Recently, a few of my friends have made some passing negative comments about their bodies. Usually, I challenge their negativity, they remember I’m not the shame-you-for-everything media, and we go back to whatever it is we were doing before my good friend talked shit about my good friend, forcing me to have to defend my good friend (against herself).

Last week, however, I noticed a pattern. These friends weren’t just shaming themselves, they were doing it preemptively.

In a dressing room: “Sorry, my thighs are really flabby right now and I totally didn’t shave…”

After lunch: “Uuuuugh, I shouldn’t have eaten that. I’ve let myself go. Look at my muffin top. GROSS.”

Talking about summer fashion: “Yeah, I was thinking about buying a swimsuit this year, but I’m not going to. It just wouldn’t look good.”

Is there some new rule that requires my friends to verbally bash their bodies before anyone else gets a chance to weigh in?

frightened woman by Alexey Fursov

I’d like to let everyone in on a little secret: No one is looking. No one noticed your jiggly thighs, your overfull belly, your unshaven whatevers or that one of your boobs is shaped differently than the other. They’re too busy worrying about their thighs, their bellies, their boobs, their whatevers. Anyone judging you is doing so because of their own insecurities – they need to find an outlet for their fear and self-hate. Everyone else (aka everyone cool) isn’t worried about your “problem areas.” More often than not, we don’t even notice them.

So there’s no need to direct us to them.

(In fact, it seems counterproductive if you ask me.)

Have you ever caught yourself apologizing for the way you look?

PS: I need someone to draw me a super hero called Thunder Thighs. Bonus points if you draw two super hero ladies, with my and Lindsay’s faces, and one of them is named Thunder Thighs. You can name the other one whatever you want (and either of us can be Thunder Thighs). I will post your drawing on The Demoiselles and link to whatever your heart desires. (I <3 bribery.)

Lady Porn Day is a project started by the catalytic and wonderful sex journalist, Rabbit White of RabbitWrite.com. The goal of this project is give women an opportunity to finally talk about their lady bits, their lady fantasies in a forum that – unlike the rest of society – is perfectly acceptable an encouraged. While it might be inappropriate and awkward in every day life, today this week, all we want is to talk about porn, sex, and masturbation. Follow the many discussions on Twitter via the #ladypornday hashtag!

What are your thoughts on Porn?

We’re going to be talking about it a lot this week and, knowing us, it’s probably just the beginning. Sex, masturbation, porn – it can all be normal, healthy stuff, but depending on what we’re taught, it can also be dirty, shameful and surrounded in an uncomfortable silence.

So we thought we’d start simple:

How were you taught to feel about masturbation, and about pornography?

Jen’s thoughts: I remember a specific summer day, when I was just entering my teen years and my mom had a friend up from Portland  -we’ll call her Mary.  Mary’s daughter and I were playing in the front yard, and my brother, Jeff (already in his early twenties), was sitting on the porch when Mary called out to him.  “Jeff, when did you and your mom have The Talk?”

My brother seemed confused.  “…what talk?”

“You know: the talk. Jenny’s thirteen and my daughter’s just a few years younger, and I’m not sure when to…you know…tell her about stuff.”

“Oh, the sex talk. There wasn’t a single time.  I guess it started…in the womb?”

My mother has always been open about sexuality, and I learned about the changes in my body long before they occurred.  My budding breasts and period didn’t surprise me, and I always knew where my clitoris was. Though I didn’t see porn until an empty house, my curiosity and an internet connection collided for a fateful evening, I knew what it was.

The biggest disappointment I’ve faced, sexually, was the realization that the rest of the world – mostly the U.S. – isn’t open about sexuality, masturbation and porn.  It seemed pretty obvious to me that mainstream porn was acted – poorly acted, in fact – and more importantly, that no one seemed to be having any fun.  It was all fellatio, overly dramatic cunnilingus, missionary/girl on top/doggystyle, finishing blowjob, ejaculation.

And none of the girls were ever wet.  And none of them ever seemed to have an orgasm.

No wonder amateur porn is such a huge market.

Lindsay’s thoughts: First and foremost – all women’s issues, fairness, body image hype and criticism aside – I have this to say to porn: Thank you.

Yes, thank you. Thank you, naked people bouncing on top of each other with exaggerated facial expressions and plastic appendages. Thank you for teaching me anything at all about sex. I’m not sure if my parents were a little gunshy when it came to having the “birds & the bees” conversation, or if it just got lost in the periphery of being a single parent… But I started learning about sex the same day that I discovered the scrambled Playboy & Spice channel on my television. At age 12 or 13, I thought “sex” was simply the act of touching your genitalia to someone else’s. Seriously. For the longest time, really. Porn? Porn showed me sex – be it the glammed up, hyper-embellished, not-so-authentic-in-the-emotions-part sex, I still got to figure out what the act was, literally.

As a kid, I was always curious about sex – particularly because I developed early and wondered why all these dudes wanted to hug me/touch me all the time. It’s funny… Through the process of being an early-developing adolescent, I learned about the power that sex has over humans. The desire of it can drive people to do crazy, sometimes dangerous things. Porn only heightened my awareness of this fact, considering the number of subscriptions to these expensive television channels, and now websites. This, too, was a valuable lesson – not just because it’s a hard truth, but because as a woman in the world where our bodies are treated like trophies, I developed a thick, bullshit-detecting skin for those empty compliments and invitations.

Even before I found video porn, being the cyber-punk kid that I was, I found erotic literature. I would read these salacious, usually much less objectifying accounts of passionate sex, love-making, and flings through a medium that I was ever-so comfortable with: words. Seeing sex in word form not only put me in control of what I was seeing, it also took the seediness out of it. In erotic literature, I discovered two people together (sometimes more), without camera crews, without professional lighting, without plasticized features and 17 lbs. of makeup. I discovered sex and pleasure in the comfort of my own head, where it could be whatever made me comfortable. These experiences alone made my discovery of visual pornography much more transparent, and much less persuasive.

While I don’t know a life where your parents talk you about sex (sounds awkward and terrifying to me, since I’ve never experienced it!), I do know that porn helped me develop a major part of my life. This only heightens its importance for me, and I hope that – like ever other digital/multimedia medium – it develops over time into something that everyone can benefit from, pleasure-wise, information-wise, or otherwise.

When did you first learn about masturbation, sex, and porn? What was your impression?

Honesty time: What body image issue has been plaguing you lately?

Our answers are in the comments.

Image source: Postsecret.com

I stumbled upon a very interesting article about white privilege through Riots Not Diets (a fat acceptance blog) which I came to through Tangled Up In Lace (a body acceptance blog that used to be a fat acceptance blog), and it got me thinking about privilege.

Before I go any further, let me give you a few fun facts about Lindsay and myself, not as Demoiselles, but as human beings.

• Lindsay and I grew up in middle class neighborhoods.
• We are both white.
• We both realized we weren’t straight, then “came out,” in our teen years.
• We have both been fat most of our lives, and lived with obese relatives.

And a few more…

• One of us spent her middle-class nights cooking frozen pizzas over the fire because her family couldn’t pay the electricity bill.  The other went to the food bank each week as her family banded together to avoid losing their home…but both of us have been told that we can’t truly understand classism.
• Both of us “pass” for straight, but have lost straight friends for being honest about our sexuality, and lost gay and lesbian friends because bisexuality is “just a phase.”
• Neither one of us is considered fat enough to be part of the Fat Acceptance Movement – no matter how fat or thin we were one, two, or ten years ago – or to “really get” what fat people go through.

Essentially, Lindsay and I fall into a number of categories that label us as “marginalized,” yet we’re also considered “privileged” by other, more marginalized people.  We’ve both been told that yes, we can fight for as many liberal, forward-thinking ideas as we want, but as far as the majority of the movement is concerned, we couldn’t possibly understand what they’re going through.  We’re not [gay/fat/poor] enough.

Fliers about privilege posted at Stanford University

I get it.  I’m privileged.  Believe me, I know that my hourglass frame and light skin had a hand in getting me some of the jobs I’ve worked, and that living in a neighborhood with a higher tax bracket got me a better education and an ability to write and speak more clearly than those without.  Does that mean I can’t also be someone who has been hurt by others’ judgments when seen in line at the food bank, or kissing a girl, or ordering a burger while someone snickers behind their hand?  Or is my experience not extreme enough to be admitted to the movement?

Maybe it isn’t.

So I come to you, gentle readers.  Help Lindsay and me understand. If we don’t truly know what it’s like to be marginalized – like some members of FA, or queer folks that can’t pass, or persons of color – help us learn about it.  Send us an article that you think best lays out, without skinny-bashing or straight-bashing or white-bashing, the invisible privileges we receive every day.  Help us fight your fight…help us fight our fight.  Help us do it better.

PS: If you’re looking for an interesting view on race, class and gender, I highly recommend bell hooks.

This article was originally posted at Awakened Aesthetic one year ago today.  Most of those that read The Demoiselles are women, and we can all resonate with the fear that comes when we hear the words “breast cancer.”  We may have even mused on what it would be like to lose our breasts, which are such an obvious (and sometimes frustrating) symbol of our femininity.

While it’s easy to begrudge what we’ve got, wishing for a bigger or smaller, perkier, more even bosom, it’s also easy to forget what it would mean to lose what we have. This October, I urge you to think on that loss, and how you’d cope with it.  What would it mean for your body image?  Your relationships?  Your self esteem?

Breast cancer research – and yes, awareness – is an issue that is close to my heart.  I hope that in reading this article, it becomes closer to yours, too.

—

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and everyone is talking about prevention, buying pink-packaged groceries, and generally acting supportive of a cure. “Spread the message.” “Early detection.” “Be aware of the risks.”

…but hell, who isn’t already aware of breast cancer? I know that I am: my mom was diagnosed with Invasive Lobular Carcinoma in October of 2006, and was subsequently cut up (she had a bilateral mastectomy – both breasts removed) the next month. Since then, she’s gone through radiation, reconstruction, surgeries to fix the reconstruction, and more draining tubes and drugs than anyone in my family expected to ever learn about. The doctors are lucky we’re not squeamish.

[Image via BC Cancer Agency]

I didn’t realize how horrible breast cancer really is, and honestly, you probably don’t realize it either. It’s easy to be aware of things without actually knowing about them. But we’re all adults, here. We don’t need kid gloves. We can handle the hard truths. Right?

Right.

Truth #1: You’re probably not really helping.

[Image via Cafepress.com]

The fight against breast cancer doesn’t need your pink M&Ms and your ribbons. It needs your funding. There are multiple charities out there that you can give to – Susan G. Komen isn’t the only one – and you can even read up on their financial health and funding percentages at Charity Navigator. Buyer Donator beware: even nonprofits can be misleading about how they utilize donations!

And those M&Ms? Mars, Inc. donates up to fifty cents for every bag of pink and white M&Ms that are bought. You read that right: up to fifty cents. Wouldn’t the cost of that bag of candy be better spent directly to the foundation of your choice – and wouldn’t you rather know exactly how much you’re donating?

Just take a look at the automatically-generated Google ads that will inevitably appear next to this article. I’ll bet there’s at least one pink “support breast cancer awareness by buying this item” ad next to this page throughout the month of October. But where does that money go? What does it support? You don’t know.

Truth #2: It’s not just her boobs.

Image via Morningside Mom

When a woman has a mastectomy, the surgeons don’t just remove the flesh of the breast. They scoop out the flesh, including the chest wall and nipple, so the post-op patient has a “scoop” where her breast used to be. She’s not just flat-chested, and she doesn’t look like a boy. She literally has a part of her body scooped out of her, leaving nothing but a thick scar where a symbol of her femininity used to be. I don’t care how un-endowed you are: that fucking sucks.

Truth #3: Depression. Sexuality. Reality.

Image via TopNews.IN

Cancer is forever: you’re stuck getting tested and retested, hoping for lifelong remission, and wondering if you’ll ever have to face the knife, the chemo and the hormone therapy all over again. With breast cancer, though, it’s even more than that.

Women who have mastectomies lose their nipples, and all sexual sensation in the breast. No, they don’t leave the nipple attached – more cancer! – and they remove all of that sexy, baby-food-making flesh, leaving no trace of your perky nipples or your heaving bosom. Nothing. It’s gone.

Add to that the deformity they’ve left behind. Mastectomy patients can spend years trying to heal the mass of scar tissue that’s replaced their breat(s), only to have their reconstruction surgery take twice as long to heal, or worse yet, find out their chest has rejected their new, feelingless breast(s), and go through it all over again.

Put it all together (with a side of men’s reactions to a breast without nipples, or with football-shaped scars, or without any sexual feeling) and you’ve got a recipe for depression and self-loathing. And if you’re a guy, you’ve got problems of your own: questions of manhood, surgeries to repair emaciated or damaged pectoral muscles, and again, all of that healing time.

…But you can totally make a difference. No, really!

What a depressing post, right? You can help change the tide, though, and in fact, you already have. You’re reading this post, and learning about the reality of breast cancer. It affects people personally, and it affects them for life. Here are ways you can make a difference…and help others get out of the “pink ribbon” habit and into a more focused awareness.

1. Donate. Go to Charity Navigator and choose a site that you think will spend your dollars wisely.
2. Volunteer. The National Breast Cancer Foundation has a sign-up page for volunteers – they’ll hook you up with ways to help in your area.
3. Tell others. When people blindly donate funds to causes they don’t understand (or worse yet, just wear pink ribbons) they’re only pandering to corporate marketing. Get them out of that crap and into something that really helps cancer survivors, past, present and future.

Breast Cancer Awareness Month is a huge deal partly because it’s been branded as a “sexy cancer.”  As you can see, the reality is far from that branding.  Please spread awareness about what breast cancer really is, how it affects female and male body image, and how we can help find a cure.

This article has been lightly edited for reproduction.  The original article can be found here.

I recently met with a trainer – you know, one of those free sessions you get for joining a gym – to discuss my “workout goals” and how to reach them.

When he asked for my goal weight I said, “Something like 125.  I mean, that’s a soft goal.  I’m not sure where my body will be at 125, so I don’t know…”

He looked over my current weight, height and measurements, and then he leveled with me.

“You have to decide what body you want.  Once you truly commit, you’ll get there.  Just make sure you commit to what you actually want, not what’s easy or what you think you can do, or a routine that doesn’t fit your lifestyle.”

And that trainer, he got me thinking.

“Marilyn Monroe with Barbells” by Philippe Halsman

Here’s the hard truth: barring major health issues or a desire for plastic surgery, the body you want is the body you’ve got. When we make choices that affect the way we look – which foods to eat, how long to work out for, whether we really need a beer at 10PM on a Thursday – we are committing to a certain health standard, a certain body type.  In my opinion, that’s a good thing, as long as we’re honest about it.

When people ask why I work out, I tell them it’s because I want to be healthy…and keep eating cake. The truth is a little more long-winded:

• I want to eat cake…and nachos.  And burgers with bacon and avocado.
• I want my injured back to finally feel better, because the muscles surrounding it are strong and flexible.
• I want to go out for drinks and not worry about whether I ate enough to keep from getting smashed, or how many calories are in that liqueur I can’t pronounce.
• I want to then hike into the mountains without slowing up my friends, and hike back down without shin splints.

I realized that what I want has little to do with that “perfect weight,” or what my body fat percentage is, or how my clothes fit.  (Admittedly, as a fashion blogger, that last one is a little important.)  It has a lot more to do with what I see as “quality of life.”

Up until recently, I’d unwittingly decided that the body I wanted was one that forced me to restrict the foods I liked and avoid most physical activities – even the fun ones.  And you know what?  I chose that body. I choose to avoid strenuous activity and delicious foods, because I didn’t want to make the time to work out.

Now, I want a body that can go up two flights of stairs without feeling a burn; one that feels strong and capable, whether working outside or, ahem, in the bedroom.  I want that body more than I want the extra three hours per week that I’m missing by working out.

And the 120-pound physique?  I want that too, but not more than I want cake and nachos and nights out with friends.  If I can have both, great, but if I have to choose, I’ll pick food, fun and nightlife every time.

What are you willing to sacrifice for a more “fashion-friendly” body…and what would you never consider giving up?

And what better way to do so than a poll?

If I missed something, or if you’d like to elaborate (please do!) you can do so in the comments.  The biggest question on my mind is this:

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, what would you say is the reason you chose your current swimsuit?

How much of that choice was based on style, or trends, or the media, or your personal body image, or *gasp* what others might think?

Full disclosure: this was a really tough question for me to answer, personally…and I’m hoping it was tough for some of you, too.

Using an RSS reader?  Go to TheDemoiselles.com to take the poll!

Welcome to the second installment of The Demoiselles: Your ABCs!  Every couple weeks, we’ll post a video, asking you to participate in ABC, aka A Body Challenge. These are the basics of introspection, designed to direct you to the source of your current body image, and shape it into a positive – whatever state it’s in.

For this video, we tackled a scary subject: the body parts we least like.  (Even the most body-positive Demoiselle gets down on herself sometimes.)  The real question isn’t what we dislike, though; it’s whether we can change it.

Now that you’ve heard from us, here’s your assignment:

• Think about the body part you agonize over.  Is it something genetic, the result of your health habits, or something else?
• Can you change that part of your body?  If so, why haven’t you?
• If you can’t change it (or if that change is a long process), how can you deal with that part of you positively?  What beauty can you find in the thing that makes you most uncomfortable?

We’d love to hear your thoughts!  Respond in a comment, video (respond to us on YouTube!), email us directly, or use the contact page.

Looking for other ABC videos and podcasts?  Find them here.

Welcome to a new facet of The Demoiselles: Your ABCs. Every couple weeks, we’ll post a video, asking you to participate in ABC, aka A Body Challenge. These are the basics of introspection, designed to direct you to the source of your current body image, and shape it into a positive – whatever state it’s in.

This week, we decided to start with the most basic of basics: childhood icons. We challenge you to recall your body idols, and how it made you react to your own, growing figure.

Alright! Here’s your assignment:

• Recall who your childhood icon(s) was/were. This can be anyone from a girl at school to a musician to a model.
• Really think about how that shaped your perception of yourself – either as a child, or now – and how you felt about your body.
• Think of ways that you can commemorate that icon in a way that doesn’t punish yourself or your body for physical impossibilities, or result in unhealthy behavior.

Respond in a comment, video (respond to us on YouTube!), email us directly, or use the contact page.