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Irony, Satire, and Everything In Between [Jul. 1st, 2009|04:57 pm]
[Current Mood | frustrated]
[Current Music |Kanye West - Love Lockdown | Powered by Last.fm]

I've noticed, as have many others before me, that people just don't seem to understand what irony or satire mean. Irony is a contrast between what is expected to happen and what actually does happen. It can be humorous, but can also be sad, disheartening, annoying, etc. (source: my brain) Satire is a parody or conflation of human flaws intended to bring about change. (source: the bastion of knowledge, wikipedia) Thus, a list.

IRONIC: growing a mullet if you are an upper-middle class New Englander
NOT IRONIC: growing a mullet if you are a Southerner
IRONIC: naming your pet goldfish "Bait"
NOT IRONIC: naming your pet goldfish "Shakespeare"
IRONIC: Wearing a shirt that says, "I <3 Meat" if you're a vegetarian
NOT IRONIC: Wearing a shirt that says, "I <3 Meat" if you're an omnivore
IRONIC: wearing women's jeans if you're male and vice-versa
NOT IRONIC: wearing really, really tight men's jeans if you're male
IRONIC: calling a non-gay friend a "faggot" (I didn't say it had to be not reprehensible. Technically speaking, it's ironic.)
NOT IRONIC: using the terms "gay" and "faggot" as insults
IRONIC: being stranded at the altar
NOT IRONIC: rain on your wedding day
IRONIC: having to explain the concept of irony to people who I know took four years of high school English
NOT IRONIC: listening to Miley Cyrus

As for Satire...

EXAMPLES OF SATIRE:
Jonathan Swift's "A Modest Proposal"
Jonathan Swift's "Gulliver's Travels"
Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World"
Alexander Pope's "The Rape of the Lock"
"Saved!"
"Borat" (I'll give it this, but I don't really see any attempt to bring about change in it)
"Thank You For Smoking"
"Dogma"
"Jizz in my Pants" (to an extent)

NOT SATIRE:
ethnic jokes
"Twilight"
"27 Dresses" and any other chick flick
songs that dehumanize gays/women/any other group intentionally

Everyone understand? Okay, class over.
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(no subject) [Jun. 28th, 2009|05:24 pm]
[Current Music |Me First and the Gimme Gimmes - I'll Be There | Powered by Last.fm]

Dear Hollywood,

I am fat.  Very fat.  Obese according to BMI scale (which is bullcrap, but that's another blog for another day).  I'm not just a little pudgy.  In order to be "normal," I would have to lose upwards of 50 lbs.  And, somehow, I manage to do none of the following:

1) Fart constantly, and uncontrollably in an effort to make everyone in the world aware of how ZOMFGFAT I am
2) Eat everything in sight
3) Laze around on the couch all day, stuffing bonbons and entire pizzas down my gullet
4) Throw my gazillion rolls of fat around me and onto other people
5) Remain in denial/unaware of how ZOMFGFAT I am
6) Eat ice cream, entire pizzas, double bacon heart-attack cheeseburgers, and doughnuts for every meal
7) Attempt to squeeze myself into size 2's and complain when they don't fit
8) Obsess over every morsel that I put into my body
9) Not excersize (double negatives ftw)
10) Hit on every guy I meet as a horrible irony because I am, you know, ZOMFGFAT and therefore ZOMFGUGLY
11) Lose things in my fat rolls
12) Break furniture
13) Squash people/small animals with my fat
14) Sweat constantly and onto other people

Actually, I'm more well-adjusted than a lot of thin people who do, in fact, obsess over every calorie that goes in or out of their bodies.  So stop it with the fucking stereotypes.

No Love,

Me.
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On Body Image and Friendship [Jun. 25th, 2009|11:06 pm]
[Current Mood | uncomfortable]
[Current Music |Richard Cheese - buddy holly | Powered by Last.fm]

I just found out that my good friend got breast implants.  Like, today, got them.  And I'm totally going to support her and bring her chicken soup and everything, but I can't help but feel super-guilty.

See, it's an on-running joke within my group of friends that X is skinny and has no boobs.  We always assumed that she was in on the joke with us.  After all, it's also an on-running joke that I have massive tits, and Y is Asian, and Z has a big butt, etc. etc.  I guess she never was in on the joke.

Which makes me feel HORRIBLE.  I have dealt with body image issues my whole life, growing up a fat girl and woman in a culture that deems fatness a captial sin.  Therefore, I understand as much as any woman the pressure that Society puts on us women to look a certain way.  Fuck, X was closer to that look than anyone else in the group.  Regardless, I feel like, as someone who understand that pressure, I should have thought about what I was saying when I was joking instead of JUST FUCKING GOING ON WITH IT.  It's some Gift of the Magi bullshit, which makes me feel like crap.  I know it's not about me and that I'm just being selfish, but... fuck.  I keep going over every conversation in my head, wondering if I had said, "you look amazing today" for no real reason, or just not, I don't know, making jokes about how skinny and flat-chested she is, would she maybe be running through the flowers or some bullshit instead of recouperating in her bed with ice on her tits right now.  And I KNOW I'm being obscene, but that's just the way my mind is working right now.

On a totally different note, it PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF that someone as beautiful and kind and intelligent as her would get implants.  I know the whole, "I got implants for me, not for Society" meme, but that's bullshit.  You don't get implants for you, you get them to make yourself more attractive, whatever that means.  You get implants because Society tells you that there is something wrong with you for not having an itty bitty waist, massive knockers, a relatively large yet muscular ass, long legs, long, straight hair, a Romanesque nose, full (but not African) lips, pale-yet-tanned, flawless skin, etc. etc.

I guess I feel like I'm so used to The Slutty Girl (the label itself a problem with Society) being the one with a boob job, and not my smart, caring friend.  There's some disconnect I feel here that's absolutely blowing my mind.  I just wish that I could go back in time and tell her how incredibly beautiful she is and perfect just the way she is.  Like I said, I'm not going to shun her just because she has fake boobs, but I'm not sure I can feel the same way about our relationship anymore.  Something seems false, artificial, superficial about her now, even though that's just what Society tells me is the impetus to plastic surgery.

You know what?  Fuck Society.  Fuck it hard.
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Commercial Ideas [Jun. 22nd, 2009|12:11 am]
So I've been thinking a lot about going into marketing lately, since I'm not a huge fan of the direction that advertising has been going in this country.  So, without further ado, here are my ideas for a few series of TV ads for various products.

1) Tampons
The tagline: Every woman is a [brand] woman.

We have four typically "othered" women talking about gaffes/cute moments involving Brand X tampons, while it's being acted out on screen.

a. Queer/Lesbian woman
"I was walking into the grocery store when I see the most gorgeous woman coming out of the doors towards me.  We lock eyes... and I trip over the curb, spilling Brand Xes everywhere.  One hits her feet.  She reaches down, picks it up and says, 'these are my favorites, too.'  Because every woman is a Brand X woman."

b. Non-white woman #1
"I was making dinner for my in-laws for the first time... ugh I was so nervous.  In the middle of dinner, my husband's mother gets up to use the bathroom.  I'm thinking, "Oh no, I left my Brand Xes out on the counter...'  After they leave, I go in to check the bathroom and I see a note on my box of Brand Xes in his mother's handwriting.  It says, 'I always knew you were a catch.  Because every woman is a Brand X woman."

c. Non-white woman #2
"It was my first period after having the baby, and I had nothing in the house!  I sent my husband out to get a box of tampons.  He came back with Brand Xes.  I knew he was a keeper.  Because every woman is a Brand X woman."

d. Haven't figured out this one yet, but I think there should be four.

2) Beer/Alcohol
tagline: "The Official Drink of Confident Women"

a. Overweight woman walking around in a sexy outfit.  Guys check her out as she walks into the bar.  She sits down and orders Brand X drink.  She drinks a swig, and the men swoon.  "Brand X: The official drink of confident women."

b. Businesswoman sitting around a table.  She stands up to give a presentation.  As she's standing, she scratches her leg under her skirt hem, and we see that she has a prosthetic leg.  Cut to a shot of her sitting at a bar with co-workers, celebrating her business success, drinking Brand X.  "Brand X: The official drink of confident women."

3) Laundry Detergent

Boy going off to college.  His parents are moving him in, and they're about to leave in the car.
Dad: Looks like that's the last of it.
Mom: Oh honey, I'm going to miss you!
Boy: I'll miss you too, Mom.
Mom: Go to class every day.  And study hard.  And don't forget to call!
Boy: I will.  (hugs her)
Dad: Hold on, son.  You forgot something.  (Hands boy a box of Brand X detergent, label visible.  The boy hugs the dad.)
Dad: I love you.
Boy: I love you too, Dad.

So... yeah.  No misogyny, no classism, no racism.  And I think these ads would be pretty successful, too.
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Bad Driving, Doctor's Orders, and The Bullshit List [Jun. 18th, 2009|03:08 pm]
[Current Music |The Lonely Island - I'm on a Boat (feat. T-Pain) | Powered by Last.fm]

If I was a superhero, I'm pretty sure my Kryptonite would be curbs.  I don't know what it is, but I ALWAYS hit curbs when I'm driving.  Like, I could be driving perfectly, and I'll see a curb coming up 30 feet ahead, and something fails in between my eyes, hands, and feet, and I flip a shit.  It's especially bad around highways.  I always feel like I'm going to hit the curb when I'm turning onto/off of 400.  Driving fail.

Also, I've discovered that doctors' offices make me turn into a bumbling idiot.  I had to get physical therapy for my back today, and somehow I had trouble speaking to the receptionists and the parking deck lady.  I was completely inarticulate.  First I got lost in the building.  By the way, how fucking big are doctors' office buildings going to get before we all join hands across America?  I mean, fa real tho.  I was expecting there to be cheese at the end of that maze.

This is how to get to the rehab center where my therapy was: Get out of the car.  Go through one building.  Go across the street, weaving through old people and babies.  Enter building.  Go to top floor.  Go into one side of the center... make sure it's the right one. 
Go behind the waiting room.  Enter the little cove.  Turn left.  You're in the waiting room.  DAVID BOWIE, DID YOU DESIGN THIS BUILDING???

Then I almost hit a wall coming out of the parking deck.  Fack.

In other news, you know how some people have a Shit List?  I have a Bullshit List.  Today's entry?  Subsidized farming.  Yes, it still exists.  The U.S. Government pays tobacco farmers to grow tobacco, corn farmers to grow corn, and certain farmers to NOT grow their crops.  More than anything else, this hurts poor consumers.  One of the main reasons that lower-income people have health issues is because they can't afford healthy food.  Check it out next time you're at the grocery store: what costs more, a pound of fresh, organic fruits and vegetables, or the equivalent amount of a crappy, sodium-rich, overprocessed TV dinner?  It's due directly to these subsidies.  If crops were unregulated, the free market would determine the prices.  Corn, soy, rice, and most fruits and veggies would be fairly cheap, since they grow in most areas of the U.S. and and relatively cheap to produce.  Furthermore, locally-grown crops would be cheaper than imported, since the shipping costs would factor into the actual cost more closely.  It is truly a shanda* that the government still controls what we consume, and takes part in the malnutrition of so many people.



*Yiddish word of the day: Shanda (SHAWN-duh).  Shame.  "Your cousin Moshe cheated on his wife with her sister?  What a shanda.  She was always the pretty one!"
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More thoughts on FA [May. 22nd, 2009|12:25 am]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Mood | frustrated]

I've had a few people ask me why I've been so adamant and almost militant about my Fat Acceptance postings and comments on Facebook.  Aside from the cliches of the unenlightened ("BUT ZOMFG TEH FATZ IZ DEADLY!!11one"), a lot of people seem to be genuinely curious about WHAT FA entails and why I gear it towards women in particular.   Because I enjoy lists, here goes.

<b>1) Women are held to a higher standard of physical beauty than men.</b>  Don't believe me?  Quickly, name three male actors who don't fit the "traditional" standard of physical attractiveness.  Got it?  Now name three female actors who don't, not including those whose careers are based off this supposed lack of attractiveness (i.e. Nikki Blonsky).  It's harder, isn't it?  And let's not forget the always-popular Susan Boyle from "Britain's Got Talent."  Her success is BASED UPON the fact that she breaks through these barriers of attractiveness.  Just look at the faces of the people in the audience before she sings... they EXPECT her to fail, they WANT her to fail.  However, their tunes change when she shows her vocal chops.  If she were a Britney lookalike, the expectation for failure would not have been there, plain and simple.  There is a cultural assumption that talent and success is reserved for the physically attractive.

<b>2) Thin =  attractive in the American cultural lexicon.</b>  Every time a female celebrity gains weight, you can just hear the tabloids orgasming from the headlines they can derive (this will happen occasionally to men, it's just not as common).  Even when a celebrity looks BETTER with meat on her bones (Carrie Underwood, anyone?), the assumption from the mass media still claims that ANY weight gain is bad.  The headlines on People magazine make it seem as though said celebrity burned off half her body, Twoface-style, in a deliberate effort to be unattractive.  Jessica Simpson recently fell under this public scrutiny for gaining something resembling 10 lbs.  Upon further research (great job there, journalists of the world), it was discovered that to keep her Daisy Duke body, she had to do more than an hour of exercise every day, six days a week, AND keep a highly restricted diet.  In other words, she kept in shape but LET HER BODY DO WHAT IT NATURALLY DOES, and was thrown under the bus for it.  By the way, the diet industry is a MULTI-BILLION DOLLAR INDUSTRY.  Given that DIETS DON'T WORK (95-98% of dieters lossing over 75 lbs. regain it within 5 years...this is a solid fact, you can google it), is it any wonder?  Women all over the world pay for body shame.

<b>3) Mass Media is all media.</b>  More people voted for American Idol this year than in the presidential election, even when you control for multiple voting.  Fucking think about that.

<b>4) Women's bodies are not our own.</b>  This is the hardest concept for most people to grasp.  How can our bodies not be our own?  Think about the big-breasted girl in high school who was subjected to verbal assaults because she DARED to have big breasts.  Think about the transwomen in New York City who have beer bottles thrown at them for dressing as they choose.  Think about the fat woman who is subject to stares from those around her in the grocery store checkout because she has food in her cart, regardless of its health content.  Think about the 16-year-old girl denied an abortion, not on religious grounds, but on the grounds that she, despite BEING PHYSICALLY PREGNANT cannot "make her own decisions."  Women's bodies are subject to public scrutiny everywhere, all the time.  We are supposed to fit into a mold of femininity straight out of the 1950's (demure, quiet, small waist, big breasts-- but not too big, hourglass figure, perfect hair, perfect skin, etc. etc.), and when we break this mold, we're "bitches," "sluts," "tramps," "whores," and the ever-popular "dykes," and "cunts."

<b>5) Men have it shitty, too.</b>  Although not always held to the same physical standard, men are held to a standard of hypermasculinity.  I can't begin to comprehend the subtle intricacies of the masculine-feminine battle that happens within the male sphere (and I'm not being sarcastic), bit I do understand that it occurs.  There is a rejection of all that is feminine in this hypermasculine culture, which is where the homophobia present in many adolescent male cliques comes from.  Anything other than straight-up heterosexuality (lulz pun) means a deviation from this norm, and is therefore "bad" and/or "wrong."

<b>6) When everyone loses at society, we have to re-evaluate our values.</b>  There is no reason for the fat-hatred and other-hatred that is so omnipresent in American culture.  I know I say this a lot, but there are fucking wars going on, genocides and mass murders and disease and technological revolutions.  Until we stop focusing on outward appearances, shit ain't gettin' done.


My sincerest love to all of you.  I'm sorry if some of these points don't make sense or mesh with my "thesis."  I'm rill tired.  These are more talking points to get you thinking about how you evaluate yourselves/others and whether you are a victim to our culture.  As always, YOU ARE ALL PERFECT THE WAY GOD/ALLAH/BUDDHA/VISHNU/XENU MADE YOU!

Peace, Love, and Persephone's Belly,

Sarah
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Why I'm freaking the fuck out [Mar. 31st, 2009|12:22 am]
As you may have noticed, I've been in a state of perpetual anxiety for about the last 48 hours.  I figure that I owe it to everyone to explain the reasons why.  Here goes...

1) I didn't get the Editorship.  I really wanted it.  Bad.  I don't even care who got it, I just know that this is somehow another thing that I'm just not good enough for.

2) I didn't get HSA President.  I know Melissa will do a fine job, but I still wanted it SO BAD that it just kills me to see someone else get the position.

3) The two titles I'm holding next year I got without opposition.  In other words, I can't win a fucking election unless it's against myself.

4) I feel a lot of hostility in HSA, Reslife, the JSU and SGA against me.  I don't know if it's real or imagined, but I feel like a lot of people in those organizations want me out, plain and simple.  It's stressing me the eff out.

5) I'm still having trouble hearing out of my right ear.

6) The guy who I've been in love with since I met him Freshman year just started dating a mutual friend.  I know her, so my usual, "she's a bitch" approach doesn't work.

7) Every time I feel like I'm getting emotionally close to a guy, I freak him out somehow and he's no longer interested (or he never was).  Therefore, I assume that it's something wrong with my appearance.  Therefore, I freak the fuck out.

8) I feel ugly 98% of the time, and nothing can change that.  No matter what I try to tell myself, I hate what I see in the mirror.  Every time I'm in a room, I'm always the ugliest one, and it SUCKS.  I'm trying to diet, but it's taking a long time, and I'm barely seeing results.  I think I'm just always going to be fat or something.

9) I'm still not over my ex-ish thing.

10) I'm getting to the age where it's weird to still have my v-card and not be saving myself for marriage.  I'm scared that it's reaching the point where I'll turn off any potential mates because of it.

11) I'm on a diet and my blood sugar is freaking out.  Plus, I've discovered that I have an incredibly unhealthy relationship with food.

12) I don't feel like I can be myself as an RA.  I'm not really as perky and happy as people think from how I'm required to act.  I'm actually kind of a mopey bitch, but you wouldn't know because I have to be this perfect role model figure.

13) I just turned 20, and I'm still trying to figure out where I fit into that.  I don't know if I'm an adult yet or not.

14) I feel like every has all their shit together: friends, relationships, future career, housing situation, everything.  I'm the only one who doesn't.  Especially with friends.  There are a few groups of people that I want to get involved with, but they all seem to either think I'm some kind of socially awkward freak or just have no interest in hanging out with me.  Even when I try, they never invite me along to things.

15) My spine hurts 24-7, but I don't have time to go see my chiropractor.

16) I miss my family a lot.

17) I'm still getting over Milo's death.  I know it's been a while, but he was basically like my little brother, and it's so weird to know he's gone.

18) Similarly, a former classmate of mine died this past month, and it's kind of shook up my reality.

19) I have no car, no job for next year, and no housing for school.

20) I think I chose the wrong major, but I can't do shit about it now.

21) I always feel like, no matter what I do, I'm never good enough.  I'm not good enough to be HSA President, I'm not good enough to be Miscellany Editor, I'm not good enough to hang out with crowd x or y, I'm not smart enough to get about a 3.2, I'm not pretty enough to attract boys, goodness knows I'm not skinny enough and will never be.  I'm just never going to be enough for anyone.


I hope this clears up what's going on.  I'm trying not to freak out, but it has to happen, so understand if I go psycho on any of y'all's asses.

Peace, Love, and Fluffy Puppies,

Sarah
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Seventeen Magazine Lied to Me [Mar. 18th, 2009|10:07 pm]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Mood | ugly]

Around the lunch table,
the little blond girls braid
each others hair
and whisper secrets about who has a crush on whom.
They talk of ponies and unicorns and the boys across the room
and giggle.
They throw food at the fat girl down the table
with her face in a book.
Because how dare she be slightly more than eighty-five pounds!
How dare she prefer the fictional world to her own
where the little blond boys and little blond girls kiss on the mouth
and hold hands on the way to the bus.

And little blond girls grow up to be big girls.
The kissing grows deeper and farther south.
And they still toss insults at the fat girls who dare
expose their round bodies in the sunlight.

Because you're not allowed to be loved
if you're predisposed to be the slightest bit rotund.
It's a crime, it's a sin
to be ugly or fat.

So the other girls retreat into their own little worlds
while the pretty blond girls know
that nothing will ever change.
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Exit 6B, just over the Chatahoochee River [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:15 pm]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Music |Buddy Holly - "Peggy Sue"]

Sixteen minutes until midnight
there's nothing on the radio.
Driving home from this winter's
timeshare in the fourth circle of Hell.
All I want is a coffee

or to curl up in bed, cover my head
with the plush blanket.
To sleep and
not wake up until 3 PM,
when the afternoon sun has past its prime.

I see a cross on the shoulder
of the highway,
covered in roses and teddy bears
and my stomach freezes.
Someone died there.
I never thought about it before, but
Jesus Christ, someone died there.

This car has probably passed those rose-covered crosses
a thousand times, without chills
or acid rising in the throat.
And I know it's not his cross,
this boy who I grew up with.
He wasn't even in the country
(let alone on Georgia 400)
when he died.

We were never told the full story,
those of us who grew up in that classroom.
Our parents threw us together every Sunday,
hoped that we learned something.
Wasn't it ironic, then,
that they kept the facts from us?

He was always the asshole.
I hate to think it, but he was.
His blond bowl cut obscured his eyes
which I just knew were laughing at me.
He was the seven-year-old with the runny nose.
The ten-year-old who smelled.
The thirteen-year-old who mumbled through his Bar Mitzvah.
And now, the twenty-year-old, first to die out of all of us.

As the car slides into the garage,
I wonder,
can I sleep long enough to forget.
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Ceasar Salad [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:14 pm]
[Tags|, ]

I think I've forgotten
what it's like to be in love.

It was a shiver
down my spine
started at the neck
and splayed downwards
to the hips and thighs.

It was a knot
in the pit of my stomach
that stayed
until it burst into butterflies.

I know this isn't it.
But what it is
has yet to be determined.
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Delta Flight 1993 [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:13 pm]
[Tags|, ]

He couldn't have been much older than me.
Pixelated fatigues,
pants tucked into his boots.
If I hadn't know any better,
I would have suspected
that I shared a class with him once upon a time
or that he date a friend.

I watch him kiss a girl goodbye – his daughter? --
all blonde curls
and dimples.
Something in my throat
stops my breathing.
Was he coming or going?

He hands the girl
to her mother.
She wipes away a tear.

Suddenly, I feel as though I have walked in
on a stranger in the dressing room.
My face flushed
with shame at witnessing
such an intimate
moment.

I think about whispering a “thank you”
filing past him while boarding
the plane to Atlanta.
But, at the end
I choose to stay silent.
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Poll [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:13 pm]
Agree/Disagree:

Boys are worse about teasing based on looks than girls, particularly around puberty. Discuss.
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Ten Percent [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:12 pm]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Music |The Beatles - "I Want to Hold Your Hand"]

Last night, I saw a video
of a boob job.
Two seconds in, I had to turn
my head away. But, I still got
a good glance at the nerves
and the milk ducts
and the tubes
whose purpose is unknown
until you expel a baby from your womb
and give up your life to it.

Even with my eyes closed
and my head turned,
I could hear the beep of the heart monitor
the drip of the IV
the squish of the pink-red-brown flesh
inside this poor woman's tit.

I ached in sympathy.
I could feel the knife cutting open my nipples.
What was this masochism?
Glorified by the supposed beauty of fake breasts
rounded and supple
but scarred and empty.
The same heart beating beneath them
as did when they were barely A-cups.

I was always told not to judge
a book by its cover.
But I think sometimes, the cover is just hiding
what the book really means to say.
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Things I love [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:08 pm]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Music |Sam Sham and the Pharoahs - "Li'l Red Riding Hood"]

pretzels dipped in vanilla frosting, fingerless gloves,
spiral-bound notebooks with tearaway sheets,
buy-one-get-one-free coupons, handwritten letters,
popping pus-filled pimples, breastfeeding mothers,
sugary coffee, french fries with ketchup,
pickled ginger,
sleeping topless, brushing teeth,
staplers, framed photographs, white grape juice,
mockumentaries and musicals, bad pop music,
stand-up comedy, good books, white wine and fireplaces.
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I can't help picking at my cuticles [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:07 pm]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Mood | complacent]

at age ten I first wore lipstick
brushed my hair straight to perfectly
compliment the nouveau-luscious
color of prepubescent lips

age fifteen I spent
hours picking the perfect outfit
worn under fluorescent
lights in attempt to showcase
my budding chest.

age twenty I throw up a ponytail
sniff-test my jeans and spot-check
my t-shirts before I hustle
out to debate Dickens

it's not the journey
but the destination
I was beautiful all along
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Yo-Yo [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:06 pm]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Mood | rejected]
[Current Music |The Beatles - "Help"]

Push me away, and just when
I'm ready to let go-
pull me back again.
Spinning violently until the cord
nearly snaps.

I'm your yo-yo, am I?
Beware the string
ready to break.

Always your plaything and nothing more
I'll pretend you're nothing to me.

You don't even know
why you're playing.

Fuck you,
and your idea of romance.

I'm breaking free.
Free from your puppy dog eyes
Free from your pouty lips
Free from your toothy smiles
from your high-pitched laugh
from your husky Hellos
from your hip-bones.

But I'll keep dragging my battered
body back
til there's nothing left for you to throw.
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Phoenix [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:06 pm]
[Tags|, ]

From you I learned:
how to flirt
how to cry
how to smile
how to kiss
how to burn.

And burn I did.
Until there was nothing left. And yet
I still come crawling on back
through the ashes
through the soot
through the embers.

I will crawl and crawl
until my knees are bloody and torn.
This phoenix won't rise from the ashes
once I'm gone
I'm gone.

And through all the one night stands
the flame will reveal
all that you learned from me.
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Tribute to my Tits [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:05 pm]
[Tags|, ]

also: ballad for my boobs
also: poem for my pecs
also: ode to my areolae

these breasts are big breasts
they need room to breathe.
they don't fit into
tiny tank tops. these breasts
are free breasts.
they don't like to be contained.
box them in and they'll
fight back. these breasts
are magical
spiritual
omnipotent breasts. these breasts
have been known to
take a man and
break his little neck!

based on "homage to my hips" by Lucille Clifton
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copypasta from facebook [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:05 pm]
Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

(To do this, go to “notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the application then click post).

1) I still haven't fully accepted the fact that I'm in college and about to turn 20.

2) I am absolutely fascinated with the 1950's and 60's. There's so much of a contrast between the mainstream, "Leave it to Beaver" culture and the radical subculture. I've even started learning some of the 50's music on guitar. Chances are, my first novel will be set in this period.

3) I literally have no idea whether I'll be at CofC or back in GA next year, and I'm obsessing over it.

4) I have a growing love affair with feminism, if you can't already tell. I'm in the process of starting a chapter of Zeta Omega Eta (Trinity College's feminist sorority) on whichever campus I wind up at.

5) My dream is to retire to a self-sustaining farm where my future family and I would grow all our own food. We'd have farm animals, but only as pets, no slaughtering allowed.

6) I don't drink at school (I'm an RA, and getting arrested for underage drinking is a great way to lose my job), but I LOVE to have White Zinfandel when I'm home.

7) I've never really had a "real" relationship per se. I've dated a few guys, but I was too young to count it.

8) I'm a virgin. I'm not planning on waiting until I'm married, but I do want to wait until I'm in a stable, healthy relationship. I don't see sex as the enemy, like a lot of people do. I just haven't ever been in a situation where I thought "Wow... it would be a great choice I would never regret to have sex with this person right now." That's it. I get defensive because people make assumptions when they find out you're a virgin. I'm not ashamed of it, either.

9) I'm addicted to coffee in a bad way. I've considered giving it up, but it's my one vice, so I can live.

10) I get homesick a lot. I know it sounds strange, but it's true.

11) Sometimes, I'm truly ashamed of the way I used to act back in Middle and High School.

12) I've never forgiven the people who used to bully me as a kid. I don't think I ever will.

13) I have a severe addiction to celebrity gossip. My blog (OhNoTheyDidnt) is literally the greatest thing ever.

14) I feel much more beautiful in no makeup, jeans, and a t-shirt than I do all dressed up. It's taken far too long for me to realize that. Hence, I'm putting the makeup and heels away for the time being.

15) I hate clothes as a rule. If I'm alone, I'm not wearing pants. Period.

16) I make a mean vegetarian chili. Actually, I'm making some for the chili cook-off at the Homecoming tailgate on Saturday (shameless plug).

17) Most of my songs and poems are about the same three or four guys. If you read closely, you can usually tell who is who.

18) My birthday present to myself is going to be a nice, well-fitting, goes-with-anything, sexy bra. I need it and I deserve it, quite frankly.

19) My personal religious beliefs are kind of strange. It's kind of a hybrid of Judaism, Deism, and Buddhism/Hinduism. I believe in an omnipotent, omnipresent God who makes things happen for a reason. I don't think that there will ever be a physical Messiah, but that the concept is a metaphor for the point at which people will coexist peacefully. I believe in Heaven and not Hell, because I think that every person is inherently good. I also think that animals have souls and exist in the same Heaven as humans. I think that souls sort of recycle and go into other bodies after their body dies.

20) My screensaver is a series of pictures of hot guys and cute animals. It's amazing.

21) My addiction is writing. In fact, I think that most writers are addicted to the high of writing. That's why so many wind up addicted to drugs and alcohol.

22) I really like how awkward and strange I am. I think it makes me unique, and I'd rather be hated for being unique than loved for being the same as everyone else.

23) I love animals more than the normal amount. That's why I'm a vegetarian. Closing in on 6 years, btw.

24) I'm scared of getting older.

25) I feel so blessed to have found such good friends as I have so early in life.
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What is a Feminist? [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:04 pm]
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A feminist has big boobs. A feminist has small boobs. A feminist has medium-sized boobs or one that's bigger than the other.

A feminist has brown hair or blond hair or red hair or black hair or racially Black hair or no hair or hair of strange colors. A feminist has brown, blue, black, green, hazel, gray, and any combination thereof for eyes.

A feminist is short, tall, fat, skinny, in-between, anorexic, bulimic, binge-eating, nutritious, vegan, carniverous, lacto-ovo, kosher, and allergic to all kinds of foods.

A feminist is Black, White, Asian, Hispanic, Middle-Eastern, Indian, Pacific, Native American, Eskimo, mixed, Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, Taoist, Baha'i, Agnostic, Atheist, Humanist, Deist, male, female, transgendered, gay, straight, bisexual, asexual, questioning, left-handed, right-handed, ambidextrous, without hands, without arms, without one or both legs.

The truth is, if you believe that women and men are equal in potential, you are a feminist. End of story. And no one should believe otherwise.
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