants. That said, I’m itching to try them with a baggy men’s shirt and this grey deconstructed vest I have – I shall report back to see if it works.

As a general guide, in my experience, the suburban versions of Big W, Best and Less and Kmart tend to have the best range of trendy clothing in plus-sizes. Big W also gets big props for having several straight-sized pieces reproduced in plus versions. Best and Less currently have wet-look leggings available in plus (!), and Kmart has a very cute retro-esque faux-tankini which I believe Sonya has purchased.

I don’t advocate getting all your clothing from these kinds of stores – the quality tends to be fair to middling, and there’s a lot of polyester. They still tend to make work pants cropped just above the ankle, an absolute pet hate of mine, and there are still plenty of fuggo graphic prints around. But all in all, for cheap, cheerful, trendy clothes, you really can’t go past Big W, Best and Less, and Kmart.


“Stop empowering fat people.” Wait, WHAT?


Seriously, that is the title of the op-ed piece that’s been spewed across the front page Australia’s biggest news website,, 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: (careful of the comments, they tend to represent the lowest common denominator.)

Numbers don’t define you.

[img_assist|nid=84|title=MinkPink Tunic|desc=|link=popup|align=left|width=300|height=400]

As a fat person, numbers have ruled me for a significant portion of my life.  The number on the scale, the number on my blood-pressure readings, the number of slices of cake I can eat… the list goes on.

The number that often has the most power, not just for fat women but for women of all sizes, though, is the number (or letter) on the tags of your clothing.

You are not going to die if you have to wear an XXL instead of an XL, or a 14 instead of a 12.

These little numbers can buoy us up to great heights, or pull us down into the deepest pits of despair – if you let them.  When I was in highschool and at the height of my food restriction, I managed to shoehorn myself into a pair of size 13 jeans.  It was possibly one of the greatest moments of my life.  Conversely, a year or two later when I went into Portmans and couldn’t zip up a size 16 skirt, I was devastated for over a week.

I am not defined by numbers – and neither are you.  Don’t be afraid to tell people what you weigh or what size you are (usually).  I’ll put my money where my mouth is: I weigh 106 kilograms, and wear Australian sizes 18-22 (usually – my closet has items from a 14 to a 22). 

See size tags for what they are: completely and utterly arbitrary.  In this photograph, I’m wearing one of my newest favourite tunics, by Sydney label MinkPink.  It’s a size 14.  I haven’t been a size 14 in many years, so don’t let tags deceive you.  Try things on – judge by how the garment looks, not the tag number.  Size up or down as the fit requires.  If you can’t, due to a narrow size range, let it go.  Don’t buy it and attempt to berate yourself into losing weight to wear it.  That never ends well.

Numbers are just that – numbers.  They are not a measure of your worth as a person. 


For the curious: tunic is by MinkPink via 360 Degrees in West End, size 14, tights are by We Love Colors and are a size C-D, shoes are by Miu Miu via Jean Brown and are a 40 1/2.  Guitar sneakily borrowed from my roommate.

Shopping on the INTERNET?! Surely you jest!

Okay, so it’s been pretty well established that I have nice clothes, and tend to wear pretty fun and awesome outfits.  I get compliments on my clothing relatively frequently.  Most recently, I bought a coat from Asos, a really cute beige, tulip-skirted mac.  And the compliments rolled in, and often ended in the question, “Where did you find that?”[img_assist|nid=74|title=Asos coat|desc=|link=popup|align=left|width=300|height=400]

And when I reply that I purchased it online, from an international retailer, most (not all) people seem genuinely shocked that it’s possible to purchase clothing online. I will often get responses along the lines of, “But how do you know it will fit?”

For a lot of people, knowing exactly what the measurements of one’s body are can be a highly daunting thing.  Tags on clothes might lie, but the measuring tape doesn’t.  I suspect a lot of women my age haven’t even thought that one’s bust, waist and hip measurements actually are supposed to correspond to the arbitrary numbers on size tags.  Actually knowing what size you are, and matching it up to size chart online might be frightening, particularly if one is not keen on having to size up for things to fit.  I’ve known people who have insisted they are a size __, no matter what, and if they need to size up for something to fit, they won’t buy it.

Funnily enough, they don’t seem to have a problem with going down a size if the garment is too big.

The most infuriating comments, though, are these:

Me: “Oh yeah, I bought this from [online store], I really like it!”

Them: “That’s pretty cool, but I don’t really get why you shop online?  Isn’t just easier to go into a real shop and buy something?”

Me: “… it would be if I could find anything to fit, that wasn’t ugly as hell and that every single other fat girl isn’t wearing.”

This is what we in Australia particularly, but that fat people the world over have to deal with.  Our choices are so ridiculously limited that if you want to dress in a fashion-forward way, we are relegated to online shopping.  Sure, it’s great to have unique stuff, but what if I just need a pair of, let’s say, black trousers.  A staple of most women’s wardrobes.  If you go into Target’s straight size section, you will find at least ten styles, all available in Short, Average and Tall.

In the plus sections?  Two or three styles, and all stupidly long or ridiculous cropped shit.  And this is just one low to mid-range department store.  Women who can wear straight sizes have a myriad of choices for their clothing, at various price points.  For fatties, we have a choice of paying $35 at Big W, or $250 at Myer.  Where’s the middle ground?  Autograph?  No way; just say no to mounds of printed polyester garbage.

I am so sick of having to pay at least $20 extra in shipping costs for the privilege of purchasing well fitting, comfortable, fashion-forward clothing.  When I hear people joking about or discussing “fat taxes”, I feel like screaming that I already pay a fucking fat tax – it’s called International Shipping.  Some stores are more reasonable than others (Torrid, I’m looking at you and your extortionate shipping costs), but ultimately, I pay more than smaller people for my clothes. 

I’m not asking for much.  I would love to see more brick-and-mortar stores stocking plus size clothing.  Places like Dogstar, an Australian brand that I would seriously buy so much stuff from, if they just extended their size range.  Or if the few Australian fatshion places could open up more stores, like Towanda, or DreamDiva.  Or if Autograph could start producing more tailored, on-trend pieces.

It is not that hard.  Fat people are here, with Fat Dollars to spend.  We want the same options as our straight-size counterparts, across all styles and all price points. 

I want to be able to walk into Target and find a pair of black, short length, wide-legged, mid-rise, natural-fibre trousers.

And now I am off to wear an outfit that will no doubt consist of a significant amount of clothing purchased online.

There’s a learning curve to fanciness!

You know, for a long time I was very disdainful of fashion.  Looking back, it was probably a combination of resentment that I couldn’t fit into clothes that were fashionable, and a sense that I was a nerdy girl and thus ‘not allowed’ to be fashionable.

To which I now say: BULLSHIT.  Anyone can be fancy, in their own way.  It’s just a matter of finding your style.

[img_assist|nid=41|title=|desc=|link=popup|align=left|width=79|height=100]I posted my first Ootfit of the Day (OotD) on the Fatshionista Livejournal community around January 2008 (I can’t find the exact date).  Not much, is it?  It was the middle of winter, and my body was still learning to cope with a Japanese winter.  I’m wearing a tomato red turtleneck from Japanese store Uniqlo, and old cream turtleneck from Ezibuy (an Australian catalogue shop), a black top from Uniqlo (which I still have and love), a pair of jeans from a Japanese plus-size store, and socks.  No accessories, no shoes, taken in a dirty mirror – the only thing going for it really is my awesome haircut.[img_assist|nid=42|title=|desc=|link=popup|align=right|width=49|height=101]

It’s interesting that some things here have stayed the same: I love layering, especially long sleeves under short, and I have a pretty similar haircut.  What’s happening is I’m learning, and taking photos of yourself is a huge step towards accepting your body, and deciding what sort of styles you really enjoy and are comfortable in.

In this outfit, which I’m not sure of the date, but is a similar timeframe, I’ve discovered dresses.  I’ve seen a lot of members in Fatshionista wearing dresses, and have decided to try breaking out of my top-and-jeans rut.  The dress is from Jump, an Australian brand stocked at department store David Jones.  I’m wearing a necklace in this one, but I’m clearly still working on the ‘co-ordinated outfit’ thing.  Still loving my hair![img_assist|nid=43|title=|desc=|link=popup|align=right|width=61|height=100]

Here’s where I start to get my fancy on! I’ve discovered the concept of accessories, particularly scarves and earrings.  I’m still having a love affair with scarves, actually.  Tell me your favourite place to buy fancy scarves!   This particular outfit features a thrifted dress, a random black top, sunglasses by Christian Dior, scarf from a random Japanese boutique, and coloured tights  from We Love Colors, a fabulous site that sells opaque tights in heaps of colours.

From here, I pretty much go nuts trying to find the style that suits me.  Ultimately, I love dresses and skirts, particularly of the knee-length a-line or pencil variety.  I’m still not sure if belts work for me, but my love for  scarves will probably never abate, and I’m a big fan of interesting (yet comfortable) shoes.

A couple of my favourite outfits! Featuring the first thing I ever bought from a Fatshionista sales post, which are a great way for antipodean fats to get hold of US and UK clothing at a reasonable price.  The first photo features a tunic is from Maurices via a sales post, cropped cardigan from Japanese store We Go, and boots from Japanese shoe store Washington.  (How amazing is it that I was able to find gorgeous wide-calf boots in Japan?!




Number two is a black top from 1626 via Natalie’s clothing swap, grey high-waisted skirt from Dorothy Perkins (shop review to come!), and shoes from Marui, a Japanese department store. And the last is what I wore to work on Thursday, as today outfit of jeans and a jumper for casual Friday was not very fancy! Dress by Mlle Gabrille via, sweater from Uniqlo, ribbon stolen from another skirt, jacket from Basque Woman (Myer), tights from Jinnee (Japanese plus-size store) and shoes by Naot.

I hope this gives readers a bit of insight into how the Axis of Fat members get their fanciness on, and in future posts there’ll be handy-dandy shop reviews, and some vlogging to help you all reach the fancy lady or man inside!

From Diet Misery to Self-Acceptance

(Note: May be triggering for some readers – diet/weight loss/self-harm).

I have a rather shocking confession to make. Brace yourselves.

I am fat, and happy with my body.

I don’t mean fat in the sense of “wah wah oh I can pinch more than an inch oh woe is me”, while dramatically flinging my hand against my forehead and waiting for all my friends to chime in and bolster my self-esteem by decrying my tirade of hating myself. Fuck that noise.

I mean in the sense that I regularly wear plus-sizes (generally an 18-20, for the curious), have a protruding, bifurcated belly, and for medical purposes, fall somewhere between obese and morbidly obese.

Becoming at ease with my body has not been an easy journey. I’ve been fat for as long I can remember – always stockier than my slender primary-school friends, wearing a size 16 in girl’s clothing, and knowing deep down that I should be ashamed, and finally, when I was twelve years old, subjecting myself to Weight Watchers.

[img_assist|nid=21|title=Circa age fifteen|desc=|link=none|align=right|width=262|height=400]At the time, I weighed 79 kilograms, or about 175lbs. I dieted myself down to 70 kilograms (154lbs), but given that I’m only 5’4” tall, the goal listed on my little purple diet booklet suggested I should be around 67kg maximum. Maybe I would have got there, maybe I wouldn’t have, but I moved interstate, got a job working at McDonald’s, stopped playing netball, focused all my efforts on staying home and studying…

Yeah, I gained the weight back. And a little more, just for spite.

My life became a constant push-and-pull with my body. In high school, I remember fantasising about slicing my stomach off. I used to stand in front of the mirror and tell myself how fucking ugly I was. I actually slapped myself in the face once, after eating a slice of cake.

In grade eleven, I started walking for over an hour every day before school, eating half an apple for breakfast, purging my lunch, and picking at my dinner. I stopped purging because I was worried about ruining my teeth, but the compliments as I got slimmer and slimmer (and tired and pale and irritable and stressed and…) were so satisfying.

The shame I felt when my mother made my formal, or prom outfit, as she measured my waist and pursed her lips and shook her head, was overwhelming. I looked amazing that night. So many people told me how great I looked. All I could think was that I weighed 85 kilograms, having finally given up on the restrictive dieting while I was studying so hard for university entrance.

University is a bit of a blur. I found a boyfriend, something I was convinced would never happen because I was so disgustingly fat. I went on naturopath diet, something horrible, where she wanted me to basically be a vegetarian (no hating on vegos here, but goddammit, I love my meat). My life was a swing of highs and lows, solely centred on whether I lost or gained weight each week.

I went on a medical diet program in my final year. At the beginning, the doctors did an EKG, blood sugars, cholesterol, liver enzymes. They were noticeably surprised that all my levels were normal, and that my blood pressure was perfect. Throughout the six month program, I lost very little weight, although I went to the gym for up two hours every day. I burst into tears at the last appointment. All that had happened was that my blood sugars and liver enzymes had improved, though they were good to start with.

I went on my last diet in January 2008. A local chemist here has a meal-replacement diet; because I was working in an office, I found it very easy to stick to, and lost about 9 kilograms in five weeks. Then I moved to Japan. Of all the places one might expect to find peace with their body, Japan would be pretty low on the list. It’s an image-obsessed culture, where the cult of thin is possibly even more entrenched than it is in the West.

But there was something about it. Maybe it was the fact that my Japanese wasn’t good enough to consume the local media, so all the fat-hatred went straight over my head. Maybe it was the fact that I knew I was going to stand out for a multitude of reasons, my fat being just one of them. Maybe it was the surprising number of compliments I seemed to receive on my clothing. Maybe it was the sweet Japanese man I ended up dating for a significant portion of the time I was there, and who seemed to adore my body. Maybe it was the fact that I was homesick for Western food and didn’t care if I gained weight because I was already massively obese by Japanese standards anyway. Maybe I was just tired of fighting.

We take these bodies of ours for granted, so much of the time. They move us around, with or without assistance from aids, they house our minds and hearts, they protect us. And yet every day we treat them with utter disdain, even hatred, as they refuse to conform to the exceedingly narrow standards society has written for us.

I discovered size acceptance, the radical notion of accepting, even loving yourself at any size. I pored over Shapely Prose, The Rotund, and many more, absolutely astonished that people my size and bigger could be genuinely happy with themselves. After so long railing against it, calling it names and even physically abusing it, I wanted not to hate my body.

It’s not easy, and don’t let anyone try and tell you it is.

[img_assist|nid=22|title=Outift of the day, July 3rd 2009|desc=|link=none|align=left|width=300|height=400]I love to dress well, and I relish the compliments I receive on the clothes I wear, remembering how I used to hide in bust-compressing sports bras, baggy men’s shirts and capri pants. I wear makeup, or don’t wear it, as the fit takes me. I look to other fat people – Beth Ditto of The Gossip, Lesley Kinzel of Fatshionista, and more, for inspiration and help when the overwhelming message of fat hatred overtakes me.

I returned from Japan in April of this year, knowing that I would be thrown back in the media hysteria of obesity, the constant barrage of ‘fat is bad’ messages and the knowledge that every day will be always be a fight. Not a fight to force my body into the thin ideal, but the fight against such a pervasive message of fat hatred.

I no longer diet. I don’t purge or restrict my eating. I eat with joy and delight for the taste of food, sharing it with the people I care about, and nurturing my body. I don’t exercise for two hours every day, but move when I have the time, the inclination, and the ability to do so.

I wrote this not just as an introduction, but as a cathartic exercise to lay down in print how the misery and hopelessness of body hatred doesn’t have to be a part of my life, or of yours. Fat, thin, or anywhere in between, treat your body with respect. It’s a cliché, but it’s true – this body is the only one you’ve got, so you might as well give it the love it deserves.

I’m proud to be a founding member of the Brisbane Axis of Fat, where we acknowledge how inherently subversive it is to chill with your fat body, and are fucking upfront about it.

Do Not Adjust Your Set

The fancy people behind Axis of Fat have all written and contributed to blogs for a while now. But we felt that there was something missing in the blogging world, especially the Australian blogging world — and that was a collective of fat and fashionable fancy ladies (and men!), blogging about their politics, fat issues, their style and how we find shit to fit. The idea for the Axis of Fat came about from an idea Natalie had, in which we combine our different knowledge and blogging experiences into one big blog. 

The idea for Axis of Fat actually came together while Zoe was overseas in Japan (being fat all over the place and getting some seriously fashionable gear), so the whole concept coalesced before the four of us had even all met in person.  Once she returned, and the four of us finally got together, we realised how far we could take the concept.  We have a wide knowledge base: Nick’s web experience and familiarity with the fail that is fat men’s clothing (HI LOWES), Natalie’s extensive blogging on various fat issues, Sonya’s writing and previous blog work in NoMoreMumus and Zoe’s wide knowledge of international plus-size fashion.  Naturally, we can take on a variety of topics – from the dearth of plus size fashion in Australia to fat acceptance activism.     

We plan to have regular features on the blog, including vlogging style and Cosmo-esque lifestyle tips (with more cursing), how to find the elusive and sneaky clothing for fat men, and advice on how to build an oufit to suit your style. One feature we hope to make a regular occurence is to put our op-shopping skills to the test, and scour the thrift stores in order to find clothing and accessories for cheap, while still keeping in with personal style.  If you are in Brisbane and are interested in being part of a vlog, drop us a line – any size is welcome.

-The Axis of Fat collective

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