This tumblr basically features cute things, silly things, and some rage.
So, y'know, fun for all the fam.
I just LOVED this outfit so much I had to submit it. I’m terrible at taking these full-length photos though, so pardon the shot.
I’m a US 16-18.
The sweater is Gap (XL)
Skirt is H&M (L - it’s basically a piece of jersey fabric)
Socks are my boyfriend’s
Leggings are Everlast (XL)
Boots are Dolce Vita for Target (size 10)
And yes, my phone is a TARDIS.
I WANT A TARDIS PHONE! How do I get this??
fuckyeahchubbygirls is disgusting.
why promote being overweight and a slave to food?
people talk shit about pro ana and pro mia?
haha i’d rather be underweight than overweight any day.
actually, if i WAS overweight, i would probably kill myself. not that fat people should… i personally would do so.
Chubby/overweight does not indicate being a slave to food. Having an eating disorder (be that anorexia, bulimia or compulsive eating) indicates being a slave to food.
Fuckyeahchubbygirls was set up to boost the self esteem of those whom society deems to be unattractive based on size. It’s not intended to support unhealthy lifestyles.
Posting things like this, I’d say you really need to take a good hard look at your priorities.
(I’ll warn you now, this could get long.)
Over the past few months, I’ve experienced a very unusual feeling (for me at least): a dislike of my body. I worked so hard to start loving myself more, and when I put on a couple of extra pounds last winter, I revelled in it. For some reason I felt so much more comfortable than I had been when I was those few pounds lighter, even though I’ve never been skinny & always been a bit chubs. Coincidence with getting older, perhaps, or just a lightbulb moment in which I looked at myself naked in the mirror and thought, shit, you’re actually alright. Anyway. Regardless of what it was, lately I’ve felt it ebbing away, and I hate hate hate it.
It definitely comes down to having put weight on since I started eating meat/dairy again. I was an unhealthy vegan for sure, but that restriction was quite clearly a barrier keeping some weight off me. Then, bam. Hello extra stone, where have you come from? Oh, bacon sandwiches, I see. And gin has helped too? Lovely.
I feel like I’m constantly walking a tightrope between love and hate, between making myself go to the gym and eat less food and thinking hey, stop being silly, eat the chips and have some cake. I dislike this seesawing around. Those days when I hate my body are truly dreadful because, let’s be honest, there is absolutely NOTHING wrong with my body. I am chubby for sure. I’m 5ft 1 and a size 14. I am in the overweight category according to the NHS (but fuck BMI, that’s a story for another day). My tummy is rounder than it’s ever been. But my body, it functions, it flexes, it strolls, it lounges, it bounds, it runs (well, occasionally). It works. It does what I want it to. It’s mine.
Sometimes I feel like I have it more difficult than some women when I feel bad about my body, because not only do I have the body dislike, I also feel like a Bad Feminist. I bang on so much about positive body image and fat acceptance and everything that I feel I should be able to handle it when it comes to myself. Most of the time, I can. But sometimes? Sometimes I want to curl up in a ball and only eat cucumber or something until my tummy shrinks and I am smaller.
And would I be any happier if I got smaller? Of course I wouldn’t. There’d always be something else, one thing and then another and another until I disappeared entirely, pop, gone. Possibly what society wants…invisible women, silent, suppressed. Anyway. The thing is, on the days I don’t like my body, I know all this. I know thin does not equal happy. And I am disappointed in myself on those days for not being strong enough to fight societal pressure all the time.
I am writing this as a reminder for those days. Right now, my body feels pretty good. It’s tired and ready for a few hours of rest before a day of action tomorrow. I am writing this so that on those days I can look back on this and remember how I feel right now in this moment. My body is a gift and, to paraphrase Dumbledore, I’m pretty sure I can use it well.