(update: this was originally slated for posting on my photography blog at DreamlandVisions.com. I added an extra link to Smart Assed Masochist’s blog post that is not included in the original)
I’m sure by now most of you have seen this article titled: ‘Should “Fatties” Get a Room? (Even on TV?)’ over on Maire Claire about fat people. If not, I’ll sum it up with this quote from the original article:
“So anyway, yes, I think I’d be grossed out if I had to watch two characters with rolls and rolls of fat kissing each other … because I’d be grossed out if I had to watch them doing anything. To be brutally honest, even in real life, I find it aesthetically displeasing to watch a very, very fat person simply walk across a room — just like I’d find it distressing if I saw a very drunk person stumbling across a bar or a heroine addict slumping in a chair.”
The author, Maura Kelly, goes on to a few lame attempts at justification but I’ll let you go read it for yourself.
There are some really incredible responses out on the net. A few of my favorites are:
“Fuckin’ Fat People!” – Happy Sadist
I could editorialize all night about the state of the fashion, television, entertainment and movie industries and their treatment of body types. A few get it right; such as Dove with their Campaign for Real Beauty.
Instead of continuing to wow you with my ever so eloquent prose, I will show you examples of the kind of lady Maura Kelly would be grossed out to see, especially this way; in all her naked glory.
The model, K’la, is a dear friend and lover whose photos have graced the walls of art galleries, fetish shows, living rooms and websites for years. She is a life model for a local college and continues to model for photographers and painters as time allows. She truly is a beautiful woman, inside and out.
I leave you with what I hope is a very eloquent and loud “FUCK YOU” to Maire Claire and the editors who approved such an unbelievable article.
(warning: photos are not work safe, but then so is this blog.)
Before I begin, I want to say that I do NOT want to make a habit of responding to Intarweb Wank, but this one is just tailor-made for HappySadist.com. If you haven’t seen it yet, I’ll summarize and you can Google it. Marie Claire magazine had one of their editorialists, Maura Kelly, write an article about the TV sitcom Mike & Molly. The text of the article is not only condescending and snide, it’s misleading. The question she’s REALLY asking here is “Should fat people fuck? And if they should, should they be allowed to even allude to it in public?”
Someone on a forum asked a very, very excellent question. I know little about this person except that she’s new to the idea of BDSM, and she has a child.
“Does being in a master slave relationship have to continue outside the bedroom? Or do you take it outside of the bedroom?
From my point of view (and, fair warning, others will disagree with me very strongly), it is just not possible to have a “true 24/7” master-slave relationship in a modern Western world where the people in the relationship have any duties or responsibilities to other people. There is always going to be something in life that is going to require the master/slave dynamic to be set aside for periods of time. It is completely unrealistic to expect that one person is going to be able to devote every moment to obeying/pleasing their partner.
Used with permission:
“I have a burning question I need to answer if I’m ever going to be ok with myself as an occasional sub:
I value equality in relationships. I need to know my partner thinks of me as an equal human being and partner. I need him to know I feel the same way about him. But how can that be possible when I get off on calling him Sir and taking orders?!”
I had the same conflict for a while. Then I came to realize that my entire relationship with my husband is not, in fact, founded in my crotch.
I’m still writing up my Alchemy report. It’s hard because it really was a quiet Burn for me this year. Pictures and my report on just how fun a quiet Burn can be will be here soon.
Heh. He said “flogger elbow”.
Yes, it’s true, he doesn’t beat me enough. That damned flogger elbow is a bitch. Of course, we could just as easily state the myriad of true reasons he doesn’t beat me enough, but that would just wind up being as depressing as involuntary celibacy. I mean, where’s the humor in “well, this week it was food poisoning, and last week it was migraines, and the week before that we were both exhausted and I fell asleep on him, and the week before that… “? Not even remotely funny. Flogger elbow, now THAT’S funny!
But more to the point, I remember very clearly the Idiots, Inc. period in our lives. What a horrible, horrible company. He would come home angry, borderline homicidal, depressed, and feeling trapped. The ex-wife was being less than reasonable about pretty much everything. MY ex was being equally as retarded, and showing his mastery of Passive-Aggressive Bullying technique. This could easily have been a recipe for Relationship Disaster, by which I mean domestic abuse. Especially since I was new to BDSM at the time.
Too often, sadists in the BDSM lifestyle are portrayed as stern, overbearing, mean, even abusive men or women who enjoy causing pain and suffering just because they can. The image of a domineering woman and a simpering man or big burly man in leathers and weak abused woman cowering at his feet is all too common when thinking of what a sadist is.
First, I am a sadist. I enjoy the little cries of pain as the flogger comes down on a sub’s back, blushes of embarrassment when I unveil her to all and sundry at a play party, the sharp intake of breath as the needles slide into her breasts, the way she dances on the balls of her feet when I grab her nipples and pull her towards me and especially the momentary look of fire in her eyes just before the handprint on her cheek flares just as bright.
All of those things can, and often, are done by people in a mean, overbearing way. In scene, when appropriate for the mood, I too can take on that role. But without the whimsy and fun and laughter to balance it out, that role can get damned depressing.
I’ll give a couple of examples to highlight that balance.
Of course it is. Wikipedia says so and Wikipedia’s never wrong. This day means a lot of things to a lot of people. It’s foundation is in the LGBT movement as a day to celebrate honesty and openness about our sexual preference, relationship choices, gender identity and general sexual lifestyle.
To me, it’s both more and less than that. I have never been what you would call ‘in the closet’ about my sexuality or about my lifestyle. There are people who do not know me as bisexual, polyamorous, nusdist, or kinky. It is not because I hide it from them as that side of my life has no bearing on my relationship with them.
By and large, those who do not know that side of me are my co-workers or whom only know me in a very casual, acquaintance level of relationship. It is not appropriate, and generally not welcome, to discuss my sexual life with them.
Do I deliberately hide it from anyone? No. My life, all aspects of my life, are lived in an open, honest and forthright manner. That is what ‘coming out’ means to me. It means not needing to hide my knowledge of what the general populace calls “alternative” lifestyles. It means not hiding the fact that I am flirting with a very cute waiter (yes, male) at the restaurant where I have lunch most days of the week. It means jumping in and giving good, solid information to help dispel misconceptions or out right errors in others’ beliefs about some ‘out there’ topic that comes up at work and believe me, in an office of over 150 uber-geeks, wierd, out there topics come up all the time.
If you’re not at Alchemy, you’re missing a hell of a good weekend.
We didn’t make it on site in time for the Camp Fucking Awesome masturbation seminar but there’s a good chance at a repeat performance today. I may even head over there for “Burner Speed Dating” and see what kind of trouble I can get into.
I’m taking the camera around camp in a little while to get photos of the spectacular and oh-so-sexy costumes.
Coffee’s ready so it’s off to get into as much trouble as I can.