Thick Girl Couture, Part Deux: Minecraft Strikes Back

Yep, I'm going to talk about my kids again.  Why?  Because I don't get out much.  This is my life.  Mom by day, Badass by, um, I think the remaining 7 minutes and 34 seconds.

My kids are pretty average boys at 11 1/2 and almost 13. (Well, other than their inherited above-average intelligence, but enough about me.)  And like most adolescent boys they love video games.  This includes an old PC game called Minecraft that's been around for ages.  If you have a kid around the same age as mine you've heard of it.  If you haven't heard of Minecraft, can I please come live with you?

So back in August we were back-to-school shopping and my kids saw some Minecraft t-shirts and lost their damn minds.  Lost them.  I gave in and got them each two of these coveted shirts after spending nearly thirty minutes deciding who gets which design.  $10 a shirt.  No biggie, right?  It made them happy.

My oldest wore one of his shirts on the first day of school.  When they came home from school my youngest proceeded to tell me that "everyone" (read: one kid) totally made fun of his brother for his shirt, calling him a nerd and a gamer. My oldest quickly piped up and said, "I don't care who likes my shirt.  I like my shirt and I'll wear what I want."  Yay!  Good for him!  ASD continues to be a life saver in the self-esteem department.

My youngest son flat out refused to wear the shirts.  Refused.  I tried to talk him into it.  I tried to guilt him into it.  I tried everything.  Mostly I was ticked off that I spent $20 on shirts he'd never wear but I also hated the fact that he could be so easily influenced to just toss away something he was so excited about.

He finally decided to wear one of the shirts this week I think in an effort to either make me happy or prove a point to me, which in any case was a win-win for him.  He got off the bus, came in the house and said, "See!!  I knew this would happen!"  This same kid that likes to pick on my kids for everything they do and overshare all kinds of explicit sex mis-information that I then have to correct (without the benefit of wine, mind you) decided to call my kid names and make fun of his shirt, including calling his shirt "gay".

I lost my shit.  I really did.  I told the boys that they should not be worried about what other people think.  That this kid wasn't the end all, be all in fashion choices.  That maybe they should consider not hanging out with someone that made them feel bad about themselves all the time. That if I ever heard them use the word "gay" as if it was some kind of insult that embodied wrongness I would tear their Minecraft world apart, block by block. Then the doorbell rang about three minutes later.  That kid wanting the boys to come out and play.

I didn't yell.  I didn't cuss (gold star for me).  But I told this kid in no uncertain terms what I would and would not accept from him if he wants to play with my kids.  Mostly I scared the scrap out of him.  Could have been the fact that I hadn't showered all day but I think it was my fierce Mom-tude.

Any way, the kids still went out to play with him, my kid will wear the shirts, the mean kid stopped himself from being a turd and apologized to my kids mid-insult.  I win, right?

Except I don't.  All of this crap reminded me of junior high and peer pressure and all that.  It sucks, right?  It's horrible for everyone and I can totally sympathize with my son for wanting to fit in or at least not stand out in a negative way.  I get it.  I wanted those things, too.  I wasn't usually successful at them but I wanted them.  I don't blame him for feeling that way but, God, I want it to be different for him.  I want that so badly.  So much so I would give up all the Guess jeans I ever fit in to in order to make it different for him.  Oh, wait.

Here's the deal.  I have really spent the last year getting my shit together.  I'm not there yet but I'm so much better than I was.  Working on body confidence has been a HUGE eye opener and I know I've come a long way.  But God damn if I didn't fuck it all up when I first started this blog.

To date one of my most widely read blogs is my blog on fashion for the thick girl.  I basically tried to tell you what and what not to wear.  I've had so much guilt (my number 2 talent, shame being number 1) over this stupid blog in the last few months it's made me crazy.  Do you people not like me?  Do you not care enough about me to tell me when I'm talking shit?  Seriously, what's a girl gotta do to get you to smack some sense into her?

I don't know a God damned thing about fashion and I admitted as such.  Everything I told you came from a place of, "You can't get away with wearing that" or "You're too fat to wear that" or "Don't draw attention to yourself or any of your imperfections".  That's how I have lived my life in regards to fashion.  Well fuck that.  To quote one of my very favorite internet personalities, Fit Mama Training, "What you think of my body is none of my business."  And that applies to what I'm wearing.  And it applies to what you are wearing, too.

So lets just break this down, bit by bit, and revise my previous rules on fashion:

Jeans:

I tried to give you advice on pocket flaps vs. no pocket flaps, bedazzling, whiskering, wash, skinny legs vs. bootcut.  Jesus.  This from the girl who can't find one pair of jeans to fit her right to save her life.

Revised rule:  Wear whatever the fuck you like.  You don't owe it to anybody but yourself to like your own damn jeans.

Shapewear:

I didn't so much as give you instructions to wear Spanx as I did bitch about it but this still bears mentioning:

Revised rule: You are not obligated to smooth anything.  Real women have lumps and bumps and cellulite is not a defect but a perfectly normal part of the body, especially the female body.  If you feel confident in some shapewear, do it.  But don't you dare do it for someone else.

Ankle Straps:

For real?  I wrote about this?  I have talked about what I have perceived to be my "cankles" many times but I know I said this: "Your fat ankle does NOT need a belt."  Sigh.

Revised rule: First, I'm a moron.  Second, wear whatever the fuck shoes you like.  Third, I'm having a love affair with a man named Vince Camuto who made the first ever wide width strappy high heel shoe that makes me feel like I'm walking on air.  And guess what?  It has a fucking ankle strap.  And it even fits around my ankle.  Booyah.

Bras:

Ok, I'm not budging on this one.  If you want to wear a bra and I'm certainly not going to be the person who says you have to, you really should make sure it fits right.  You owe it to yourself.  The right size bra can make you feel like hot shit.

I recently had a woman from Nordstrom size me.  I had it done before but it seems the recent weight I've gained has landed on my chest.  She asked what I thought I was and I told her and she immediately said, "No you're not."  Um, ok.  She took me to a dressing room, measured my band and told me my band size and then said, "Now take off your bra and let me see your breasts."  I immediately followed her directions without her even giving me so much as a cocktail and she sized me by sight.  That's some damn good skills.  And she was right and the bras were amazing.

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I talked about not showing too much skin. I talked about not having words on your ass.  I talked about not wearing big, baggy clothes.  And not one damn person told me to shut the fuck up.  You all are on notice.

Here's what I want you to know.  What you wear is your business, no one else's.  How it makes you feel is the only thing that matters.  You don't owe it to anyone to hide from what you think are your imperfections or live up to other people's preconceived notions as to how you should dress based on your weight or your body or your interests.  Go on and wear your Minecraft shirt, damn-it!  That's how I'm going to make this different for my kid.  I have to be different first.

This right here, from my another of my favorite online self-love advocates, The Militant Baker, is from here on the only thing that matters when it comes to others judging what we wear.

And for the love of God, next time I'm talking out the side of my neck give a girl a heads up, ok?  Sheesh.

Oh, that reminds me.  You need this.  Just because I said so.

Thick Girl Couture - Hold the Juicy

I am not a fashionista.  Never have been, never will be.  Perhaps it stems from having exactly two plus-size stores to shop in during my twenties and a good chunk of my thirties. Or that I usually wasn't able to afford the most trendy brands. Mostly it's because my body is difficult to fit and I'm deconditioned for the psychological and emotional beat down that shopping delivers.

I remember I wanted nothing more than to have a pair of Guess jeans in 7th grade.  I'm quite certain it would have solved all my pubescent problems and probably brought world peace.  Alas, it was not mean to be. I couldn't fit into them.  I was able to hold my head up a little higher when I managed to squeeze into a pair of Palmettos, though.  Thank you, Baby Jesus.

I can afford more now. I can shop in most stores. (I still flip 5.7.9. the bird when I walk by, though) I usually have a little more time and patience when I go to the mall.  But most shopping trips still end up with me two steps closer to Xanax than I was before.  This reminds me - I need to go shopping this week.  Thank God the Mall of America serves alcohol.

Despite all of that, I have always tried to look my best.  Even at 300 pounds I took pride in my appearance and tried to take care of myself.  And along the way I have learned a few "rules" for myself that I think most women, thick or thin, could benefit from.

Jeans: I'm starting with the big one. Jeans are the bane of my existence. Nothing looks better than a great fitting pair of denim.  And nothing is more elusive.  My mother dreaded taking me jeans shopping every Fall for school.  I still hate it.  Thank God for websites like PZI Jeans and Little In The Middle.

Not only is it hard to find jeans that fit well but now you have to worry about a whole slew of issues that you didn't worry about before. Should I wear skinny jeans? How far apart should my pockets be? Which rise? Pocket flaps? Colored or metallic denim? Rhinestones? Mom jeans?  This is what I know.

Just because Skinny jeans come in your size, it does NOT mean you should wear them.  Skinny jeans would look exactly like sausage casing on my thighs, and not in a good sausage-loving way.  I just can't do it. And I see all the young girls these days trying to squeeze into the most unflattering style of jeans known to man just to keep up with their skinny friends and it makes me sad.  Know your limits and work with what you got.

And I see you jeggings.  I'm not falling for it.

Pocket flaps and pocket spacing - do your homework on the spacing.  Too much space is a sure fire way to get a Wide Load sign tacked to your butt.  And if you are lacking in the way of extra padding on your ass and you want to add the illusion of shape, by all means add some flaps and glitter.  If you come with an extra helping - skip it.

Speaking of glitter, I was once lamenting to a male friend of mine how hard it is to find jeans to fit my shape.  He suggested I try Apple Bottoms.  I had already looked at their website and saw that most of their styles were altogether too skinny and bedazzled for my taste but I kept an open mind.  Until I saw them at the mall on a sister who had a lot going on.  Make no mistake - she was gorgeous and put together.  But she was thick.  A whole lotta thick. Have you seen the sparkly little fruit-shaped Apple Bottom logo on the back pockets of their jeans?  Well, these were more like dinner-plate sized pumpkins instead.  I have no desire to wear rhinestoned winter squash on my rear end, which is sure to be my fate.  No thank you.

Stick with dark denim.  Too much whiskering and fading on your largest parts will make you look, well, large. Buy boot leg and straight leg. Fit is everything and remember a lot of department stores will do free alterations if the fit isn't exactly right.

Bras: Most women are wearing the wrong bra size.  Trust me on this.  Your band is too big and your cup is too small.  A good fitting bra will make all your clothes fit better and will make you look thinner. I promise.  Run to the mall and get fitted if you need to but if they try to measure you and then do that "add 3" rule" you better high tail it out there.  Unless you want to fall out the bottom of your bra at an inopportune time.

Signs you have the wrong size:

1. You have indentations in your shoulders (your band should do all the work, not the straps)
2. Your band rides up in the back
3. Your cups overfloweth until it looks like you have 4 boobs instead of 2
4. Your cups are looking sad and empty

Even if you are losing weight and you don't want to spend the money on new bras all the time, believe me that it's still worth it.  Splurge on this one thing. And learn your proper size. You're welcome.

Foundation Garments: Smoothers. Girdles. Gut Suckers. Spanx. Use them when necessary.  But beware.

I love the scene in Steel Magnolias (I'm convinced everything you need to know in life is found in this movie) where Truvy and Clairee are watching a woman dance at the wedding reception and Clairee says, "Looks like two pigs fightin' under a blanket." Been there, done that.  Truvy says, "I haven't left the house without Lycra on these thighs since I was 14." Clairee: "You were brought up right".

Once I had to explain to a male friend of mine (the same one with the Apple Bottoms - hmmm) that Spanx were not just another cut of women's panties like thongs, boyshorts and cheekies.  He was devastated to find out that the sexiest sounding pair of drawers available were the least sexy thing imaginable.  Though if I could find a well fitting, Lycra-having, roll-smoothing thong with plenty of coverage in the front, I would probably give my firstborn to own a couple pairs.

I love me some Spanx.  I really do. Sara Blakely deserves to be the youngest self-made female billionare.  But I have some issues with them.  Maybe it's just me.

The Higher Power Panties are a great idea.  Why smooth only from your waist down when you can batten down the hatches all the way to your bust line?  Herein is where the problem lies.  One false move, one extra piece of wedding cake and there is no higher power available to keep those things from rolling down. Do you remember those roller shades that you had to give a tug to and then they would roll up at the speed of light with that obnoxious sound.  Yeah, just like that.  Except now they are at your belly button.

They also promise to not show at your thighs.  Perhaps there is something wrong with my thighs because I have been victim to an inverted "muffin-top-o-the-thighs" many, many times.  Just do a test run before you go out and make sure that your foundation garments don't show.  Comfort?  Not a consideration.  We all know you aren't going to be comfortable in a gut sucker.  But at least have the decency to pretend to be svelte, smooth and line free.

General tips: These are just some various rules that I live by when shopping or going out.   Take what you want, leave the rest.

1. If you have your Great Grandmother's cankles or short, stubby legs like me don't buy shoes with ankle straps.  I don't care how sexy they are.  Your fat ankle does NOT need a belt.  It will only make you look more cankley. (new word of the day)
2. Sexy doesn't mean show as much skin as you can or wear it as tight as possible.  Sexy is well fitting and figure flattering.
3. If you are past the age of 24 months, do not put words on your rear end.  Not Juicy, not Pink. Nothing.  The day you see me wearing a sign on my butt is the day I've found a way to lease it out for advertising space.  They will pay me in cold hard cash and I will charge them up the... well, you get the point.  Don't do it. You're a grown up.  Let your ass speak for itself.
4. When in doubt, go with a mid-rise.  Didn't your mama tell you never to show your crack in public?  Seriously, very few of you can rock a low-rise and keep your modesty.  I know I can't.
5. Bigger, baggy clothes do not hide what you hate about your body or that you're rocking some major stuffing bloat from Thanksgiving.  They will only serve to make you feel frumpy and unattractive while giving all your secrets away.  Just find clothes that fit right and make you feel good.

In the end, the only thing that matters is how you feel about how you look.  Wear something that makes you feel sexy and confident and you will always look beautiful.  It's all in the attitude.  Confucius said, "Everything has it's beauty, but not everyone sees it." Though lets not get carried away now.  Even Confucius wouldn't like Crocs.


Leave a comment and share some of your "rules".  We have to stick together so no one ever says about us, "Oh that poor girl - she doesn't have any friends!  If she did they wouldn't let her go out looking like that." Help a sister out here!