Revenge Body

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I’m sure most people have read or seen somewhere that Khloé Kardashian (formerly my favourite) has a new show called Revenge Body.

While I haven’t seen it, and probably won’t, I feel I know enough to say it sounds bad. KK gets people to tell their stories, about who they want revenge on (exes/haters) and then helps them lose however much weight they’re convinced is the key to their future happiness. I say helps, I think it’s the trainers and nutritionists, not to mention the ‘revenge seekers’ that do all the work.

The concept of looking banging to fuck off your ex is nothing new obviously and not invented by a Kardashian*. I can’t deny that it is a satisfying notion to bump into someone who’s been hideous to you looking your very best, but the thing about this for me is that it’s all the focused on the body. On looks on the whole.

Like, I get it. Fat is bad. Fat is the last thing any woman would ever want to be because it is so heinous, I get it. Every day it is drummed into me and I get it. We’re nothing and nobody while we’re fat and should always be on some sort of journey away from it, at the very least. Except, I am fat and I likely always will be. I also love myself.  What’s all that about?

Revenge Body and its current publicity campaign has got me thinking about my own RB though. The body I wish to express myself with, to defiantly face the world in. The body I would like to greet every one of my no-good exes with, should I ever be unfortunate enough to bump into any of them (there’s only one horrid one and if I saw him, believe that my RB would be the very last thing on my mind).

This body here. 

My revenge is my defiantly fat and well-loved body. Soft stomach, wobbly thighs, lumps, bumps and dimples.

And the greatest lesson I’ve ever learnt is this: if you can look upon yourself and say, you know what I see my ‘flaws’ and I love myself anyway, then nobody else has the power to take anything away from you. People can’t throw your own imperfections back in your face if you love them.

They can say “God look at your fat arse!”, and you can say “I know, it’s good right? MASSIVE!”.**

So fuck fat haters, diet chatters, guilt trippers, old boyfriends who treated you like shit, people who think you should lose weight, self-appointed doctors, ‘well-meaning’ relatives, men in white vans, men in any capacity, anybody who thinks they have the right to comment on anybody else’s body or looks, myself included. And fuck self-doubt.

Fuck them all.

*I’m not a Kardashian hater, promise.
**I make it sound easy, don’t I? It’s not easy, but it is satisfying when you start to really believe it. 

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Bite Your Tongue

43e39040You know how I feel about picking your fucks

You know that try as I might I am not your average ‘No Fucks Given’ kinda person. It’s a crying shame and I wish I was more inclined to think that way, however, I am already starting to give too much of a fuck about not being that person so I will stop now. Step away from the fucks.

This weekend I was full of angst for no real or good reason (life) but I talked it through with my lovely mum and she said “Bite your tongue for now, if it isn’t worth it” – and you know what – it isn’t worth it.

It’s not worth it to be shredding myself up from the inside out because I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future (the economy, the government, the Kardashian/Swift feud).

I might not be fulfilling the secret ambitions I don’t even know I have and I might be freaking out about turning 40 but I can’t do anything about it. Time turns and I will be that age soon and then way beyond it, whether I like it or not.

I may turn into a troll with a wrinkly neck and I may get fatter, I may get thinner and I may lose friends and make friends and lose jobs and save money and spend it all again. And I may sometimes lie awake at night and wonder if all I have is built like a house of cards, destined to all come toppling down with the faintest wisp of breath. Or that I will upset someone or hurt them or dismiss them accidentally and lose them forever. I will be loved and disliked and I can’t control every person I meet and it doesn’t matter anyway, does it?

So here’s to biting your tongue if it isn’t worth it.

Here’s to respecting the love and friendship we have and enjoying life as much as is humanly possible. The world may crumble around us but we still have so much good to really give a fuck about, to really yell about. In those moments, never bite your tongue, shout your joy from the highest window, as often as you can. Fight for what is right and true in your heart and use up those fucks, flap that tongue then – but only then.

Thanks Mum ❤