F*ck That Noise

Myla Delbasio, plus-size model

I was on the Daily Beast this morning and saw an article about Myla Delbasio, Calvin Klein’s newest underwear model, who, according to the powers that be, is plus-size. That’s a picture of her above, looking all kinds of sexy in that string bikini.

Three things immediately popped into my mind as I studied Myla:

Why do they have to call her “plus-size”? Why can’t she just be the newest Calvin Klein underwear model?
She fluctuates between a size 8 and 10 which means I, too, am plus-size, a term I would never use to describe myself, but apparently some others would.
And would my plus-size ass look that hot in a string bikini because if so, I am all over it.

I then wandered over to NY Magazine and found this gem:

Three more immediate thoughts:

Why is she so greasy?
I hope Michele reads this so she can show Par and then the next time the four of us get together to drink all night and laugh about big asses, and porn, we can also laugh about Kim K’s big, greasy, booty
No way that butt is real…and I wonder what it feels like…and does that butt make Kim plus-size, too?

Which just leads me back to thinking about the term plus-size and wondering whether or not I am plus-size and then getting mad that I’m even wondering about that because just ten seconds before I read about Myla and her fluctuating 8-10 plus size, I was feeling pretty fucking hot and sexy and really into myself and my body. I had just pulled on some very cute polka dot stockings with these sexy leopard print heels and was ready to conquer the day. Then I made the mistake of reading about Myla, which led me to some celebrity gossip sites where it’s all about Kim and her greasy ass, and the rest is a trip down the rabbit hole of shaming women into thinking their bodies suck.

Fuck. That. Noise.

A couple of months ago, I told The Stepdaughter that my life is so much better and my mental state is just brilliant now that I no longer have time to play around on the internet and read about Beyonce’s new diet or Jennifer Aniston’s perfectly toned abs or Kerry Washington’s tips for getting back her pre-baby body. I’m convinced that being bombarded with shots of Angie’s amazing cheekbones and non-existent thighs or Jessica Alba’s washboard stomach or Halle Berry’s ridiculous body on a daily basis subconsciously shames women into striving for an ideal that is stupid.

Trust me, I know, because for years upon years upon years, I, too, strove to have the perfect abs, the infamous thigh gap, and the skinny arms. I smoked, I starved, smoked some more, and ate a little less. Later, when I had to cut the smokes, I added some exercise to the regimen until finally I said enough.

Fuck. That. Noise.

I’ll never be that super skinny girl I was in my 20s, but she was always hungry and lived on coffee and American Spirits. Shit, I probably won’t even be the girl I was in my 30s, but I don’t really care. It’s all good. I’m pretty hot, I have a funky sense of style, and I’m all kinds of awesome. I’m realizing my dream of being a writer and just generally loving life.

Even if I am plus-size.

Holla bitches.

And fuck you! body-shaming, internet gossip sites.