truelove: A woman in high heels on a chimney (fashion)
I have been experimenting with makeup, lately. It's been -- interesting, definitely. For a variety of reasons, I don't care for subtle. I want it to be *obvious* that I am wearing makeup, that I have chosen to paint my face. I'm not super keen on conforming to the standard forms of femininity, so my lipstick by preference so far has been black and green.

But I picked up a couple shades of red that are -- well, they're pretty damn bold. One's called This Corrosion, it pretty well IS the colour of rust. The other's Undead Red, which is a dark plum that's almost brown. But they are in the red palette so I can get away with them at work.

The thing that's interesting about that is, my work manual says makeup must be subtle. Subtle? Subtle this is not. And most of the women who work here who wear makeup don't wear particularly subtle makeup.

"Subtle" here actually means close to the established norms of femme makeup. How close? Who knows. I mean, black lipstick would be too far of course. But a painfully obviously unnatural shade of something-vaaaguely-red is A-OK, so basically what the fuck. Beauty standards are completely bizarre.

(The other thing that was disconcerting as fuck was being completely thrown by a compliment on my lipstick. I -- was really deeply uncomfortable with the implication of praise on buckling down and conforming to feminine beauty standards. I, uh. I have some dysphoria on that score, sometimes.)
truelove: an orange tabby cat looking down, to the left, away from the camera (Default)
solid brass loops with mother of pearl crosses hanging from them

(they haven't arrived yet, but soon they shall. *rubs hands together in gleeful, villainish fashion* my pretties!)
truelove: an orange tabby cat looking down, to the left, away from the camera (Default)
Honest, I'll post the story behind that create-a-recipe contest one of these days.

Right now, I'm sitting here totally creeped out at the Mariah Carey music video I just watched. Putting aside the disturbing content of the song and video both, what was leaving me most creeped out was the fact that Ms. Carey is, like others, approaching the Uncanny Valley from the other side.

Seriously I was watching her going you... you look like a robot. The boobs failing to hang correctly didn't help, but mostly it was that her skin was all plasticine. I mean, not just her face. All of her skin was, and we certainly got to see a lot of it. Now, I don't know how much of that was makeup/etc. and how much of that was in post (less than would be in a still image, probably, but possibly still some of it).

But it doesn't really matter when or how it happened because I ended up with the visceral creeps. I mean I'd actually have been less creeped out if it *had* been a robot.

This is what's attractive? This is our future? I want to opt out, thanks. (Sadly, easier said than done.)

cleaning...

Sep. 6th, 2009 08:05 pm
truelove: an orange tabby cat looking down, to the left, away from the camera (Default)
So having tackled my closet, washed everything, and pulled out the stuff that I can't or won't wear anymore (I still need to take stuff to Goodwill and/or consignment stores but they're all sorted at least), I went on to cleaning the rest of the bedroom. That was basically today's project.

I got everything tidied, the surfaces wiped down, and the floors cleaned. I didn't get the bathroom cleaned except for the floors getting a basic swipedown. I am totally wrung out and exhausted and I'll probably have to medicate heavily tomorrow if I end up getting called in to work.

Once upon a time I could blitz clean an entire house in a DAY. Including a bit of tidying, yes. I'd be totally, utterly trashed after, but the entire HOUSE would be clean. And the next day I'd be a bit sore and achy and that was it.

Then it was, I couldn't do more than a couple of rooms. And now it's, I can completely clean a single room and that's my sheer end-of-the-line physical limit.

That's disability for you: your physical limits change. And they keep changing. And all you can do is learn to adapt and work around it; you can't fix it, you can't get back to Where You Once Were.

If I don't get called in to work, I'll clean the bathroom tomorrow. That'll be My Project, because after today, I won't have enough energy tomorrow to do more than that and be able to do anything *else*.

At least the bedroom is now clean! I need to find myself a nice rug or a mat so I can meditate down there.
truelove: an orange tabby cat looking down, to the left, away from the camera (Default)
While I'm not in a position to make any major expenditures at this point in time, I am currently looking at what it would take to overhaul my wardrobe to a pantsless state. This post is totally inspirational and, well. Pants and my figure really don't get along. I have wide hips, a high and very short waist, and no ass. Nobody cuts pants to fit me properly.

Plus, I really like wearing skirts. Part of this is that most of my pants have died terrible deaths and haven't been arsed to go replace them, but I find myself drawn to skirts by preference. I do plan to buy a pair or two of comfy jeans to have around; I'm sure there will be days I just want to slouch around in jeans. But I think explicitly going pantsless on the whole would make me like my wardrobe a lot better.

So, I am looking at skirts and leggings and dresses! Got any suggestions for your favourite places to find those? Online and off! Admittedly, phoenix metro would be good to stick to for offline suggestions. *g*

The looks I am kind of going for are going to be punk professional on the dressy end and geeky business casual with a punk edge for the casual end. Definitely planning to layer a lot, using tissue tees under fitted tees, so I can be warm in the winter. (Shut up, non-locals! Seriously. I do not want to hear it; I get cold during the winter here, and you can just shut up. )

I'm planning to hit up My Sister's Closet/Attic and other thrift stores, as well as shopping online for things. I really, really hate full-length tights, so I'm interested in thigh-high tights and knee-high socks both. Thicker leggings, too, definitely. And *dresses*.

Anyway! We'll see how this goes. I'm going to have to dig through my closet and weed things out; stuff I'm not wearing anyway needs to go. And it's something I can work on right now.
truelove: an orange tabby cat looking down, to the left, away from the camera (Default)
Reading through some fat-positive and body acceptance related blogs right now. Stumbled over into that part of the blogosphere via a link to this lady's blog and found myself particularly enamoured of this post addressing the bullshit statistics of obesity, along with helpful photographic illustrations.

Having a lot of thoughts, not least of which is: jesus christ the unhealthy messages are embedded so fucking deeply in our culture. I actually really like how my body looks lately, and I keep going "...but I could stand to lose some weight, really," and then stopping and listening to myself and wanting to shoot myself.

When I was a teenager I was very thin; thin enough people commented on it. I had trouble staying warm, it hurt to sit on hard seats. (Well, it still does, but for different reasons.) Even when I was 16, and quit gymnastics I was still quite slender. I thought weighing yourself was bullshit, too, because I weighed 140 and people still thought I was on the thin side and chronically under-guessed my weight at least 20, if not 30 pounds.

Then puberty finished hitting me upside the head, ages 16-18, and I had a hell of a rack which in all honesty is probably where most of the 10 lbs I gained after quitting gymnastics went. I was still pretty damn slender, though. When I moved when I was 18, I gained weight again. Stress, I am sure, and probably my body filling out that last little bit.

I remember when I was thinner and stepping on the scale was a pure curiousity and I didn't give a shit whatsoever what I ate. And -- mostly I've kept that. Except how I haven't. Now I think about diets and have to actively reject that kind of thinking. Now I think about how much bullshit the BMI is in a very personal, and not abstract way.

And, you know, I think so much of it has to do with clothing and fashion. I managed not to give a shit much one way or the other when I could find clothing that fit me. But these days? Clothing and clothes-shopping tells me, you are too fat, too busty, too curvy, too hour-glassed. Too too. Stay home and hide yourself, there's nothing for you here.

And it's just about impossible not to start internalising that shit.

I've been struggling with myself to not worry about my weight, about dieting, about being slender and perfect, for my cosplay for Club Vivid at [livejournal.com profile] vividcon this year. I'm cosplaying T'Pol and, and -- god knows, I know, that everyone there isn't going to give a shit that I'm probably at least fifty pounds heavier than Blalock. Except maybe me. And I'm working on that.

Right now my project is: eat healthy, nutritious foods (you know, all the ones that I actually do love), and eat at the right times. And eat enough protein. Because my energy levels are a hell of a lot more important than some fucking meaningless number.

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