My new biggest fear in life is having something dramatically embarrassing happen to me and it somehow falls into the hands of the internet. I mean, I know there are way worse things that can happen to a person, but these days? In 2014? Don’t let somebody screenshot you with a funny caption before your picture/video becomes viral within a day. Oh, the joys of social media.
Month: September 2014
My Baby Obsession
It has been an hour and a half since our class discussion on the film about the pregnant man. I have a hundred different emotions swirling about inside me and I have spent the last ninety minutes trying and failing to be productive while these emotions cloud my brain. I’m not sure what I’m feeling, exactly. It’s a mixture of anxiety and fear, doubt and disappointment, and maybe a little bit of hope. Is that even the right word? I don’t know.
To be or not to be….
I’m a Theatre Studies major. I want to focus on Acting. Continue reading
Breathe In, Breathe Out
When I was growing up, my relationship to my asthma entirely shaped my relationship to my body. My body was something that had to be constantly monitored for any sign of symptoms. It had to be regulated and controlled. My body wasn’t a part of me, it was a setting–it was a dangerous situation that I had been placed in for unknown reasons; a house in the path of a hurricane. Continue reading
Hello, officer? I’d like to report a case of missing legs — On Having Excoriation Disorder
Contains mentions of blood, and substance abuse disorders
My legs are, without a doubt, one of my best features. I cherish them. After a history of negative body image, it is important to me to have a part of my body I like. But for the majority of the month of September, I have been hiding them. Despite hating the cold weather and feeling a great sadness that the summer is coming to an end, I have been glad to have an excuse to break out the fleece-lined tights and jeans early. I cannot begin to entertain the idea of being seen with my legs bare anymore, because since the beginning of the month, my calves and thighs have become a torn canvas of irritated skin and dried blood.
It’s MY Body, NOT Yours.
Ever since I was young, my parents have attempted to tell me what I can and cannot do with my own body. They told me that I was too young to understand how society would perceive me, depending on how I dress and how I choose to express my own body. They told me that until I turn 18, they are responsible for what I do to and with my own body.
This included my own virginity.
I’m a girl…I can still ask you out, right? Is that weird? Oh. Oops.
This past Friday I finally had a date with the guy I really liked for about six months, who also happens to live in Pennsylvania. I don’t fall for people very often..but when I do, I fall HARD. We’re talking send-a-care-package-in-the-mail-just-because-you-have-a-busy-semester kind of hard. And folks, it went horribly on Friday. I’ve been putting the list of things in my head that made this night turn into a similar scenario to the bombing of Pearl Harbor (maybe I’m a bit dramatic..but here it is):
Continue reading
Pressures in NYC
The first time I moved up to NYC I felt like I was in constant competition with all of the other girls there. Which is ridiculous considering there are millions of other girls and most of them look like, and probably are, actual supermodels. I would buy new clothes that I thought would make me fit in, tried out different styles that were not me, and would never leave without doing my hair and makeup. Needless to say I was miserable, for many other reasons, but this was also a factor. I came home early and swore off NYC and my career.
Blessed with Bosoms
I have had boobs since I was eleven years old. In fact, it would seem at eleven, I would experience all the things associated with puberty in that one year. Some of my oldest friends can’t even remember me being “flat-chested” and they would joke about how I was born with boobs. I have had a love hate relationship with my boobs mainly because others seemed to notice them. I have heard every single epithet hurled at me from eleven until now at twenty-five from males and females alike. Just to name a few names, Tits McGee, Tig O’ Bitties, and my all time favorite, Jiggles. Through these names were probably meant to be endearing, I am growing sick and tired of the attention solely based on my boobs. But it is not only the names but the gawking, the back handed comments, the jokes ( I have heard every boob joke by now), the jealousy of other women, and the back problems.
Avoid Leaked Nudes Like the Plauge
Roughly two weekends ago, popular social networking service Reddit served as a hub to host leaked nude photographs and videos of various female celebrities including Jennifer Lawrence, Victoria Justice, Kate Upton, and Jessica Brown Findlay. Unsurprisingly, the content spread like wildfire and has since been redistributed on other social networking and image hosting sites.
Apparently, the racy content was originally procured by an individual — a gentleman and a scholar, surely — who hacked each woman’s iCloud account. Taking this into consideration, netizens are slightly more sympathetic to the victims than if, say, the pictures and videos were leaked by a scorned lover or accidentally uploaded by the women themselves to one of their personal social media accounts.
However, that is not to say that victim blaming isn’t alive and well. Continue reading
Unruly Bodies 