It’s been ages since I last blogged. I know. I apologize for that. Life has been, hmmm, what is the right word, let’s just say hectic, since we last spoke.
I got engaged, it was the twins 20th birthday, I’m planning a wedding, the cutest little grandbaby in the whole of the world hatched, and I am back on the serious exercise train, so you can safely say that my mind has been elsewhere.
I have also been riding an emotional roller coaster as well.
Excitement about being given the most beautiful diamond ring I could ever have imagined, to the depths of embarrassment and shame at the hands of a wedding dress saleswoman. From the dizzy euphoria that comes with regular exercise, and the feeling of increasing strength and self confidence, to the seething anger that arises when I receive emails from people telling me that without their “nutritional cleansing product” I have no hope of ever having a dream wedding… What the actual fuck?
Now I shall apologise right here for the following words, I may swear a little, which I do not normally do here on the blog – but this disempowering bullshit has got to stop.
What right does a salesperson have to burst my bubble of wedding dress shopping because my boobs are a 16DD? What fucken right does she have to tell me that “those puppies are going to make this process more difficult”? What right do any of the people involved in the wedding dress industry have to make women with larger boobsta’s feel less worthy? Like apparently women with tits don’t get married these days? Like we cannot be allowed to feel beautiful, or princess like, or simply stunning on our wedding day?
I stood up on her podium with a dress that made me look like a bloody toilet dolly, and wondered to myself why the fuck she wasn’t listening to me? Maybe my boobs muffled my requests to try a slimline dress?
I listened to her and thought, “I gotta get out of this place before I elbow her in the head”. In the mirror I could see any hope I had of thinking I could be beautiful diminishing with every word she spoke. She was crushing my spirit with every word she spoke.
I might be standing before all of you talking about empowerment and self love and care – yet I allowed this women to make me feel second rate, I let her words into my head, into my psyche, and it hurt. It really fucken hurt. Each time she opened her mouth, my confidence plummeted. It was visible, even to Dave who came along to share this apparently happy time with me.
I ran out of that shop so fast, I left behind my favourite sunnies. And there is no way in hell, I will ever go back to get them. Bitch.
For days, I mulled over the fact that my boobs were not going to let me have a beautiful wedding. I was sad. Really really sad. Like I have waited for this moment to come along for such a long time and when it did, it hurt. Then I got angry. I was so mad with myself for letting her in. How on earth was a mammary gland or two stand in the way of my dream day?
How dare she? How dare this industry decide that a bride could not be beautiful unless super thin? What are we teaching our young girls, if this attitude is the norm?
I need to also tell you that this was not just one bridal store, this woman was representative of every bridal store I went into in Brisbane, hell, one woman laughed when I asked her if I could try on any frocks in her store. She looked at me, and laughed. She fucken laughed at me, because my boobs are a size 16DD. The women herself was no stick figure, I may add, so the hurt was compounded that even someone a similar size was so happy and quick to judge.
If there is one thing I am learning very quickly in this process, it is self control.
Since I posted on social media, that I was going to make my wedding dress myself, due to the inability to find a dress that “my puppies” would fit into – I have been hounded by women “wanting to help me create my dream wedding”.
These people are not the friends that wish to help make the cake, or the dress or assist with decorations – oh no, these are the people I barely even know, that feel the need to point out that I am so much less because I don’t “cleanse nutritionally”.. you know the ones?
Yeah, the same ones that post on social media from every coffee shop in town, but you never see at gym class or walking. THOSE kinda people.
Who fucken knew that unless I eat jelly crystals mixed with water two days of every 5, my wedding dream will not happen? Really? I mean REALLY? You actually sent me a message telling me that YOU KNOW FOR SURE that my wedding will be a disaster unless I follow your program like a brainwashed sheep?? Are you serious?
I have two words for those of you who fill the hearts and minds of vulnerable people in a time that should be happy, empowering, a truly beautiful, loving time of life.
You may feel like you are “helping”, you may feel like you are solving the problems of the world, but in actual fact you are perpetuating the feeling that women are “not enough” unless they drink your shake, take your tablets, roll in your protein powder, and snort your addictive chemicals.
Fuck the lot of you.
As a women with big boobs, I will have a beautiful wedding, I will look into the eyes of the man soon to be my husband and know that he loves every centimetre of my body, boobs n all.
That is what matters, not your $3000 dress, your $6500 per year on shakes and shit, not your attitude and not your “I’m so superior, because I am thinner” judgements. I’ve had it with your fat shaming.
I AM ENOUGH. Just the way I am. Lumps, bumps, scars and big boobstas. Healthy, fit, happy. 5 kids. One gorgeous husband to be and a heart as big as a lion. Someone who exercises every bloody day and feels great about herself. Someone who doesn’t feel the need to put you down, make you feel any less of a woman because you eat cake. Someone who truly believes that it is an empowered woman that empowers a woman – and that together we rise.
I love the way I am – and if you don’t, keep your narrow minded opinions to yourself. I am no longer interested.