The price of everything

I've always felt a bit of an odd fit in the fatshion world, cos I can't afford to buy things. Now I have some disposable income, but even with that I probably can't buy things full price. Over the 3 years I've been blogging, I've worn some of my clothes countless times - I guess until they've fallen apart in a lot of cases. In this time I've been on the dole, on minimum wage, on a pittance of university funding, and generally speaking not particularly well off.

Part of the reason I started blogging here was because clothes have always mattered to me (not necessarily fashion, but clothes themselves) - because they've been a way to express myself and explore who I am, no matter how little spare money I've had, and whether I've been shopping at jumble sales or high street shops. I'm a constant re-mixer, because what I buy has to go with EVERYTHING I own. I've learned to thrift through years of having few other options. I've never had a lot, but I've always had fun making things work for me where I can.

I've been putting the prices on what I buy ever since I started this. That's for a reason too - often what I wear can't be bought again by someone else (because it's second hand, or on super duper last one left sale), but I still want to be able to be transparent about where I find things and how I dress myself. I want to be able to show others who don't have a lot how I get by. Again, I feel like knowing the price of something is something I was brought up with, and dressing on the cheap is something I feel proud about. I also tag all of the items I wear so you can see the ways I've remixed something too.

I'm never gonna be the sort of blogger with a wardrobe of outfit options. My clothes will always be a little bobbled, and yes, I've worn that blouse a million times. I'm not on trend, I'm not invested in fashion as an industry, or in keeping up to date because of any sense of obligation. I'm mainly into finding ways to have fun dressing myself even when I have nothing.

Yesterday I made a trip to get the first stages of a thigh tattoo started, and I thought I’d share the to date photos as a memory of what it’s like at the end of the first session. I get the shading and colouring finished in about four weeks time and I am already pretty excited! I already have a small piece, but it was something I did without planning about 7 years back. This is the first piece I’ve had done with lots of planning and with a tattoo artist I respect and who came super highly recommended (for anyone in Yorkshire it’s Gareth from Black CrownTattoo, a studio which literally came recommended from pretty much every tattooed person I know!).

I chose to have my thigh tattooed because it’s maybe one of the fattest parts of me, and it’s a part of me that I’ve always felt strong and powerful in. I remember hating being stocky when I was growing up, having a bit of a hockey players build which was impossible to clothe. I’ve always been clumsy too, which has resulted in more bangs, bruises and scabs than I care to recall. It’s funny now actually, I seem to not even notice the bumps and surprise myself with a new bump regularly. I can’t even articulate how uncomfortable I felt growing up like this – I grew up in a very middle class area (albeit in a housing estate in the area in a working class family), and I used to feel like these marks betrayed me – they made me conscious of my inability to fit places, of my need to work in manual labour jobs where my friends didn’t. I never really stood a chance of having an unmarked body. Now I’m proud of my shape, the way I’m taller than most women and built to take up space. I like that I’m stocky, that I’m strong and powerfully built, and however that resonates with my family of similarly built bodies. I’m not traditionally feminine, but I employ femininity anyway (as well as masculinity sometimes too), on my own terms. I wear dresses with my bruises and bumps, on my body that I’m supposed to cover up in the interest of the general public.

Being tattooed is embodied art, and where you have pieces factors into your experience of that piece. I’ve written before about the politics of having a “marked body”, but mainly from the perspective of being fat and having stretchmarks, scars, lumps and bumps etc. I know that tattooing is fairly mainstream now, however, I still feel it’s transgressive because it rails against the logic that (particularly as women) we should be clean, unmarked, chasing after youth and the innocence that a completely unmarked body (hairless, bruiseless, smooth, without bruises or scars or marks of any kind) seems to suggest. I chose to get a sewing machine tattooed on me because it’s a part of my history – working class crafting, making something out of no or few resources, and body acceptance too, which is what started me making clothes regularly again. Choosing a personal facet of my history and having it inscribed on me acknowledges that my history has shaped me, my body and my experience of it.

(Also, it’s just beautiful!)

It was a really empowering experience – I didn’t really expect that actually. I knew that I felt strong enough to deal with the pain, but I was nervous that I would be a wimp throughout, that I’d need to stop or wouldn’t go back for the second half. I was surprised at how easily I dealt with it, at how strong I am when I need to be. I’ve been through things, and they’ve shaped me in a way which makes me strong and tough in moments like this, and that in itself is awesome. 

Roll on shading and four weeks time!

Transformation Narratives

There have been a few fat positive books released over the last couple of years, which is awesome. I’ve read some, but not all (though I want to), so this post is not targeted specifically at any particular book, more generally at the way publishers and editors seem to appropriate the movement.

I’m interested in the ways in which body acceptance narratives are presented in a more mainstream setting. Generally speaking, fat activists are introduced into mainstream discourses through history – I experienced this myself when I was filmed to be on Cherry’s Body Dilemmas last year. It’s necessary to justify our position as fat activists through the reiteration of suffering that we’re experienced before getting to that point. I am NOT interested in denying that we all face abuse on different levels, but it’s interesting that our acceptance is always framed around it. How would I have been portrayed if I’d always been happy, and never dieted, rather than having gone through eating problems, fad diets and lots of abuse in various settings? Would my acceptance have been presented as more or less valid? Would I have had different reactions?

My interest in fat narratives has developed recently as more books have been published with a “how to love your body” slant – self help, but from a fat positive, more radical angle. I get that books need to offer something unique, powerful and individual that makes a reader pick it from a bookshelf (rather than the many alternatives), but I find these prescribed narratives frustrating for a whole bunch of reasons, which I’m going to try and explain here:

-          The process of “transforming” is often used when talking about fat people – i.e. the before/after process of dieting, the abjection of fat bodies etc. The presentation of us as inadequate subjects/humans means that we have to undergo a process to become an acceptable member of society – normally dieting, but I wonder how these narratives fit in here too? Yes, they’re subversive in some ways, but they’re also still reliant in this transformation in order to become acceptable.

-          I get frustrated with the before/after presentation (i.e. before I hated myself, dressed in just black and now I am really happy and wear bright, tight things) because it makes it impossible to complicate the process – you’re either just happy or not happy at all. The truth is that body acceptance is a process, and it doesn’t happen overnight, and neither is it easy to completely shake off self hate. Everyone has ups and downs, whether you’re super body confident or negative – the levels just change. I cannot stress how hard it is to completely shut out fat negativity and hate when it’s around you constantly – however, what’s important is learning to decode these messages, how to compensate and deal with feeling upset by them, and how to support your body in spaces which don’t do the same. It’s okay to be upset and angry – but try and find ways to channel that upset and anger at the source, rather than at you or those close to you.

-          Focusing on an end point (when you completely love yourself and EVERYTHING IS HUNKY DORY) is kind of unproductive – like I’ve already said, that end point is tough, and you might not ever get there entirely. However, if you’ve made any progress at all, that’s fine, because you’re still resisting at some level.

-          Body acceptance is different for everyone!! I can tell you how I started to accept myself, and I can see commonalities between my methods of acceptance and self-care and others’, but our own methods and backgrounds are incredibly different. Fat acceptance is incredibly diverse, and to me, is built on difference – some of us got into it through academia, some clothes, some exercise, some community activism, some sex positivity, and the list goes on! Also, I find these “how to” narratives frustrating because they exclude people without certain resources, and always seem to be written from a privileged position in society, and targeted at a similar group.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate the contribution to publishing that fat activists have made (I wouldn’t be here without having read some of these books!), but I’d like to see more people queering and actively questioning these transformation narratives and the structure behind them.

Finding your own voice

OH NO A TEXT ONLY POST. (sorry)

Being creative is really important to me. I find being in spaces where creativity isn’t valued to be really tough going because it’s such a paramount part of the way that I engage with an environment – it’s in my choice of clothes, my approach to work and my hobbies, even the dynamics in my relationships. However, being a creative person is also pretty tough on me – most things I do feel like an extension of me, so therefore I take criticism badly and can often shut off when I fear I might face it, which in turn can have a negative effect on me.

I wanted to talk about creativity because it’s really central to my own fat activism – I’m passionate about making things, playing with my identity and producing content (both blogging, zines, and academic writing) that creatively counters what institutions have put in place about being fat. Mental health stuff means that being able to do this is very hard on me sometimes, which explains why I am sometimes less present or vocal on here and other places – sometimes what I deal with is just too tough and I need substantial periods by myself to recoup and move on. I’ve not really spoken about mental health and depression on here before, because it’s something I’ve only just acknowledged myself.

Often I’ve felt as if the best way to counter these negative patches is to make my creative output as good as it can possibly be – however, as I’m also a perfectionist, I never seem to reach the lofty heights of my ambition, so what I actually let out into the public realm is very limited. To illustrate this, I thought about starting this blog for about three years before I actually did – I’d been a part of fatshion communities both as a participant and through selling vintage clothing on eBay (which I did alongside my postgrad degree), and always really admired fatshion bloggers, but I wasn’t confident in my own ability so I put it off. Eventually I was unemployed for a bit and I started this space as a bit of a diversion – within a couple of weeks and after a miniscule amount of self-promotion, my first readers (most of whom are still here I think!) passed on my links and images, and I had an audience which began to grow and hasn’t stopped since. This blog has become much more than I ever anticipated it could be, and the support and kindness I’ve received has always massively outweighed the critiques and fat hatred that I also sometimes receive. I’m still very much not a “proper” blogger – most of my pictures are unedited, badly exposed and generally full of questionable facial expressions – but it doesn’t matter (maybe it would if I was trying to make money out of this, I don’t know).

I love the blogging world because it’s accessible to a much wider variety of people than traditional fashion platforms – I’m not saying that anyone can blog, because I also know that it takes a certain amount of resources to be able to do so (computer, internet access, camera, money for clothes), but rather that some of the hierarchies that have controlled the production of fashion culture have been removed. It’s a more democratic space, even if there are still prevalent norms and levels of privilege that often go unmentioned. I think the fashion industry looks down on blogs now, because they’re two a penny and everyone and their dog has one. However, I think this is what I love most about it. To me, I see a connection between this method of communication and zines and other DIY methods of counter culture – I created this space because I wanted there to be a fat fashion space that was also politically engaged and budget/DIY focused, and because I didn’t know many other similar voices out there. I used to have to imbibe substantial amounts of fat hatred to get my fashion fix, but now there’s no need for that, and that in itself is awesome.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again – bloggers are awesome, but we could be better. If you feel that your voice is missing from the fatshion world and you feel that you have the time and resources to change that, then do it! I’ll support you, and I know many others who will too. You don’t have to be a fashionista to write a blog, you don’t even have to be a particularly capable writer or photographer, and you certainly don’t need to look a certain way, contrary to what you might think. One of the most powerful aspects of blogging to me is the way that it has highlighted difference and variety in body shape, personal style, gender, sexuality, ability and colour – I love seeing how different people make a similar item of clothing work, because it’s such a contrast to the way I see clothes presented in shops and online (on a uniform, non-relatable body).  

I guess that what I’m saying is to myself as much to anyone else who’s gotten this far (congratulations!) – you don’t have to be perfect to have a creative output (whether that’s blogging, art, academic work, craft, music, whatever). I’ve always railed against the idea of perfection in aesthetics (being in possession of what society would determine a flawed body), and I guess it’s taken a while to apply this logic to my own creative projects too. Process is a really important part of our creative growth, and focusing on only the end point makes taking any steps towards it a very daunting prospect. If you feel you have something that needs saying, then find a basic forum to start working on it (whether this is yours or someone else’s blog, tumblr, a zine, a painting or art piece, anything) and just take it one step at a time. 

I'm a great believer of images as an important part of body acceptance. They're often what you base your self-hatred on beforehand, by deconstructing your appearance, and, for me at least, seeing images of fat bodies on fatshion blogs and communities showed me that my body was not worth that self-hatred. We aren't often exposed to photographs of fat people in any other guise than the headless fatty or in generally a negative or incomplete portrayal, and this lack of images to relate to makes you feel as if your body is an anomoly. Fat positive online spaces contradict this by reclaiming their own image and sharing it on their own terms, with their own chosen aesthetic and presentation.

So, for me, seeing my body (whether by writing this blog, or hanging out with other fat people, or by being visible on my own terms) has become a really empowering way of negotiating my own relationship with my body. Maybe this makes me vain as hell, but it also makes me happy, and that's more important ultimately.

Anyway, to get to the point I'm trying to make(!), I recently got a copy of The Colette Sewing Handbook by Colette Patterns. They're an ace company who make vintage inspired patterns which have always hit the spot for me. They only go up to a UK size 20, but I've often been able to make the patterns work for me by working with smaller seam allowances. I would LOVE it if they'd expand their sizing so that more plus sizers could enjoy their work too *hint hint*. In the book, the author suggests that it's a good idea to make your own sewing doll/dummy on which to base your sketches for future craft projects. You do this by photographing yourself in either tight clothing or your underwear, printing a copy out, tracing your outline and then scanning or rephotographing it again. You've then got a digital copy of yourself that you can doodle ideas for, photocopy endlessly and design clothes for.

This excited me endlessly, because A) I'm a pretty bad artist and tracing is easy, and B) it meant I could doodle ideas for future creations on a copy of my own body. This is fantastic for craft purposes, but it's also a pretty fun thing to do in general - I found it a positive experience that helped me reconnect with myself after generally feeling a bit low. You can use the form to play around with outfit ideas, make zines, plan projects, or just doodle. It's a little thing, but I found it an affirming body positive experience, so thought I'd reflect upon it.

Here's mine (and if you don't want to see drawings of me in my pants, you should probably look away now!):


BACK FAT!

And here's some stuff I'd like to make or own:

An unashamed rip off of a Queen of Holloway dress I've had my eye on. Hopeful future project!

40s esque high waisted trousers (a current project), and a nice fitting blouse with a Peter Pan collar.

Make It Work!

How's that for a goofy grin?! So today I went to the printers and picked up my zine, Make It Work, at last! I've been working on this for a while now and it's really exciting to see it in paper form at last. Here are some details for you:

Make It Work is a radical fat positive zine centred around DIY fatshion and craft projects. It contains a mixture of personal pieces, tutorials, craft tips, guides to pattern upsizing, event organising and some fairly bad art. Contributors are awesome people from the fat-o-sphere including me (duh), Charlotte Cooper, Claire, Mel, Bronny, Brenda Jean and Kelsey and more.

“Make It Work” has been a mantra within fatshion communities since I can remember, and I’m interested in exploring it as a radical premise of fat positive politics. Fat people have and have always had very limited options in ready-made clothing, and, whilst retailers are starting to produce more on trend pieces, the process is slow and in the meantime, we have to come up with our own radical alternatives – whether it’s making clothes, thrifting, altering clothes or making straight sizes work for us. This zine is about sharing the resources, skills and knowledge that we’ve gained, and for it to provide strategies for people to move forward with.

Half size (A5) with 48 pages total. The zine is hand typed and has a medium pink card cover. Staple binding.

You can buy the zine from etsy here, or, alternatively you can leave your paypal email address and location in the comments below (or let me know it via email at fattyunbound@gmail.com) and I will send you a paypal invoice directly.

Clothes Swap!

Hello one and all! As you probably remember, last year I helped to organise a plus sized clothes swap in Leeds - and now we're putting on another!

This time we're in a different, more central venue in Leeds, Wharf Chambers. As well as the zine and reference corner we had last time, this time we're also bringing our sewing machines along for help with alterations, advice and craft fun. You'll also be able to pick up my zine Make It Work (it's still at the printers, but for those who can't come I'll be posting soon about how you can get a copy). The venue has a cafe service with tea and cake, and we welcome clothing for all gender identities. It's probably obvious to state, but the event is body positive and queer friendly!

There's a facebook event here - you can RSVP there if you're on facebook. There's no need to tell us you're coming, however if you can it will give us an idea of the numbers we're expecting. If you have any questions about the event, you can also either post on the facebook wall, or email me at fattyunbound@gmail.com.

We're running from 1-5, and it's £1 to get in. Bring along any clothes in reasonable condition, and you can swap them for ones you want!

Even if you can't make it, please let anyone who might be interested know about the event - any publicity is much appreciated. Otherwise, hope to see people there for more fun chatter and swapping!

On bodies, respect and blogging

Okay, so as a blogger, I consent for my images to enter the public realm. This has been good for the main part, and I've made new friends, established myself in a body positive online community, and gotten a lot of support for my body from lots of people. However, there are horrible aspects too - images being taken without my consent, lots of internet snark, and occasional abusive comments. This also sometimes comes from within the fashion community (sometimes within the plus size blogging community too, which really makes me sad, as that's a space where I believe we shouldn't be exposed to diet/weight loss chatter).

The main thing I've wanted to explore lately is the interconnection between being a fashion blogger, a visible female, and being body positive. More mainstream fashion communities are intensely body policing and based around body hierarchies that mean that one body can look better in another. Even plus size stores like Evans preach dialogues of "flattery" and dressing to "suit your shape", which means that even shopping often involves the ongoing repetition that your body is inferior to others. These communities often seem to fragment our bodies, and I've seen my own body receive the same treatment quite a lot lately, because I don't hide my fattest parts. My belly is on display too much, my necklines are too high, my skirts are too short, and this must make me a bit delusional (because I wouldn't show these parts if someone just pointed my error to me!). We're almost told to "take responsibility" for our bodies and hide these fat parts for the sake of others - as if our bodies are public property that must be managed appropriately.

I've participated in fashion communities for years, when I was dieting and since I've become fat positive. I do so because I like clothes, and that's something I refuse to be made ashamed of. However, I don't believe that as a fat woman, I have to made any sacrifices for my body. Following these set rules and conditions to dress acceptably mean that shopping and dressing is no fun for me, as I'm constantly trying to fit within a strict set of variables, and hey, shopping for fat sized clothes is already tough enough as it is without rules to add to the mix!

I believe that one item of clothing can look amazing on a variety of different shapes. There isn't a body hierarchy to me because of this because of this. I don't believe that, as a female identified person or as a blogger, I am obliged to dress in any way - and I don't believe that anyone else is either. If you're fat and you want to wear spandex, or a unitard, or leggings as pants, or mini skirts, hot pants, body con dresses, and it makes you feel good then wear it. Similarly, I don't believe that anyone is obliged to dress "on trend" or in anything other than what they want to wear. Fashion is fun for me, but if it's not for you, then you don't need to spend time on it. I believe that part of feeling good in your body is finding a way to feel comfortable in it, whether that's dressing high fashion or low maintenance. I'm not interested in making anyone feel bad for having less (or no!) commitment to fashion than me.

It's disrespectful to comment negatively on someone's body in clothing (and out of clothing, and ever!) to me, for a variety of reasons. For one, you don't know what access they have to certain resources (I get pretty angry when people ask me to get a better bra, for instance, because large back small cup bras are pretty hard (and expensive) to come by), or how they feel about their body, or anything about their relationship to themselves. Also, dressing is personal expression for me, and, controversial as this opinion may be, I don't really believe in a right or wrong way to dress - just what works for me, personally. If you don't like the way someone dresses, don't read their blog. Learn to comment in a way that respects the poster (you can constructively criticise an outfit, but in a way that leaves body commentary out). Don't presume you know better than them, or anything about them.

Right now, fashion isn't a democracy (sadly it probably never will be). It's an industry that makes money out of telling people to "better" themselves constantly. Most of us will never be the person in fashion advertisements, but brands will have you believe that with the right amount of money, commitment, and weight loss regimes, we can become that. I believe that blogging can help to shift these attitudes, and help to focus on inspiring people of different shapes, gender identities, colours, abilities to dress the way the want to, not the way they've been told to. I appreciate the diversity I see in fashion blogging now, but I also acknowledge and hope that there could be a lot more. However, this won't happen unless fashion blogging becomes a friendlier, and more respectful, space.

Right, I wanted to talk a little more in depth about the BBC3 show and some of the responses I’ve had. The experience has been completely overwhelming, and the stories I’ve heard have made me feel such a mixed bag of emotions – anger, sadness, but also joy and delight at the amount of people who’ve started thinking differently about their bodies. All I can say is that (as if I didn’t know this already) there are a hell of a lot of strong, amazing people out there who put up with bullying, abuse, harassment and physical violence because of their bodies and their identities, and that I admire all of you and that you do NOT deserve that. It’s not your body that makes it hard to be fat – it’s the treatment you face from outside society. This treatment is legitimised by institutions, media and generally oppressive attitudes, and we’re made to believe that it’s okay, but it’s not!

I’m trying to get through all my emails at the moment, but without regular net access and a full time job it may be a while before I can reply to everyone! I will do so, though. What I wanted to do is post with a few resources and recommendations to help people who are interested in finding out more about body acceptance. Also, if you have any other questions for me, feel free to post them here and I will get back to them as soon as is possible.

Some notes, strategies and advice for you all:

1. Don’t be afraid of your emotions. There’s a lot of pressure in the body activism movement to be strong and powerful, but if someone hurts you by saying something and you need to cry about it, find a spot where you can and DO (I’m strong, and I cry A LOT). I feel like, as fat people, we’re expected not to react to comments and abuse – we’re not supposed to talk about those situations, or express the emotions they trigger in us. Talking about them and expressing them helps – not only to make other people aware of what we face on a daily basis, but also to help work through our own feelings.

2. On a related note, if someone makes you sad or angry, DO SOMETHING WITH THAT EMOTION. Crying is really cathartic and I often find that my best ideas come out of those moments when I am full of angry sadness. I started this blog part out of wanting to talk about clothes and fatshion strategies for other thrifty types, and partly because I got shouted at a lot, and I wanted to talk about how that felt and share experiences. Society expects us to be ashamed and silent, bent on being as invisible as possible. I don’t believe that’s right, and so I blog about my experiences, I show pictures of myself to a wider audience and I follow and comment on other people’s blogs. Write a zine, make a piece of art, blog, write a song, wear a bright dress, form an activist group with other local misfits, tell someone you know that they’re awesome, or find any way to express pride for your body and for other people’s. It doesn’t have to be a big step, or take up lots of time – it can be any step to show solidarity and care for others who experience hatred or oppression because of their bodies or identities.

3. Try and counter any negativity you face with self-care or positive strategies. Every time someone shouts at you, make sure you do something afterwards that makes you feel good in your body. We’re taught to learn to view our bodies from a distance, as a disassociated part of ourselves, so we can focus on what is presented as an essential need for self improvement. Part of accepting my body was learning to do new things in it – things I’d been taught that I couldn’t do as a fat person – and appreciating my body in those things. For me, self care is wearing clothes I feel good in, going for a swim, cycling, cooking, walking, making music and so on. It might be dancing or singing, competitive sports, yoga, baking, sex, beauty treatments, crafting, anything at all really.

4. Read body positive literature. I used to read fashion magazines obsessively, now instead I read blogs and magazines like Bust – they’re much more diverse (though they could definitely be more so!) and engage with politics I align myself with. I also read tumblrs, zines, books and listen to podcasts.

5. Talk about FAT. Say the word fat out loud, lots, to describe your body (if you’re fat, anyway!). Fat, in itself, is not an insulting term – it just has negative implications because fat = evil monster of death in society’s eyes. Fat is just a descriptive word ultimately, and the more we say it, the more the power of it is taken away from those who oppress people with it.

6. Redefine the way you speak about your body in general. Find words to describe yourself that you like, and reclaim some that have negative implications. Words I like that maybe have horrible implications to some people include chunky, big bums, thunder thighs, tree trunk legs and so on. These words are strong in themselves – we’ve been taught to hate them because they’re what we are not supposed to be – but I think they’re powerful and reflect being a big and strong woman. Find a new vocabulary, and try to describe your body differently when you look in a mirror.

Resources:

Hey Fat Chick

Corpulent

The Rotund

Two Whole Cakes

Fatcast

Fierce free thinking fatties (feed – this collects together a number of amazing blogs)

Our Skin (which is amazing for anyone out there who is struggling with scars, stretch marks, illness or mobility problems)

Tangled Up in Lace

Obesity Timebomb

All of the blogs I read are shown on the sidebar here as well – there are amazing fat fashion blogs, feminist blogs and more general fashion blogs. I would recommend them all heartily!

And books that anyone should own:

Linda Bacon: Health at Every Size

Marilyn Wann: Fat! So?

Kate Harding and Marianne Kirby - Lessons From The Fatosphere: How to Quit Dieting and Declare a Truce With Your Body

Charlotte Cooper - Fat and Proud: Politics of Size

'My body is soft. My curves are generous. My clothes are snug, and my breasts are noticeable. My chin is round. My belly is plump. My arms are expansive. Yes, I have a fine road map of stretch marks, and no baby to blame them on. My body reflects my experience and the fine

meals I have shared with family and friends.'

(I am a Fat Girl zine, issue three: 13)

The above was a quote I used when I was writing my MA dissertation. I’d highly recommend the series of zines it came from, which can be found at this etsy shop.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about histories lately. This has come from further self-reflection, spending time thinking about my own body, and the parts of it I show and the parts of it I don’t. I’ve also become interested in fat bodies and marked bodies as corporeal histories, and how this is represented as threatening by society, because as people (particularly as women I guess) we’re supposed to be unmarked - we’re supposed to aspire to look clean and new, as if we’ve never fluctuated in size, taken part in physical activity, fallen over or, realistically, left the house!

I’m a marked person - scarred (both accidentally and intentionally), with stretch marks, cellulite and varicose veins. I’m lumpy and bumpy, and I can’t claim to have a body of smooth feminine lines.

To elaborate a little further with a case study: I have varicose veins around the back of my calfs, just below my knees. I wanted to photograph them for this post, but sadly my laptop is still fucked - in any case, they’re sizeable, bumpy and blue, and they’re noticeable whenever I wear a skirt. They’re something that I’ve known to run in my family, and something I despised when I was younger. I remember first noticing them about the time I was 14 - about the time I began inspecting my body in more detail. They were something I knew well from my relatives, so I knew they were there to stay.

I was really ashamed of these marks. To me, I associated them with coming from a family who worked on their feet - which I know to make them protrude more and colour more. I grew up ashamed of my working class roots, largely because I came of age in a middle class suburb, around friends who never seemed to struggle or have to work or walk anywhere. Now, I’m proud of the estate I grew up on, but back then, my roots were something I tried to hide. I felt that the marks betrayed me, somehow, which I know sounds absurd, but they made me feel more different than I already was, and they connected me, physically, to a history I didn’t want to claim. I dressed for these veins - everything I owned had to cover them. No one ever mentioned them (in fact, only two people have ever brought them up with me, both recently), but because I noticed them, I couldn’t let anyone else see them. They made me feel vulnerable, and different, and I guess to an already insecure teenager with militant defense mechanisms, it made sense to cover them.

Two things changed to make me stop doing this - firstly, I realised that I didn’t care about these marks on other people. Actually, in all truth I realised that I liked them - that I found them attractive in other people, and that as such I was applying double standards to the way I looked at my own body. The qualities that I perceived as weaknesses, imperfections and faults were unique differences on others. This is something I later learnt to apply when I thought about my fat - why was I letting it control how I viewed myself, when it made so little difference when I looked at others? Secondly, I guess I decided that I wasn’t going to let me enjoyment of anything (clothes, spaces etc) be hampered by a set of veins that I couldn’t even see! The back of my leg was not going to control my wardrobe preferences.

Your body is a history - it’s a visual representation of where you came from, where you’ve been, how you’ve felt and who you have become. It’s one of a kind, and those differences are what make it unique. Don’t be ashamed of your experiences. Think of your stretch marks as tiger stripes, your varicose veins and scarring as a landscape. Next time you look at yourself in a mirror, or next time you talk about them, change your vocabulary. Speak about them as part of you, rather than as a dissociative, abject substance. Just as your past has shaped who you are, so has it shaped your body. Don’t be ashamed of this.

Also, for more skin related thoughts, check out the tumblr Our Skin, which is really super awesome. /end rant

Fatty Scavangers

Okay, so I'm operating on not too much sleep and a bit too much cherry yoghurt, but I wanted to get some thoughts down here on being a fatty and a thrifter. I just spoke with Charlotte Cooper for her super amazing phd research, and, when I was talking about my background I realised exactly why scavanging and thrifting form such a huge part of my identity.

I grew up in a pretty poor household, as previously discussed, and when I was younger we never really had the money to shop in "proper" shops. This used to irk me constantly, as where I grew up (bar the estates in the town) was generally an affluent town. This meant that the kids that I went to school with never really seemed to want for anything, and always got given money to shop with (I had a ever dwindling paper round that paid me about £10 a month).

At the weekends, my dad Steve and I used to go around all the charity shops in town. There are about 8 within a fifteen minute bus ride. We'd get a day ticket on the bus, and travel between all the hot spots for second hand shops, and then also sometimes big markets with budget clothes resale stalls. Also, on bank holidays there used to be an awesome car boot sale in a Waitrose car park (it shut because it "degraded" the area! Oh Surrey, how I don't miss you). These were the only resources I had available to me, and so I would spend hours in them. Whenever we went to a new area, we'd hunt out new shops, and start rummaging.

Mostly it'd be full of mediocre things (they still are), but sometimes you'd find a gem at the bottom of a 50p bin. I wish I had my family photos with me now to show you some of the horrible things I acquired and treasured - a zig zag patterned fleece jacket, neon green trainers, orange dungarees. Everyone at school thought I was a weirdo (I guess I was one), but finding these obscure unusual items gave me a way to escape from my background. I could be anyone I wanted, as long as I could fashion a "costume" from a 20p bin. It was a challenge that started my obsession with clothes, and which spurred what later became my body positivism. I think this is why I find it hard to write a guide to thrifting (which a few people have suggested I post) - because largely what I find, I've found through being incredibly stubborn and willing to root through bargain bin after bargain bin, and to hunt even after hours of disappointments - because realistically that's all I could do given those circumstances.

There are other things I found as well, books, for instance. I remember my library used to sell off their old books in a 50p a carrier bag sale (whatever you could fit in all came to 50p!). They did the same with VHS, which is how I discovered world cinema as a slightly precocious 16 year old (well, that and going up to the Prince Charles Cinema in London for £1.50 matinees, which I could travel to for free as my dad works on South West Trains). I found a copy of Shadow on a Tightrope for 99p in a charity shop, for instance, and later Fat Is a Feminist Issue. I found Blondie and David Bowie LPs, and fashioned myself as a second hand glam kid ultimately (after a bad period spent in goth-land). Later my scavanging became online scavanging - hopping from place to place, forums, blogs, communities and profiles to scour for new friends and resources. My feminism, my fat activism, my friends, my boyfriends, my band, my heroes and my support network grew out of being an internet nerd, and through this online scavanging as an extension to my physical scavanging.

This evolved into vintage shopping, ebay hunting, clothes swapping, bookmooch and online trading. Most everything I own comes from an obscure source - a flea market on holiday, a vintage store in a tiny nook of London, a charity shop I visited when seeing an online friend in real life, and so on. Every item comes with a story, and can be shaped into a new story. In turn I pursued a career in archiving because of these stories, and because of these amazing objects that connect to so many different histories and people. I guess thrifting for me is a way to create spaces, people, stories and identities that I never really had access to - and in doing so to deconstruct them perhaps. This is why I love clothes, and why I'm constantly changing/trading/swapping mine - because in doing so, I can play with a new self, and I can connect with so many different people.

I guess I love that through thrifting or scavanging, in any format, you can find yourself in a million other people's possessions, stories and blogs/communities, and also you can find the space to create a new self or identity through the remnants of others.

And on the note of clothes, here's a quote by Iris Marion Young, in her essay 'Women Recovering Our Clothes', that makes me think about how innovative and revolutionary this sort of fashion play can be:
"One of the privileges of femininity in rationalised instrumental culture is an aesthetic freedom, the freedom to play with shape and colour on the body, to don various styles and looks, and through them exhibit and imagine unreal possibilities. Women often actively indulge in such theatrical imagining... Such female imagination has liberating possibilities because it subverts, unsettles the order of respectable, functional rationality in a world where that rationality supports domination. The unreal that wells up through imagination always creates the space for a negation of what is, and thus the possibility of alternatives."
from On Female Body Experience; "Throwing Like a Girl" and Other Essays.

This to me, is what is so exciting about a life spent scavanging. Kx