Dumplin’ by Julie Murphy

My beautiful Dumplin’. This book was so wonderful I started a book club.

Now, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that I’m a chubby bunny. I mention it whenever I read a book by or about chubby girls.

So reading about this chubby teenager who is constantly crapped on for being fat broke my heart and then FULLY MENDED IT.

If you’ve watched the movie: STOP AND READ THE BOOK.

Because while the movie was adorable and fun, the book is actually 100 times better.

No joke.

There are so many more sweet moments between Dumplin’ and her mom. There are a handful of fights between them that didn’t make the movie.

And her Aunt Lucy isn’t the same as in the movie, where she’s pictured as a lovely larger than life woman who in spite of being fat lived her life to the fullest.

In the books, she was a recluse who was too scared to do anything because she was afraid of what she looked like and didn’t want anyone to see her. Which I think was really important to the narrative. It made Willowdean want to be braver. Made her want to grow, while also loving her aunt more than anyone 

Willowdean was so frickin’ great and touched on so many things that I worry about too. (Like when someone touches my back or chubby bits and how I would/do react.)

PLUS the movie left out the very loveable and friendly Mitch. How could they do that?! Especially when they left out so much of her relationship with Bo.

And the romance with Bo was GREAT in the book and they barely touched on it in the movies.

I realize that it was supposed to be all about Dumplin’ but really. There was a reason her life started to shift and she started to examine her life more.

And the reason was her Aunt Lucy’s death and what that meant to her.

You totally thought I was going to say Bo. Pfffffffft nah.

Read this book. Just frickin’ do it.dumplin

This is Me–Chrissy Metz

Classic. After I said I was going to write every day I immediately forgot and here we are four days later.

But here we go.


Now, I knew I was going to like this book immediately because I really like Chrissy Metz as a human. (Not that I know her in real life. What an assumption I made based off of interviews and the like!)

I’ll admit that I don’t fully like her character in This Is Us and it’s because of one thing. 

After her father went back into their burning house and saved her dog because she was losing her mind crying because the dog was stuck and dying, she did something unforgivable. 

(Hello. Who WOULDN’T be LOSING THEIR SHIT AT THAT. I would’ve gone back in for my dog in a HEARTBEAT.) 



Your dog didn’t kill him. Don’t you dare pin that on a dog! It was just a horrible circumstance. 


Unless Dexter tripped him on the way out the door and somehow kicked it behind her and my dad got trapped and burned to death.

THEN I would probably be like “Damn it Goose you fluffy adorable murderer.” (We call Dexter ‘Goose’ because she gooses your bum when you come in the door like a perverted old man.)

Wait. I’m supposed to be talking about a book. Not why I don’t like Kate. Or at least, teenage Kate. 


It gives you the feels. It makes you feel like you have a comrade in arms. It makes you feel like you aren’t alone in feeling like you are a fat piece of trash and then she lifts you right back up to show you how you are BEAUTIFUL and MAJESTIC and everything is just as it should be. No matter what size you are you are fucking amazing. You hear me?!

Chrissy’s writing was full of heart and kindness, and past self-deprecation and it was lovely.

Plus I love seeing women living their dreams on their terms and how they became that way.

She is a fucking star and amazing. 

But teenage Kate can get bent. Ya hear me?

Constant vigilance.


Keep Moving Forward

I am having major body image issues this week.

Mostly because I can’t stop eating. And crying. And eating because I’m crying. And crying because I’m eating.

Let’s put this in perspective though: People gotta eat. And ladies get PMS, and sometimes that PMS makes us batshit. *shrug*

I’m just eating the bad stuff. ALL the bad stuff. And it’s delicious, but I feel like poo. I’m trying to recognize that this all makes me feel like garbage so that I stop. But part of me is like “Quite frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.” And then I’m a bitch to myself and glare at my body in the mirror while thinking mean thoughts.

I can say things like “Well, no more! I am wonderful! And I’m hot! And I’m beautiful no matter what!” But I don’t believe myself this week and that’s because my inside feels like garbage and the outside is starting to reflect that.

So what I’m proposing is that I hold myself accountable for my actions (mainly the action of continually buying Sour Cream and Bacon chips every five minutes) and have you guys hold me accountable as well.

I am going to make a more active effort.

And I’ll be marking my progress here and Instagram likely.

I’ll talk more next week about this, ideas are still circling.

But for now, keep moving forward and if you are like me, stop believing the bad stuff, start eating the good stuff, and put down the chips, man.

Constant vigilance!

0a83c260d3084c6a58067328d5eab5a0 24a4d39efe0b41f7f28d1f9e8f96dd65 281d3a6577b63f3b0a8d8393d0d2ce88 41714216f872a205ae78c859ba851eef

That dog is my spirit animal.

Keep Moving Forward: To each their own, and to own their each.

There has been something that goes on with my friends and family, and in all likeliness: everyone ever.

It’s that we each have our own stuff to deal with body wise.

The other day I was chatting with some people and I was complaining about the painful pimple under my lip.

Now, you’ve likely seen pictures of me, you know that I don’t get pimples very often, I have “flawless” skin. (That’s in quotations because I do have blackheads and big pores that I fill in with light make up. Nothing overtly noticeable, but still.)

Anyway, I was noting that it hurt and “Ugh, I want it to go away.” when I was verbally attacked by the girl sitting next to me who has a face covered in pimples.

“Oh really, your one pimple? You’re going to complain about your ONE pimple?! LOOK AT MY FACE.”

I’ll openly admit that I can be a vain person. I’m into my looks because I like make up, I like nail polish, I like doing my hair (most days), and I love when my body looks great in an outfit.

I’m not the hottest person in the world, but I’m fucking adorable, all right?

I am aware that I am blessed though. Which is the difference between being vain and being oblivious to other peoples feelings.

I was in no way remarking on my friends skin. I was just saying “Ow.”

Now to compare, when she (the teeny tiny toothpick that she is) complains about her “Food babies” or “Oh God, I’m going to look so fat in a bathing suit this summer if I don’t work out soon.” I don’t immediately jump down her throat. Sure, it makes me feel like shit sometimes that I’m not a rail or that I’m not a certain “acceptable” size. But I still recognize that we are all different, we all have our stuff we are self conscious about and we all need to vent our frustration about this stuff to other people.

Which is why I don’t sit on her when she complains about ‘being fat’.

Although at some point I have yelled “Do you want to see a real fat body?! DO YOU?! I WILL STRIP DOWN NAKED AND SHOW YOU WHAT IT REALLY LOOKS LIKE UNDER HERE!” when I’m having a particularly sensitive day.

At the same time, being aware of the others persons situation and body image is also really important. I may not have been meaning to push one of her buttons, but I did. I didn’t realize that complaining about the one out of maybe five pimples I get a year would result in my being verbally attacked by another human being.

There are people I know that are completely unaware that what they are saying is hurtful though, sadly, she is one of them and complains loudly about how hideously fat she can get when she looks like she may be a little bloated. Whereas, compared to her, I look like a behemoth and 6 months pregnant. She’s someone I call a “fisher”. She’s fishing for the compliments about her weight, she’s fishing for your to say something about how you wish you were as small as she is, she’s fishing for the feedback about how good her body looks.

Which makes me want to throw her off a bridge.

I don’t hate her, I just want to throw her off a bridge sometimes. It’s out of baffled annoyance. She knows this, it’s fine.

Skin is probably one of the biggest things that people mention to me because I have such “nice skin”. Which makes me feel like people are going to get a little Hannibal Lector on me and try to wear it.

But you know what? I have issues with my body too. Mostly pertaining to my insanely thin hair, my stomach, my sides, my cellulite butt, my back fat, etc etc.

Mostly my back fat. Man I wish I could wish that away.

The difference is, that while I’m also aware that I have these “problems”, I’m also aware that by complaining about these to a person who has been struggling worse than me or who is sensitive about this topic, is not wise or very humane.

What’s my point?

We’ve all got our own shit and we can’t completely censor ourselves for each individual person. Sometimes you just have to say stuff because it hurts your face or you need to poo but you’re constipated or because you feel gross in your own body.

Sometimes you just have to think “To each their own” and to own your each.

I may have incredibly thin hair, but I curl it to make it look bigger, I know what hair colours work on me so you don’t see my scalp, I know that I’m literally the only person who thinks about that shit daily. I know that when someone hugs me they aren’t going “DEAR GOD WHAT IS THIS MASS ON YOUR BACK?! DO YOU HAVE EXTRA BOOBS BACK HERE?!” (My sister did say that to me jokingly one time time actually, but it was more child-like than sinister.)

And as for my skin? Here’s my dirty little secrets:

I don’t always wash my make up off every night because it gives me pimples, I don’t use soap on it, I drink as much water as I can, I don’t drink pop, I try to eat some fruits and veggies every day. I don’t wear a ton of thick make ups like …what’s that gooey shit that goes all over your face called? Every person I know who wears foundation has massive pimples. Stop it. Just stop it.

I wear Dream Matte Mousse from Maybelline.

And I copy the hell out of what my grandmother puts on her skin because she’s 80 years old and her skin looks beautiful.

Clinique bitches. Slap that moisturizer on your skin after a shower and you’re good.

And I exfoliate maybe twice a week after letting my skin be super dirty and empty its own pores.

There you go. My skin secrets. I’m literally just dirty all the time.

Now stop yelling at me.

Keep moving forward.

9bf458262efce22309678aed95cee2a3 22a6727857672fb192fa35453afcc557