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Saturday, May 7, 2016

What Is Plus-Size? The Confusing Definitions Of Body Types And Why They’re Irrelevant

The skiing trip in the 5th grade. The first big trip without my family. Am I gonna be kissed or touched for the first time? I imagined all amazing things happening to me. We were all supposed to be in our rooms by midnight. After the teachers checked up on us and went to sleep, the real fun began. So, I remember, Lucy saying let's have a beauty competition. You know... who's got the shiniest hair, the most perfect nose (there's always something wrong with noses), healthiest nails (what the fuck?!) And of course instead of just flattering awards, we simply had to have, the biggest ass, weird figure, fat thighs, small boobs categories too.
I suggested to play the good qualities game but of course that was decided to be lame.
And so the game began: the most adorable smile goes to Susanne, the shiniest hair goes to Nika and so on. Then the bad physicality started and guess who won the biggest ass, fat thighs and small boobs? Me. I was sitting there on a lower bunk bed, melting, all flustered and so utterly sad and all these mean little bitches were laughing at me with their malicious faces.
Was it the worst trip of my life? For my eleven year old self, yes! Of course I knew I wasn't skinny but what really stroke me was the reaction of girls. Why was it so negative and mean? I was still me, with good grades, funny and kinda popular... so why, all of a sudden, was my weight the only thing that mattered? Ok that kind of experience, I certainly, didn't expect.
Well their rating worked and I did lost a lot of weight. Then I moved to England and we just lost touch. Summers ago, I returned to visit and what I saw was a total twist. So Susanne doesn't have time to smile anymore because she has three jobs, Nika's hair lost its shine and Lucy's ass got three times bigger after she had babies.
But who cares? Why should we care? I may look ten times better than they do right now, but that doesn't make me any happier. Ok maybe a little bit! The truth is everyone's got their own stuff to deal with.
In the end of the day, we fight for the same thing, to be happy and survive.
My mother never taught me the sizes don't matter, I had to figured it out myself and luckily, I don't know how but the skiing trip didn't fuck me up. But I can totaly see how it could... My point is why do we keep labeling and defining body types? It's meaningless and confusing, not just for little girls, but also for 26 year old me. What the fuck is plus size anyway? And who decides who is plus size?
You know, I have a photograph of me from that skiing trip. There's eleven year old girl, with chubby cheeks and big butt eating a doughnut. And I look so happy there like I never do in any of my current selfies. I look at the photo and I smile.

The Stigmas Society Still Has About People With STDs

When living in Spain, I had to be checked for STDs twice. The first time, everything went smoothly, they examined me, took the samples, drew my blood, and impassively mentioned I should always insist on using condoms.
A year after, when I had to do the tests again, I had the most uncomfortable and outrageous experience. I went to the same hospital unit. The gyneacologist and a training doctor scolded me mercilessly. Ok, fine, I knew they had other serious cases to treat and that I should have been more careful, but still I had my right to make the same mistakes and me actually going to get checked, was responsible! That is how a sensible person acts, when she fucks up! The doctor basically said: 'you’ve been here last year to do tests and you are here again. How exactly did you not understand to be safe?‘
I looked at her saying I know that and I was sorry. I know I should have been more careful.
Then on top of it, the training doctor, who actually looked even younger than I was, joined the conversation saying: Well, then, maybe you should put your theory into the practice.
I was like that’s it. I wasn’t sure if to cry or jump at that bitch and rip her white coat. Then, cowardly, I looked down, let them examine me and said not a single word during the examination.

Since at least 2000, the STDs cases significantly grew. Some people blame it on Tinder and hookup apps. This means there's more work for doctors. At the same time this doesn’t mean, doctors should tell you off for not being careful.
Society has been always cruel and judgemental about STDs. A person with STD is reckless, dirty, slutty and spreading infections.
I have heard so many stories about nurses and doctors passing judgements or making disapproving faces.
When you suspect you may have STD, it's enough punishment. It's not like having a fluband you do end up blaming yourself when you have it.
Why can't society, especially the professionals just save us from scorning and condescending treatment?
Many people don't get tested because they want to avoid the embarrassing situation, meaning they don't have to know for years if they have any STDs. Sometimes I really wonder, what about the doctors? They are human beings too, surely they had STD threats at some point of their lives.

My regret is that I should have said something when the GYN and training doctor were telling me off. I was uncomfortable and in a vulnarable situation and I let them chide me. It was unjust and utterly unprofessional yet I didn't say a word. I so should have. No one should feel embarassed for doing the right and responsible thing.

Monday, May 2, 2016

Rosie, the Rose part 7: Madame Bombon Goes on Vacation

Eugenia was brushing Rosie's hair. The most pleasant sensation inhabited Rosie's body. Each gentle stroke felt like a healing process. All the dirt, useless and heavy energy was removed and recharged by sweet loveliness. Eugenia believed, brushing or combing hair was the best therapy for everything. Your soul radiated under the gentle movements. It was the time when your body floated around the heavy ceiling and there was just you, without daily tedious attachments.
'Have you ever been in love, Rosie?' Rosie's whole being tensed, her eyes got forlorn but it didn't hurt as much as before. It rather felt like an old and sad memory.
Eugenia didn't wait for her to respond. She mostly talked anyways. Eugenia could seem like pretty self absorbed woman, not bothered about other peoples' opinions, but the strange thing was that even though she didn't seem to listen to you, she knew you. She knew exactly who you were. Rosie believed, Eugenia could read constellations, reach the moon till it was upside down and recognise the aching hearts. And she loved white chocolate and avocados. If it was entirely up to her, she'd eat just that. Eugenia didn't believe in loving too many things. 'You can give away only so much love, you know...' she used to shay.

Liers in love
'The first time I've heard a love story and believed it, was from my mom. She told me one of the most fabulous stories that you don't get to hear, either because they don't happen or they are too painful to be told. Well, once upon a time there was a con artist. Everything he said were just the most charming lies. Women absolutely adored him and more than happily were spreading their legs for him. Men hated him, the way men hated when they saw something they couldn't have. Through his coning, he kind of had it all and never felt bored. Life was never a routine, boring habit which lacked fire and thrill. It was such a blast till he met her, insanely beautiful, smart and fun. Once again, he conned her, they flew to Hawaii and had time of their lives. He truly fell for her, wanted to stay with her forever and just quit coning. She told him, she wanted to build a hospital in Hawaii and an orphanage. She never wanted to marry or have children. He seemed to love everything about her, the way she loved winning, bubble baths and eating mint ice cream before lunch. They made plans, looked into the locations for the hospital, contacted contractors... somehow the mundane life wasn't so bad. If you walk on the sky and the ground seems to be missing, every step represents a charming danger.
Sadly, one day, a police came to arrest her. It turned out, she wasn't who she said she was. A woman with different name, who left her husband and children, by stealing from her neighbours, was the 'true' her.
He was utterly shocked. He, the greatest con artist was conned by her. She cheated him in every possible way. Upon this revelation, he smiled in amazement and realised he loved her even more. He wanted to tell her, that he will always be waiting for her with hospital plans, walking on broken sky, skipping on abandoned clouds but she refused talking to him. And that's the love story about two lovely liers.'
'But wait! What about then?'
'There's no then, Rosie. She got arrested and he kept conning or maybe built that hospital. Who knows...'
'That is so blue. I mean, how wonderful would it be if he actually waited for her with his promises.'
'Darling, that's impossible... that would have to be a story from novel or film...'
Rosie signed sadly and Eugenia hugged her.
'We should go downstairs and say goodbye to Madame Bombon.' Rosie nodded. Madame Bombon was going on a 'vacation' to New Orleans. Rosie couldn't imagine, how The House of Tolerance survives without her. 'It's just for couple months. Besides, she does that at least once a year. Lucky bitch.' Said Marguerite as they were all in the big hall waiting to say their farewells.
'Hopefully, Josh is coming! It was so sad, he didn't come the last time she left.' Said Emily.
'He had exams that time...' remarked Eugenia. 'Who is Josh?' Asked Rosie curiously. She's heard his name before.
Suddenly, Madame Bombon entered the room with a tall, handsome man on her side. She's never looked so happy and relaxed. Rosie was dubiously staring at her. All the girls gathered around them and started to greet Josh, some even hugged him. He smiled politely, but Rosie couldn't help but notice a danger and strange hunger coming from his eyes.

New beginnings
The first morning, Rosie came to see Josh, was dipped in orange skies. The clouds were swimming in orange shades, so bright and unexplored. Rosie was scared to talk to Josh. She couldn't read him, didn't know where he came from and where he had been to. With Eliot she could see everything, before he even spoke to her for the first time. His whole life was written on his face. That made her feel comfortable, it made her feel at home. Josh, on the other hand, was a mystery. Rosie didn't know how to talk to him, or even look at him. He was one big secret she couldn't crack and that made her anxious, uneasy and wanting.
'Come in,' said his husky, tired voice. He was sitting in Madame's chair, in last night's suit, tie thrown on the table next to a pile of papers. He had a stubble but his eyes were full of life, ready for anything.
'Good morning. I just brought you a report about last night.' Rosie said quietly, not sure where to look. Then suddenly she did and met his curious, dark blue eyes.
'Sit down, Rosie. That's your name, right?'
Rosie nodded and sat down slowly. 'Madame told me about you, that they found you unconscious on the street...'
'Yes, I was unwell.'
'I can see you are perfectly fine now. Why are you still here? Don't you have a family to go to?
Rosie looked at him rather annoyed. These were her answers, memories and worries to think about and deal with. Josh seemed to notice her being uncomfortable and add quickly 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I guess we all have reasons to be where we are. Maybe it's better not to think about them too often.' He smiled.
'Why are you here?' Josh looked at her rather startled. After some time he said, 'I grew up here. This is my house.' Rosie was confused. 'But...' she had million questions to ask but Josh stopped her. 'Thank you for the report, Rosie.' He turned around, facing the window. Suddenly, Rosie wanted to say something. To make the strange uneasiness go away.
'I grew up in a room with glow in the dark stars.' She mumbled and rushed away.