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rambledmusings · 7 days

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Spiderman Slides

The joy of opening a bag of hand-me-downs, dumping them out on the coffee table, and going through them with my mother will always pull a strange nostalgia from deep in my bones. My best friend's mom had given mine the bag when we had hung out last, and we'd only just gotten around to sorting it. As we sorted through his outgrown clothes, my mom held each garment up for my inspection and then folded it into piles by size. I was scrawny, and given my mother's impressive stature of five-foot-nil it was likely to stay that way. I was her daughter, after all. I peered down into the bag, excited at the overwhelming abundance of Cool Clothes- these were graphic tees, jeans with the elastic that lets you tighten the waistband, and... A pair of light-up Spiderman slides. I remember distinctly how the vinyl of the decals was raised on the edges, the way the stitches felt so sharp compared to the smooth plastic, and that I instantly fell in love with them. I'd been a girly girl my whole life, at least in appearance. My hair was long and white-blonde, the kind you know will darken with age to a dishwater brown but is striking while it lasts, and I always had it done- braided, curled, dip-dyed, or in pig-tails. I wore a Hello Kitty shirt and an original My Little Pony sequined backpack to my first day of kindergarten, for goodness sake. Outside of my appearance, I was a goblin. I ran feral and barefoot every hour I could, dug in the dirt with bare hands until the soil stained my nailbeds, caught frogs and lizards and garter snakes without flinching. A wild child, my family would say. Those slides called to me in a way Hello Kitty and My Little Pony never had- such a clearly 'boy' item of clothing, and I wanted them in a way I couldn't explain. My mom had set them to the side, they were too big, but I didn't care. I wore them until the soles fell off. Today, I feel that same calling to certain items of clothing- baggy jeans and military-grade boots, a t-shirt just a little bit too big to hide my binder. Today, I feel that same thrill of nostalgia when my transfemme friends give me the clothes they wore in middle school and outgrew years ago. It's the thrill of the childhood I wish I'd had, wearing t-shirts with Transformers or Power Rangers on them, jeans with holes worn through the knee, puffy skater shoes, and baggy polo tees. It's not fashionable, it doesn't look great on me, and it absolutely gets me carded for looking like a 14-year-old, but after a childhood wasted being careful not to stain my dress or tear my tights, I feel I've earned a cheesy t-shirt or three.

#ftm #trans #prose #venting #vent post

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writerleo86 · 15 days

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Terravenger Season 6 -- The Agents of Light Arc - Episode 514 (Do Not Copy) - 02.14.2024

During one late evening, the cheerless Cama Veil sat at his desk while inside the Principal's Office at the Pluto Academy.

Cama wore a zipped white shirt with three small pockets placed on both sides of its front. At each side along with the back of the waist was colored blue. And the shirt had a pair of short sleeves that were colored green-blue. He had on a pair of baggy khaki pants with a golden belt that had a squared silver buckle. He also wore dark-brown gloves and short black boots that had white at the middle. And his PAF badge was placed on the front left side of his shirt.

He stared forward as he thought to himself.

During one evening, a door opened and someone slowly walked into the living room of a small house.

The person was Cama Veil as a nine year-old child. He had fair skin, blue eyes, and longer dark hair. He wore a white T-shirt underneath a buttoned red shirt that had long sleeves and a fair collar. Both his shirts were tucked into a pair of long light-gray jeans with a thick black belt. He also had on a pair of short gray socks. And he wore white shoes.

The boy walked into the kitchen as he carried his brown backpack. And he found his mother reading from her blue tablet which she held with her right hand. And she sat at the far end of a wooden table.

Cami wore a pink shirt with short light-blue sleeves, tight gray jeans, and short light-brown boots.

After placing his backpack on the table, Cama sat down and lowered his head.

"How's your day of school?" asked his mother.

Cama looked up at her and cried "Did we really have to move here?"

Cami placed her tablet down on the table as she told her son "We needed a new start. I thought that Pluto City would be a better place for us."

The small child lowered his head once again as Cami gave a soft smile.

The mother told Cama "You're a bright boy. And a high spirit. You'll find some friends soon."

Knocks suddenly came from the door at the front of the home. Cami hurried into the living room as Cama remained at the center. The mother opened the door. And standing outside were three children that appeared to be the same age as Young Cama.

At the right side was a skinny girl with fair skin and light-blue eyes. And her short dark-brown hair was placed in two pig-tails. She wore a long gray shirt with short sleeves, long light-blue jeans, and short dark-brown boots.

The one standing by her was a boy with fair skin, brown eyes, and short dark-brown hair that was wavy. And he was average built. He had on a white T-shirt, a sleeveless black vest, long light-brown jeans, white socks, and brown shoes.

The other was a larger boy with bright skin and blue-gray eyes. His dark-brown hair was short and spiked up. He wore a pale-green T-shirt, khaki shorts, white socks, and gray shoes.

The boy remaining at the middle had asked "Hello ma'am, is Cama here?"

Young Cama hurried to the door and found the three children.

He soon cried to the boy in the middle "You're from school! You're Bries, right?"

"Yep," answered the other boy. "The name's Andy Bries. We have homeroom together."

Then Bries implied "We followed you from school. We're looking for another body to be in our team. We're planning Flag Football at the park nearby."

The girl asked "We came to ask if you'd like to play."

The larger boy commented "We heard you played a bit of football at your last school."

Cama held his right fist to his chest as he answered "Yeah, I play a little football."

"Well?" asked the girl. "Can you help us?"

And Bries told him "You'll be helping us out big time. We don't know anybody else that knows how to play ball."

Cama looked up at his mother and asked "Can I go?"

Cami shook her head with a relieved smile and told him "Go for it. Have fun."

The happy Cama rushed out the door and walked off with the three friends.

"By the way," The girl told Cama. "I'm Leta Myers."

And the larger boy cried "And I'm Wes Onni!"

"It's great to meet you guys," said Cama.

A few minutes later, Cama held a picture with his right hand which were of four young people standing in front of two beautiful trees during a bright morning.

The person standing at the far right side was an older Leta Myers. She had fair skin and light-blue eyes. The front part of her long hair was colored black while the other parts were red-violet. And the top part of her hair was tied in a high tail. She also had on black eyeliner and pink lipstick. She wore a buttoned white shirt with a fine collar and long sleeves. She also had on a pair of long black pants. And her feet were covered in short black boots.

Another who remained by her left side was Cama Veil with fair skin, blue eyes, short brown hair, and a slender body. He wore a mauve shirt that had short dark-purple sleeves. He also had on a pair of pale-blue jeans, white socks, and short brown boots.

The boy standing beside him was his closest friend, Andrew Bries. He had fair skin, blue eyes, an average body, and a clean face. His dark-brown hair was nearly shaved off. He had on a buttoned gray shirt with a thin collar and long sleeves. He wore a pair of gray dress-pants, black socks, and light-brown shoes. And he wore a black stocking cap on his head.

And the other boy standing at the far left side was Wesley Onni. He was a larger-built youth with bright skin and blue-gray eyes. He had short dark-brown hair with a white cap covering the top part. He wore a white T-shirt with a V neck. He had on pale-blue jeans, gray socks, and pale-brown shoes. And he had on an opened khaki coat with a thick collar made of white fur.

The emotional Cama shook his head and said "I wish we can go back to this. The four of us together again."

Then someone walked into the office. It was his faithful lieutenant named Drea Hanen. She had light skin, green eyes, and an average-built body. She had long dark-brown hair that was made into two tails which remained at the left side. And the right side of her head was shaved off. She had on a black shirt with a thick golden collar and long white sleeve covering her left arm. Placed on her opened right arm were her two tattoos. She also wore a pair of baggy purple pants and long black boots. And her PAF badge remained on the front left side of her chest.

Hanen walked toward the front of the desk as her commander laid the picture face down.

And Cama told her "We shall work with Midas to take down the Bringer and his followers."

Hanen shook her head and said "Yes sir."

Then the stern commander added "I'll speak with Commander Ravenstone directly. I'll try to get him to surrender the Storms boy. And we'll keep the boy secured till Mephistopheles is finally neutralized."

A small group of the villainous group rose from within the middle of the grasslands during the late evening. And they all stared forward at the front part of Midas City's entire location with the sadistic Aika leading them.

Standing by her right side was the tall agent known as Kalree. He had light skin, cold brown eyes, and a slender but well-built body. His long brown hair was combed back and tied into a low pony-tail. He had his three silver pins pierced in a vertical pattern above his right eye as another pin remained on his chin. He also had on black eyeliner and purple lipstick. He had on his long black robe that had long sleeves and a purple hood laying on his back. Underneath his robe was a collared black shirt with a long dark-blue tie. And the white skull crest remained on the tie's knot. He also had on a pair of black dress-pants, black socks, and shiny black shoes.

The hooded soldiers wearing black stood behind the pair as another person walked to the left side of their leader. This was an older man with pale skin, gray eyes, and a slender body. He had warm-gray hair that lowered past his ears. And he had pale-violet lips. He wore a buttoned white shirt underneath a long black robe that was buttoned. And placed on the front left side of the robe was the white skull crest. He also had on a pair of black dress-pants. And he wore a pair of short black boots.

Aika gave a soft smile and implied "The Midas Armed Forces. They appear to be well prepared."

Kalree reported "There indeed is a fine barrier covering the entire city starting from this area."

The older agent leaned his head to the left side as he tapped the fingers from each hand together repeatedly. He soon gave a wicked smile.

He informed Aika in a soft voice "They have brought in a shield to protect their fair city. Yes, yes. But there is more than one way to get into the city without detection."

And Aika continued staring at the city as she gave a vicious grin.

Terravenger -- Season 6

Episode 514: Retrieving the Vessel; Duo's Persona is Analyzed

At the club called UltraLights, the overwhelmed Beau Ravenstone had sat at the center of a long bar as he drunk small sips from a small glass cup.

The commander wore a collared white shirt with long sleeves underneath an opened black coat that had a thick golden cuff around each wrist. He had his golden MAF badge placed on the front left side of his shirt. He also had on a pair of long gray pants. And he wore white shoes.

And the club's owner walked toward the left side of the seated commander. Rian Simms was a younger man with fair skin, green eyes, short dark-blond hair, and a fair beard. And he wore a pair of black glasses with orange lenses. He wore a buttoned green shirt that had a thick collar and long sleeves. Tied around his neck was a long light-orange sash. And he wore a thin black watch around his right wrist. He also had on a pair of tight green pants with vertical purple lines. And he wore brown boots with silver toe caps.

The calm Rian had asked "Everyone at Midas knows that Storms kid is your son?"

Beau drank another sip of his drink and informed the barista "I have only informed the main staff because of what has happened as of late."

Rian blew a small breath from his mouth and commented "Uau, isso e legal! So the Bringer's really coming after him. Surely you doubled up on security."

"We have," answered Beau. "Seven of Nine made certain that the barrier which surrounds the city at this moment is fully functional."

"That's good and all," said Rian. "But did you get some soldiers to guard the kid's home?"

Beau shook his head and reported "I have asked a few soldiers to hide themselves as they watch over my son and his family."

Rian shook his head and questioned "How is it between you and the Storms boy?"

Beau lowered his head and told him "Duo Storms has come to terms with this. But he wishes to have nothing to do with me. He was recently threatened by Denny to stay away."

"That kid Denny," commented Rian. "He must love running his mouth and being very territorial."

Then Beau replied "Denny is still angry about losing Tai. I also still grieve for Tai."

Rian nodded his head and added "That, and Denny's pissed off about something else."

Beau implied "Him being that way must be the account of his lifestyle and past. Duo has become more popular among many of the students including the girls. This is simply a form of rivalry with him and Denny although Duo has never had a problem with Denny."

"That may be the case," inserted Rian. "And Denny's brash behavior lately."

Beau gave a soft smile and replied "I am certain Denny will calm himself if her were to learn about Duo as an individual. I know that Duo is kind underneath his tough exterior."

"You know," described Rian. "Every trait you described. And from what I saw. He could be a exact copy of Tai."

"Perhaps," implied Beau. "It seems Duo has many traits that describe Tai definitely including the both of them being caring and very supportive of those around them."

Rian agreed by shaking his head and Beau added "But Duo's courageous persona has turned into troubled due to the hold that the Bringer has over him."

"Yeah," answered Rian. "Mephistopheles will stop at nothing to have Duo in his grasp."

And Beau told him "I will do everything in my power to keep Duo protected. I will do this not only as a soldier for Midas City, but as his father."

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captain-tiggy · 3 years

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The moment when Nomadland, directed by Chloe Zhao, won for Best Picture at the 2021 Golden Globes.

Chloe Zhao also made history as the first woman of color, and only the second woman ever, to win Best Director at the Golden Globes with her victory for Nomadland. (Feb. 28, 2021)

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inctlife · 4 years

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physical description of the nct dream kids

disclaimer: when i describe the kids physical description, please understand that i mean only the attributes they inherit from their dads! i believe that part of creating an au like this is how cool it is that people can just have their own image of the kids !!

huang renjun’s

changming

5’9” (175cm)

long and sharp eyes that look similar to renjun’s but like ,,, pointy-er

just overall really soft features lol

always loves to look good so you always see him wearing shirts or shirt trousers and a jumper or smth

has longish dark brown hair that’s kinda styled upwards

has quite a big scar on his ear from where he ripped it open and had to get it sewed again

(that hurt a lot)

huiliang

5’6” (168cm) bullies his dad for making him short

and renjun just looks down at him like ‘oh well my dude’

has quite long hair , like long enough that he can tie back, but it’s more yuta-esque then scruffy

absolutely always wears t-shirts that plug his youtube channel

has renjun’s facial features overall

quite pale

jinjing

5’2” (158cm)

pale + skinny

says she was born to be a gremlin and her brothers agree

baggy clothes agenda

well–

tight trousers and baggy t-shirts/jumpers

has long (boob-wasit length) light brown hair that’s lightly curly and no one really knows where that came from tbh

lee jeno’s

hoon

really sharp facial features

eye smile :)

5’9” (177cm)

just basically is his dad lmao

really muscly and has loads of muscle definition

only difference is that hoon has this big birth mark that goes up the side of his neck

yeah

hani

5’5” (165cm)

has her dad’s facial features but just like ,, a bit rounder

like she’s got a rounded chin, not a squared one and her nose is just slightly more button like

but still, eye smiles for days :)

she’s rlly sporty but she’s not skinny she’s kinda thicc + just quite curvy

shoulder length black hair

she likes wearing hair bands (like alice bands ,, the ones across ur whole head)

likes wearing dainty pieces of jewellery

+ has glasses but often just wears contacts

haon

body exactly like jeno but ... bigger

5’10” (178cm)

and BIG muscles

i mean like,, seo changbin big

like,,,, smaller than wonho, but that kinda feeling

we young era jeno hair, but dark brown

has his dad’s facial features but once again a big softer lol

has a scar on his collarbone from god knows what

glasses

lee donghyuck’s

moonsun

mELANIN

yes

lowkey chubby as well, but like has toned calves and toned arms

has donghyuck’s eyes and lil nose uwu

has really long dark brown hair that’s kinda wavy

loves putting it in pig tails

not physical but has haechan’s laugh as well

has a very girly sense of style ,, but does like wearing her dad’s clothes

5’3” (160cm)

miyeon

meLANIN

quite skinny

has haechan’s lil smile uwu and you can definitely see resemblance in their eyes

boob length hair that’s layered (light brown bc she dyes highlights into it)

has a similar sense of style to hyuck’s

so basically a freakin fashion icon

has a scar on her brow bone lol from where she smacked her face on the coffee table and burst open her eyebrow

5’5” (165cm)

minji

meLANIN

do you sense a theme

has like shoulder-boob length hair that’s kinda wavy/curly which is light brown

likes wearing pastel coloured clothes + accessories + makeup

5’2” (157cm)

basically the girl version of donghyuck

has her dad’s eyes

minhyuk

MELANIN

okay so body type is basically exactly like haechan but,, when he’s on the thiccer side

can you tell i’m big on the haechan thicc agenda

has lots of moles

enjoys doing eye makeup on himself

5’9” (175cm)

has haechan’s lips

has a red birth mark on his jawline that just looks like a constant cut

na jaemin’s

areum

jaemin’s twin

has jaemin’s smile + his pretty lil eyes + his straight ass nose as well

5’3” (160cm)

enjoys wearing her dad’s and/or her brother’s clothes

9 times out of 10 she’ll be wearing doc martens

cool guy tbh

has waist length hair with a full fringe as well :)

it’s light brown :)

there are some pink bits in it :)

hanuel

5’10” (178cm)

has jaemin’s smile as well!!! overall looks more like jaemin tbh :)

has quite short light brown hair

soft boy style !!!

likes stealing areum’s clothes

but jokes on him cause most of those clothes are jaemin’s anyway

uju

5’8” (173cm)

has jaemin’s eyes & smile :D

lots of muscle definition

has the same kind of style as jaemin

so like lots of just black + white ,, leather jackets ,, shirts

has long-ish dark brown hair

has a scar across his tummy :/

zhong chenle’s

zihao

facial features-wise he looks more like his mum

but sometimes he’ll just sit there and you just look at him and be like ‘oh shit he really do be chenle’s son’

yea

chenle ‘s dimples!!!!!!

likes wearing button-up shirts with funky patterns

5’11” (180cm)

kinda long hair that always looks rlly soft

weisheng

basically chenle’s twin lol

5’11” (182cm)

chenle’s eyes + chenle’s nose + chenle’s smile + chenle’s dimples!!!!

kinda chubby

soft hair

has a scar on his ear from where he pierced it himself and then he and sejun kinda proceeded to rip it out by accident

cause they’re dumbasses

park jisung’s

sunmi

kinda lanky

5’10” (178cm) + quite skinny

has boob length hair + a thin fringe that she kinda swoops back a lot of the time

dyed it orangey-blonde when she was like 15 and tbh it looks really good

rlly pretty hands ? lol nails are always painted orange

has the mousey look that jisung has

basically has his nose + lips

sejun

has his dad’s eyes

but doesn’t look extremely similar lol

mostly cause sejun’s hair is pretty short

basically shaved on the sides

6’1” (186cm)

has a scar on his lower lip from being a dumbass in someway smh

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direocean · 4 years

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Just My Luck - Chapter 4

A Single Silver Bullet

Main Characters: Werewolf!Jacksepticeye, Hunter!Markiplier, Chica

Summary: Sean went to LA to visit friends and ended up staying at Mark’s house for the duration of the trip. He discovers something about Mark that he wished he had known before; and now he’s in a heap of trouble.

Pairing: None

Warnings: Strong Language, Blood, Character in Pain

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

(Yeah, you’re gonna want to go back and read the previous chapters before jumping in here)

Suddenly the fact that he was hungry was completely wiped from Seàn’s mind as pain pulsed through his abdomen. His rational thinking mind was restored and he headed back to Mark’s house. It would be the last place Mark would look for the injured werewolf.

So, Seàn lied down in the shadows behind the garbage bins by the pool shed. He stayed there, quietly whimpering until the morning sun began to light up the sky, bringing the transformation along with it.

It hurt ten times more than usual, what with there being a fucking silver bullet in his gut and all. As soon as it was over, Seàn dragged his aching body to the patio doors. Locked.

And so, one painful grip after the other, he pulled himself up the side of the house using the vines to get to his bedroom window.

Mark wasn’t home yet, so Seàn quickly put on pants, grabbed an old t-shirt, and rushed to the bathroom.

He looked at the bleeding, oozing hole in his stomach in the mirror.

“Fuck…” he muttered. “Way to go, Seàn. You’ve managed to get yourself fucking shot.”

He used the old t-shirt he had grabbed and held it against the wound.

“Fucking silver.” he said, on the verge of crying.

He then, without giving himself a chance to think twice about it, dug his fingers into the hole, found the bullet, and yanked it out.

“FUUUUCK…” he hissed through his teeth.

He bent over and leaned his head against the counter to try and gather himself, tears pouring from his eyes.

It took a few moments, but finally he began to clean up the blood that somehow had managed to spatter everywhere with the old t-shirt. His gut burned. Normally it would take only an hour or so to heal a wound like this, but the bullet had been made of silver, and now would probably take all day.

Seàn used the bandage that he found in the cupboard under the sink and wrapped it around his torso. Then he went back to his room, put on a clean t-shirt and a baggy hoodie in hopes that it would help prevent his movements from looking too stiff. His abdomen kept giving him nasty stabs of pain but he tried to move it as normally as he possibly could.

Mark soon pulled into the driveway and Seàn quickly put the silver bullet in a pocket of his suitcase, then casually went downstairs.

~~~

“Morning, Seàn!” Mark greeted cheerfully.

“Mornin’, were you out this morning?” Seàn asked.

“Yeah, I was. It was a nice morning so I took Chica out to the dog park. Figured I’d let you sleep.” Mark replied.

“Ah, gotcha.”

“Anything in particular you want for breakfast?”

Seàn’s stomach growled. A whole pig would be nice right about now…

“Just a bowl of cereal will be fine.” Seàn said as he grabbed the box of cereal from the cupboard and Mark slid a bowl across the kitchen island to him.

“You got any big plans for the day?” Mark asked.

“I was gonna have lunch with Arin today. Probably hang out all day.”

“Nice!”

“You?”

“Ah, I was gonna get some stuff done around the house, I think I’m gonna see what Tyler and Ethan are up to today, see if we can hang for a bit.”

“Cool, cool.”

Chica padded into the room, her tail wagging. She walked up to Seàn and sniffed him. She caught the scent of his blood and let out a little whine while nudging him gently with her nose.

Basically saying; “Hey, I smell blood, you okay? You don’t seem okay.”

Seàn patted her on the head. “Hey girl, what’s the matter?”

“Huh, she’s acting weird.” Mark said.

She jumped up with her paws on his lap and carefully sniffed around his stomach, where the blood smell was coming from. “Hey Chica, you okay, girl?” Seàn asked, gently pushing her nose away from his wound.

She left his lap and walked over to Mark and whined again.

“Huh, that’s really weird. Are you okay, Chica-Bica?” Mark asked as he scratched her behind the ears.

With Mark petting her she forgot about Seàn and just became her normal, sweet, excited self.

“Well, I guess she’s back to normal now…” Seàn chuckled, continuing to finish off his cereal.

Mark eyed Seàn cautiously. Is there something wrong with Seàn? He asked himself.

~~~

At lunch time, Seàn got an Uber and went off to meet up with Arin and Suzie at a cafe while Tyler showed up at Mark’s place.

“Hey, Tyler.” Mark greeted. “What’s up?”

“Not much, you?”

“Uh… there’s some stuff on my mind.”

“Like what?”

“Like Seàn, something’s off and I’m afraid of what it might be.”

“You mean…”

Mark nodded.

“Well… Maybe we could look around for uh… evidence?” Tyler asked.

“Yeah.”

Tyler went outside while Mark went upstairs to the guest bedroom. He opened the door and sighed. He didn’t feel good about snooping through Seàn’s things, but it had to be done. He spotted the Irishman’s suitcase on the floor at the foot of his bed. He crouched next to it and started looking through it.

Underwear, toothbrush, t-shirts, pants, mismatched socks and everything you’d expect to be in a suitcase.

He opened a small pocket on the side of the suitcase. Mark froze.

“Fuck.” he said aloud.

“Hey, Mark, where are you?” he heard Tyler shout from downstairs.

“Guest bedroom!” He shouted in return.

He heard Tyler’s footsteps thumping as he ran up the stairs.

“Hey, Mark, I uh…This was in the trash bin outside.”

Mark stood up and looked to see a bloodied T-shirt in Tyler’s hands.

“I found something too…” Mark said, holding up the silver bullet that he’d pulled out of Seàn’s suitcase.

“Well… I suppose you know what to do then, don’t you?”

Mark sighed. “I suppose I do.”

~~~

Chapter 5

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journeyalongeridanus · 5 years

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I distinctly the first time I was negatively conscious of my body. I was maybe 6 or 7 years old and my mother and I were visiting family friends for the week. I was busy contemplating the perfect angle and speed at which to approach the homemade tarp slip-n-slide set up for us kids in the front yard. I was wearing some amazing vintage cotton two-piece from my mothers vintage clothing store, my long blonde hair in braided pig-tails, I was elated to be out of the city and out in the spacious rural neighborhood of our only family friends with children my age. It was the summer I was conscious of having crush and not just "friend feelings" for another human being, the summer I picked wild berries that stained my hands purple for a week, and the summer I absorbed the words of my mother and wouldn't feel pretty again for another 16 years. It was just one of hundreds of conversations I had overheard between my mother and her friends - just a single sentence in the background grown-up hum surrounding the world of us children. I can close my eyes and smell the wet grass and lingering scent of sunscreen from those precious seconds, like a photograph to remind myself of the moment like a masocistic trophy.

My mother with her wild hair over bleached hair and well worn Levi 501's is sitting on the peeling porch swing smoking a Camel Light next to her best friend in a similar state of mid-1990's grunge motherhood. They aren't really watching us kids as they catch up on the last few months since they last saw each other; trusting the 2 foot homemade fence and hosed down tarp to keep us both contained and occupied for at least an hour or two. I must have gone inside for a glass of water, prompting me to walk by their porch roost. That's all it took, walking by a conversation they both probably forgot by the next morning.

"My thighs touch, it's disgusting"

I stepped into the small kitchen and l looked at my own legs. My mother always said I was beautiful but my thighs touched to my knees. I was a healthy child, maybe a little pudgier than my peers but nothing that would even be a blip of concern for a pediatrician. But there I was, summer of first grade, gut twisted up, judging my body for the very first time. I remember crying as I changed out of my swimsuit into a summer dress before sulking to the back porch. My mother, the most beautiful person I have ever seen, the most perfect picture of humanity, thought her thighs touching was disgusting. And if she thought it was disgusting and my thighs did the same thing, I must be disgusting too. I was ashamed of my body, I was scared my mother would see my thighs touch and that she wouldn't love me anymore. I never wore a swim suit again.

I grew up and I was mortified that I was always a little heavier than my peers. I was in 6th grade when scheduled state fitness testing at school led to a weekend of pretending to be ill so I could get away with not eating in hopes to loose a few pounds before I had to be weighed in front of the class. I was 13 when my mother put the whole family on a diet because she noticed "we" needed to loose a few pounds. It was that Christmas, a my grandmothers house, when she pulled up my shirt and got this heartbroken look on her face because the "dog scratches" on my hips where actually stretch marks I was trying to hide from her. I was 16 when my only Christmas gift from my parents was an elliptical. I never wore swim suits meant for women, I would wear a big t-shirt and men's swim trunks. I wore baggy men's jeans and oversized band shirts to hide any hint of my bodies shape. I was scared of my body, it was disgusting because my thighs touched, because I had upper arms that jiggled, because my body was a spiders web of stretch marks from all the yoyo weight loss and gain. When I graduated from high school I lied about my weight and spent the whole night before I walked hand altering and re-sewing my graduation robes to fit. I dated a series of individuals that where not at all what I wanted because I thought I should be happy with at least getting attention from somebody. I didn't think I deserved to be happy because it was my fault my body wasn't like the ones I saw in magazines. That I deserved to just not eat because dieting never worked to loose the extra pounds and rigorous exercise always left me feeling ill. I was 385 pounds when I graduated high school, I was 220 when I graduated with my undergrad, and I would give anything to loose another 100 pounds.

Though I don't look like it, though nobody would believe me if I spoke the words, I have an eating disorder and a body image disorder to an extreme. It makes my soul hurt that I can't think I'm beautiful, that I'll never believe it when others compliment me, that I think an empty fridge and one meal a day is normal, that I only have one mirror in my home, that I mark out the sizes on all the tags of my clothing, that I can't look at photos that show my body from the shoulders down without feeling like crying, that I am broken.

I often wonder, if I hadn't heard those words that summer, if my mother approached talking to me about my body differently, if, if if, if....I would be different. Maybe I could be happy and not sad all the time. Maybe I'd have friends. Maybe I'd be exactly the same but not miserable. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

#body image #memories #childhood #self esteem #self worth #diet culture

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loimestudios · 7 years

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Bull in a Curtain Shop, Pig in a Snare, or Learning To Be Graceful When You Feel Like a Walrus Caught In a Dragnet

by A. Len Bell

When I was young my mother was a seamstress and we spent endless hours in fabric stores. It was, I was sure at the time, the worse possible punishment she could ever inflict on me. I would have chosen almost anything else besides being surrounded by swaths of fabric, but here I am 40-odd years later and my life is again wrapped up in tapestries.

Five days a week I go to a class where I twist and contort my body in directions it never thought it should go, suspended above the floor in meters of silky fabric which prevent the performer from crashing to their death, while simultaneously crushing the nerve endings of any appendages that get trapped in its folds. It is the aerial arts and it is possibly the hardest physical struggle I have ever committed myself to - and I’m no stranger to pain and struggle.

I believe if my Marine Corps drill instructors had any idea how much pain they could inflict within this discipline, the infamous scenes of recruits struggling through calisthenics in sand pits might be replaced with those prospective Marines hanging in locks, knots and inversions, in rows of colorful hanging silks. Of course, I’ve never seen men’s tights in camo though. That might just be a good thing, but we’ll talk about clothing options in a moment.

At 20, I was into bodybuilding and powerlifting. This led to seven years running and gunning in the Navy, which of course led to six more years in the Marine Corps, because sometimes you just need more demanding discipline in your life. It was there I participated in Eco-Challenges, marathons, and triathlons (along with all the other aspects of life as a Marine). I tacked on a few more years in law enforcement where I participated in the LEOpard Challenge on ESPN and passed my qualifications for the SWAT team. I was a powerhouse, running up to 45 miles a week, pumping out double digits of pull-ups with ease and laughing at ab workouts. I felt indomitable, but 10 years ago, my life took a turn when an accident left me broken. After nearly 20 years of fighting the good fight, I was given a retirement and a medal and sent to pasture. For the better part of these past 10 years, I was lucky to manage some living room yoga and an occasional walk, but that often relied on canes, crutches, orthopedic shoes and braces. There were metal parts involved and limited range-of-motion was written all over my medical charts.

During this time I started taking my kids to a local parkour and aerial silks gym where they thrived, dangling in the silks. The gym also offered a gymnastics course where the coach tailored her instructions for us physically challenged parents. After some encouragement, I started handstands and back bends. I discovered some innate talent on the rings, and after some surgery to finally repair my broken ankle, I suddenly felt like it was time to start crawling out of the sedentary quagmire I had been wallowing in for the past decade.

I did (and still do) enjoy the gymnastics course, but my attention kept getting drawn to the aerials class where my kids were having such a great time flying with ease up and around those drapes of fabric. I was envious, so when my wife asked me to start taking silks classes in preparations for a duet performance with her, I thought it was an excellent opportunity to explore this intriguing new discipline. At the end of the first class, I dripped down the silks like my profuse sweat into a puddle on the mat below. I felt like an aquatic mammal, finally succumbed to the death of being trapped in a fishing net, but the instructor complemented me on keeping my toes pointed. It was all the encouragement I needed; I was committed. I was ready to buy the “I am an Aerialist, What is your Superpower?” t-shirt - despite laying on my back unable to lift my body.

Thanks to the caldron of genetics, leftover powerlifting mass and the affects of aging, I am short, greying and am roughly the shape of a barrel. I have more than once felt like I was fighting a losing battle attempting to grip slippery fabrics, hanging perilously in “Strongman” while fighting to keep 200 pounds of me from crashing to the floor below. I am hanging there and my ligaments, tendons and bones are reminding me of every violence ever committed on them - every broken finger, wrists, shoulders, hips, ribs, etc., etc., etc, is aching. Sometimes I think the only old injuries that aren’t hurting at that moment are those on my head, and I’m sure if I don’t keep holding on, those are going to be hurting too. I am horrible at remembering the names of the poses, but as I cling to the fabric while wrapping footholds and inverting upside down, I have imagined the poses I am actually performing are: Side-of-Beef-on-a-Hook, Pig-in-a-Snare and Bull-in-a-Curtain-Shop. We should not forget Walrus-Trapped-in-a-Fishing-Net either.

I do have my winning moments too when my regaining strength coupled with some progressing agility allows me to perform some acrobatic maneuvering that feels right, and in those moments, I feel the appeal of this art. There is a deep satisfaction to striving through difficulty, working through the burning muscles and rashed skin and constricted appendages to settle into a new pose and know that it is beautiful (because it is painful, according to my instructor) - not just to those watching, but to yourself, the performer. I watch my classmates work through routines and I know their struggles are different, but the results are the same: satisfaction with a dash of desire for doing just a little more the next time.

Watching them, each with different bodies, different skills, and different abilities, I always contemplate my own differences - because I am not only the heaviest person in class, but I’m also the least graceful. And I am the lone male. While there are a few other adult men who are involved in other levels of aerials, we are a scant few in ratio to women participants. This is not a complaint by any means. While there are many compliments I can make to my fellow female aerialists, I must admit the most positive aspect I can think of is this: There are no bros, and thus, there is no Axe Body Spray.

This does bring up an important point about gender disparity within the aerial arts.There seems to be a perception that it is exclusively for women and their gay boyfriends. I am reminded of my kids’ first aerial class. As they made their way from parkour to the silks, the boys all went off to sit on the sidelines. One young boy grabbed my son’s arm and said, “Don’t go over there. Only girls do aerials.”

We had worked very hard to raise our son and daughter free from gender stereotypes. My son has long hair, my daughter is a specimen of toughness; and in that moment I beamed with pride in my son as he told that boy, “No. I think it looks like fun.”

Since those days when he was the lone boy in his class who participated in aerials, I’ve seen those numbers steadily climb as other boys have taken up the challenge and art of aerials. I hope this is a sign of change in our culture that blurs those arbitrary and unnecessary lines between the sexes. While I am thankful I’m not tangling myself in man-spray scented silks and my female compatriots are not fighting off offensive come-on lines, I do look forward to a day when there is more equal options for appropriately clothing myself for aerials. My female counterparts wear some amazing leggings and tights. While they aren’t absolutely necessary for performing aerials, I can’t see any benefit to wearing baggy basketball shorts when you are working on creating smooth transitions from one position to the next, and I’ve found the options in male leggings are either made with underwear waistbands because they expect men to wear something over them, or they come in the singular black option. Their one singular trait seems to be that no company making leggings for men realize that I, their customer, have an ass, so I’ve taken to wearing women’s leggings because at least I’m not having to make the mid-air decision between not crashing to my death or keeping my dance belt from showing, though that reminds me I should rename that maneuver Whale-Tail-Caught-in-a-Harpoon.

While I started writing this because I felt out of place as an overweight male in an art dominated by lithe women, I realized this is all a metaphor for what women struggle with in their everyday lives. Trying to find a place in traditionally male dominated sports and professions, struggling to make things more beautiful despite feeling like the oddity, fighting with societal expectations of body imaging and finding appropriate clothing suitable to show the beauty they wish to share with the world.

It makes me thankful, despite the fact they are facing lower pay and harsher treatments in the workplace, and fewer option in their lives, while they fight to keep their rights as humans in this current societal climate with male politicians making decisions about those rights, the sisterhood of aerial artists around me accept my presence in their world without prejudice and understand the joy and beauty it provides me, so to all of you, I say, thank you for letting me join your struggle.

RESOURCES: Gender Disparity in the Aerial Arts http://www.aerialsilksatlanta.com/2013/07/11/gender-disparity-and-the-aerial-arts/ Aerial Arts for All Body Types http://www.adiosbarbie.com/2011/09/aerial-arts-for-all-bodies/

#aerials aerial silks body positive

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