fashion

The misuse of the word “Curvy”

Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue features its first-ever plus-size model”  I couldn’t help myself but clicking on the darn article. I am not skinny at all. But I am not fat either- mostly hourglass shaped. I have some junk in the trunk but the trunk is not overflowing if you know what I mean. So I click on this article and I get mad. Further I scroll down, more annoyed I get.

Somehow the “beauty” industry either has to go Holocaust skinny or obese with their models and label them as “curvy.” I’m almost insulted the way they use the word curvy. Because when I saw Ashley Graham on that cover she does not look curvy but she looks fat. And she can be whatever size she wants to be, but I wish they wouldn’t call her curvy. Because curves mean something else. Or at least, it used to mean something else.

It is hard to write this as I encourage the industry to move away from the ghostly skinny standards, but encouraging obesity is not something they should do either. Obesity-related conditions include heart disease, stroke, type 2 diabetes and certain types of cancer.

American women have to stop hiding under the layer of “curviness” when they are actually fat. If you want to be fat, fine, be fat. I like to be fat too sometimes. But the bigger concern is that Americans are misinformed on what being fat these days actually means. More than one-third of American adults are obese. We’ve gotten so used to seeing our obese friends we compare ourselves to them. My Mom is fat, my sister is fat, my Dad is fat…. but I mean, compared to those really fat people I see elsewhere, they are normal sized, right?

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Five different Titanic love stories

I’ve probably seen Titanic too many times. So have you. Don’t deny it. We’ve all sobbed, cursing the guy who didn’t spot the iceberg on time and blamed the vain, fame-seeking captain. We’ve all cried our eyes out when Rose was letting go of Jack, and felt a sense of strength and hope when she blew on that high-pitched whistle to alert people she was still alive.

I watch Titanic every so often; the story, as cheesy as it is, still appeals to me. It is the good kind of romance, the good kind of passion and the good kind of how something changes your life forever. However, I noticed that as I age, so does the way I view the love story changes.

AGE

15-ish- As any teen, I above all believed in love. The obsession they felt for each other, how they secretly met up and stole kisses and enamored glances, how they lied about Rose’s slip. It was more than romantic, it was what life was all about. Finding that one person… He was there to save her, and he ultimately saved her in the end. Love conquers all, and heartbroken Rose will forever be devoted to him, despite him laying at the bottom of the ocean. Oh, and I got a little embarrassed by the sex scene.

19ish- Starting college in my real life, I wondered how did Rose know he was the one. I had yet to meet someone so special that I would run away with and leave everything behind. The question became how can I meet the one? Is Jake the one because he is the one or because he is the only one that turns her world inside out and based on that she thinks he is the one?

24ish-  What will they do when the passion fades away? Is Rose really equipped to survive in Jack’s world? I, for one, would not leave her world just so I could wear those beautiful dresses. OK, OK, just kidding. I get it that she’s crazy in love, but having had a guy or two at that point I learned passion is not the same as love.

28ish- Marrying a rich guy who seems to want to make her happy doesn’t sound so bad. He is not even that horrendously bad-looking. He could provide for her if only she accepted him. Aren’t arranged marriages known to be very successful? People learn how to love one another and Rose should probably learn how to love the rich guy. Instead, she is messing around with the “artist” who can kind of provide for himself but could never provide for her…. And omg, is there really a future with someone who is an artist? Can’t he get a real job?

32ish- I miss the simple view of their love that I had when I was 15. Even if it was just passion and reckless thinking, for them at the time it felt like it was real. More real than imaginable. When was the last time I met somebody so special I wanted to run away with them? When was the last time I looked at something with pink, and not realistic glasses?

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