The summer before I started college, I vowed to myself that I would become a new me. A better me. That I’d go through the transformation that they’d show on TV, and suddenly my life would be better. I was sick and tired of feeling worthless, of the popular white girls bullying me because I didn’t match the beauty standards set in place. I wanted to be pretty.
So this is what I did: I became a ‘new’ me.
As the years go by, more people are joining social media and posting almost every second of their lives, as if the rest of the world really wants to know. Don’t get me wrong though, because I used to be one of those people. Social media allows us all to hide behind our profiles, and it gives us an opportunity to be whoever we want.
I used to be obsessed with Instagram. When I first made an account, I was 14. I took pictures on top of my dad’s trucks, and of my shoe collection, because those were the things that were cool to me. By the time I started high school, I realized that I was quite unpopular, and I just wanted to be noticed. I decided to delete my account, and create a new one – for the new me.
The new me was really into my appearance. I went from taking selfies in a “Cool Story, Bro.” t-shirt, to taking selfies with all of my older sister’s clothing. I learned how to position the camera in ways that made my double-chin disappear, and made my face look “cuter”. I became so obsessed with selfies that I would literally take one everywhere. Throughout my high school career, I noticed my followers had gone up from the 15 I had from my first account, to 700+, even though my profile was private. I was ecstatic! Finally, people were noticing me. Kids that I was dying to be friends with my freshman year were now complementing me as I walked the halls during sophomore year.
Even though I started to get noticed, I honestly didn’t like all the attention I was getting. People were now viewing me in a lustful way, and nobody was really trying to get to know the real me – and that’s probably because I wasn’t quite advertising the real me. I decided to let the real me shine. Instead of getting creative with all the angles and lighting to take the “perfect selfie”, I decided to become more creative with my captions, since the real me actually likes to write. I felt a lot more comfortable with myself and the things I was posting, than I did when I was seeking popularity.
I want people to see the real me, instead of just half of my face and duck lips. I’ve made my profile more about my life, with the occasional selfie here and there, instead of just a shrine to the new – now old – me. Any picture can be perfect, you just have to be yourself.
Chubba- lubba, fat, obese, overweight, unhealthy, gross, big, chubby. Just a few of the names I’ve been called for as long as I can remember, and continue to be called. Continue reading
The other day was a YAS moment! As soon as we brought up the norms of society, my attempt to go with norms of society experience popped in my mind.
I was never the student to get in trouble or head down the wrong road. The person I’ve become since I’ve been in college is not the person I would like to continue to be. When I arrived at college, I wanted to have the entire “college” experience. Throughout high school I was never the type to go to parties and drink, I never saw the need nor cared for it. So coming to college was a huge adjustment. I had the idea of “everyone comes to college to experiment,” so why not experiment with drinking?” The following is about my embodiment involving hegemony. Continue reading
Requirements for dancers have changed over time in order for a team to give a top quality performance. Many factors are taken into consideration when put on line-up for a competition. Continue reading
When the Body Speaks are we Listening?
I am writing this post from a personal point of view and I hope that it will help someone in their journey in life. About 4 years ago I was diagnosed with a very rare brain tumor. Continue reading
As we talked about in class, body hair standards are continuously changing. Continue reading
I can’t exactly pinpoint the beginning of when it all started, of what caused it and what led to my collapse nor can I tell you what finally made me stand up, tear my skin off, leave the room and lock the door forever. I can tell you, very vaguely, about it though. Continue reading
After concise and careful thought, we can call this show one of the greatest shows to ever grace cable television. Sons Of Anarchy, a show praised (by yours truly) for its barbaric violence and a shakespearian plot reminded me of some of our discussions in class. With hopes that my clear publicizing will coax some of you into watching the show I will try not to spoil the plot while trying to link it to our class discussion. You see the man above with the “reaper” tattoo on his back, and his motorcycle club above and the charter location below? That is a type of identification for the people in that show and in reality for many people in motorcycle clubs, gangs etc. Whenever there was a gang retaliation to an event in that show, the current leader would ask to “Check the ink”. The “ink” is so serious to them in this show that once a person leaves the club, they have to either cut the skin with the tattoos of the club off or blacken it out with a blow torch.
Culturally, paradigms about the body fluctuate. In some tribes in Africa, people get tribal marks in forms of tattoos and scars on their face, their arms, legs and other body parts and to this tells where they are from. The body is used as a sort of identification card. The spectrum that body art is viewed is amazing. A woman struck a conversation with me in a cafe a couple of weeks ago and she had 3 very tiny tattoos on her left hand. I asked “What are those about?” She said “I got them because I was just feeling a little crazy, they don’t really mean anything but I have to hide them when I visit my parents”. I realized she viewed her body differently than the Sons Of Anarchy. They were overly proud and obnoxious of their identity through their body (which is not a bad thing), not only did they have the “reaper” tattoos they got jackets, baby clothing, furniture and all sorts of “reaper” paraphernalia. They made it a whole thing! It was something they sported proudly because it proved who they were and proved they belong to something. Similar to some other cultures that having body art. No one gets 3 deep permanent cuts on their cheek if they do not want people to see it.
We can see how body art is juxtaposed in cultures some are really proud and must show it off while other cultures it is “not a thing meant for everyone to see”
Unruly Bodies 