Keep your opinions about my figure to yourself...

So you guys have probs figured out by now, that I have another blogging gig.  I feel kind of like I have been cheating on you all.  You are still my number one, the others get my public public thoughts, you guys get the more emotional stuff.

So what’s been happening team?  Here it feels like not much, but so much all at once – besties have returned, container malls have launched, work has been mental and holidays have been taken.  Life is going on all around.

What I have noticed recently is a bit of a backlash in the media around the curvy girl look.  I was tempted to call this blog – Stop calling me fat – part two.  I am still hurt that the first one had to be written, so am not impressed that this is a follow up.  I have noticed on my Instagram that there are a few movements happening – mainly out of the States - #effyourbeautystandards (Tess Holiday is amazing!) and #plusisequal.  You guys were so awesome after my last blog, I felt the virtual hug from around the world.  I am not writing this blog for sympathy or for attention, I am trying to draw attention to those that speak before they think and to those who are actively fighting in the curvy corner.

These are great movements and are empowering for those involved in them.  I certainly feel better seeing that I am not the only one struggling to find nice clothes, to feel better about myself and to keep the bulge under control.  But these are all fine and good, but what of it, if the general public are not on board.

Just to be clear here – I know that I am big girl, I am not stupid as well as fat.  I routinely exercise, I sweat it out at least three times a week at the gym or pounding the pavements around my house as I run, as well as one dodgeball game a week.  I am always going to be a big girl, at some point, I need to get on board with this and stop killing myself over trying to be skinny, and accept who I am.  That will come – surely it will?!  But in the meantime, I am exercising and eating well, so really keeping myself healthy.  I feel better mentally and physically when I do these things.  So you can imagine, how it feels when you are actively trying to better yourself, that people point out the one sore point you have.

On a recent trip to the States, I was shocked at some of the things that came out of people’s mouths.  One lady was trying to be nice, when she casually asked me if I was in town for the plus size porn awards.  Ummm so I look like a porn star?  I think that is a compliment?  It was as I was buying a dress in the plus size shop Torrid – which by the way is awesome – I was actively searching for the smallest size in the shop, as it seems that in the States, I am too big for the mainstream, but too small for the plus size stores.  I ended up with a beautiful dress that I felt amazing in (aka my boobs drew attention away from everything else!), but that comment stuck with me.

Later that same day, I was in the pool (yes, that is right, me in the pool.  Many of my NZ friends will be shocked as for a long time in my 20’s I refused to get in the water, I now think, Fuck it, I am fat and I want to swim.  I have a swimsuit that fits so why not).  In this pool my friend and I made small talk with a group of Irish lads who were in Vegas to see the UFC fight.  We were there to see Mariah.  They were all a bit tipsy and a bit of a laugh.  My friend and one of the guys started talking about the children that were employed as life guards.  They were all very small and beautiful.  I was not bothered by that, Ceasar’s Palace has a right to have the image that they want.  What I was bothered by was the comment that actually, if I was in trouble, because, you know, I am fat and obviously cannot swim, that these tiny lifeguards would have no way of saving me.  That one really hurt.  The reality was that this was a family area in a huge hotel, that was filled with people of all shapes and sizes, some bigger than me, many smaller.  Until that comment I had been feeling comfortable cooling off in the 35 degree heat.

I was messaging my bestie, who is a pretty big fan of mine, who is my go too when people say these things to me.  He continually tells me that I am fine as I am.  The man has the patience of a saint.  He was really upset to hear that these things had been said to me.  He knows the mental courage it takes to get me in my togs.  To be fair from the other side of the world in NZ, there was not much that he could do.  I had told him that his wifey would be smaller when he got back – he said he just wanted a happy wifey, if she was smaller so be it.  I was smaller, but I wanted more!

On our most recent holiday, we had a real heart to heart about this.  We were both tipsy on Aperol spritz’ – fast becoming my fav drink of the summer – and whilst I cannot remember the exact words he said, he was incredibly supportive of my feelings about my size and my want to downsize.  We both got changed after this and hit the beach, swam in the crystal clear water and mucked about like a pair of kids, splashing and racing each other out to the buoys.  We were giggling like kids at the naked people and winding each other up about nude beaches.  The thing is the man is the size of a match stick, but I feel more confident and comfortable with him, than I do any other time.  He is like a protective brother, he would not put up with it if anyone said anything to me, and will not put up with me putting myself down.  The next day when we were on a family beach, again with people of all ages, sizes and nakednesses, I felt so comfortable.  I walked around in my togs all day – to the bar, to the lifeguard when I got stung by a jelly fish, to the hotel when it was time to leave.  Most of the day, I had the straps on my top down so that I could avoid tan lines and in many of our photos it looks like I am topless.  If you look at those photos, it’s clear to see that I am relaxed and happy.  

Whilst I will never be confident enough to submit a photo to any curvy girl campaign, and I will still continue to try and downsize, right now I am happy.  I am happy that I am relatively healthy, that my body can go for a run when I want it to, that I can feel muscles forming from my gym going, that my legs are quite tan from the beach and that I am appreciated for a lot more than what I look like.  I still think that it is not ok for people to say whatever they like to fat people – its fat not a bullet proof vest, shots fired will still hurt.  I think that in its most basic form, its bullying, at its most complex its nasty.  We need a bit more love in this world, and you know who gives awesome hugs?  Curvy girls, we have amazing squishy boobs and are great snugglers.  

*Disclaimer – I think that it’s ok to be whatever size you want.  This is not a rant against skinny people – they have a right to be who they are and not be criticised as well.  This rant is about people who feel that they have a right to put others down for their size.  It’s not ok.  

Boobs - Discuss

So it’s obvs been a busy time for me, I blinked and it’s July and we have not chatted for ages.  Doesn’t mean that I have not been thinking about you all though, always in my mind you lot.  Makes it hard to get stuff done.

I wanted to discuss boobs today. We all have them – male or female, we have them.  And it seems that everyone loves them – gay, straight, male or female, everyone seems to love my boobs.  Opps well therein lies the reason I wanted to have this chat.  I know that we all love boobs, but does anyone else experience the level of attention that I do?

Growing up, it was clear that I was going to have big boobs.  By the time I was 16 I had D cups and found button up shirts a challenge.  Even when I was skinny, I still had boobs.  They were just there.  No matter how fit I was, they were still there.  I went to an all girl school and obviously there were other girls there with big boobs, so mine did not stick out.  I got the occasional tits on sticks remark, but didn’t really think much of it.

They got their fair share of attention in my 20’s (they once stopped traffic! And I was not even topless), but wow, they are getting more than their fair share in my 30’s.  And it seems to be a fairly universal event – my friends all seem to love them.  It’s like they have a personality and identity all of their own.  I have one friend who at some point every time she sees me – once a week – will just randomly reach out and touch one.  Once she even gently ninja kicked one.  I think that this is funny, but can see that if you were watching this exchange that you would think that it’s weird.  Once she even enticed another friend to brunch with the promise that they were now bigger!

I like to link arms with my friends as we walk down the street.  I do this with both male and female friends and have done so for a long time – mainly to keep warm in London.  I have never thought anything of this, until last year in Paris when I linked arms with a good friend… he proceeded to ask me why I was using his arm to rub my boob.  Ummm what?  I looked at him horrified and then realised that due to the height difference that yes, actually my boob was rubbing on his elbow.  I then looked horrified at my other very good friend, who I walk like this with all the time and asked if this was the case with him.  He reckons that he had never noticed.  But now routinely asks for a boob rub, whether it’s walking up the stairs or on the street – boob rubs happen.

All of that is fairly innocent – but then motorboats take it to a whole new level.  I have one friend who used to run down the street to meet me and proceed to bury her face in my cleavage.  Another friend would call us closeted.  Nope we just loved each other and each others boobs.  One of my male friends whilst talking to me in a pub, all of a sudden had his face in my cleavage – he was lucky I didn’t spill my drink on him, I was so amazed.  He then looked at me and just said ‘Sorry, I just had to do that.’  And then walked off.  And left a group of stunned people in his wake.  I started laughing and realised that this is just the effect that my boobs have on people.

I guess this is it.  Boobs are something that everyone can be positive about.  I used to work in a lingerie store, where we catered from D-L cup.  A number of woman felt that their boobs were a curse to them.  I like to think that by the time that I had fitted them into some freaking gorgeous lingerie that they felt a bit better about them.  We used to get people who wanted reductions referred to us to ensure that it was not just a case of never having had the right service.  I used to joke about a boob reduction once I had finished feeding my fictional kids.  After having had a number of unboob related surgeries over the last few years, I have changed my mind on that one.  I love my boobs the way that they are.  And clearly so does the world at large.

So answer me this – is it just me, or do you all get as much attention for your beautiful boobs!

Why 50 Shades of Grey is not a movie about domestic violence

Warning – Contains spoilers – if you have not read the book or seen the movie, but intend to, don’t read this post first!

I read all three 50 Shades books a few years ago.  At the time they were the trendy thing to read and were dividing audiences everywhere.  I still think that it is wrong to read this on the tube in plain sight – if a woman were to walk onto a tube carriage of men reading Playboy, there would be an outcry, and this is no different.  I still think that they are poorly written, with a very thin story, held together by some badly written porn episodes.  They have been nicknamed 50 Shades of vanilla among a number of my friends.  It has been labelled domestic abuse and violence in a number of forums, a view that I don’t share.  A number of woman my mother’s age, my mother included feel that it is degrading to woman, I am not sure about that, I agree that Anastasia Steele is terribly written character, but in some ways porn written by and for woman, being so mainstream is not a bad thing.  I do agree it would be better if she was drawn in a different way.  I was in two minds about seeing the movie.  I was excited when Charlie Hunnam was originally cast as Christian Grey, but still did not see myself seeing this in a theatre.  I am not sure that this is the right place to watch porn, in public. I do love the soundtrack though, as do many others, with the Ellie Goulding offering being the most listened to song on Spotify for a number of weeks now.  Eventually, my curiosity got the better of me and I went to see this movie in a small theatre with a good friend who I often discuss movies and books with.  We both decided that alcohol would help and with lashings of gin, we settled in for our ‘cultural experience’.

The movie theatre was small, and there were a sum total of 6 people in this showing.  After laughing at the ads for premature ejaculation, we all settled in.  The acting was good, there was no denying that, they did the best that they could with a terrible script.  There were numerous shots of Ana putting a pencil that Christian gave her, in and around her mouth, which is ironic as there are no blow jobs in this movie.  My friend and I laughed at the shameless innuendo of this.  At least the inner goddess did not make an appearance in the film, but there were a number of what the hell moments.  For instance, if you were beginning to date someone and you were at home alone and they showed up in your bedroom, would you not have questions about how they got in there – such as did you break down the door or did you get a key cut etc.  But the badly written character of Ana does not seem to question how this man who wants to have her submit got into her house.

When we eventually got down to the porn, the six of us in the cinema all commented on the fact that Ana has hairy thighs.  Something that I think is great to show in a movie – it’s realistic, unless you are planning it, it’s likely that the average woman will not have shaved her legs that day.  Another thing that I really liked is that despite it being cheesy when Christian opens the condom packet with his teeth, at least they are portraying grown up safe sex.  Something that you don’t see very often these days.

And then it got down to the S&M and the B&D.  What is reiterated a number of times in both the movie and the book, is that Ana is in control in these moments.  She has already laid out in a contract what she will and will not do, and has two safe words to use.  He consistently reminds her of these.  At any time, Ana can say these words and what is happening will stop.  She can leave whenever she wants.  I completely understand that this is outside a number of peoples experience, but my understanding domestic violence is that the people who are victims in this would quite like it to stop, but can’t get away.  The majority of what we see, shows Ana enjoying every moment, it’s all very tame, no one is getting hurt, it shows her being tied, and teased and she appears to enjoy this, she does not use her words and chooses to stay at the apartment.  She meets his family and actively debates with him about things that she is not happy with.  At no point does he raise a hand to her in anger and at no point does he seem to leave a mark on her.  She has concerns about many areas of their relationship, and is trying to understand his need for the S&M.

The end of the movie is where the most controversial scene occurs.  Christian has had a bad day, his work has not gone according to plan and she provokes him and asks him to show her how bad it will be.  She asks him to do his worst to her.  Let’s be clear here, she asks him for this.  Consent is given.  So off to the play room aka sex dungeon they go.  It’s awkward to watch.  He is mad and he takes it out on her butt with a belt.  He reminds her about the safe words and never once do they leave her mouth.  She is visibly shaken by the incident and tells him to get away from her, which he does, and he keeps his distance for the rest of the night, as she has asked.  Here is where I have an issue with the writing, if you were that upset, why would you not go back to your own apartment, why would you stay in his apartment?  The next day she leaves and tells him not to contact her again.  The movie ends.  

I understand that this scene is confronting.  I understand that is not pleasant to watch.  But I also understand that this an act that two consenting adults have agreed to partake in.  It might not be your or my experience, but I don’t feel that it’s up to me to judge.  I am lucky enough to have never experienced domestic violence.  I cannot speak for those that have, but my understanding of it is, that those that do feel powerless in the situation.  They feel like they cannot leave or that they cannot stop it.  And this is where the major difference between the two situations is – Ana could make what is happening to her stop.  She could have left long before she did, but she didn’t want to.  She actively participated in and enjoyed what was happening to her.  From my understanding, those that suffer domestic violence do not report that experience.

In some ways, if we are calling this domestic violence, then we are taking away from the seriousness of the situation.  50 Shades of Grey and Once Were Warriors are two very different movies.  There is a misunderstanding of what is being portrayed.  I remember when the books came out, having a discussion with a colleague, who said that he felt sorry for EL James’ husband, as she had said that they had tried out some of the acts described in the books, so that she could write about them.  He felt sorry for the poor guy who down the pub would have to defend beating the shit out of his wife.  I attempted to explain the difference between beating the shit out of someone and what was described in the books.  Christian never beats the shit out of Ana.  He never leaves her black and blue.  She is never scarred, she is never thrown down the stairs or subjected to broken bones or vindictive moments.  She does not have to worry about the mood he will be in when he gets home and if she will bear the brunt of it.  I do realise that there are differing levels of domestic violence, but I am very sure that this is not what this book and movie is about.

I am not sure if we will see the next two movies made.  I am sure that economically it’s a no brainer, the movie made a hell of a lot of money and probably will for a number of years to come.  Ann Summers have been selling out of nipple clamps and ben wa balls since the books were written.  This amazing article was written.  I read the other day that the director has not signed up for the next two movies and that Dakota Johnson has, but Jamie Dornan is still in talks.  And I am not sure that it matters, we have seen such a huge cultural shift, for this to be shown in mainstream cinemas, its led to open discussions of what is porn, who it is made by and who it is for.   It’s opened up discussions about differing lifestyles.  And the major one should what was originally fan fiction for Twilight, have ever been taken so seriously.  Oh and the great pube debate!  Ana Steele might single handedly be bringing back the thatch – but in real life Dakota Johnson had to have those CGI’d in.  I will leave it there with that fantastic fact.  Please do join in the debate – either about pubes or domestic violence and let me know what you think.

New Zealand’s love affair with the ridic aka why I love the news in NZ

One of my fav headlines in the NZ Herald this year so far – yes I know its only March, but it’s going to be hard to top – is ‘That’s a cockand balls’.

This is apparently a cloud

The article goes on to describe an artwork that a Council paid $200k for, outraging residents.  What I love, is that this made the national news.  Anywhere else in the world, this would be lucky to make the regional news.  I had to go and see this sculpture – my Sis and I detoured there on the way to airport the other day.  These pictures show just how much these are not sculptures of clouds.  Good god, at night they are worse!

A few months ago, the national news covered a chocolate milk shortage.  This was noticeable to those of us overseas for a number of reasons.  Firstly, that people had the time to line the aisles of a supermarket to get this choc milk, that security guards had to be employed to keep it orderly, and that this milk had not even hit the South Island yet.  Secondly, there was disbelief that the milk would be that good.  In typical tall poppy kiwi style, experts began to cut it down, it was full of sugar, ummm no shit, its choc milk, or that you could make this yourself by melting Whittakers chocolate into the milk.

Me trying the milk

Whilst I expressed disbelief at my fellow kiwis, I was determined to try this magic milk as soon as I got into the country.  My Sis seems to be talented at obtaining this gold dust.  Maybe as a stay at home mum she has the inside track on those that work.  So she got it, I tried it, it was good.  I am not a huge choc milk fan, but I did enjoy it, and it’s strong after taste.  I would recommend it to choc milk fans, but would be unlikely to buy again.

A few weeks ago Cadbury dared to announce that they were changing the Crème Egg recipe.  How dare they and what the actual fuck.  New Zealand, you don’t know how god you have it with your multiple flavours of crème egg.  We have the original only in the UK.  All of this prompted local radio DJ’s to utter the words ‘ When will Cadbury’s learn not to fuck with kiwis and chocolate? It’s a fair call, we love our chocolate.  We will forgive a fair amount but screwing with our choc is not on the list.  We will sign petitions, and boycott chocolate that contains palm oil.  We will make companies regret their decisions.  Seriously, just back away from the choc.

I was attempting to explain this to my Texan friend (who is also a vegan!), as to why this was news in NZ.  She seemed a bit bemused.  Surely, there has to be more news, she said.  Well that is the charm of NZ, there probably isn’t and we love our food.  It’s kinda comforting that there are slow news days and these whimsical items make the news.  In other countries, its all murder, kidnapping and rape.  Friends of my parents who have immigrated to NZ, some from war torn parts of the world such as Iraq, love it that the lights out at an intersection makes the news, that means that there is nothing worse happening.  I understand the comfort in that. There is a choc and milk selling out in NZ.  I know which news I would rather read.