*Guest Post* Overcoming an Eating Disorder

A couple of weeks ago, I put a call/challenge/plea out on my Facebook page asking for Guest Bloggers who would be interested in sharing their experiences fighting the fight against All Things Expected Of Their Bodies / Body Type.

The level of response was incredible!

About our Guest Blogger

Her personality is even *more* colorful!

Her personality is even *more* colorful!

Brittany is a mother, a wife, and a friend that I have never had the joy of meeting in person. That’s Facebook for you, right? What I value in her, however, doesn’t require a close proximity to appreciate; she says it best herself:

“I’m fighting for the girls who never thought they could win.”

How can you not love that?

Enough of my blither-blather! Here’s Brittany’s post, all about how her children, husband, mental illness, and a rare medical condition rescued her from an eating disorder. I think you’ll agree that it’s truly worth the read.


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Dare to BE: Boudoir Shoot Time!

I can’t believe this took so long to get to you!
What can I say? I had to migrate my website, and then ALL FOUR of my kids got sick, then I discovered how much I like eating store-brand Nutella straight from the jar (no middleman!), then there was a work event to prepare for…



Insert “wailing of shame”, here.
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How to Push

A few months ago, I took a pole dance class.

During that class, I was confronted with what my body could/could not do and what I thought my body could/could not do… and it changed me.

Hell, I was changed even before I set foot in the door; for the week leading up to the class, I was brainstorming and talking with my husband about all the things fat men and women are told they can’t do or are too scared to try, and how I could help them face their fears. I was so fired up about facing a fear of my own – being sexy and vulnerable and moving my body in such a different way – that I felt unflappably powerful and capable of helping others.

Then life happened.
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State of BEing: Depression

Well, this is embarrassing.
Here I am, this self-proclaimed badass, Super Mom, Do-All-The-Things chick, yelling “I don’t need no approval” just as much as I am yelling for cupcakes in the workplace (not really, but now I want to), and I find myself scared to post how I’m feeling, for fear that I will… I don’t know. Let my family and friends down? Lose readers? Be judged for being fat AND depressed?

What does that say about our society, that we fear being called fat AND that we fear mental illness in any of its forms as even worse?

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On The Pole & In My Head

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before:
“A fat woman walked into a pole dance class…”

Even with all of my confidence and “GO, ME!” and fiercely held belief that the only person truly holding someone back is themselves… I still walked in to my private pole and exotic dance session at Dolphin Dance on Sunday afternoon with the echoes of 20+ years of self-doubt on my heels. Not only was I keenly aware of this injury (left knee, left wrist in a brace, only 9 weeks postpartum) or that insecurity (my arms are really jiggly, what if I can’t support myself on the pole?), but there was that loud, nagging, perpetuated falsehood ricocheting in my head that says that fat woman not only can’t look sexy while dancing, but pole dancing?

Out of the question.

Enter my friend, Emily.
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IMMEDIATE FOLLOW-UP POST: Opposite of “Frexting”!

Yesterday, I was all about the frext; that delightful new term that is all about sending flirty, would-normally-classify-as-sexting-if-it-weren’t-sent-to-your-BFFs pictures via text/instant photo sharing (like Snapchat), that open the sender up to encouragement, compliments, support and empowerment.

Well, the world hath come full circle today, lovelies, and it is a sad, sad thing.

Let me ‘splain:
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