Fitting Room Blues

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Now Mother Teresa doesn’t strike me as a complainer, I am pretty sure she was too busy saving the world to be bothered by frivolous stuff like anal bleaching and crows feet. Also when you’re surrounded by that much poverty and hunger I am sure a ‘thigh gap” has negative connotations. I think we can all agree that she wasn’t filling her insomnia riddled nights by reading blogs on eyebrow shaping and watching youtube videos on contouring. She was too busy doing cool shit.

And now I will prove that I am not Mother Teresa by complaining about my thighs.

Ok, not really. I actually quite like my thighs. I just hate that they don’t match up to the stringent standards set by clothing manufacturers about how bodies are supposed to be made.

I’m calling bullshit.

I’m actually a little bit tired of having to wear leggings. Or make choices between wearing jeans that fit my butt and breathing.

Seriously guys you need to get your shit together. Its not like big butts are a new thing? No woman should ever cry over finding a pair of jeans that actually fit. In fact nobody should be crying over any clothing item.

Manufacturers – It’s really about time you start to realise how varied the spectrum of bum shapes are. Beautifully varied. Also the sooner you recognise this the less likely you are to lose customers like myself who break the mould. There are tonnes of us. We’re not going anywhere. Do better.

I have a small waist and big butt and thighs. Otherwise known as the you-will-never-find-a-pair-of-jeans shape. It means that I can either wear “nice-ish” jeans that don’t allow me to sit down/eat, or I can look like someone who fixes toilets. It’s literally the worst. Its right up there with people chewing loudly or getting stuck in traffic when I need to pee really badly.

My belts could tell war stories.

There’s hope though.

1. Levi’s –

This nifty Fitguide allows you to choose through options like hip and waist size as well as Bum volume. (Bum volume isn’t an actual thing so don’t reference it when talking to the shop assistant).

Also – they have a promotion of R200 off their new Denim Collection (31 July, 7,14,21 and 28 August)

2. Woolworths “Curve” Range

Ah Woolworths I love you guys. First you gave me Chuckles and now pants to fit my chuckle enduced derrière. I also love that Woolworths hasn’t just thrown a bunch of stretchiness at the problem. They actually have structured the core of their Jeans to hug (and not choke) your butt.

What really makes me sad is that in my 26 years this is my go to list when buying jeans. 2 shops. 2.

Butt seriously, Jeans making people of the world I am already subjected to

– My body shape always being compared to a piece of fruit

– People expecting my butt to do butt dances. Twerking is a wonderful thing but unfortunately my butt doesn’t have any fancy party tricks it really only knows how to be a butt.

– Hearing “dat ass” from men like its an allowable comment. It’s not.

– Shorts. LOL

Please just start making jeans that fit bodies that look like this :

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Your sales will increase, I promise.

Jenna Jay. 

50 shades of….WTAF?

“I close my eyes, feeling the build up….pushing me higher, higher to the castle in the air” Castle in the air? CASTLE. IN. THE. AIR? I give up.
It’s pretty well known that the book does not get its popularity for its amazing prose.
You can keep googling for more examples or just trust me when I say this: as far as books go, this is well….a really shitty one.

So last night I watched the movie…..for research purposes of course.

Now I understand there may be some of you who are unfamiliar with 50 shades of grey and I envy you.  If you’ve been in a drug enduced coma or lost in some remote area of Cambodia for the last year I’ve done a little synopses for you.

The leading lady in this “film” is Anastasia Steele, a young socially awkward ponytail donning, clumsy virgin who has no idea the potential she has. Until Christian Grey (a billionaire hotty) discovers her and sees her “potential” to be a smoking hot plaything. He falls for her. He must get her. And by “get” I mean “own”. So he buys her. Sort of.

He gifts her with tons of stuff. By stuff I don’t mean roses and heart shape chocolates on lollipop sticks. No. Cars and computers and shit. But Anastasia. Oh darling Anastasia she’s a smart independent woman so she keeps reminding herself that she will return these lavish offerings at some undisclosed time in the future. You see he isn’t really buying her its more like some weird vagina rental agreement. Anyways, she isn’t keeping the presents guys. Anastasia is an independent woman ya’ll. Finger snaps.

After all of this transactional exchange wooing there’s this part where Christian realizes that all he wants to do is tie her up and flog her with a louis vuitton whip so he pushes her away because he doesn’t want to hurt her. (Even though he does really, but only physically. ) So he just like looks after her and stuff. Like a weird overprotective brother.

blah blah blah…..more boring stuff….blah blah blah….more stuff I can’t remember.

Then comes the gripping moment where he just can’t any longer. He just has to be with her. He is aaaaaaaaching to release her… he gets his attorney to draft a NDA agreement for her to sign. Which she does. Romantic, I know.

So now they’re like together together.

But first our darling Christian needs to let her into his other world. You know, the one filled with latex and sex contraptions so he eases her in by showing her his “play room”. And by eease I mean tosses her off a 12 foot cliff. (Is 12 foot even high? *Googles : 12foot converted into metres.) You see Chrissy boy likes it rough. Really rough.

In case you drifted off.
Nerd meets billionaire.
Billionaire likes nerd.
Billionaire buys Nerd things

Got it? Cool.

Oh wait, but there’s more. Twists at every corner. Gripping. Enthralling. Our little Anastasiatjie has her own little secret. In this 2 week intense love adventure she has somehow forgotten to mention that she’s a virgin. Gasp. But you see Christian actually really really likes her, like even more than I like Magnum ice creams so there’s no way he will allow the inconvenience of an unbroken hymen to stop them from their contractual agreement relationship filled with sexy fine print. So because he is a true gentleman, he takes care of business, and Anastasia has more orgasms than firework explosions on new years eve.

And then he offers her some more of these orgasm thingies but first……another contract.

At this point Ana starts thinking she may be seeing some red flags you know like everywhere. But guys its Christian. He has a helicopter. And abs.

Eventually she agrees and signs the agreement. UGH, SO ROMANTIC!

orgasm. orgasm. orgasm.

In-between all of this moaning we learn about Christians past. Amongst losing his mother who was actually an addict he was also seduced by his adoptive mothers friend at 15. Although Christian does not see her as a child molester more like a er….uhm…”special friend”

Anastasia is a bit taken aback, naturally. So she flies out to her mothers place. But Christian shows up like 5 minutes later because he CARES you guys not because he is a weird obsessive stalker or anything. Even though he is super messed up Ana stays because she loves him y’all. Its obviously still not about the helicopter and abs. Love ya’ll. True love.

They return to Christians place and do some more whipping and after Christian tries to embrace Ana, but she is DONE. Girl is PISSED. Then she does the whole ”I don’t think I can do this anymore.” thing and gives back his expensive gifts. Herewith ending her fore mentioned unwritten vagina rental agreement.

Then she leaves.

The end.

Good grief.

Ok lets get honest. Like really honest. This story only works because Christian is an ab cladded greek god. Oh and a billionaire. If he was an ugly dude who worked at a *lower paying job* and coaxed a cute girl into a “play room” full of sex contraptions in a basement we would all be disgusted. And there would be far less giggling.

It’s true and you know it.

But why are we all gobbling this crap up? If you read between all of the ooooohs and lip biting the truth is Christian Grey needs a therapist and Anastasia Steele needs some big fat hairy balls. This is really just a story about bullying. A rich man exerts his power, wealth and good looks to get his way.

To me I think it all boils down to one thing. All of us. Men or women. We all share in one great desire. To be known. To be wanted.  We’re all waiting for someone who we think is valuable to look at us and think “I want you. And I’ll fight for you.”

Also, this movie/book is crap.

Jenna Jay.

Louis Vuitton.

And there I was telling the same old story to the backdrop of the worlds smallest violin. I rattled it off once again. I tried to stick in little morals. I tried to make things sound more poetic. And I searched and then I searched some more for an ending but the story just got lost in some grey weird sort of area.

And in that grey endless tunnel was where I realized how baggage is birthed and nurtured. In the very moment when we think we are called to be little and weak the second life breaks your heart that’s exactly where baggage is born. And it grows huge and causes havoc when we don’t give ourselves the sweet sweet endings we so deserve.

You see, I’m THAT girl. The one who packs too many bags. I pack clothes I used to fit into in case of a chance I may lose 5kilos in a day. I pack bikinis in winter because I just can’t bud summer. I pack books I’ll probably never read. And all of it I squeeze and tuck (and occasionally jump on) to try fit in my bag even though it serves me no purpose just so that it allows me to think that maybe, just maybe I can still be a person I should of let go of yesterday. (Or last year). And you know what all of that crap is?

Thats baggage. Its all the stuff you hold on to (far too) tightly with some kind of childish hope that it will one day change you or that it will change or that anything will change. I mean change is inevitable right? They tell us that all the time. Something will change so I’m just going to carry this stuff. It’s heavy, but I’m carrying it anyways.

I know, I’ve heard it before. Jeez, if only it were that simple. If it were we would all just stop hurting each other just because others have hurt us in the past. The truth is that the past is just a bunch of stories we tell ourselves. On repeat. And we grow when we realize that these cool little stories have power and that they could make someone feel better about themselves instead of just making ourselves sound broken instead. Each story is just one of the thousand and 1 opportunities to be trumpets but we would rather just sit in the corner and cry.

I failed. I hurt him. He hurt me. My friend moved away. My dog died. She lied to me. And what I’m realizing is that what I wish we could do is have a big party with one of those black wheely bins and we could choose all the things we hold dear and just chuck the rest away. The movies we shared. The “our songs”. The silly arguments from old friendships. That thing your grade 5 teacher said. All of it. Into the bin. And then burn it.

So I’ve kind of just made a decision that I’m retiring that story and I’m going to stop thinking that 1 day I will find an ending. Instead I will just pluck the (few) lessons and let the rest go. I’m walking away. Far Far away. Like a gangster. Like a baller.

I can’t make you unpack your suitcase, but I’m happy mine’s gone.

Jenna Jay x