So this happened..

I’ve been really lax with blogging lately and this is why. 
Everyone, meet Vinnie.
He’s 4 months old and so as you can imagine he’s kept us busy. 
It’s our first week and we’re still finding our routine and getting used to being out in the garden every 45 minutes instead of slobbing out in front of our respective computer screens, but it’s going better than we anticipated. 
So far he seems to have a really lovely temperment. He’s good with strangers, and especially children. do anything too bad. He’s not really chewed anything and he’s barely barked.  He’s just not keen on walking much right now. I know them feels, bud. 
I’m still kinda pinching myself. I’ve wanted a dog for years but I’ve always held of because I felt I was too selfish with my time but the circumstances were right and so here we are. I do find myself forgetting how much my time is affected by a new puppy who you can’t leave. I can’t just go strolling into the shops when I feel like it, we’ve already had to cancel plans, and now I have to think about the sort of shifts I pick up at work. Sometimes, when I’ve been standing in the garden at 6.30am in the rain, I wondered what the hell I had done. But when we come back in and he can’t wait to sit in my lap and snooze it’s really, really hard to be sad. 

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Not that I am the most prolific of bloggers but recently I have had no motivation or inspiration for anything. I’m still off sick from work and the financial implications of this are such that I am very limited on the things I can do. Going out the door usually means spending money in some capacity. Even if I’m not going into a shop if I want to go anywhere nice for a walk I’d have to drive to the destination first, which means petrol. Petrol costs money. Money I do not have.
It’s also quite isolating as I haven’t seen many people either.
So for the las couple of weeks I’ve thrown myself into my new Xbox game. I’ve spent considerable hours lost in another word with no motivation to rejoin my own.
But with that comes a huge sense of guilt. Mostly down to my inactivity. While I do feel the negative effects of it; fatigue and little appetite, there’s also a sense of shame insofar as I feel that as a fat person I am obligated to prove I am a “good fatty”. By this I mean, despite being fat, I don’t live the sedentary lifestyle that is wrongly presumed of fat people.

I see in many online disputes that someone makes hateful comments towards fat people there is a wild assumption that they are lazy and wilfully inactive, and in turn this means they are a bad person.
There are many things wrong with this arguement, and in my mind I know this, but I guess it shows how easily, and deeply, we as fat people internalise a lot of self loathing based on nothing but other people’s arbitary standards of humanity. 

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Ho, ho, HOLD UP.

I wanted to write a really helpful post about how to deal with the anxiety that social eating can cause as a fat person, over the holiday period. I really did. But I’ve come to accept that my only advice is getting that shit shut down.

I had my works Christmas meal a couple of days ago and I noticed when the dessert arrived it was like the fox in the hen coop. Suddenly there was a bustle at the table of people clammering to share their desserts, they simply couldn’t eat it all, and Oh! I don’t think I want it now. Hmm maybe. No!

To the point where I simply banged my hands on the table and told them all to eat their fucking puddings, or don’t, and to stop making a big bloody deal. I’m here for the sole purpose of eating with these people. I don’t need to hear this crap.

I know that, certainly as an adult, I’ve been very lucky in that I haven’t had anyone policing the food I eat at these gatherings. I’m sure there was the questioning brow and derisive comment as a young child, but if there was I’ve simply forgotten. But I know I am lucky in that respect and that this is a very real issue for many fellow fats this Christmas.

I guess the purpose of this post was for me to reach out, and to say that you don’t deserve to have your choices questioned, your body made public property for all to comment on. I fully appreciate that it is difficult for a lot of people to challenge this, for a lot of reasons. But as long as you realise that you are beautiful, you are worthwhile, and that these people and their negativity can go sit on chair of up-turned plugs, you’ll be ok.

I’ve always used humour as a tool to deal with my fat-shamers. Outsmart them. Embaress them. See how they like it. Chances are they’ll feel like a big pile of..Christmas logs..when being shown up in front of a table full of people and they’ll be less likely to do it again.

If you have one particular member of the family who is a repeat offender you could always appeal to their human side and speak to them before the occasion. Let them know how you feel. Speak to them afterwards and have some positive discourse. It doesn’t always have to be bad!

If you have a flare for the dramatics, as I certainly do, you can always just dump your dinner on their plate and leave with the gateaux.

But ok, joking aside, and I know this is a garbled mess of a post, but I need to say it again


Whatever you decide to do, I hope that you have a great time and enjoy yourself. 

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So I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus..

When I started fatshion blogging it was on the heels of an eye opening day at my first Plus North in 2013. I was flattered to have so many people encourage me to start because they really dug my look. It worked hand in hand with my ever developing interest in fat politics and fat visibility. I was intrigued to explore the concept of being a visible fat person and focusing on the clothes I wore, the way I looked.


My armor.


Through that I have met a lot of great people whom I would not have otherwise met. But I know that I haven’t jumped in with both feet. I know that I’m sitting against the wall at the dance here. I found keeping up with trends, hell being into the trends to begin with, difficult. Often I didn’t have the time to take the picture. Even more I found that with my job as a carer I was not wearing anything worth talking about and when I wasn’t at work I was in my comfy, slobbing out clothes.
Then I injured my back and have since been on long term sick. For many weeks I wasn’t even able to get out of bed, let alone get dressed. When I was up and about all I wanted was the bare minimum that was acceptable for when I hobbled outside on my crutch. Blogging ideas dissipated through my painkiller haze.
What started out as a potential for adventure very quickly became a chore. I felt I was missing the mark. It seemed to snowball very quickly considering that I have blogged for little.
Then I saw a post by my friend Elena where she touched upon something briefly here that I too had been thinking about. Fashion blogging is about YOU. What you like, what makes you tick, what you enjoy and mostly what you look like. Why should I try to be something that I’m not?

No wonder this was all such hard work for me. It wasn’t in any way authentic to me.
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