i’ve been thinking of doing this for a while now. after i saw this floating around, i wanted to make my own version to hang on my wall. and knowing me, well, i had to make it all ~shnazzy~ so i made this 11x17 poster. i made it so you can download yourself one too, if you like. it’s a nice PDF file so you can take that to Kinko’s and blow it up and hang it nicely in your room or whateva.
The Non-Parent’s Guide to Parenting Blogs
When I was a baby, my parents found me in the basement of the apartment we were living in at the time, playing with motor oil. A generous heap of it got caught in my hair, and stuck in that mess was a giant cricket. They bathed me for hours — liberating the cricket was easier than actually liberating the motor oil. It’s an anecdote that keeps resurfacing. Maybe there are yellowing photographs of me scowling as a toddler with that cricket atop my head, buried somewhere in my family home. But when I think about babies crawling around these days, having similar shenanigans, I think of how easy it is for their lives to become a shared experience.
WARNING: Picture might be considered obscene because subject is not thin. And we all know that only skiy people can show their stomachs and celebrate themselves.Well I’m not going to stand for that. This is my body. Not yours. MINE. Meaning the choices I make about it, are none of your fucking business. Meaning my size, IS NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS.
If my big belly and fat arms and stretch marks and thick thighs offend you, then that’s okay. I’m not going to hide my body and my being to benefit your delicate sensitivities.
This picture is for the strange man at my nay’s church who told me my belly was too big when I was five.
This picture is for my horseback riding trainer telling me I was too fat when I was nine.
This picture is for the girl from summer camp who told me I’d be really pretty if I just lost a few pounds
This picture is for all the fucking stupid advertising agents who are selling us cream to get rid of our stretch marks, a perfectly normal thing most people have (I got mine during puberty)
This picture is for the boy at the party who told me I looked like a beached whale.
This picture is for Emily from middle school, who bullied me incessantly, made mocking videos about me, sent me nasty emails, and called me “lard”. She made me feel like I didn’t deserve to exist. Just because I happened to be bigger than her. I was 12. And she continued to bully me via social media into high school.
MOST OF ALL, this picture is for me. For the girl who hated her body so much she took extreme measures to try to change it. Who cried for hours over the fact she would never be thin. Who was teased and tormented and hurt just for being who she was.
I’m so over that.
THIS IS MY BODY, DEAL WITH IT.
and FUCK YOU ALL who tried to degrade my being and sense of self with your hurtful comments and actions.
GUESS WHAT IT DIDN’T WORK HAHAHAHAH
xoxoxoxoxoox
Update: I have appended this follow-up. All Photos are by Sara Krulwich, staff photographer at the NYT and my mother, with two exceptions. The last is a Reuters picture taken at the event, and the first is credited AP Photo/Dima Gavrysh.
Growing up I was a huge apple fan-boy (fine, still am.)…
“
I was shown how fragile life was on Saturday. I saw the terror on bystanders’ faces. I saw the victims of a senseless crime. I saw lives change. I was reminded that we don’t know when or where our time on Earth will end. When or where we will breathe our last breath. For one man, it was in the middle of a busy food court on a Saturday evening.
I say all the time that every moment we have to live our life is a blessing. So often I have found myself taking it for granted. Every hug from a family member. Every laugh we share with friends. Even the times of solitude are all blessings. Every second of every day is a gift. After Saturday evening, I know I truly understand how blessed I am for each second I am given.
I feel like I am overreacting about what I experienced. But I can’t help but be thankful for whatever caused me to make the choices that I made that day. My mind keeps replaying what I saw over in my head. I hope the victims make a full recovery. I wish I could shake this odd feeling from my chest. The feeling that’s reminding me how blessed I am. The same feeling that made me leave the Eaton Center. The feeling that may have potentially saved my life.
”
One of our favorite things about the holiday season is the recap of the year in books! Publications, websites, and readers everywhere begin pulling together what they think is the cream of the crop — the best books of the year. Take a look below through some of the lists we’ve pulled together, and keep an eye here for additions to the list as we approach the end of this stellar literary year.
One of our favorite things about the holiday season is the recap of the year in books! Publications, websites, and readers everywhere begin pulling together what they think is the cream of the crop — the best books of the year. Take a look below through some of the lists we’ve pulled together, and keep an eye here for additions to the list as we approach the end of this stellar literary year.
jmak:
Thanks, Steve.
Posting designs like this one makes me paranoid, because I can’t shake the feeling that it’s not original. I enjoyed the process regardless, but please let me know if somebody else beat me to the idea!
Thoughts?
**********
Edited on 9th October: Please read my response regarding the disputed originality of the design.
A method I endorse is to understand things by participating in them. By doing your own thing, you learn the difference between possible actions (what you can do with the system) and likely behavior: what most people will tend to do when that system is switched on for them. Forget this difference…
Sarah Austin
Actor and “Life-caster”, Start-Ups: Silicon Valley
