I cry whenever I watch this.

Even though this video is new, I feel like I’ve heard the audio before but I can’t place it. This Is Water has been making its rounds on the internet, and it has over 3 million views on YouTube. As with everything in life, people take what they need from it, and I’m definitely not excluded from that. I’ve read comments varying from ‘thank you for the motivation,’ to ‘this has changed my life forever.’ The main thing I picked up from the speech is that we need collective love and community support. The grocery store scene in the video and speech is a big deal for me, and I can relate a ton to what David Foster Wallace was saying about being a part of the bigger picture, imagining what other people could be going through and perhaps forgetting about your own problems for a few minutes. Sometimes, while I’m in the grocery store, or driving on the highway, or any other jumble of life scenarios, I turn my personal life off and I wonder how other people are doing. In those few moments life just comes at you in a weird way— cold chills, writing ideas, life goals.. it all comes rushing out at me. Feeling like we’re all in this together, and realizing that we should support each other are vast goals, I know.. but they are doable in small steps. 

This past week, about 4 hours away from me in Cleveland, Ohio, 3 kidnapped women and one of their children were rescued by a selfless neighbor. This neighbor’s news interview went viral online, not because of his heroic acts but because he was some funny black guy on tv. People ended up searching his criminal record and found that he was involved in a domestic violence case and now he’s being interviewed about how those experiences shaped who he is today.

That aside, I think Charles Ramsey is the perfect example of what community support can do. What if he hadn’t walked by that day? What if he assumed everything was okay, and that someone else would help the woman crying for help? They’d probably still be kidnapped. For 10 years, a fucking decade, these women were tortured in this house. A very normal looking house on a very normal looking street. No one knew what was going on. No one noticed (besides the people saying they phoned the police, that’s still in the air). The news stations were aflutter with conversations about how ironic it was that these women were right there.. right there and no one knew. Anchors went on to talk about how it’s so weird and that none of us really know what our neighbors are up to and they could easily have some horrible psychopathic secret in their basements as well. My mom started talking about how when she was a kid, they would play outside for hours in the dark, and they’d never really have to lock their doors. Nowadays, if you don’t do that, you’re either killed, robbed, or whatever other horrible thing a stranger can do to you. Mom’s thought process was that there are so many more bad people in the world now, and that people just don’t care about each other anymore. 

That last piece is what I think our deal is. I think we are all so desperately consumed in our own lives that we can’t for one second imagine what our neighbors are doing, especially if we can’t even take the time to ask them how they are and really mean it. If we don’t know the people around us, how are we going to trust them? We’re so concerned with ourselves that we lock ourselves into our houses, we walk past people with the speed you have when you really have to go to the bathroom, and we look down the entire time. We don’t have time to listen or talk to other people, we have things to do!

Last week, I was walking in my complex’s parking lot toward my car, and this woman stopped me and simply said ‘Hi’. I kindly said ‘Hello! How are you?’ and the conversation went on to how she just moved in the building and that’s her balcony right there, and I said I live on the other side and welcome to the building and nice to meet you have a nice day! I got in my car confused and felt embarrassed and sweaty feeling. It weirded me out. Why did that weird me out? Because we never do it! This woman (who is my age, too!) could have just moved into Cincinnati, she could be lonely, she could be needing friends, and that could be why she reached out. Instead of thinking that, I thought about myself. I thought, why is she talking to me? Do I have a booger? 

We don’t care about each other like we used to. I think that’s our problem as a society. At my old job, communication was difficult and made things tough. I really cared for people I was working with, and I really wanted to make things work, but people didn’t want to talk about personal things because it was WORK. You don’t talk about your personal life at work, those are two very separate things you know—because your personal life doesn’t at ALL have an effect on your work life. That’s silly! Everything’s connected, and if you’re going to work all day while thinking about a relationship, your health, money, or any other collection of things, it’s obviously going to affect how you work and the quality of the work you do. Instead of hiding it, couldn’t we be more open and gain support from each other? I think that would make our work more meaningful, more powerful, and I think that the feeling you get from working in a team is so important. Even if what you’re doing is something no one else can do, even if you did it all by yourself, talking and gaining support and ideas from an outsider can truly help the outcome of your work. Instead, everyone is secluded and magnetized to their office chairs and computers, hoping that no one asks you what you’re doing. Is that healthy?

I’ve had many instances where I ask someone how they are and I don’t care. I’m sure we all have. We’re conditioned to assume that our lives are the most important, most difficult, and no one else really matters. I have one friend who posts things about their life on their Facebook page, reaching out for help with a tough suicidal-thought-ridden life. I have a few other friends who have reached out to this person, and when I heard that was happening I smiled. Someone fucking cares. I didn’t fucking do anything. I assumed someone else would, and they did. Thank god. Someone is there for them. I have another friend who doesn’t remember shit. No matter how many times I say what I’m doing or what my plans are for the week, or what’s going on in my life, they will never remember and I’m always left repeating myself or turning down invites because I already had plans that they just weren’t paying attention to. They don’t know important things about your life that you’ve talked about a ton. And you know what? That makes you feel like shit, especially when you’re a person who truly tries to remember what others say. Most of my closest friends don’t even read this blog. Something I’ve put so much work into. Nah. 

We need collective love and support. Simply.

We need to stop being so selfish every second of every day and think about the strangers around us. I definitely don’t see selfishness as a negative trait and I’m selfish a good amount of time, dedicating time to painting my nails, reading, laying in the bath, or whatever else. In our society, selfishness is seen as a negative, shameful thing, but we all participate in it to the extreme. We do the normal motions when we see someone, hello how are you oh that’s good I’m fine thanks bye. People are made fun of and seen as weirdos if they actually ask more questions—don’t you think that’s sad? 

I’m not encouraging everyone to be buddy buddy with every single person in the world, and I’m not encouraging anyone to give up their feelings when it comes to other people. I’ve completely cut off contact with someone I was very close to, because the relationship we had was toxic and they didn’t want to recognize that. I did, and I realized that I couldn’t do it anymore. Not even that I couldn’t do it anymore, but that I didn’t HAVE to. I could be selfish and know that I mattered. It didn’t matter if their feelings were hurt, because I was hurting. I could know that my feelings mattered, my sanity mattered, and cut the relationship off. It’s been one of the best things I’ve ever done for myself. So obviously I’m not saying that we should forget about ourselves at all, we are a crucial part of this movement. 

If we can take some time to think about the people around us and work together to spread love— help a homeless person eat, confront those bullies being mean to that kid on the corner, really mean it when you ask someone how their day is, or any other act that society deems as cliche— imagine how our world could be. Maybe another group of kidnapped people could be found. Maybe someone’s day could be brightened. Maybe someone’s life could be saved. Maybe someone could end up not feeling so alone. 

I send my love to you all.

xo Cortnie

• Tags
• feminism
• collective love
• community
• friends
• love
• queer
• feminist
• this is water
• cleveland

International No Diet Day is today, woo! I’ve wanted to write a little about it, and it’s taken me awhile to figure out how to do this because of how loaded the topics are. This is a weird thing to write about, considering I gave up dieting for what seems like forever ago. Even though I gave up dieting, I’m still affected by diet culture, I still have days where I’m tempted, where I’m saddened, and where I feel that unexplainable emptiness that comes with being told you and your body are not okay. I still have days where I attempt to calculate calories in my head, and that’s okay because I have more days where I just don’t give a damn what anyone thinks of my body.

Today is a day where we don’t have to succumb to body scrutiny and policing. It’s a day where maybe someone who is struggling how I used to struggle will be able to see that there are plenty of people who eat more than a small amount of calories a day, and are happy. But it can’t possibly be that simple, can it? 

I know many people who are still a part of the diet culture, and that’s okay because it’s damn hard not to be. The ever-cloudy issue of being body-positive while losing weight makes some people seem stupid if they are losing weight, and I’ve seen many conversations online where someone was losing weight to feel better and they were shamed for that. I’ve even rolled an eye or two when I see someone on my Facebook feed talking about wanting to lose 5 pounds, or counting points. I don’t roll my eyes because of their motivations or goals, I roll my eyes because of diet culture. I used to go to the assumption that people were losing weight to fit into a certain type of beauty. I know that the majority of the time that’s true, but I’ve also learned that sometimes it isn’t. Either way, though, weight loss doesn’t just come from dieting, but our culture makes us think it does and people become obsessive and engulfed in it. People might not even be trying to lose weight! People might be sick and losing weight, and people compliment them and ask what their secret is, when really.. they’re sick! People might be eating different kinds of foods, or having a serious life change, and people ask them what they’re doing. And sending compliments their way—assuming everyone wants to hear about how great and thin they look, and invading spaces. Body policing is not okay. Even within the body-positive community and the fat acceptance community online, there are still obligations to be ‘healthy’ and to be ‘beautiful’, whatever those two things even mean. There is still an obligation to be the right kind of fat, someone who is plump in all the right places. 

What does it mean to be healthy? Instead of describing health as body size, which Health at Every Size combats, we have people describing health as eating ‘right’ and exercising. Telling people to eat ‘cleaner’ or to eat ‘good foods’ really screws with people’s minds you know? It puts these labels of dirty or bad on people who eat certain things, and that is most definitely not okay! Not to mention, ‘clean’ eating is a super privileged thing to be able to do. And the exercising thing is so complicated. Personally, exercising really helps with my anxiety and makes me sleep better and feel better overall, but the majority of the time I connect exercise with weight loss and dieting. I get insanely overwhelmed in thinking that I’m not going fast enough, that I’m not doing something right, or my mind goes back to this tainted diet culture and starts thinking about calorie burning and weight loss, which can really taint the mind of someone with a history of disordered eating and dieting. I can get motivated to move my body by seeing someone else posting their fitness goals, and that’s awesome, but then it gets weird. It’s hard to explain. Not to mention that most discussions of health that I hear on television or read about only mention weight. The health argument ignores mental health, social health, and those are critical aspects of whatever the hell health is! Mental health is so stigmatized or glorified in Hollywood, and people need support. 

And what does it mean to be beautiful? We saw a lot of this from that Dove video that went viral a few weeks ago, and the criticisms of it. When we police beauty, when we put a definition on it, we continue to reinforce the idea that people HAVE to be beautiful. Or that people WANT to be beautiful. Who has the right to tell someone to be beautiful, to think they’re beautiful, and that they have to be beautiful to love themselves, or even that they have to love themselves? That’s a conversation that’s been going through my head a lot lately, especially with my Radical Self Worship Challenges and things. Who am I to tell someone to worship themselves? While I wholeheartedly believe that everyone should want to worship themselves because they are awesome beings and deserve love, I don’t have the right to tell someone that they should worship themselves. 

Either way, today is International No Diet Day, and I think it’s okay if we all have different meanings for the movement. For me it means that I get a day of celebrating the end of body-policing. I get a day where I don’t have to feel guilty if I eat a lot, and learn to stop smiling when I don’t eat much at all. I get to celebrate when my disordered eating began to heal from learning about fat activism and body-positivity. I strive for all of my days to be No Diet Days, but having a specific day dedicated to it is awful nice. :)

What does No Diet Day mean to you?

xo Cortnie

• Tags
• body positivity
• no diet day
• diets
• haes
• fat activism
• fat acceptance
• Body Politics
• international no diet day
• feminism

I never do posts like this.

Every year is another tally, every year is another reminder. These specific dates— April, June, July, October.. every time it’s another feeling of immense emptiness. I guess that’s what death brings, right? Life is too short and cruel.

So, pictured above are my sister and I and the picture underneath is my sister, me as a wee little thing, and my father. It’s a depressing world we live in when a second grader loses her daddy while she’s playing with bubbles in the bath tub and it’s a depressing world we live in when a fifth grader wakes up to be told that her sister was killed in a drunk driving accident. It’s a sad world when this child remembers the dark feelings and energy surrounding death before she even has a first kiss or her first period. It’s sad when that dark energy makes itself known and you don’t even have to ask what happened, because you know it doesn’t matter.. they’re still gone. 

People are always amazed by my story. It isn’t really my story, I’m just a part of it—kind of. My family used to be a big 5 people and now it’s 3. Two people died, and that’s what happened. I couldn’t do anything about it, none of us could. It was just their time to go, I guess. Maybe I have to think that, maybe I’m forcing myself to because I don’t understand death or life for that matter. I just want to know that their lives aren’t wasted.. I need to know that it’s not just some black abyss. But none of us will ever know that.

After losing my dad to a heart attack when I was 8 or so (I can’t even remember the age I was for my dad’s death anymore), my mom sustained herself independently. When I hear that someone is a single mom, I go straight to how my mother was. She was the epitome of a single mom. I don’t mean to get down on mothers who label themselves as single, but if you have joint custody or something.. perhaps there needs to be a different descriptor.. because there’s still someone else there. I was raised by a single mom. No father anywhere, no family to be revived, no chance or hope of getting back together, no other parent in the world at all. Single is the word. There was no Parent Trap fantasy story sharing with my other friends who’d had divorced parents— mine would have to be sick and twisted for that to work out. I grew up seeing my mother taking us and picking us up from school, working her ass off, raising three kids while healing herself from losing the love of her life and high school sweetheart.  

I still cry sometimes and I’m not sure why, because I don’t know either of you. I don’t remember your voices, and I don’t really remember much at all. But here I am, crying about you. You hold a lot of power, you know? It’s weird for me. 

Of course I remember a lot more about my sister, it’s crazy what can happen in a few years. My sister always cried about my dad, that’s one thing I distinctly remember. She would cry and scream and wish she’d been the one who was dead so that dad could come back and then my brother and I could have our dad back and mom could have her husband. She was selfless like that— at least from what I remember. I used to always wonder how that would be, having dad and not having sis. I was a little kid, I didn’t know what it all meant.. as far as I knew they’d come home at the end of the day. 

My sister loved watching Rocky Horror, listening to Marcy Playground, Hole, The Wallflowers, and Lenny Kravitz, and I sat there in awe of everything she did—as a younger sister should. She had her bed on her floor which I thought was super cool, and she had this hairstyle where the front part of her hair was bleached and the rest was red which I also thought was neat. I ended up copying it after she died, trying to remember her and keep a grasp on her. 

My sister died with one of her best friends in a car accident. Someone else was driving, and I won’t get into too many details, but it was my sisters car and the dude was over the alcohol limit and it was a mess. He got 6 months in jail for killing two people. It was Halloween and they were going to some haunted trail, and the next thing I knew I was awake in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and I had a weird feeling. When I woke up for real in the morning, I felt the darkness and I knew something had happened. Sure enough, my sister and best friend was gone, my mom was crying, and I sat there emotionless. It was weird that she was just there, literally just there, and now she was gone. Her funeral was massive, her high school friends came. It was a big deal in such a small town. I ended up transferring schools because it all became too much for me. 

Throughout the years following my sister’s death, I went through a lot of mental problems. OCD, depression, anxiety— I’d wash my hands 20 times before I could leave the bathroom.. they’d be so dry. I wouldn’t eat anything for fear of food poisoning for some reason. I was put on a lot of medications to try and fix me. It was a weird experience. I’m—of course, not fixed.. I lost half of my family, someone’s bound to be sad about that so soon after it happens, right? These medicines put me in a different world. I was daydreaming more often, I was writing things down, I was thinking about death and life a lot, I was wondering what it was like where my dad and sister were. It was weird for me, and after 7 or so medications in a year or two, I decided to stop taking them altogether when some bad thoughts started brewing in my head. Withdrawal sucks. 

I was blind to a lot of things after the deaths. I blocked things, I didn’t want to remember anything because if I did remember something fun or happy, I’d have to remember that they aren’t here and that it’s actually sad. For instance, I’d forgotten that one of my sister’s best friends was a flamboyant sassy man, and that she was always telling me about condoms and how her fat belly was beautiful because she’d read Camryn Manheim’s book. I’d overlooked how hard my mother worked to take care of us, and I was a selfish little kid who would get angry at the smallest things while forgetting how hard my mom was working to help my brother and I after losing her husband and one of her children at the peak of her life post high school graduation. 

I’d be a completely different person if none of that had happened. There’s too much to type, but I needed to get something out. Death is so stigmatized and silenced, yet it happens everyday whether in an abusive relationship, a shooting, a bombing, a war, or an everyday death. Now, I get super attached to people because I’m afraid of losing them. At the same time though, I’m independent and focused. I consider my closest friends to be my family, I’m super close with my mom, and I’m a big fat queer bitch working towards equality. I wonder how my sister would be if she was still alive, I wonder sometimes if a little bit of her went into me when she died. 

I can’t sit here and say that I’d be doing what I am right now if it hadn’t been for that rough rough childhood. I probably wouldn’t, honestly. So here I am, appreciating life, trying to understand death, and being grateful for what I have today. 

<3

xo Cortnie

• Tags
• personal
• death
• family
• equality
• feminism
• sex
• Sex Positive
• fat
• fat love
• fat acceptance
• sister
• father
• single mother
• queer
• lgbtq

My collection of photos from the Body+ Photo a Day Challenge!

It was a great week, and even though it was a tiny photo challenge, I learned a lot about myself! 

I learned that if I’m having a whatever day full of homework and stress (like the first day), I can fake a smile, realize how great a smile can be, and then be happy. 

I learned that I could post a picture of myself in my undies on Instagram, and that I could feel immense love and passion for my body simply from one image. I was so empowered that day, it was surreal. I took the picture and didn’t post it for probably 3 or 4 hours. I was so nervous. But after I did, it felt amazing. I was walking around campus thinking about how the majority of people had no idea that I’d posted a half naked picture online; then if I saw someone I knew, they would know exactly what I looked like underneath my clothes. That was a fun game to play.

I posted the quote image on the ‘What Does Body+ Mean to Me’ day. That quote was from your’s truly during a conference presentation. I had forgotten that I’d even said it until I looked on Twitter.

“There’s no wrong way to be a body. There’s no wrong way to exist.” -@cortnie #BodyPositivity #UCDC2013

— UC LGBTQ Center (@UC_LGBTQcenter)

March 27, 2013

That quote means a lot to me. It’s mantra status for me right now because I’ve been in a bit of a slump the last few days.

Sunday I felt so so cute going to Amanda’s graduation party. Kara and I roadtripped it, and my outfit still looked good when we got there! I didn’t even take those pictures until I got back home, after 6 hours total in the car. Here’s a picture from that. 

All around, I think the photo challenge will be something that I continue to do, with a few days off in between weeks. Even though my eyes are already open to body-positivity, and even though I write about it all of the damn time, it’s nice to take photos and have them mean something. And I’ve gotten to meet amazing people in the Instagram community! 

If you have any questions about the challenge, or want to participate.. check out my Facebook page, Instagram, email me (coortniee@gmail.com), or ask me a question on here! 

xo Cortnie

• Tags
• radicalselfworship

One of my favorite bloggers and great virtual friends, Jess of Milky Robot, sent me an image today that SET ME OFF. Here it is and TRIGGER WARNING y’all. I’m linking it because I don’t want that garbage on my blog in any way. Click here to see it. 

After seeing it, I KNEW that I needed to make a body+ photo a day challenge. Promoting eating disorders to lose weight is so so damaging, and I know because I’VE BEEN THERE. So, from that, Jess and I birthed our own challenge.

I’ll do a wee little explanation for each day.

Day 1: Body+ Selfie - This is similar to a gratuitous picture of yourself (GPOY) and really is there for you to see yourself as the beautiful creature that you are! Take a picture of yourself and blast it on Instagram!

Day 2: Your Favorite Body Part - body-positivity starts by appreciating and/or working towards loving your body for what it is. You can start this by taking a picture of your favorite body part! You can even take a picture of a body part that you aren’t so sure of yet in order to start normalizing it for yourself. <3 ps: I’m bound to have some pictures of my legs.

Day 3: What Makes You Happy - Life isn’t only about what you look like. Life is about what you enjoy, what you do, and who you are! Take a picture of something that makes you happy, whether that is a book or a cat. 

Day 4: Your Favorite Food - That proana photo challenge is all about not eating. Lets enjoy fueling our bodies! Take a photo of your favorite food, whatever it is! Chips, fruit, ice cream, hamburger, WHATEVER! 

Day 5: What You Love About Yourself - This is a big one and it’s super broad for a reason. Take a picture that represents what you love about yourself! That can be your hair or it can be your neatly organized (or endlessly messy) bedroom, or your child, or something you’ve done! 

Day 6: Your Favorite Outfit - It isn’t only models who looks awesome in clothes! It isn’t only models who can be stylish! All of us can be! Thick, thin, fat, or skinny.. show your favorite outfit! Or just the one you’re wearing that day! 

Day 7: What Body+ Means To You - Like Day 5, this day is broad.. but for good reason! Body+ can and does change lives. It makes you unafraid, it supports you, and urges you to try new things. It can completely change your lifepath, and that’s what’s so great about it! Take a picture of what it means to you, whether that is you wearing something society says you shouldn’t be wearing, eating a nice meal, showing your belly, moving your body, hugging another person, whatever! The opportunities are endless!

Please take part! This can be a great way to blast bodylove and positivity on social media sites, and drown out the eating disorder crap that triggers a lot of us. 

While participating, make sure you hashtag each photo with #radicalselfworship! The great thing about this challenge is that it’s only 7 days! One week! Easy! Then if you want, you can continue on each week with the challenge! Or pick up where you left off! Whatever you want! 

Be sure to share your photos on Instagram (obviously) with the hashtag, but also send them to Facebook or Twitter or Tumblr if you want! You can mention Jess and I in your photos to make sure we see them, as well. I’m @cortniexo and Jess is @milkyrobot! You can also find me online at various social networks by checking my links in the sidebar! 

xo Cortnie

• Tags
• radicalselfworship
• body positivity
• bodylove
• fat positivity

This post is dedicated to a lovely lady who I’ve never even met in person, but a lady who I consider a friend. Erin writes amazing short stories and essays on her Wordpress blog, and whenever I click over to it, I find myself getting lost in her river of words. A few months ago she posted about her experience while buying a bicycle, and of course it caught my eye. Experiences, like I’ve always said, are crucial in crushing oppressions, and they are so so important to listen to. And, I’ve always wanted a bike. So without further ado, I introduce you to one of Erin’s beautiful pieces of writing. xo

ON BEING FAT SHAMED IN A BIKE SHOP

So I get off work and I am so pumped about buying my new bike that I am pretty much running the few blocks to the bike shop, I’m crossing in front of cars and not stopping at my favorite coffee shop because I can not wait to actually pay for my bike! Dreaming the dream of riding it is almost over, and soon it will be mine oh, mine. As I step into the shop I notice a guy at the desk and one other customer. The guy at the desk looks quickly at me then to the guy across the room, and gets directly up and walks toward him. Cool, fine by me, I mean he was here first. So, I walk around the shop, I am so excited to be buying my first nice grown-up bike that I have envisioned sunny days and sweaty summer nights with that I can barely stand myself. I’m touching bike lights and blinding myself, I’m picking up locks to see how heavy they are, thinking if I will need to take my bag with me or if I can just stick it in my back pocket and not fall sideways off my new bike. I am thinking of names for her, Black Betty, Eleanor, Jean Louise (scout), Cleopatra, Hester, Scheherazade, various other literary heroines and names of fast, bold women that I don’t really even notice until I have circled the entire store and have been kind of just standing at the register for over 40 minutes as I am completely ignored, as if I do not even exist as if I do not have breath or a beating heart while the guy working gives probably the best customer service I’ve seen to a guy that eventually doesn’t even want to buy a bike today. Although I’ve been waiting for what feels like forever, the time doesn’t upset me because I know I will receive stellar service as well, except, I don’t. When the guy finally asks me what I’m looking for I tell him, my voice full of excitement, my eyes beaming. “I’d like to buy a bike!” He seems to have lost a lot of that energy he had before as he scans me over. We talk a bit about the bike I’ve been looking at, for months mind you, and he asks what size I need. I tell him that I am unsure but the research I have done says I probably need a 52. He asks if I WANT fitted to see what size I need, unlike when he told the guy before me that he NEEDED to be fitted. I said, of course because if I am spending more than two weeks pay on something, I want to make sure it’s comfortable. So he tells me I am to sit on what looks like a crude wooden rocking horse, without the rocker part. Its like a thick ruler on a post that fits into another piece of wood, and this will tell me what I need to know. Great, I think to myself, this sounds fun. I perch myself on this small piece of wood, and pointing at my crotch be says, “Yeah, I just need to be able to see this number on the post here.” which my American thighs are apparently currently making impossible. This is an awkward moment for both of us, for me because I am fat and for him because he has to basically tell me that I’m fat, that my thighs are so big that he cannot read a number between them. No big deal, yes, I have been in this situation before, when someone much smaller than I am has to remind me that I am taking up too much room, or should not be wearing tights as pants, or that some part of my body is offending them in some way that is totally impossible for me to change at the given moment. I understand that he is trying to help me, and I understand that he isn’t intentionally being rude, or downright mean, but it is uncomfortable for both of us none the less. So I lean back a little to make it easier on him and he awkwardly tells me I need a 49. I tell him that seems smaller than what I thought. After this we go through a series of test rides on both a 49 and 52, I chose the 52 because my legs are longer than the top half of my body and it feels more comfortable to ride a 52. And I even have to say that he is actually really nice and helpful, but I do have to press him to be that way. I have to ask to try something out, he isn’t offering like he did with the last guy. Its like I’m fishing to be sold something here and the worms I’m using really suck.  In the end I basically have to beg him to let me even buy the bike I want. I should be employee of the month; I just made the easiest sale, to myself, by myself. Its not that he isn’t doing a good job, it is that he isn’t doing a great job, like I just saw with the other customer. I think to myself, how am I different than the customer in which he was just with? Let’s see, he was a man, I am a women, he didn’t even want a bike, I do, what else could be the difference, oh yeah, I’m fat. In this guys eyes I have never been on a bike, I don’t know what a bike is, and yes I’m assuming but come on, it is not that difficult. I might be bitter but I’m not stupid I’m used to being treated like I don’t know what physical activity is, no one is asking for judgments here, I just want to buy a bike. I will ride my fat ass all over this town, and I will do it if I buy a bike here or anywhere else but I chose this bike shop. So here I am, pushing a bike salesman to sell me a bike he either doesn’t believe I deserve or doesn’t think I’ll use, I don’t know but it’s frustrating. So, finally I pay for the bike. It is so close to being mine that I can feel it’s soft grip tape in my hands as I type. I can not wait for my thighs to be rubbing together as I ride down high street, wind in my hair, sun on my back, and the feeling of freedom and pure happiness running through my amazing, beautiful, real, lovely, FAT! body.

** I dont know the name of the artist that created the print at the beginning of my essay so I am unable to give credit where credit is due. If anyone reading knows the artist I will be happy to give credit.**

Check out her blog, and share your stories in the comments below!

xo Cortnie

• Tags
• spotlight
• fat
• fat-shaming
• fat acceptance
• fat activism
• Body Politics
• body positivity

This is my final semester as an undergrad, and I have assignments to do that I’m not doing.. and yeaaah. I thought this post could reflect what I’m feeling right now— distraction. 

First of all, I found this amazing recipe at glutenfreefix.com for pancakes made with only egg, banana, and peanut butter. They are DELICIOUS. I made them for the first time yesterday and the batch made a lot, so I hesitantly froze some of them.. and it worked! If you’re curious about making them, I made a SnapGuide explaining how to do it! I’m weird with following recipes, and visuals make it easier for me.. hence the guide!

Here are some things I’ve seen and liked throughout the last few days. I really don’t want to write these papers. Like, really.

I was born with an enormous need for affection and a terrible need to give it.

—Audrey Hepburn

Source: Unpacking the “F” Word

Source: Cranky Fat Feminist

So hot!

Source: Style of Death

Source: African Creature

This calming cat. Awp! Check my personal tumblr for the source.

I wasn’t kidding when I tweeted about hanging these images up EVERYWHERE. Source: Calming Manatee

YES. YES. THIS. Again, check out my tumblr to see the reblog thread, the source is hidden from me I CANNOT FIND IT! 

So, there ya go. I guess I have to finish my papers now. Are you in school? Do you have finals right now? WE GOT THIS.

Make sure you’re following my Facebook page, Twitter feed, and Instagram! While I’m not blogging as often, I’m ALWAYS posting things to the FB, tweeting, and instagramming! So make sure you get there! Links right in the paragraph or on my sidebar!

xo Cortnie

• Tags
• fat
• Body Love
• body positivity
• feminist
• cat
• calming manatee
• finals week

Hey everyone! I know this Radical Self Worship post is looooong overdue, but here it is! 

I want to talk about how important this challenge was to me. For the two weeks I dedicated to worshipping myself, I consistently posted photos to Instagram, tweets to Twitter, a YouTube video, and constant Facebook updates. I also had discussions with people throughout the two weeks about how important self worship is, and why it’s radical. Many of you also messaged me about it, and we chatted via Facebook! People really loved the idea, wanted to know more about it, and wanted to apply it to their own lives. 

With my worship, I realized how special we all are! Small steps can influence your own life, but also impact other people! In terms of activism, for example, one person is not enough. We have to work collectively to make change, and we need support from other people. From worshipping, I’ve learned how important relationships are in general, but also to the work that I do! 

By having discussions, by posting my photos and thoughts, I kept myself accountable. I was purely committed to worshipping myself, and I wanted to make sure it wouldn’t go away— for me. I did many things, like bringing my lunch to work, painting my nails, taking baths, reading, even smoking less. I also made it a point to keep my life as positive as possible, and I cut negativity out of my life. I really listened to people when they talked, no matter what was going on in my day, because sometimes I zone out and I absolutely hate that! Through these discussions, I’ve also gained more friends, I’ve learned more, and my life has benefited from it!

For me, Radical Self Worship helped me to really connect with my body, and I can’t wait to see what the challenge brings me in the future. With school, work, and maintaining relationships, a person can tend to forget about themselves and I was seriously guilty of that. But there’s a problem. These last few weeks, I forgot to keep worshipping! I did a bit of self-care stuff like taking baths and committing to smoking less, but the worship didn’t stick as much as I wanted it to! So here I am, dedicated and committed to continue on with Radical Self Worship! 

GOALS

My goals are huge, and Radical Self Worship can make it seem less intimidating. Claiming this worship of myself can help motivate me to continue on having positive relationships, it can help me to be less obsessive with shit, it can help me to really stop smoking, and it can also hopefully help me to be less triggered when it comes to wanting to walk more.

About two weeks ago, I completely cut ties with a person in my life who I used to be very close with after not seeing them for about 6 months. This person and I had many good times about a year ago, and our friendship has been tarnished since something happened, something I don’t need to talk about on here. Either way, I’m one to hold serious grudges. I thought that maybe that was why we weren’t getting along anymore. But it wasn’t that at all. I thought about it for a long time, talked to friends about it, and I realized.. it wasn’t me. I’d gotten into many arguments with this person about moral issues, political issues, my education, my activism, and even small issues like me never doing anything good enough for them, and they had huge control over my thoughts, over my actions, and this person made me feel negative about myself, but also negative about things that I was doing. That is never okay. Period. Reflecting on the friendship, I realized we had nothing in common. Nothing. This is why arguments would happen, among a few other things. So I wasn’t going to deal with it anymore, and I cut it off. By continuing with Radical Self Worship, I can slowly heal myself from this “friendship” and I can love myself more because I won’t be worrying about not doing things up to par, I won’t be worrying about when the next fight will be, and I won’t be worrying about anything! Surrounding myself with positive people, people who know and understand me, people who I can talk to about anything anytime, and people who are different than me and I can learn things from is necessary and healthy. After realizing all of this, I worshipped myself and cut it. 

By worshipping, I can also learn how to manage triggers and make myself feel better about my body. I remember when I walked a bit around my neighborhood, and it made me feel great.. but I got obsessive with calories and distance and time and weight loss (ridiculous brain), so it gets really hard for me to stay sane while doing something as simple as walking for a half an hour. So, because of Radical Self Worship, I am going to start moving my body more, in ways that make me happy and help me to release anxiety and stress rather than gaining more of it. 

Another huge part of my worship is to quit smoking. Although I know that health is a social construct, smoking isn’t good for my body. I am continuing to try my hardest to maintain a balance with my body and nature, and this means not smoking. It’s a very hard thing to do, and if you’ve ever smoked you know that! I also realized I needed to quit because of how ashamed I was of it. I’d smoke on campus and be on the lookout for someone I knew in hopes that no one would see me. It’s a habit, but it’s also a very weird friend. Cigarettes are there for me when I’m confused, sad, stressed, anxious, depressed, and bored, but they’re also there for me when I’m celebrating, happy, nervous, with friends, or relaxing. It’s a relationship that I have to cut, but I’m doing it gradually rather than cold turkey because of the chemical reactions that go into it. I’m using a Livestrong app on my iPhone that is really helping! I went haywire for a few days, but I’m back on it and I’m going to try my best. This is what worshipping looks like! 

So, those are just a few things that I’m dedicated to doing to worship myself. Who else has been doing it and what have you been doing? 

xo Cortnie

ps the images above are all from my Instagram account, so make sure you follow me! @cortniexo

• Tags
• radicalselfworship

[TW: eating disorders, suicide]

Dear Doctor-I-Went-To-When-I-Was-a-Teenager,

I came to you because I was getting a yearly physical for the upcoming season of cheerleading I had ahead of me. You asked what sorts of things I did with the squad with a weird look on your face, and I told you that I do what cheerleaders do: I cheer, I jump, I use my voice a lot, too! For some reason, you didn’t believe me. You still had that weird look on your face. 

You continued on to tell me that my weight was out of the range for my age, height, and sex. You continued on to tell me that by the time that I was in my early 20s, I’d be so fat that I wouldn’t be able to move. You continued on to tell me that I would gain 50-100 pounds a year if I continued my ‘habits’. You told me that I would die. I thought this was weird because you were a woman, and you weren’t thin like people on tv. I didn’t understand why you were saying these things to me. I cried. I was roughly 200 pounds. 

Then, you went on to ask me about my sexual experiences and you didn’t believe me when I told you that I’d never had sex. I told you that my periods were uncomfortable, heavy, and annoying—like any teenage girl would say. You told me that the best thing to do would be to give me a pap, right there. I felt violated by the simple thought of it, I didn’t know anything about pap smears, no one had ever touched me there, I was terrified. I cried. I wanted my mom. 

You calmed me down as much as you could, and then went on with getting my blood pressure and blood work. I was confused as to why you were just now doing these things, after you’d told me how unhealthy I was already. You had a surprised look on your face when I was in the normal “healthy” range for my blood pressure, yet you still told me that I was unhealthy based on the measurement that the scale took of me. I was an active girl. I was a cheerleader which meant I had practice about twice a week and then two games on the weekends. You said the blood-work would most likely show a thyroid condition, and that would be an explanation for my weight problem. You told me that once we got that fixed, I’d be thin. (I have no thyroid problem)

I left your office that day feeling horrible. I felt like I had somehow lied to you, that you were a doctor and you knew what was best and maybe I just didn’t realize what I’d been doing all my life. Maybe I did have sex with someone and I didn’t know it. Hell, maybe my diet did need some work— and it did, but I didn’t know what healthy was because no one taught me. To me, healthy was being happy and loving the people around me and grasping onto them with all that I had. To me, comfort was food because when my dad died people gave us food. To me, comfort was food because when my sister died people gave us food. I was happy sometimes, sometimes my OCD roared its ugly head up. It had been a few years since my last bout of eating practically nothing in order to lose weight, and I thought I’d gotten better because I could eat again without feeling like I was going to throw up. I thought I’d gotten better because I didn’t need the anti-nausea medication anymore. I thought I’d gotten better because I didn’t want to kill myself anymore.

I left your office that day feeling ashamed of myself. I was a smart girl, I got good grades, people loved me, but I was fat. How could I have done that to myself? I walked out to my mother who was in the waiting room and told her we were leaving. I was starting to tear up again, and my mom put her hand on my shoulder and we left. We walked out of your office. I couldn’t tell my mom everything, but I told her some of what you said. I felt stupid, I cried the whole way home. To this day, I’ve probably been to the doctor a handful of times since this instance. You made me want to stay clear of doctors, you made me terrified of doctors, which in turn made me less healthy. I’m still terrified of going to the doctor and what they might say to me. Luckily, I never get sick. 

Little did you know, I went on to have more intense disordered eating. I counted every last calorie I ate—including gum, I got an estimate for how many calories my body burned by just existing, and I worked my hardest to make it so that I would be burning so many calories each day to lose a pound in two days. I still ate crappy foods, but counted them into my calories. I worked out, I had a personal trainer at the gym that I worked at, and if I didn’t work out one day, I just wouldn’t eat anything.  I didn’t know what healthy was, I just knew that I needed to be thin. 

If it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be roughly 300 pounds today. Your shame against my body made me hate my body the way you hated my body, and I treated it terribly. I tried counting calories, I did Atkins, South Beach, Weight Watchers, I even fainted at a cheerleading practice because of how unhealthy I was. But you know what? I was still fat. I still never got below 200 pounds. I had this dream number, you know? I so badly wanted to be 160 pounds. I had a journal online that was dedicated to tracking my calorie intake and outtake, and I was in a community with other people who wanted to lose weight by any means possible. This group was an anorexia group. I figured they knew how to do it because they were the thin ones. But I got confused when I was doing the same things that they were and I still looked like me. 

Food has been a constant friend to me, even when it was the enemy. It was something I feared, something I yearned for, something I could have when I was skinny. Now, I sometimes still go a day without eating and remember how happy I used to be when I felt the hunger growling up inside me. Now, I sometimes binge eat, because I don’t know what the feeling of full is because of how fucked up my eating habits have been in my lifetime. I can blog day in and day out, I can do research on fat/body politics, I can read Health at Every Size cover to cover and go on websites dedicated to it, and I still have disordered eating. You are one of the reasons. I hope you’re happy.

I’m still alive. I’m at the peak of my life, and it’s only getting better. If it wasn’t for people like you, I wouldn’t be researching what I’m researching, I wouldn’t be going to grad school, I wouldn’t be talking about body-positivity, I wouldn’t have gotten to lecture in classes at my college, I wouldn’t have gotten to do anything that I’m doing right now. I am the person I am today because of people like you. 

Instead of telling your patients how terrible they are and how they’re going to die (which is a lie), tell them how to be healthier. Tell them that being active can be fun, not a chore and not only to lose weight. Tell them that fad diets don’t work. Put the energy of love into your patients, not hate. You don’t care about something that you hate. 

xo Cortnie

• Tags
• body positivity
• fat
• haes
• health at every size
• eating disorders
• feminism
• intersectionality