Marguerite Bennett's Blog, page 240
September 16, 2016
dapandabanda:
Had to doodle Jason and his beautiful moms as...
Had to doodle Jason and his beautiful moms as soon as I saw the panels from Bombshells! :>
robbierreyes:
terruer:
[louis xvi voice] tyrant is a slur
#what is this kingshaming (via...
[louis xvi voice] tyrant is a slur
#what is this kingshaming (via @lockedoutofhollywood)
randomnounsmash:
theclockworkaesthete:
shadyoaks:
busket:
tag...
tag yourself im night brain
sherry served too cold represent
I’m “someone said ‘No’ very loudly while they were in the room”
Easily “Not enough pillows” here
obv garden troubles
prokopetz:
If we’re going to update the pantheon of regrettable artists, can we add “white male...
If we’re going to update the pantheon of regrettable artists, can we add “white male writer who was legitimately progressive twenty years ago, but hasn’t learned or grown as an artist in any way whatsoever since then, and now exists in a state of grumpy bewilderment at the fact that he’s being critcised for doing exactly the same stuff that used to win him praise”?
September 15, 2016
sniperct:
catching up on bombshells for, uh, reasons (left off at #26). kara and mera flirting are...
catching up on bombshells for, uh, reasons (left off at #26). kara and mera flirting are great. selina making a pass at kate is also great, selina implying huntress has a crush on kate is also great, kate freeing a ghetto is fantastic, mera telling steve trevor that she was diana’s first kiss was fantastic, big barda and dr hoshi kissing was…
oh and the art is amazing as always
i don’t think anyone in this book is straight i mean this is just five issues
I mean we always knew diana was bi but still
selina is great
NO PERSON IN THIS PICTURE IS STRAIGHT
lora-mathis:
radical softness is my way of regaining strength...
radical softness is my way of regaining strength for my abundance of emotions and mental illness. it means healing publicly and sharing my emotions without shame. hiding my mental breakdowns behind closed doors is damaging and adds to the stigma behind mental illness. i acknowledge that not everyone is able to share themselves freely and that certain privileges make this easier for others. my main intention with this work is to show that vulnerability is not a sign of weakness. strength does not have to mean turning off how you feel and being guarded. it can be sharing yourself openly. it can be putting energy into healing. it can be documenting your emotions in-order to make others feel less alone. it can be refusing to be sorry for how you feel. radical softness embraces tenderness and emotionality-however they may look.
September 14, 2016
fakenewsjunkie:
Jon: “I’m just saying to the people who are...
Jon: “I’m just saying to the people who are upset about their hard earned tax money going to things they don’t like: Welcome to the fucking club.”
lacqueluster:
jaggedhorseteeth:
skeletalroses:
So this is a totally useless rant, but as a skinny...
So this is a totally useless rant, but as a skinny girl, I’m getting extra, extra tired of fat-shaming.
I work for a corsetier at a Renaissance Faire. We sell corsets. Not flimsy bullshit costume corsets; like real, durable, waist-training corsets. Today a woman came in with her boyfriend, so I helped her pick out a corset and try it on. While her boyfriend—who was decidedly enthused about the whole corset thing—sat watching me lace her in, he told me, grinning, “Of all the good jobs at the Renaissance Faire, I think you have the best.”
I shrugged in agreement. “I touch butts and reach down cleavage all day; I mean…” Because we like to be a bit rakish at the Faire, and, y’know, it’s true. Tying people into corsets pretty much invariably requires getting handsy.
The couple laughed at that, and the boyfriend said, “That’s the job I would want!” But then he chuckled again and said, offhand, “Or maybe not; while we were looking at the racks, there were some pretty big sizes on there!”
Our sizes are all done in inches, and the biggest we make is a 46. And you’d better believe our large sizes sell. For a second I wasn’t sure what to say to the guy’s comment, but I answered him casually. “We get a lot of beautiful big ladies in here.” Because we do. “We make corsets for real women, not Barbie dolls,” I added. Wasn’t trying to be smart, just kind of tossed it out there because that’s the line we like to use when people ask about larger sizes, and because, again, we do.
The boyfriend went quiet at that; I didn’t think anything of it, I just kept on lacing. A moment later, he said, a little awkwardly (but sincerely enough), “Didn’t mean to be offensive.”
I quickly smiled and brushed it off, said he wasn’t, said I was just saying. (Don’t want to make the customers uncomfortable, you know?) And that was the end of it. His comment had rubbed me the wrong way, but it wasn’t a big deal. Now, I wear a 20-inch corset. I’m a few cup sizes short of being one of the Barbie dolls. Like his girlfriend, I’m one of the “hot chicks”; he doesn’t have to worry about offending me by implying that I wouldn’t be fun to poke and pull at.
Honestly though, of all the people I fit sexy technically-undergarments to in a day, fat girls are maybe my favorite people to lace up. Because they are just so damn happy that we have stuff that fits them. They are so damn happy that the corsets we make in their sizes are all the same pretty, shiny colors and cool flower/dragon/skull/etc. prints that the smaller corsets are, not ugly beige and boring “granny” colors. They are so goddamn happy that at least one (of several on the grounds) corset shop carries things that they can wear, that they actually want to wear, and that they look fucking awesome in. This is only my second season working, and we’ve fit 60+ inch waists and double-K busts. The only people we’ve ever had to tell sorry, we don’t have anything that fits them, are twelve-year-old kids.
It’s half-wonderful, half-heartbreaking how excited those women get. Women who say with sad smiles, when we ask if they want to get fitted, “Oh, no, you don’t have anything that fits me,” and then are stunned when we’re 300% confident that yes we do, and we have options. Women who can’t stop smiling and looking at themselves in the mirror after we’ve got them laced in.
I had a lady last week whose waist I measured (cinching the tape tight, as per procedure) at 41 inches—honestly not all that big. So she picked out a 41-inch corset to try on. I could tell halfway through getting her laced that it was going to be a bit big for her, so I mentioned it and said she might do better to try a smaller size. She started crying on the spot. She was so overwhelmed; she couldn’t believe someone had just told her that a 41 was too big. She told me about how hard clothes shopping was for her, how her mother would tell her she needed an XXXL instead of an XXL, how she had recently lost weight but still couldn’t wear certain colors because they didn’t fit or she wasn’t confident enough.
She did end up getting her corset, and after I checked her out she asked if she could give me a hug, so we ended up standing there hugging each other for a minute. While we did, I told her, “Do not ever let anyone tell you any bullshit. You are gorgeous.” She said, “I have a new boyfriend and he keeps telling me that.” I told her he was right, and to just keep telling herself she’s gorgeous; it was okay if she didn’t always believe it, but to keep telling herself anyway. (That’s how I talked myself through shit when I had bad anxiety.)
We all know fat-shaming is bad. The stupidity, fatphobia, and misogyny of it has pissed me off since I first became aware of it. But working with clothing, especially as figure-hugging and precise as corsets, has given me a new perspective on it—how much it affects people and just how shitty it is. Like, what does it say that I had a grown, only average-big woman crying into my shoulder because she was so overjoyed not to be the uppermost extremity of what a manufacturer can clothe?
My job rocks and it’s really rewarding, but sometimes it highlights some of the ugliest shit about society. I’m so glad I work at a shop that’s not bullshit about body types and operates with more people in mind than just scrawny white chicks like me. The fat women I work with are a ton of fun to lace up, and they’re so much more than their size—they’re cool, they’re smart, they’re funny, they’re sweet, they’re great to talk to, and yes, they’re hot. I’m so damn done with them getting short-changed and shamed by petty fucks who refuse to make them nice clothes, who refuse to even try to work for them, who refuse to consider them pretty. This whole rant was useless and won’t get read, but I had to vent because it’s been driving me nuts.
So actually, screw you, random dude. Fat girls are the highlight of my job.
Going to add this bit: I’m overweight. I’m not really big, but I’ve always had issues with my weight and the shit I get from people. I was actually getting fitted for a corset and was told I needed to go down a size. So I understand how that girl felt. I know that it’s “just a number” and it shouldn’t bother me, but that made me feel awesome.
I read every word of this and it made me want to cry and buy a corset.
September 13, 2016
The moment I knew I was Princess Caroline.
The moment I knew I was Princess Caroline.
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