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.

Goodbye 25, I’m leaving.

Last week I had a chat with my bf which went like this.

Me : I’m 26 at the end of this month which means I’m almost 30. Yuck.
Bf: hahahaaha, ah please. You’re a spring chicken
Me : 30 Ci, 30.
Bf: Yes and 10 years ago you were 16 and in 10 years time you will be 36.
Me : Ya but I don’t want saggy boobs. And getting older just means the time between now and peeing in my pants a little every time I laugh is a little bit shorter. Will you love me when I have to wear adult diapers?
Bf: Stop itttttt. You are so young. And black don’t crack. And you can buy new boobs if you really want.

It was time for a pep talk. So I gave myself one that went a bit like this.

Get over it. Really, get over it. You’re going to be 26 not 2000. So stop being ridiculous.

Spend more time looking at the world, exploring it and less time in front of the mirror.

Remember last week when you found that 1 hair that you swear was super super light blond? Er, no it wasn’t. It was GREY. And its fine. And you will live.

There is absolutely nothing you can do about it. NOTHING. Jan 31st will just keep coming round to make you older. Pretty much until you die.

So stop being a big baby about being an old lady.

And with that I stopped the big pity party and decided to reflect on this last year.

Of all of my teachers, the age 25 I’m pretty sure will go down as the greatest. Oh 25 you were hard on me. But you were good to me. How you made my head spin, my steps quicken and re-orchestrated the beat of my heart because the old slow heavy thud could never match up to the quickened pace of this year as day by day so many of my dreams came true.

25 the year of goodbyes.
Breaking off of all the little pieces of me that no longer could serve the world. 25 was also the year of saying goodbye to myself, to the 24 year old self. It was the year of chipping and knocking away at the exterior while refocusing on the things of the inner. trust. forgiveness. passion.

25 the year of jumping.
This was the year I realized that you cannot sit around with a cup of tea and wait for life to just work itself out. For things to happen. You have to go for the things you threatened to chase. You have to point yourself in a new direction. 25 was about taking dreams and exporting them into plans, goals and to do lists.

25 was the year of realizing I wanted to be Hazel Grace.
The kind of girl who lets a few in long enough to let them build a forever out of a bundle of counted days. The friend who doesn’t ever throw in the towel. The friend you can call and say “Hey can we sit on your bed and drink wine and talk for a bit, i think I need that  kind of thing tonight.”

25 was a year of gathering cheerleaders.
Digging out all the people who are relentless for my heart and keeping them close. Victories will arrive with failures in their bags. And many will tell you that work and money and pretty things trump flesh and bones. But they’re wrong. Your cheerleaders. They’re the ones who will keep you marching. Thank them. Keep them close. They’ll stuff you full of life.

26. I’m ready.
A year of the simple things — you and someone else having a party the rest of the world didn’t need to know about. A year of exploring and adventuring. A year of living without a net, cutting the harness. 26 will be lovely. It will be splendid, wrinkles and all.

Jenna Jay x