[fat] confessions on my own scars, stretch marks, and hairiness

giangie.tumblr.com

My first surgery scars came in high school from putting my shoulder back together after a weird overuse accident. (labral tear-- the tissue that holds the ball and socket in place was torn from the bone) After being misdiagnosed for eight months the three one-inch-long scars felt like battle scars. A year later I had a breast reduction, three pounds and some drainage tubes later I’ve got almost two feet of faint pink scars. I have yet to meet a man who noticed my scars until about a month of pillow talk later… it’s been quite the confidence booster. My other surgery scars are from having my appendix plucked out a few years after that. The scars are consistent with an ovary removal, but luckily it was my appendix that was infected and dying instead. The surgical scars could almost count as battle scars -- except my belly and boobs have faced no trauma.


All along my arms and legs are bug bites. Ants and mosquitoes for the most part, but the occasional family of chiggers or no-see-ums will try to take up residence under a flip flop strap. Many bites have scabbed over, and some have finally left smooth purple discolorations. I haven’t shaved my legs in over four years -- thighs in over six. Luckily the hair is rather blonde and thin, so I don’t need to worry about shaving over bug bites and opening up scabs. I’ve also got my fair share of old scraped knees and shins from work as well as my years of tree climbing and mud pie pancake making in the back yard. Additionally, no guy has noticed my leg hair until I've actually pointed it out to him. Women on occasion have noticed the leg hair.


[cranky] CFF manifesto (in progress)

CFF began as a way for me to post images and articles that spoke to me, without the anger of friend’s parents, or friends, or my parents and relatives, or any other jackasses. It was a way to share the new blog I had started, to contemplate my understanding of the feminist classes I was taking in college. I also needed to reflect on my recent return from Africa, and how feminism related to my trip.

CFF became a place for me to understand that there is more than fat shaming -- there is skinny shaming too, and that I’ve participated in it. Today, I do post mostly about fat shaming, but I make a point of never skinny shaming.


I’ve also reflected a lot on how I’ve felt fat since probably the age of 9 or 10. I hit puberty early (period came at age 10) so I was extra tall and hairy early. I’ve always had wide shoulders, and by 6th grade I was a 36C. I was always bigger than every other girl, and most of the guys. I told myself constantly that I was fat. Middle school (the years of self hate, mean girls, exploring make up, leg shaving, girl on girl hate…) only made my fat feel fatter.