Fully Exposed

So anyone who is anyone has recently heard/seen/read/ the torrent of articles on dress code and what this society has reduced womanhood to. We've all seen the Facebook memes that, "size 12 is sexier than skin and bones," or, "real women have curves." Yet as we as a society are inundated with images of Marilyn Monroe juxtaposed next Kierra Nightly, have we ever stopped to ask what this means? Well, I won't lie, this issue hits home for me. I'm a curvy lady that loves her body (and not the obligatory "i love my body" but the real deal) and has a strong feminist streak. So...lets all take a deep breath and dive into social issue that will never go away but can perhaps improve. Things are about to be fully exposed.
First, let's talk dress code. Explain to me why it's ok for a young man to wear a t-shirt with a nude blonde double dd model licking a Popsicle but it's inappropriate for me to wear shorts. Explain to me why socks with pot leaves go unnoticed but my spaghetti straps don't. Explain to me why school districts make an exception to dress code violation when it comes to males. Don't get me wrong, not every teacher turns a blind eye to the ridiculously over sexualized women plaguing t-shirts, but many do. There is so obviously a double standard within just how "sexy" a gender can dress. Now what does religion have to say about this? As women, we are told modest is hottest and to dress ourselves appropriately as to not make "our brothers stumble." Did anyone think maybe my cellulite riddled legs aren't the cause of "stumbling" but instead the Popsicle licker? No. Instead women are further repressed into being ashamed of their bodies because being sexy and comfortable with your breast and curves (or lack thereof) is promiscuous.
Once upon a time, women got sick of having to be perfect housewives with every hair carefully and artfully placed. Then dawned the era of burn your bra and fuck what anyone else thinks about it. With the turn of the sexual revolution, conservatives and especially the Christian Church, decided that a combat plan was necessary. So they tightened the reigns on women and told them the longer the skirt, the better the person. I can understand feeling the need to preach fidelity in a time where promiscuity was praised, but by trying to solve one problem, another was created.
Women are forced to look at two polar opposite versions of who they should be. On one hand, I have Cosmo Magazine telling me how to make my tits bigger and drive him crazy in bed. I can't drive to work without seeing nearly naked women selling a product that is used when fully clothed (how does that even make sense?). I see women on TV tell me I should be thin, funny, clever, charming, and a vixen that makes men drop to their knees. In contrast to this, I have my father telling me to cover my stomach. I have my church telling me SEX IS BAD unless you're married. I'm told to cover my body and be the perfect meek servant of God. These two lifestyles have no room for each other. There is no way I can lead both and not be called a hypocrite. So, as a woman, what am I left to do?
Back to dress code. A rule telling girls there skirts have to "X" amount of inches long, only further shames their bodies and self esteem. So as the teacher measures my shorts, I can gaze into the eyes of a naked women with her tongue out as she's plastered onto my classmate's shirt, all while thinking "Gee I hope I'm not making anyone stumble."
Fact of the matter is their are healthy amounts for each version of life. If I want to show a little cleavage and rock my ass *cough cough* ets, then I damn well will. However, i respect myself to understand the i am not as good as my bra size. Instead of forcing a mold upon women, perhaps we should let them grow to love their bodies for their amazing beauty all while loving their minds for their intellect. Some days I'm so proud of the leaps women have made in society and then others I'm left feeling guilty for my less than bangin' bod, scratching my head, and saying WhatTheBilly.  

Sucker Punched

Alright so i recently embarked on watching a film that i swore i would never watch...and i mean ever. Yet, i was talked into it by someone who i believe has fairly sound movie taste and thus was persuaded into watching Sucker Punch. Now, to preface this, the trailer pretty much shows random shots of cleavage paired with katanas and samurais? (I was confused too) This obviously lured me into believing that this was a movie which only purpose was to fulfill some sexual fantasy of a man who still talks to his action figures more than real people. I was so wrong.
I'll try to get through this without too many spoilers but be warned there might be a few. The basic premise of the movie involves a young girl known as Baby Doll ( you can see why i was slightly put off) as she is sent to an asylum after her mother dies and her step father frames her for the murder of her sister. She is scheduled for a lobotomy in five days time and introduced to the hospital staff, most of which are sexually abusive, and the patients, most of which are critically traumatized. The film then begins to pick up as Baby Doll detaches from reality and develops two other plains of existence to deal with the abuse she suffers while under the "care" of vicious doctors.
I won't get too much into this layered reality of sorts as it will only take up far too much time, so instead, go see the movie. The point is, i was blinded by my feminist perspective into thinking this movie was really only a ploy to see some sexy girls fight Nazi Zombies (and they do fight Nazi Zombies). Yet, this was the point the movie was trying to convey.
Women are typically marginalized by their bodies and put in situation where they have little to no control save the desire they can inflict upon men. The film's underlying rape tones all lead towards the point that women are sometimes left with only their bodies to fight for survival. A quote in fact states, "you have all the weapons you need. Now fight." Sucker Punch chronicles strong young women, who even at their greatest and most powerful, are still dressed in a provocative way only further exemplifying that the character's must use their sexuality to continue living.
In addition to this, the film brilliantly sheds light on what in means to be a woman during the 1950's. Women were often sent away to mental institutions, when in fact they remained perfectly well. No questions were asked. Just sign on the dotted line. I was rather shocked that the film actually turned out to be a Pro-women movie rather than just another dulled down pornographic tease.
Sucker Punch certainly has a very unique feel. It's a bit of Moulin Rouge, Repo, and Tim Burton smashed into one to create a movie that is dark and downright sickening. It's not a pretty movie to watch, and although graphic details are never shown, is painful and raw. I wouldn't expect a realistic trip into the minds of 1950's mental health patients, but rather a comic book shade of that. I highly recommend seeing the movie as i thought i had it all figured out, yet as the credits dawned i was left scratching my head and saying WhatTheBilly. 

Summer Time Sadness

I was once told by a very wise woman that the difference between love and infatuation is the factor of peace. When you're infatuated with someone, its scary. You have no comfort in that they are totally and completely yours and constantly seem to be walking on egg shells. You can feel very strongly for this person and maybe even love them, but not be in love with them. However, when you're in love, you know that person is yours. You know that they have seen you at your worse and still choose to say those three magic words. I love you.
I suppose i am teetering on the brink of both at this point. I have been in love, and i have been infatuated...i guess i just need to decided whatever this is.
Summer has just started and im already dreading the four months i will spend apart from this certain someone. I know that i'll probably get caught up in life and find myself missing him less and less but i do wish that i had some sort of security in what we have ( what do we have?). I feel like this whole blog post is utterly lame and ridiculous and whiny. I suppose today i am not at my best. I don't really have a clever closer so WhatTheBilly.

California Dreamin'

Here is the preface to a ridiculous romantic story that my life is about to fulfill. I am going to California. That's really not the exciting part. What's exciting is that i am going with the guy of my dreams. We decided that we would be spontaneous and take off in the middle of the night during finals week. We leave tomorrow night, whence upon we will find a beach and watch the sunrise, only to come back for classes later on that night.
Who even does this? I swear on all that is holy and mighty if this trip ends in a sad hug and "see ya later" i might shoot a fetus. Fact of the matter is i am excited to say the least.
I think everyone needs a to live a little during college. To clarify, when i say live a little i don't mean try meth and buy prostitutes. That's too much living that often leads to death. Seriously (but that's another story). If i have taken one thing away from my first year of college it is that life happens whether you want it to or not. 
I have spent so much time worrying about what to do with my life and what it means to be human but ironically, while debating these concepts have missed the point. I think each day is gift (cliche i know) and that it should be treasured. Who says you can't cross state lines to see the sunrise? Who says i can't smoke a cigar on top of a parking garage? Who says that i can't jump the fence and swim in a work uniform after hours? No one. Life is far to short to go on reeling over heavy concepts. I think that it is when you sit back and give yourself permission to be a bit of an idiot, that you get a glimpse of the bigger picture.
There will come a day when i can't just pick up and leave or when my dreams will be chained by the reality of adulthood. Yet, for now, i am free to just be.
I won't say that life isn't hard, trust me it is. No amount of therapy and medication can fix it all, but the times where i want to rip my hair out makes the good times so much sweeter. Will i look back at some of the idiotic things i've done and think "what the hell..." probably. Yet i can't imagine myself regretting the time i took in these few short years to be my age.
I sit in a nearly empty dorm room writing this as my room mates study for finals with starbucks in hand. I can't help but look at these girls and think of the laughter and memories i've shared with them. The conclusion of this year is certainly bitter sweet. Even still, no ragrets...not even a letter.
Sometimes i think i have everything all figured out, then other times im blind sided by the profound feeling of what it is to be human; all while scratching my head and saying WhatTheBilly

Alaskan Asshole

Despite popular belief, this post is not about porn. Figured i should get it out of the way before trolls of teenage boys continue reading only to be left very unsatisfied (then again what teenage boy reads blogs?).
The problem with having huge dreams in goals in life, is that sometimes it means being lonely. You can surround yourself with people who know you and even people you like, but a lot of times an intimate connection goes missing. My dreams aren't even that big. I don't want to be a doctor or cure cancer, i just want to get a degree and get out of this country. Yet, that can mean spending some time without the comfort of another person.
Humans, by nature, crave companionship. We are designed to be cohabitants with others, develop communities, and build relationships. We are meant to want and even need others. So why is it that often times we feel we have to go it alone?
This is where the Alaskan Asshole comes in. I have a great friend that wants to live to Alaska and because of it, feels he can't make any true relationships because he'll have to leave them behind in three years anyway. I find this stupid. Of course I'm a bit biased on the issues as i think that me and said asshole should just date already...but that's besides the point. I think that Alaska really means well. He doesn't want to make promises he knows he can't keep but i can't help but think that he must live a half fulfilled life. Don't get me wrong, he has plenty of friends but no one that can truly say they know him at his best and at his worst. I think that he is missing the point of being alive. We are supposed to surround our selves with people that make us laugh until we pee, so why not pursue the relationships that do this?
Disclaimer: He's not really an asshole, it just worked for alliteration purposes. I think that he has the absolute best intentions but intentions don't always make actions right. I'm not even sure where this post is going anymore...i just have a lot of feelings ok? Anyway, the point is, if you have someone in your life that loves you for you and treats you like you are the very definition of perfection, then don't let them go. Sometimes i have people all figured out, and other times i'm left sitting alone scratching my head and saying WhatTheBilly.

The Cause for Body Mods

We've all seen that guy with dreadlocks and ears stretched so big that you could fit the state of Texas inside and still have room to breathe. We've all seen that girl tattooed with full sleeves and a septum ring that compliments her shaved head. We've all seen those kinds of people. And i now i pose a question for the online world: Why are those people looked down on?
Tattoos and piercings not your thing? I get it. No worries. Yet for some of us, they are very much our thing and we enjoy expressing our individuality with some metal shoved through our skin. Luckily, the body modification culture has become much more accepted as tattoos have made their way to main stream society. However, these people are still discriminated in the work place and day to day life.
I understand that some people could be intimidated by the fact that i have a septum ring and that i have a few tattoos...but isn't that their problem? Who decided that tattoos and piercings aren't professional? Think of it this way, you spend tons of time trying to figure out what to wear and style your hair because you want your image to say something about you. My tattoos and piercings do the same for me.
I don't mean to get rant-y because there are enough of those blogs already, but i think it needs to be said. Tattoos are art that i get to wear on my body forever. People spend thousands of dollars on paintings that they hang up on their living room wall and they only get to look at it a fraction of the day. I spend hundreds on art pieces i get to look at whenever i so please.
I think that prejudice against people who seem a bit different and "eccentric"is one of the stupidest things in the world. I have a brain. And i have tattoos. It is entirely probable for me to have both! Ok rant over.
Funny story though, i got my tax return back and found that i have nearly 400 dollars from the government. As a starving college student it would make sense that i would use it to pay off loans or for food right? Nope. That 400 dollars is going straight into a tattoo this summer. Judge away.
I guess everyone is allowed to have their own taste, but don't shove your favorite Prada bag down my throat and i wont shove my curved bar bell down yours. Sometimes people make total sense, and other times i'm left scratching my head and saying WhatTheBilly.

Library Loser

I guess love is a tricky thing. Sometimes its exciting and you feel like your stomach might explode just because a certain someone said something in a certain way. Sometimes it feels like you're invincible and that the world is beneath your feet,ready to be conquered. And then there are times when it sucks ass. And it suck ass hard.I guess the reason I even write this is because I currently volunteered myself to do homework at 3 in the effing morning because a boy named...well we'll call him Craig...has homework to do. Seems irrational right? Oh it gets worse. I don't even have homework to do, yet I digress.
So I show up to the library armed with my old man sandals and over sized sweater ready to fake my way through a bunch of essay I already have written. I find a table and make myself at home and begin to wait for Craig to arrive.
Why are you writing this? Must be the question your asking as I should be discussing dehumanization with a cute boy right? WRONG. He's not here. I sent a text, carefully worded mind you, as to not seem needy. Yet to no avail as I have not heard from Craig for the entire duration of my fake library time. It's now 2:36 AM and i find myself heavy lidded with sleep and desperately trying to remain awake for the sliver of hope that the all elusive boy i have fell so hard for, will make an appearance. I have resigned myself to the fact that this probably won't happen.
Ah alas. I should be sleeping but bet your bottom dollar i will be here for the remaining 22 minutes the library is open with a heavy heart. My life is truly ridiculous.
Just to help my three viewers (thank you for reading) understand, Craig isn't a bad guy. In fact, he's quite brilliant. and I'm thrilled i even get to call him my friend. Perhaps he'll get his own article later as he is certainly worth it.
Well that's my lovely story of how love blows. Sometimes i have it all figured, and other times, i'm left sitting at a library table at 3 in the morning, scratching my head and saying WhatTheBilly?