I'm A Barbie Girl, In A Barbie World..

Oh I do crack myself up.

Not only am I the opposite of how Barbie looks; I'm also the opposite of everything she stands for.
 
A spectacular alternative model called Elegy Ellem reblogged this earlier from the truthful bemyforeverx3:

"If Barbie was an actual woman, she would be 5’9” tall, have a 39” bust, an 18” waist, 33” hips and a size 3 shoe.

• Barbie calls this a “full figure” and likes her weight at 110 lbs.

• At 5’9” tall and weighing 110 lbs, Barbie would have a BMI of 16.24 and fit the weight criteria for anorexia. She likely would not menstruate.

• If Barbie was a real woman, she’d have to walk on all fours due to her proportions.

 • Slumber Party Barbie was introduced in 1965 and came with a bathroom scale permanently set at 110 lbs with a book entitled “How to Lose Weight” with directions inside stating simply “Don’t eat.”

Find Elegy's blog here: http://elegyellem.tumblr.com/post/15681019745/bemyforeverx3-if-barbie-was-an-actual-woman

Read it. Then read it again.

Does anyone else feel a slight wave of nausea remembering that either we too played with these dolls; or that our younger family members do/did.

I won't lie and say I never played with one ever.

In fact when I was younger I loved them, I used to spend a lot of time creating fanciful storylines where there was the usual:

a)Bitch Barbie. Always picking on the little guy.
b) Protagonist Barbie. The beautiful one who ALWAYS got Ken.
c)Ken. Who ALWAYS did nothing but still got laid
d)Other passers by who also looked scarily like A and B.

Then I realised that I wanted to BE barbie. I wanted to look like her, I wanted to always get the guy and always come out the victor in every situation, while the evil Barbie died/was exiled in the background.

Hooray for fairytale endings, right?

WRONG

Barbie epitomizes everything we as women don't need to be.

We don't need to be taller. We don't need massive breasts. We don't need a tiny waist, uber long legs, big full lips, big eyes, and long flowing blonde hair or nonexistent pubic hair.

What's wrong with being 5 foot tall, size 3 feet, short legs, short arms, big nose, even bigger frizzy red hair, and having pubic hair?

I don't wear makeup all the time, I'm not constantly wishing my boobs were bigger, and believe it or not; I like being a shortarse. I do happen to think having intelligence and a opinion is worth FAR more than an 18" waist. Just saying.

It's worth thinking about the message Barbie actually sends out to the young girls who play with her.

As Elegy wrote under her reblog:

"fucking barbie .. 

Deciding right now that when I have daughters, they will not be playing with any barbies. "

I know I agree with her. In fact, the older I got, the more I hated Barbie and all her beauty and success. I found myself pulling her to pieces, cutting her golden hair off and laughing when it didn't grow back. I drew hair on her, nipples, tattoos.. everything that made her more real, uglier in my 10 year old eyes, but now I can see that a real Barbie - one who has slightly greasy hair, the odd spot, pubic hair, nipples, a wobbly tum, cellulite and everything that makes us women REAL - would be the most beautiful, greatest gift to any young girl.

Teach kids to love themselves the way they are; even if that means they're shorter than most, slightly curvier, spottier, greasier...

So fucking what?

What's really valuable in this world is being smart enought to be able to hold a conversation, being able to look after yourself, being kind and being as good a person as you can be.

You know what?

I think if I ever have kids, I'm going to read them "How to be a Woman" by Caitlin Moran. Nightly.

You're A Woman, Not A Stick

Now don't get me wrong; I'm no stranger to the feelings of 'omgfat' when placed in front of a mirror.
But let me tell you something;

I AM NOT FAT.

I am a size 6/8; and 5ft tall. Therefore, I am in proportion and perfectly reasonably shaped.

I appreciate not everyone is as mini as me; this is also due to the fact I am a twin, who is also a skinny minnie.

But I am also vegetarian; I don't drink, smoke or do drugs, and I dance as a job as well as poledance and lift weights to get fit and exercise. I don't look the way I do sitting on my arse eating Nutella all day.

I just told a particularly smart, funny, awesome, completely stonkingly beautiful friend of mine that she is a woman, not a stick.

REMEMBER THAT LADIES.

Unless you haven't gotten up off your arse for 6 months and can no longer see the floor, then I suggest you stop worrying about your weight and start caring about more important things like university, getting a job, enjoying life and having fun.

Women have boobs, women have tums, and women have bums.

Stop getting rid of them and telling yourself you're fat; you're not!

You are you, and if that means you're a size 10 instead of an 8 so fucking what? You think the number is what counts?

Well you're wrong. It's what's inside your head that counts, find someone who loves you for you and doesn't just want to squeeze you into a porn-influenced image of what womanhood is.

I'll tell you this;

It's not a 30DD cup, 16 inch waist, 5ft9 blonde with trout pout lips and fake eyelashes and no brain.

Remember that.

You're a woman, not a stick.


Also check out my sisters' blog: http://raytherah.blogspot.com/    She's awesome.

The Jackasses Across The Carpark

Sounds like a ridiculous B-side movie, doesn't it?

No, you are not so blessed as to be treated to a film produced, directed and generally pioneered by moi.

Now  you mention it....

KIDDING

No, what I am talking about, is the fact that I have only just discovered, much to my dismay, that about 10 metres away from where I currently live in student accommodation, there is a house that is for lost male-types with broken homes.

A halfway house, in a nutshell.

Half of them are very nice I'm sure. Apparently, anyway. (In actual fact the goth that lives there is lovely :D HOORAY for alternative types NOT being arses..)

But the other half - the top floor - are currently bellowing out of their windows at the women on the other side of my accommodation block. They've been whistling for an hour, attempting to draw attention to themselves, and, having succeeded, are now pestering the people whose attention they've drawn.

And there is nothing I can do about it besides;

a) Calling the warden. Which I have.

AND

b) Emailing the accommodation officer. Which I have.

The problem being, as they are still inside their building, there is nothing we can strictly do. They are in their own territory, as it were. Still, Stan - our resident king warden officer - will go round AGAIN tomorrow.

Hilariously, these are the same boys who I complained about last night, who stood in the carpark staring up at our living quarters, making a buttload of noise and generally being rather creepy. According to the girls in my flat, they'd been pestering them in Pizza Hut about an hour earlier. They were shoo'd away by Stan and the other two student wardens last night, but they actually fucking live here.

GREAT.

I am so pleased to be able to say that we're being pestered by children bored of playing their xboxes.

*dies*

SO.

What to do? I'm not entirely sure boxing their ears would do much besides getting myself stabbed, but this is just fucking ridiculous.

I can't tell them to fuck off, and nor can I tell them lightly to shut-the-fuck-up.

 

So instead, I shall struggle to sleep - OR NOT!

UPDATE: They've just started lobbing loud fireworks at eachother. Splendid.

No sleep for me!

Veggie Soph Day 2: Fine! :)