part two.

you know what’s so wild?
I talk a lot about body positivity and inclusivity.
I’m the first one to shout at my friends if they begin
to talk about themselves negatively.
I beg customers to try on those “risqué” pieces.
But it’s all shit, man.

I’ve become really comfortable showing off parts of my body that I like. I’ve never feared showing my arms, which too, are large and in charge.  My thighs have never bothered me and these are some clappers, my friends.  There are more chins in this bed currently, than there are girls named Kristen.
And I don’t really give a fuck about any of that.

And with showing off these parts of my body, I’ve been told that it’s inspirational. That people have seen my size 26 body in a bralette and skirt in public and were “moved.” And that’s dope, truly it is.

I’ll whip a tit out in a second. Sorry, mom and dad. But when you find something about yourself appealing, it’s pretty normal to show it off. I’ve learned to love my hips, so I’ll wear more structured pieces that flatter them, because goddamn they’ve been through some shit and deserve some love too.

But there’s parts that I hate. Despite everything. I hate my stomach. And what I call, my cutlets, aka my under arm side boob waterfall of chub.

shocker here, but if you didn’t know, I work in a clothing store and have studied and worked retail since I was 16. A wee child, ya know. And where I work now makes me feel so confident. I wear things I love because I fucking can, and there’s nothing but support. I help style and dress all types of people, and have for a while, in many different jobs.

I’m learning to embrace myself day by day, and that includes my stomach. Styling clothes on others is easy. I’ll wear a crop top in a heartbeat, but there was always something about wearing high waisted jeans that terrified me. The other day I literally woke up thinking of this outfit that would be so cute, and almost immediately changed my mind, because in my head, my shirt would be tucked in, and that was a no from me fam.

But I did it. And no one laughed. No one said anything. No one pointed. Buildings didn’t fall and children didn’t run away in fear. A mind fuck, indeed.

I chose a paid of distressed high waisted old navy rockstar skinnies (which, quick note to the big bitches reading this, are so so good) with an off the shoulder cotton swing top from torrid, some gold hoops and sling back pointed toe ballet flats. I felt like a bad bitch, let me tell ya.

I know this is ramble-y, but it’s so freeing doing something that scares the shit out of you. Wear a print or a neon for God’s sake. You won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but be your own, add some sugar, and call it a day. It’s lovely.

So I conquered the stomach fear, kind of maybe, a little.
And maybe you’ll pick a piece that makes you nervous, and love it too.

Wear what makes you happy, even if society is telling you something different.
And just embrace it.


All my love,
K.

embrace me

I’ve realized recently, after hearing the cliche for many many years, that it is impossible to love someone, until you love yourself. In the last year, I’ve felt the furthest from my “self” that I’ve ever been. I stopped loving. I stopped caring. I stopped feeling. And that fucking terrified me.

I remember hearing girls in elementary school talking about me. And I remember having to be on the defense all of the time. In middle school, I learned that if you made jokes about yourself first, the ones that others made about you, didn’t hit as well. So I started cracking jokes about my weight. Being the funny fat girl was a role I played. When you make people laugh about something else, they’re laughing with you, and not at you, and that saved me, somewhat.

Bullying was a fucking bitch. I don’t talk about it often, but it completely changed me, and formed me into the person I am today. I had pictures of pigs put in my locker. I had groups of girls, (who to this day like my pictures on social media and comment “yes queen”) mock me at parties, online, and in class.I remember being in high school, and specifically having a very popular, athletic, attractive boy, message me on AIM. He asked me if at a pool party, he could “grab my ass” because he thought I was pretty. I never felt pretty, and I remember taking this as a huge compliment. Turned out, in a shocking turn of events, that he showed this to all of his friends, and it became a huge joke among groups of friends, whom I avoided for the rest of my time on Long Island.

As a 26 year old, single, plus size girl, I’m tired of being the funny girl. Laughter is medication, but laughter, as I mentioned before, is also a building block to a wall that we surround ourselves with when we’re afraid of reality. I’ve worked in retail for a very long time, and see day to day that women like me aren’t portrayed in media, in stores, in movies, unless we’re funny. Think of all of the big bitches who actually make it. They’re not serious reformers. They’re comedians.

I follow incredible women on social media who are not afraid to show themselves in bikinis, in underwear, or even nude, and I envy them every fucking day. Because every fucking day, I strive for the confidence to feel THAT beautiful in my own skin. I believe that I have the same right as a woman who weighs 140 lbs to wear whatever the hell I want, and feel good as I wear it. It shouldn’t be considered “brave”to wear a bathing suit, or a pencil skirt, or to show your arms or your stomach.

I haven’t written anything in a very long time because I had nothing to say. I felt like I had said it all already. The “love yourself body posi bitch” went away for a while and didn’t leave her bed. And I missed her. I lost a great love, and lost myself when it happened. And I wanted to be her again. So I fucking did. You’re not a slut if you post something on the internet that isn’t the norm.

So I got out of bed, propped up my iPhone, and took a picture of myself in my panties. And I stared at it for three days before I put it on social media. I stared at my rolls, my cellulite, my split ends, and then I posted it. I fought to be her. I’ve been through my darkest days. Let’s just say I’ve seen some shit. And when I looked at that picture, I didn’t feel angry anymore. I stared at the line of the curve of  my hip and I felt beautiful, for the first time, without having to have someone say it first. I embraced it. And that shits wild.

I’m writing because I missed it. Because I finally felt like I could stand behind myself and the words I was saying. I believe that at any size, you should be able to stand in a mirror naked and think “I’m that bitch.” Any gender, any body type,  any race, any disability, any sexual orientation, any human fucking being, should be able to feel love for themselves.

Thank you to anyone who has stuck around, reached out, and came the fuck through for me this past year. I’m happy to finally be in a place where I feel comfortable doing something I love again.

Go out; wear what the fuck you want, show off your skin, and enjoy.

All of my love always,
Kristen.

brain dumping.

I don’t know how to even start this post.
It’s 2:15 in the morning, and once again I cant sleep.
So, here we go.

The last three months of have completely changed me.
I no longer know what I want to do, or who I want to be.
Everything has changed.
I feel like I’m on a trip that won’t end.
I feel like I’ve lost my mind, along with just about everything else.
And anything that hasn’t gone, I’ve pushed away.

I no longer believe in a lot of things I clung to for a long time.
The ounce of body image pride I have in me is absolutely fucking wrecked.
I have no idea if I’m ready to take on a major surgery.

Everyone I’ve talked to about this, just tells me I’m making excuses.
Which, to an extent, probably.
But for fucks sake.
How am I supposed to pull of this huge life changing event,
when I can’t get out of bed in the morning?
When I’m forcing myself to see my friends.
And call my family.
And tell them I’m okay.
And that this will take time.

Because I feel like I’ve fucked up everything.
I watched people and opportunity,
walk out of my life.

My brain has imploded.
How much can a girl take,
I mean seriously, damn.

I feel like nothing is real anymore.
I don’t find excitement in things I used to.
It takes every ounce of me to get dressed for work.
And just about everything else to actually get out of the car.

I’m writing this because I need to.
Because if I keep this shit bottled up any longer, I’ll lose it.
And I know I’m not the only one who goes through this,
So maybe you’ll find comfort in not feeling alone.

I also need to say thank you.
And I’m sorry.
For pushing you away.
To some of the most amazing support system I could ever have.
Thank you for listening to me, when I know you’re tired of it.
Drunk, crying, screaming, and not talking at all.
I thank you.


I don’t know what else to say.

“Insatiable” preview thoughts

Hi y’all,

I just need to vent about something, and this is probably the best way to do it.

I keep seeing advertisements for the upcoming Netflix series titled “Insatiable,” and they’ve made me so furious. I’m not the type of person to bash on a tv series, because honestly I don’t watch a lot of series. It’s not my thing to binge watch a show unless is truly catches my eye. But this, disgusting misrepresentation of a plus sized girl is actually appalling.

If you haven’t seen it, search for it on YouTube to get the full understanding of where I’m coming from. Within the first 30 seconds of the preview, the main character appears, a blonde, clearly “fat suited” girl, by the name of patty. And apparently, everyone hates her, makes fun of her, and has nicknamed herself “fatty patty.” It’s mentioned that “while all the people in high school were losing their virginity, she was stuffing another hole.”

With that comes my first point. The message that this is basically conveying, is that if you’re fat, people will not find you sexually attractive, and therefore you’ll be alone unless you fit into societies idea of what “attractive” is. Also, it makes the point that plus sized people just sit and shove their gullets with food, and do nothing else with their time. Lovely Netflix, great message.

Moving along into the next minute...
Instilling the idea that “not eating for a few months” will make you lose all of your excess weight and become beautiful. This actually made me really upset. Now, for one thing, the main character gets punched in the fucking mouth and has her jaw wired shut, and can’t eat. But this message is so dangerous, especially to younger guys and girls. “Just don’t eat, and you’ll become hot and everyone will like you” is essentially what’s being told her. Is this a fucking joke? Are you trying to trigger eating disorders? I can’t even count the amount of times in my life I’ve thought of just stopping eating to lose weight. This is incredibly unhealthy to portray.

And then...

“Patty” ponders at her desk, and tries to decide who she wants to be in her new image...choosing between “the brain, the jock, or the princess.” Like no plus size girl has ever been smart, athletic, or the star of the show. It just doesn’t make sense to me that in 2018 this is the type of smut that directors are coming up with.

But right at the end, they just sew it all up into a revenge plot. Like that’s a wonderful idea. Tell all the girls who watch this that once they’ve achieved level “pretty and skinny” to go fight other girls and set people on fire. Makes sense in a world where 15 year olds are walking into high schools with automatic weapons and wiping out their classmates. Great idea.


The thing that really bothers me about this whole fucking this, is that the actress...”patty” in the beginning, is wearing a fucking fat suit. I know the character has to stay the same facial wise, but really? You couldn’t have hired a different actress? Two different girls to portray the same role? Is been done a thousand times, but okay whatever.


I know this was long winded, but it’s been on my mind for a few days and I had to say SOMETHING. it’s fucking gross and disgusting that in a social media frenzied world where we’re all trying our best to love ourselves, this nonsense comes out. “Dark humor” is right.

What are your thoughts? Let me know

Until then,
K.

Nothing.

I hadn't slept.
I packed my bag.
A sheet, sunscreen,
a water bottle,
and headphones.
That was all I needed.
Simple.

I couldn't look at myself.
Hungover.
I locked the door.
I slid the key under the mat.
Longing.

It was 4:30am.
That didn't matter.
The road was empty.
So was I.

I played the same song.
It had no words.
For three hours.
Its a minute and a half long.
It was the only thing,
that made sense.
Nothing.

I don't remember driving.
I wasn't in my body.
I stopped when the land did.
Gone.

I walked and watched.
Lovers walking and holding hands.
Devastated.

I laid my sheet down.
I stared at the sea.
For three more hours.
I walked in the ocean.
Cold.

I burned.
The waves crashed.
But still I felt nothing.
And it felt like home.
So far away.
800 miles.

Life is so fucked up.
Love is so fucked up.
Yet here I am.
Living.
Alive.

And i feel nothing.

Reflecting on deflecting.

Hello lovelies,

I kind of wanted to talk about something today I've never really admitted or spoken out about. I've been thinking a lot about it and maybe someone else has felt the same way, so here I go.

I was asked recently about how old I was when I started doing my "winged liner." If you know me, I've done a bold liquid eyeliner wing for a super long time. It's become part of what I like to think is my signature look, along with my hair. I was probably 12 or 13. I don't particularly remember a specific age when I began really getting into makeup. But I had a TON of it in jr. high and high school.

Thinking about it now, I never admitted it to myself, but those things are what deflected peoples attention from the fact that I was, and am still fat. I always thought that if my hair and makeup were perfect, I was somehow not just the "fat" girl. If I wore cute clothes and stayed in style with the popular girls, even though I could never fit in the stores they shopped, I knew I'd be golden.

I knew that if I was funny, and made jokes about myself before other people said mean things, they'd be less inclined to say them at/in front of me.

Going through this journey has opened my eyes to a lot of small things I've done subconsciously to try to steer peoples attention away from my stomach, my arms, my hips, anything really. I remember crying  and begging my mom to take me to CVS before school because my hair straightner broke and I refused to let my hair look bad.

Makes sense, right?
Well, to me it did, and still, sometimes, does.
Simply because, people are so shallow, that it makes it easy to deflect someones attention from one flaw to something I saw as "better."

I'm just sort of embracing the "carefree" kind of aspect of life now. When it comes down to it, if you're a shitty person, I don't want you anywhere near me. A bad heart is very clear to see quickly.

Cheers to throwing garbage people out and leaving them in 2017.

Thank you to everyone for all of the love and support lately.
Yall mean the world to me.

xo, K.

Self love.

Hello lovelies,

What a month it’s been. Happy spring everyone! I hope the weather is more stable by you than it is here in charlotte ( I honestly think mother nature’s anxiety has been worse than mine lately). 

I just wanted to come do a little update on what’s been going on with me recently. I know a lot of you follow me on other social media’s, but if you don’t, or just felt like reading, I’m back y’all.

So this month really kicked off my Vertical Sleeve Gastroectomy prerequisites. I visited my nutritionist for the first time, and have been in the full swing of my new diet. Not only is the diet very hard for me, but I’ve come to realize how addicted to food I truly am. I’ve quit smoking, with help from a Juul vape which makes me look like I’m 18 again, and that was a mindfuck in itself. But honestly, was not that hard compared to giving up soda and junk food. Hearing the surgeon tell me that I could be dead by 40 if I continued living the lifestyle I was leading absolutely shocked me. 

I’ve come so far from where I was when I was in high school in the “body image department.” I didn’t realize that “treating yo self” and “binging” are two totally different things. It’s all well and good to have a treat once in a while, because if you don’t, you might just lose your mind. But I got to the point where I was eating shit food every single day, and a lot of it at that, because I felt like I was allowed. And that’s what caused me to get to this point. 

I’ve been asked a lot recently “why” im doing this surgery, or why I’m choosing to post so actively on social media about it. Honestly, I know I’m not alone in this journey. It’s a journey of self love and learning to better myself. I’ve realized that so many people think that getting this WLS is about hating your body, but that’s not true at all for me. I’ve learned to love myself over the last five years so much more than I ever had before, and I decided it was time to prove it. To me. For me. I want to live a long time. I want to travel the world and not worry about having to buy two plane seats, or breaking chairs, or fitting on roller coasters. It’s very simple. And this surgery is just a tool to help me get there.

I’ve made an Instagram (kristenvsgjourney) entirely to document this process because I don’t want to inundate everyone with “diet” related posts because for real, it can be exhausting. And so many of y’all have been so supportive already, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Here’s to a new month, and a new me.

Love always,

K.