Body Positive Power–Megan Jayne Crabbe

I took my sweet time reading this book. I’d say about six months just because I wanted those lessons she was teaching in her book to really sink in. 

Now, I can’t remember word for word what she said, but the feeling of this book really resonates with me even still and I find it has changed my line of thinking.

When I start to talk to myself in a way that I wouldn’t have originally thought of as self deprecating or harmful I catch myself now. 

Why am I bullying myself? You can’t hate yourself into a body you love. 

Which was a big point in her book. 

You can’t be cruel and think you’ll end up happy. You can’t bash yourself and think that’s a form of self love because it’ll get you to a place where you love the end result of all your “hard work”.

But I don’t want my hard work to be a result of me bashing myself or constantly pulling at my body angry that it can’t be different just because I’m willing it to be so.

This is MY body. No one else has this body, so it’s important that I treat her with respect. 

And fuck am I ever happier about that. 

When my brain goes “Ugh. New stretch marks. Way to go fat ass.” I stop that in its tracks and think “So what?”. 

“So what?” is my new key phrase to body positivity. 

So what if I’ve gained weight to the point of new stretch marks. I learned to love the last ones, these new ones can be loved just the same. 

So what if I’ve gained weight at all? That just shows I appreciate food and relaxation. I know I’m not actually a lazy person, I do things ALL the time. I work hard, so I deserve the relaxation and comfort that comes from eating and laying down. 

So what if I eat a bag of chips in one sitting? I was fucking hungry to the point of inhaling it. I obviously NEEDED food.

I’m learning to listen to my body more. Not intuitive eat as a way of dieting. I will no longer diet. I’m done with that. (Hell yeah!) I will listen to my body on what foods it agrees with and which foods it craves. (And sometimes that craving is a goddamn apple! Who knew!!!) 

I want to get back to a place where I move my body for the joy of moving my body. Like when you’re a kid and you run because you love that feeling of being free and the wind whipping through your hair. 

And so what if I get winded halfway down the driveway. I can be breathless for the joy of it! 

I don’t want to punish my body into a body worth having. I want to enjoy the body I have because it was worth having all along. 

All the shapes and sizes I have been get a colossal “So what?”. 

So what, that was Past Alli. Present Alli isn’t too concerned about what size of pant she is wearing.

So what, that was Past Alli. Present Alli doesn’t want to give anymore energy or wasteful thought tangents on where her body SHOULD be. Instead living in the body I have now and being grateful that I am who I am and no one else is like me. 

So what if someone else bashes their body? Not only will I not internalize it to the point of thinking “Does that person think I’m fat and hideous because they think THEY are fat and hideous?” I will stop THEM in their tracks and tell them to stop talking to my friend like that. 

This book is so fucking important for all communities. It’s not only about body positivity and how Megan got to where she is, it’s about facts and figures and LGBTQ etc things, it’s about able bodied people (which is everyone. We all have bodies that are able to do stuff.) and it’s about how we value self worth. 

It’s so important. 

And so what if I don’t look like the girls in the magazines? 

We’ve risen up so much the girls in the magazines have come out to say “Me either.” 

Fuck I love this book. 

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How to Be a Bawse–Lilly Singh

Everyone should read this as a teenager. 

It tells you important things on self confidence and what really matters in life. 

I liked reading Lilly’s journey on being a YouTube star. (Which, if you haven’t seen anything she’s done: GO. Watch. She’s hilarious.) 

She has some fantastic stories.

And that’s all I’ve really got for a book that was well written and thoughtful. 

(Go figure. I wrote like three pages on fucking ‘Cujo’ and I can’t even write a proper paragraph on something that will actually help other people.) 

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Happy V-Day!

Okay ladies now let’s get in formation.

Cuz we slay.

Another year single, another year ready for a pringle. Am I right?

Look, there are only so many ways that I can try to make you feel better about being single with me. Over the years I have written about what not to do to your single friends, I’ve given you the option of dating fictional men instead of real men, I’ve sent you a Valentine with David Tennant, I’ve made you collages, I’ve made romantic book lists.

I’m one hell of a Valentine if you ask me. Because for the people I care about I also bake things and drink wine with them and have a Galentine’s day if it’s on a weekend.

Damn. I’m so romantic and I didn’t even notice.

This year though, I thought I would try something different.

Online dating.

JUST KIDDING THAT’S THE WORST. *laugh crying emoji*

Here’s what I would like to say to you this year:

Treat yo self.

That’s right. I’ve decided (since I’ve turned 30 and ain’t nobody putting a ring on this finger any time soon.) that I will date myself, so to speak. In that I now buy myself relatively expensive presents for my big events.

Because I’m going to die alone in a pile of dogs. #livingthedream

This year I have my eye on a sweet purse that has bananas on it. Because I’m an adult.

You know you’re awesome, you have to by now because I’ve been convincing you for years. You hustle like a champ and all the good things will come your way. And if they don’t, then they weren’t meant for you.

Love isn’t something that is to be forced, it will show up when it is meant to happen and the only thing to do in the meantime is live your life the way you want to because someday you’ll be knee deep in a relationship and these days are the ones you’ll look back on and think “Yeah. I set myself up to be who I want to be and that’s what got me here.”

Or you’ll think “Man. I miss when I could sit around with no pants on and I only had to forage for food for one person.” If you’re lucky, your future significant other will also like not wearing pants while watching TV and will be the kind of person who buys surprise pizzas instead of flowers.

Because flowers are the goddamn dumbest thing to bring a person. Stop bringing things home that can die, bring home things we can eat. (I know you feel me ladies!)

Romantic entanglements aren’t the only things that matter in life. You do you girl!

Man, sometimes I get really serious.

Probably because I hate when I chirp myself for being single so I get mad when I think others are doing it to themselves! Good thing I have some friends who are good with throwing encouragement at me like it’s a confetti parade and give me a hard slap of reality when I need it.

Happy Valentines Day you sons of bitches.

Use the search button to find other such inspirational posts from years of yore. It’s worth it. But I’m biased because I wrote them.

Keep Moving Forward: Valentines Day

Let’s talk about the international day of love that’s coming up, shall we?

Every year people get either all gooey eyed over it or up in arms.

I used to be up in arms with the troops of bitter people and all like “Boohoo, I have no one.”

To quote Dwight Schrute:

“False.”

I’m running on 28 years now of being a single lady and I’ve got to tell you, it’s not so bad. Because there is one perfect person out there for me. Unfortunately, he doesn’t know I exist.

I’m talking about Rupert Grint of course. But fantasy boyfriends aside, I’m pretty okay with being alone on Valentines Day because I’ve grown up enough to not let it ruin my life when the realization comes, yet again, that I do not have that Holy Grail of love:

Having a Valentine.

I heard the lady in the post office last week say “Ohh, it’s 10 days until Valentines Day! Got any nice plans?” to the woman in front of me.

In a way, I kind of wish the woman was like “No. I don’t have any nice plans. I do however have some sinister ones. I’m going to go around kicking puppies and popping peoples heart shaped balloons. What about you? Got anything devious set up?”

Valentines Day doesn’t bother me because I’m not a horrible downer anymore.

I love me. I love me so much that being alone doesn’t send me into a tailspin of emotion because that one special guy hasn’t found me yet and I haven’t found him. I actually get the feeling that when I meet that person it WILL be love at first sight. I’ve been relatively patient and try to be kind to guys because it can be just as scary talking to a girl as it can be talking to a guy, and although I’m extremely sarcastic I do try to talk to them now.

I didn’t used to. I would nod along and try to figure out an escape route because I knew that person wasn’t my person. Hell, I’ve tried a few times to gain some love experience with guys who weren’t my person and it was brutal. It felt like I was lying.

“You’re not it, so kindly remove yourself from my presence.” Was my general idea of men.

…What was I talking about? I’m finding that I’m rambling a lot more now. Haha.

Anyway, Valentines Day is a day not just of romantic love, although it does tend to lean towards that. And I’m more optimistic about stuff now that I like it just because people are kinder and gooey eyed about each other, I love seeing other people in love.

It’s like a fairytale.

Magical.

But, just because I’ve never known romantic love doesn’t mean I don’t know what love is or feels like. Which happens to be something that people get confused about when talking to me because they know these things about me.

Often from family members I get the ever eye-twitch inducing questions of:

When are you going to get married?

When are you going to have kids?

When are you going to get a boyfriend?

When are you going to meet a boy?

And yes. In that order. It’s like they start to lose faith the longer the conversation goes on for.

I’ve come up with the perfect (and nerdy) answer to all of these questions.

Prepare yourself:

“Oh, what business is it of yours what I do with my own things?”—Bilbo Baggins.

That’s right. Butt out.

I went bitter again. This post was supposed to be about being nice…damn it.

Look. The point is: Love yourself and ignore everyone else’s expectations of what your life is suppose to be like and just enjoy that the day is full of all sorts of love.

Do what my cousins do and have a spaghetti night on Valentines Day with their family, or do what I plan on doing and have a Harry Potter marathon while cross stitching dirty words onto stuff for your friends while eating a heart shaped cake that I made for my family and drinking some cheap ass wine.

Because Valentines Day is about love. And nothing says love like cross-stitching “Anything is a dildo if you are brave enough.” And framing it for your best friend.

Happy V-Day bitches.

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Keep Moving Forward

I have never been shy about how much I weigh. Even when I was getting close to 200 pounds I still didn’t care if people knew that I was that “heavy”. (197 bitches.) I still have a sparkling wit and beautiful face so the number didn’t really matter to me. The fat jiggle on the other hand, could go any time it felt like it.

I’m not shy in saying that I currently weigh (as of this morning) 178. Scooting back up to a higher weight does kind of scare me, not the number itself but because there are so many things that went wrong with my body the last time I was this “heavy”. My knees hurt, I got winded going up a flight of stairs, I could feel body parts wobble that had no business doing so, and every time I put something in my mouth I wondered how long it would take to show on my body. Usually three days. That kind of does something to your self worth.

I haven’t been below 160 since I was 20. So I’m used to my curves and I genuinely like my body. Hell, I’ve been playing with my leg fat since the third grade, I show my family my stomach and play with that too. My big rump is currently my point of pride since I actually HAVE a butt again. (Slowly turning into an ass.)

Some days I feel like a sack of garbage, some days I feel like the most beautiful creature on Gods green earth. Some days I feel like downing so much poutine that I could potentially go into cardiac arrest. Some days I actually feel sexy. (From a girl who has been deemed ‘cute’ and ‘funny’ her entire life this is actually important.)

I have gained 15 pounds since I’ve moved home and yet, I feel more one with my body than I used to.

I weigh one hundred and seventy eight pounds and I’m not ashamed of that number. There’s no reason to be because I measured my body parts yesterday and they told a different story (not to mention just the feel of them alone did, hello rock hard calves.). They told the story of a little inch gain here and there, but overall, nothing devastating. I compared them to my measurements from three years ago when I was on a program to lose weight, and it’s not catastrophic. Not like how the scale was making me feel.

I’m not perfect, but my body is a champion anyway. I may not be able to do push ups for long or plank because my bottom half is heavy and I fall over during work outs a lot because of it, but I wouldn’t trade Thunder and Lightning for anything. (Those are what I’ve taken to calling my thighs lately.)

I’m a huge fan of Jillian Michaels dvds and work outs and I’ve been doing her 30 Day Shred work out for the last year and a half (off and on because I go through phases of laziness) and when I was actually doing it every day I saw results. So I’m back on that train. However, I overestimated my body the other day and what it can currently do and tried her No More Trouble Zone workout. (Hello back fat, I’d like to see the end of you.)

Want to know what happened during this workout?

I cried five times. Yeah. Not once, five. It was tough, I was defeated, and I felt like my big fat body couldn’t do the things I wanted. I made it through 40 minutes of this 60 minute workout before my knees decided they didn’t want to be my friend anymore.

And then I ripped my shorts.

Talk about hilariously humiliating. The worst part is I didn’t even get to HEAR it rip. I just looked down and was like ‘Oh, okay, that happened…” after I’m sure I worked out for 30 minutes with it. It would’ve been worth the brand new shorts if I actually had that moment of RIIIIIIIIIP. Then I could’ve at least laughed on the floor at myself instead of finding it later and thinking ‘What in the hell?”.

Needless to say I’ll be working up to that workout. My body just isn’t ready for it, but I can feel myself getting stronger.

Here’s a little inspirational quote that gets me through the garbage days:

“I’ve got a cute face, chubby waist, thick legs, in shape, rump shaking both ways, make you do a double take. Planet Rocka, show stoppa, flow froppa, head knocka, Beat stalla, tail droppa, do ma thang muthafuckas.” –Missy Elliot.

Numbers are just numbers, how you feel in your body is more important than that. And lately, I feel great. Like a little flower growing in the sunshine.

Or a bulldozer ready to demolish. Whichever.

Keep moving forward.

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Keep Moving Forward

Dear Scale:

I can no longer be your friend. You were fun while I watched my weight decline and we laughed together about how my beautiful body was becoming even more beautiful and strong.

But you’ve turned on me recently and I can no longer support our friendship as you have made me into a junky. I feel like every thirty minutes I’m hopping on and trying to see if I have somehow magically lost 30 pounds in the last half hour. Newflash: I haven’t.

I feel like you have been mocking me lately as my weight increases and have been making me feel like my beautiful body, which I am so grateful for, is ugly and heavy and I just won’t have that.

I will be turning instead to my old pal the measuring tape because she always tells me that I’ve gained muscle and can kick down doors (figuratively and literally) and has always made me proud of my progress and myself. You have become that friend who always laughs and says they are so fat with your twig legs and flat abs while I stand armoured in my fat walls and cellulite lit hallways.

You have turned a positive into a negative as I stand before you. And I love myself enough to say goodbye. We had fun while it lasted, and maybe someday we can be friends again. But while I head into the 180s as I sculpt myself some muscle and changing my rear from a butt to an ass, I have to say ‘sayonara’.

Keep moving forward.

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