Lately I’ve become a bit disenchanted with the fatshionsphere. While it’s empowering to know you can get away with wearing whatever you want and look beautiful, you need to have money, confidence, willpower, energy, etc. to be able to acquire new clothes and/or presume the ones you have in your closet on a regular basis. Not every day I get dressed up. I spend entire days in pyjamas and no make-up, I repeat outfits several times a week, and – oh my god! – I don’t truly give a shit about brands, models or designers. I enjoy what some of them do, but I don’t have the stamina to be always.up.to.date.all.the.time in the fa(t)shion industry. That’s not my main field nor my priority. Fatshion – or fatstyle? As fashion is temporary but style is forever – is just a small part of what truly concerns me and what I truly need to do to survive: self-care. Wearing nice clothes helps when you can do it. So when I can, I will show it off. Nevertheless, I want this place to be more focused on the overall concept of self-care and mental health. Something closer to what definatalie does. Obviously, I will never be as cool as her, but her approach is one I enjoy the best, and learning tricks from her has saved my life a little.
So what have I been doing to take care of myself these days?
When I was in high school and, later, in uni, I was a devouring books machine. I would swallow entire novels in less than a week, mostly without leaving the campus, spending hours at either the community centre lounge or the central garden deep into my Rimbaud, my Mishima, my Sartre and Baudelaire. Shiny happy people (not!). I would scribble things on the margin of those borrowed books from the library (naughty!), or transcribe entire quotes to my notebook and keep them close to my heart. If I didn’t do it on campus, I would do it on the bus. Always blasting music into my ears. That’s how I dealt with life. Well, now as an unemployed temporary housewife and living less than five minutes away from a library, I have been reading a bit more. This weekend alone, I started getting into two book I had wanted to read for ages: AIDS and its metaphors by Susan Sontag, and Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi. The first one, acquired thanks to a LJ book sale by Kirsty, is a continuation of Illness and its metaphors by the same author, and it talks about the stigma of AIDS – as a parallel to the stigma of cancer, ten years before, on Illness… – and the representation of it as a war, with an eventual villainisation of the victims themselves. Makes me wonder if Sontag, if she was alive now, would write something on Obesity and its metaphors. Not that fatness is a disease (it is not!), but just like decades ago we were on a ‘war against AIDS’ and a ‘war against cancer’, and people with AIDS or cancer were shunned and stereotyped in diverse negative ways, now it occurs against those larger than a certain size. Persepolis, which was waiting for me at the LOROS round the corner, is a graphic novel about a little girl – Marjane herself – growing up in a fundamentalist Iran and amidst a civil and external war. Last night I read the first 111 pages, and it has been such an adventure. Laughter, tears, moments that reflect – on a minor scale – my personal life and bring many reminders of my home country being at a civil war. I wonder how my smaller cousins and nieces are coping with it right now. And my friends. Specially this quote reminds me of them and the mechanisms we had and they still have to keep on living:
In spite of all the dangers, the parties went on. “Without them it wouldn’t be psychologically bearable,” some said. “Without parties, we might as well just bury ourselves now,” added the others.
Last weekend, I followed the live broadcast of Coachella. I love music and festivals, and have always wanted to go to Coachella. I have memories from uni about my friends going and me not being able to. Last year, Mel and Phil went as part of their North American road trip (luckyyyyy!), and I wish David and I could do the same thing one year. Maybe when we’re back in Mexico and go on a group with all of our friends? *sigh* Whatever, I saw it live from home, mostly the reruns, and enjoyed it thoroughly. My fave performances were Pulp, Kasabian, Wild Flag, and the reunions of Refused and At the Drive-In. I rewatched the last three yesterday, while David was collecting our stuff from the flat up north. I’m not as fan of Refused as I am of ATDI and Wild Flag, but their gig was highly emotional and edifying. I sobbed like a baby at the end, when Dennis Lyxzen said this bit in ‘Tannhäuser/Derivé’:
You know, folks? I don’t know a lot about things in life, but I know one thing: always fucking stay curious, always fucking stay wild, always question shit, ’cause this is the only fucking chance we get. This is not the rehearsal. This is the only chance we get. So do the fucking best out of it, alright?
Yep, another ‘motivational’ quote on this post. I am my aunt’s niece after all. Next thing you know, Jesus Christ Power Points!
Had a quick trip to London on Thursday. Saw a friend from Monterrey who is living now in Bounds Green, a few ex-schoolmates, and some awesome radfatties and allies. I will make separate posts about them later. It was a beautiful day.
As I have not been having any luck looking for jobs in the arts field, and actually *I really love words*, been looking to get more qualifications to work in publishing. All my grammar/spelling fixation could actually get me money, so I got looked for proofreading courses. I found one at ICS, but after finding negative reviews that said you could learn much better getting books by yourself, I got a guide on Freelance Proofreading and Copy-editing and another one on Succeeding as a Freelancer in Publishing. I am carefully reading the first one, highlighting all the information, revising, making diagrams and flashcards, being my own teacher. It is quite exciting and makes my pet peeves feel useful.
I have mentioned definatalie and doing your nails as self-care, so I continue doing it. Also, inspired by Flaii and Carla, I am doing my best to get my long hair all curly. It was curly when it was very short, but now it’s falling on its own weight and looking more wavy than curly. But I want currrrrrrrrrrrrrrls.
This place will work to continue sharing all these nice things I do literally ‘for a living’. I have updated the categories and the menu to make cataloguing and browsing more effective. Will probably add a bio or something in the near future. Nearer than further, hopefully. 😉