Glee co-stars Harry Shum Jr. and Ashley Fink on The Joy Behar Show (VIDEO)

daniellekiemel:

grandmotherwillow:

infinitelovelike:

annieelainey:

The fat girl and popular guy being together is the “unrealistic” part of this show? Really? God, I love you, Ashley Fink. I give you the highest of fives!

I don’t like Glee at all, but this girl is a bad ass bitch and I love the way she handled that question.

My reaction was that this is a singing high school and a fat girl dating a hot guy is the most unrealistic part of the show…? Hahaha. But it is unrealistic. It’s psychologically proven that people typically date those who are on their same objective level (10s dating 19s, 4s dating 4s), which is why most people always revere their partner even if other people don’t quite see it - we naturally shoot for those we know we can get, it’s bizarre to see someone actually try and get someone “out of their league”. She may have thought her high school boyfriend was the cutest in school because other females in her social circle wanted to date him, but it would make a lot of waves in a prototypical high school if she really did date “the guy”. Most of the athletic men that I know don’t necessarily shoot towards “ew, fat!” in the first response to a larger person hitting on them, it’s a difference in lifestyle. People can claim they’re healthy even if they’re obese but that girl doesn’t do what the typical high school jock does on a daily basis and they do not eat similarly, I’ll bet a toe.

^ Truth, as evident in countless studies on the subject.

Disclaimer: It is 10:30 a.m. as I’m queuing this. I’ve been writing it for like…5 hours? I don’t know. It’s been a while though. I couldn’t seem to get the flow perfect. It may still not be. Anyway. This may seem ramble-y but I promise there’s a point.

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fatbrat:

Fat is a noun AND an adjective, both of which most people are uncomfortable using.

Fat is comprised of adipose tissue. Adipose tissue is derived from lipoblasts. Its main role is to store energy in the form of lipids,although it also cushions and insulates the body.

Fat makes people question their worth, leading to destructive behaviors due to a negative view on their body-image. Most importantly, above all things,

FAT IS A THREE LETTER WORD. It is a word that takes one syllable to say, and takes less than a second to fall out of someone’s mouth. Fat is a word that leaves a permanent brand on oneself, despite the lifespan of said word from utterance to ignorance.

Wanting to be fat is imagined to be a death sentence: a death to your career, death to your love life, and certainly death in a literal sense. To some, FAT is a brick wall…a ball-and-chain, or a feeling of hyper-exposure, one of which you should be embarrassed and ashamed of for your entire inevitably short existence.

According to Men’s Health:

53 % of respondents would rather go bald than permanently gain 20 pounds

45 % of respondents would rather lose an arm than permanently pack on 100 pounds.

57 % of respondents who would rather drown in debt for the next decade than permanently put on 50 pounds

Fat is feared as the elimination of life’s opportunities. Once you’re fat, you can no longer run, hike, dance, shop, fly in a plane, fit into anything fashionable, date, have a sex life, change a tire, ride a motorcycle, well, you get the picture.

Being fat gets a pretty bad reputation, and I’m here to set the record straight.

Fat is a 3 letter word. a 3 letter word.

3.

letter.

word.

Fat is NOT the end of your sex life, your active life, or your dating life. It is NOT the end of your fashion options, your job, NOR does it weigh heavy on any of life’s virtues. Being fat is not advertised, it is not sensationalized, it is not idolized. Being fat is being fat. It does not mean you’ve been cursed to be overly accommodating or friendly to everyone for means of acceptance, it does not mean you have to date people you’re unattracted to for romantic and sexual gratification, and it doesn’t mean you have to overcompensate for anything. There are people who are only attracted to fat people, and the ONLY reason you don’t see them advertizing it is the same reason you won’t walk outside in a two-piece swimsuit: FEAR.

FEAR Immobilizes people, subjecting them to emotional paralysis. Do not become a victim of fear. You have dignity and a life full of opportunities, just like everyone else. The only difference is (I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again), you jiggle when you fuck.

A three letter word, filled with adipose tissue, designed for cushion and insulation.

You are soft, and warm, and fat.

Today is a new day for you to reclaim the word ‘FAT.’ I dare you. Fat? Damn straight.

I’m fat, I’m loved, I’m happy. Since finding FA, I’m free.

Can anyone with hate or fear in their heart say the same?

I’m making my first Pets Sim. She’s gonna be my first fat Sim.

I used to always make them what I thought they “should” be; ya know, thin and tall and perfectly proportioned with flowing long hair and pristine features. No more! Starting today I’m taking Ragen’s advice and picturing all fictional people as fat in my minds. “I’m pretty sure that Eric Clapton’s Layla was fat.   Delilah from the Plain White T’s song – fatty.  Jessie’s Girl shopped at Lane Bryant. You get the idea, same thing with books that you read, picture main characters fat.”

I decided this because the first 5 times I clicked the random button a fatty popped up. It made me excited, it inspired me! Silly, but who cares? Inspiration is inspiration!

Cellulite, acne, stretch marks, wrinkles…all these things called flaws I’m beginning to see as true beauty. The things that make us unique make us lovely, not fitting into some photoshopped mold.

Anywho! More about my Sim.

I’m naming her Almina Voler. It’s an anagram of animal lover. Aren’t I clever?

She’s gonna live on a ginormous farm with every animal the game will let me have.

Or.

I’m gonna name my town Tumblr and fill it with Sims modeled after the kickass people I follow and 38291038219058493058345784379054390 cats and corgis.

Probably both.

If you try to police ANYONE’s food choices at my dinner table this holiday season, or EVER, you’ll be eating kibble with the dogs. I don’t care if someone is 105 pounds or 500, they deserve the same respect to live their life the way they want. And just because they splurge during the holidays doesn’t make them unhealthy (or lazy, or “bad eaters,” or bad people.) I mean, you’re splurging, too, right? That extra slice of pie won’t kill you, and it won’t kill your fat family member.

Fat =/= unhealthy. Not all bodies are the same, and no matter how many ignorant people shove the BMI chart in my face I will NEVER believe that a mathematical formula can determine my health based on my height and waist circumference. I’m active. I eat a home-cooked meal nearly every night, and sometimes a healthy lunch, too. I have normal blood pressure, normal cholesterol, normal glucose levels. Most of my health issues are mental, but you can’t see that on my plate. You can’t tell that I’m having an anxiety attack because you’re talking shit about what I’m about to eat. If you’re so concerned for my health, ask about my -health- not my weight/eating habits/exercise patterns.

(This rant brought to you by an article about two new parents starving their 14 month-old “to prevent obesity,” as well as another about an -entire- family who is planning a “food-tervention” for their fat family member on Thanksgiving. The war on obesity has casualties just like any other war, whether the fat-fighters want to see us or not. We’re here, we’re fat, we’re the majority. You can’t brainwash us with your diet culture forever!)

I’m getting more and more brave, and it’s all Ragen’s fault!

I didn’t include it in my “haul” post because I want to “unveil” the entire look on fyeahVBO. Kyla was 2345678098765433456% my inspiration for the look I’m creating. Mainly this dress, actually. She’s made me realize, being my body twin, that my pot belly is not just acceptable, it’s sexy. It’s soft and supple and luxurious like Kat Williams’ hair. I’m damn tired of hiding it under empire waist dresses that cinch in all the worst places, so Sunday I’m taking my VBO out on the town for the first time. I’m also wearing my I <3 ME pin, as I don’t have a fat necklace…yet.

I had an entire ensemble but I decided I didn’t like the shoes, which meant the belt and bangles were no longer viable. VOILA!, now I get to start over Sunday morning, mere hours before the event. I’m not worried or stressed, though. I love the dress and the way my body looks in it SO much. I was concerned Jordan would disapprove, as flaunting one’s fat is confrontational by default, and he loathes drama, but he said he loves it and, like me, gives 0 fucks about other people’s opinions.

Honestly? I wouldn’t hate to give someone a verbal smackdown about my sexy. I don’t hope some ignoramus comes at me about my VBO, but if they did, I’d bust out some research, bitch slap ‘em with anecdotes, and finish off with a sprinkle of logic. I took shit for 26 years, and I learned how to dish it out well, but Tumblr’s taught me how to fuck someone up with eloquence; with knowledge instead of insults. So, if some jerk does decide to be…jerkish, I’ll calmly tell them why they’re wrong, and where they can avert their gaze if my body is offensive to them. And then I’ll swagger off with my gorgeous husband and kickass friends to the after party I’m sure to host (even though Jordan said we weren’t. It happens every year. Everyone gets done eating and then shows up at our house for booze, smoke, and RockBand. For the past 5 years we have had some CRAZY times after the holiday party. Jello shots always abound, and I typically end up cooking some amazing food (for a drunk person.) Last year I had a house full of sexy, drunk computer nerds belting Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of their lungs. I took video, but I’m sworn to keep it private. There’s also tape of one of our friends doing an IMPECCABLE Cartman-voiced Bad Romance. Good times.)

peterpansexual:

shakethecobwebs:

I snapped back with “nope - are you?” Her friend spit in my face.

I got up, went to the office, and told one of my favorite teachers. The girl may have gotten detention. I’m not sure.

————————————————————————————————-

When I was in 8th grade, I was still living in an abusive household. The worth of my existence was constantly questioned - especially since I was fat.

“Mom, why do you drink? It’s killing you. It’s killing us.”

“You stop eating and I’ll stop drinking.”

I remember the night she tried to choke me. Everyone was bleeding and screaming and crying. “You disgusting fat bitch - GET BACK HERE.” 

My sister slammed my mom into a wall to get her to stop. I held my baby brother in the next room, caressing his head and singing a lullaby to him in the most calm voice I could muster. “You’re such a handsome little boy. Do you know that? You’re perfect in every way. You’re my baby, aren’tcha? I love you so much. I love you so, so, so, much.”

————————————————————————————————-

This past semester at University. I’m in a crowded lecture hall. The seats are small, but manageable. I reach down to get my notebook out of my bag. The girl next to me says “I’d rather you not elbow me in the face.” I didn’t realized I had, so I said “Oh, I’m really sorry. …Did I hit you?” 

“No, but all things considered, I thought I’d warn you so that you don’t.”

All things considered? “Uh, right…okay. Well, I’m not going to hit you.” She mumbled something under her breath. A few moments later, the girl next to her asked if she was in her way as well. She replied “No, I just don’t think she knows how much space she takes up.”

I looked at her and said “Holy shit - are you fucking serious?” She looked annoyed and all I could muster was “Actually, I know exactly how much fucking space I take up, and I won’t apologize for it.”

————————————————————————————————-

These things didn’t happen simply because “bullying happens.” These things didn’t happen because I deserved them. These things didn’t happen because I’m unhealthy or disgusting or lazy or stupid. These things happened because we live in a culture that perpetuates and rewards fat-hate. 

So the next time you’re thinking “I should make a comment about a person’s body” - you can fucking eat me. 

this…hits me really fuckin deep.

i can remember vividly all the times my father beat me, withheld food from me and forced me on diets because i was too fat, denied me love and affection because of my weight. and when he stopped the abuse, my brother started. he threw me across the room with the utterance of you “worthless fat bitch” and laughed as he put his hands around my throat, as he pummeled my face in again and again

i can remember being a little kid and having some girl who routinely mocked/bullied me at school (but then acted super nice outside of it because we weren’t around all the cool kids) call me a “fat head” and finally snapping and barreling at her and knocking her to the ground and then yelling at any of the other girls who tormented me when they came close. and when my teacher made me write apology letters to them, i signed them all “i hope we can be friends” and one by one they came up to me and told me “no thanks, i don’t want to be friends with you”…because i was that weird fat kid. 

i can laugh at some of this shit. i can laugh at the fact that a few years later those same girls from my elementary school decided to harass me online and they told me to “fuck a donut”…

i laugh at those parts because it’s easier than remembering the times i denied my own self food because i was disgusting, worthless, i didn’t deserve to eat until my body suddenly shrunk and i became a good person, an attractive person, a thin person

its easier than thinking about all the times my weight has been used against me, used to dehumanize me, used as an excuse not to date me or be friends with me or treat me with any sense of kindness

it’s easier than thinking about all the times i’ve been to the doctor and how instead of just giving me some damn medicine for my flu or ear infection they sat down with a serious look on their face and told me the dangers of being obese and how i was putting my life at risk because from the age of 8 my body was steadily growing in size and no amount of activity or diet or crying myself to sleep at night could stop it

and how now i can’t go into a hospital for any reason without getting extremely shaky and having my vision blur at those memories of shame and hatred for myself, all those times i believed how worthless i was and i remembered being as young as ten and contemplating suicide because i wasn’t human because i wasn’t thin and i wasn’t pretty so why the fuck should i continue living?

and let’s not even talk about the feelings the mall induces…

so i laugh about some of it. some of it i can shrug off as not as bad as it was. but the truth is, it was fucking awful. it has shaped me. i remember when my partner and i were first dating, my loving, wonderful partner who has done nothing but worship my body and been patient as fuck as i moaned about how gross i was, i remember one of the first times we got into an argument and before i could stop myself, the words tumbled out of my mouth, “what, are you going to call me a fat bitch now?” and my partner who has never so much as called me any kind of name looking shocked and horrified at me that i would even think that.

but the truth is, i’m so fucking used to hearing it. i hold my breath anytime i get into a fight with anyone, waiting for those words, they’re usually the first to be said. but now i don’t shy away from them. i embrace them. people have spent so much fucking time pushing those words on me, those words that have defined me all my life, they aren’t going to dare take them away from me now that i use them as a tool of empowerment and positivity.

i don’t give a fuck anymore. i’m a fat bitch. i am not fucking sorry. i won’t feel bad anymore, i won’t spend my life thinking about ~future me~ and how things would be so much better if i lost 100 lbs. because they aren’t going to get better simply because of that. because i already have a really fulfilling life full of friendship and love and potential and being thin isn’t going to improve those things. and i don’t wanna be thin anymore. i’ve lost all desire for it. i no longer feel guilt for eating when i’m hungry, or for eating what i want, or for being bigger than deemed ‘acceptable’ or for being loud and angry and full of life

i look at my body and all its hairy, weird, asymmetrical, fat, ugly, stretch-marked aspects in the harsh unnatural light of my bathroom mirror and study every unflattering angle of myself until i have memorized each curve and line and freckle and i’ve touched every last bit of cellulite and stroked each stretch mark and i don’t feel ashamed of it anymore.

i refuse to feel ashamed anymore.

Thank you for this.

sugaryumyum:

thecreatureix:

They’ll tell you that you’re fat.

They’ll tell you that you’re ugly, stupid, unlovable, unsexy, uncreative, inadequate, weak, girly. That you’re too poor, too messy, too crazy, too weird, too broken, too scarred, too complex.

They’ll tell you that you’re fat. My gods they’ll tell you. Over and over.

They’ll tell you that you can’t be successful, that good things will never happen to you, that you won’t find love, that you will never find happiness, that you can’t change yourself.

They’ll tell you that you’re fat and eventually you’ll believe it.

You’ll rail against it. You’ll try to reclaim your body. You’ll pierce it and tattoo it. You’ll dye your hair, or shave it off, or let it grow long and wild. You’ll dress as another gender so they can’t categorise you as easily. You’ll purposely look ugly to rail against their beauty standards. Your clothes will be ripped and your nails dirty. You’ll push your body to its limits to prove to yourself how strong you are. You’ll ride further than you ever thought you could. You’ll travel. You’ll create art. You’ll do things no one believed you could do. You’ll test yourself and you will survive.

Eventually you’ll reclaim your body.

Eventually you’ll feel adequate. You won’t feel fat. You won’t feel shame. You will feel strong and proud and dangerous. Your body will be your tool, and you will wield it.

You’ll stand naked in front of your lover and not give any fucks. You will be proud of your body. Then you will be dangerous. Then you will be ready to do some damage. 

—-

Wanted to write this because heaps of people I date/know have body insecurities. I want to help them reclaim their bodies, but I can’t do much apart from love them and heap them with compliments. It may help to let them know that I went through this long phase of reclaiming my body. I went bike touring, learned to fight, learned to kill and butcher animals, went to 15 countries, got waterboarded and did flesh hooks 4 times. After that I felt pretty strong inside. Now I have no issues with getting naked. An interesting side effect is that I now fetishise shame in others. I guess you always want what you don’t have.

You’ll stand naked in front of your lover and not give any fucks. You will be proud of your body. Then you will be dangerous. Then you will be ready to do some damage. 

Today, ^that happened to me for the first time. I laid next to my husband, looked at my fat self in the full-length mirror and felt powerful. And safe. And gorgeous. And so very loved. And at peace.

It will happen for you, too. Don’t give up. Please don’t give up. It’s so worth waiting for.