The Kid In My Math Class: Depression Story

Hello my angel food cakes<3

First of all, spring is here! well, for some of us anyways. There's still a bit of snow in Connecticut:(
But nevertheless, spring and summer are best friends with another s word: SUNSCREEN.
Here's an article I wrote for Drop of Pink about the importance of SPF: click here to read

Also, quick shoutout to one of my readers Cam! I don't really get to meet most of my fudgies, so interacting with you through our mutual friend Laverne (name has been changed to protect identity) has been oh-so lovely. Many kisses<3
Back to my poem!
-----------------


Today at assembly we sat in silence.
Sullen, serious, surreal, was this experience.
There had been a terrible outbreak of bullying
and the virus was to be quarantined,
by sharing stories of teasing and torture
so one by one rows were standing.

It began so innocently;
In the 3rd grade I was alone on the playground;
In 5th grade I was too short, too tall, too skinny, too round.
But then this sophomore stood up, knees trembling,
A cynical guy in my math class not worth noticing,
until his voice echoed through the crowd.

As a child he was a bit awkward, a bit chubby.
Weren't we all, I thought, what a pity party. 
He was teased, he said, he was bullied a lot.
Then his voice cracked as he told the story
that one day, he had had enough of this misery;
Ran to the bathroom, wrapped his neck in a belt,
and tried to swing from the knot.

As they dropped, jaws broke the floor's wooden panels,
as he disintegrated into sobs, microphone booming his agony.
How could I have dismissed his pain, rolled my eyes in disbelief?
He struggled to finish his story, but when he looked up, he wasn't alone,
for hundreds of broken souls who had been silent all along
were cheering and clapping, telling him to stay strong.

If there is a moral to this poorly crafted mess,
it is that you never know who sits next to your desk.
However they may look, whatever they may say,
always take the time to ask if they're okay.
And whatever you do, never dismiss someone's pain,
for you never know when you'll see them again.

--------

xoxo

Gabby

Nothing Is Stronger: A Poem

Hello my dolls:)

This is a (sort of, I tried) translation of a piece I wrote for ANEB. To read the original in French, click here. 
Enjoy<3

I didn't stop eating for your pity;
Your empathy, your sympathy, I don't need 'em anyway.
I don't starve myself simply to be skinny,
to watch my bones shrink away;
No, my eating disorder is all about control.

Controlling my weight, controlling my body,
when everything else in my life is a mess.
When my brain cries out, begging for mercy,
Nothing numbs the pain like eating less.
Nothing in the world seems stronger,
than the pull of my eating disorder.

The booming voices that echo in my head;
Nothing is stronger.
The hollow concave of a stomach barely fed;
Nothing is stronger.
Lifeless eyes accompany my talk,
As my fragile bones barely let me walk.
But I don't care about death, I'm not afraid to wither;
Because nothing is stronger than my eating disorder. 

---------

But I was wrong, you see, for I decided one day
That I wouldn't let this monster steal my soul away.
I had had enough of the shame, the guilt, the self-loathing,
so I raised a white flag, faced the wind and started screaming,
Hoping that somewhere, someone was listening.

Every day is a war, a new enemy I meet.
Sometimes it's a victory, at times it's a defeat.
I fall, I get back up, but of this progress I am proud,
For I seldom understand the person I had once been.
My eating disorder is yesterday's sin;
There is nothing stronger than my will to win. 

Fat Girl, by Megan Falley

Hello my loves!

I hope you enjoyed my long reads post about self love and sexuality. If I had the time to write articles of that length and depth all the time, trust me girl I would.

Today, I am sharing with you a poem I found on thebodyisnotanapology.tumblr.com.
It's entitled Fat Girl, by Megan Falley.
I love how simplistic and direct it appears without compromising its depth and importance.
I recommend checking out her performance of the piece as well.
Check her out at meganfalley.tumblr.com

Hope You Enjoy<3

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Fat girl, fat jokes.

Fat girl, skinny friends.

Fat girl stand next to fatter people to look thin.

Fat girl, fat camp, five years.

(True)

Fat girl lost 2 pounds and you didn’t notice.

Fat girl love your garlic bread.

Fat girl, vegan.

Fat girl, but red velvet cupcake taste so delicious.

(They do, try them)

Fat girl, pretty face.

Fat girl, Dean’s list.

Fat girl want fries with that.

Fat girl, don’t touch her stomach.

Fat girl, turn the lights off.

Fat girl, keep her t-shirt on.

Fat girl not pregnant.

Fat girl, food baby.

Fat girl named her dog taco.

Fat girl, bad bulimic.

Fat girl, binge and no purge.

Fat girl can’t even throw up right.

Fat girl unbutton her pants at dinner.

Fat girl heard, “nothing tastes as good a thin feels.”

Fat girl certain spicy, crunchy tuna rolls taste better than being thin feels.

Fat girl threw out her scale.

Fat girl, you are what you eat.

Fat girl, double stuffed Oreos.

Fat girl got her father’s genes.

Fat girl’s brother didn’t.

Fat girl’s friends come over to stare her brother’s chiseled abdominals

And ignore fat girl.

Fat girl don’t hate her body.

Fat girl hate the world.

Fat girl, fat mouth.

Fat girl, fatter fist.

Fat girl, fuck you.

Fat girl, heart so fat it needs it own zip code.

Fat girl, heart so fat, it uses the equator as its belt.

Fat girl, seafood diet: fat girl see food, fat girl eat it.

Fat girl heard all the jokes.

Fat girl finish the punch line before you do.

Fat girl cry in private.

Fat girl, thick skin.

Fat girl, dance anyway.

Fat girl, shirt off.

Fat girl, lights on.

Fat girl, lights on.

Once Upon A Time

Hello my loves!

This is a translation of a piece I wrote for Derriere le Miroir (available here: http://www.derrierelemiroir.ca/donc-mon-prince/) 

Enjoy:)

Once upon a time there was a young princess

Who danced in the rain and jumped into puddles

She was wild, she was free, she was fearless.

She didn’t mind if her hair was a tad too curly.

She didn’t care if there were 300 calories in her cookie.

She didn’t need a prince charming.

With or without him, she was a princess worthy of respect.

“Maybe later, when I’m older” she told herself

“For now, I rule this kingdom just fine all by myself”

But the seasons changed, and a princess can’t stay young forever.

All her friends were attracting the attention of dukes and earls,

Dancing the night away in the arms of their admirers

While our princess spent her nights all alone.

And she started to ask herself when her prince would come along.

She stared at her reflection in the puddles she used to jump in

Desperately looking for the reasons behind her solitude.

Suddenly the rain started pouring, deforming her reflection, so that all she could see

Was that her problem lied in the atrocity of her body.  

Her hair was now much too curly

And every single inch of her skin was a prison keep

Trapping her in a tower, too ugly to be saved.

And those 300 calories in her cookie? Those were 300 too many.

She made herself believe that her prince would only visit

When her collarbone was protruding enough for all to see.  

So she lived in this sad fantasy for many years,

Without the kingdom noticing their shrinking princess.

Until one day she had had enough of starving.

And as she looked at her reflection in the mirror with new eyes

She realized she had hated herself for nothing.

Okay, so this prince had yet to show up at her door

But a hunger strike won’t make him arrive sooner.

From now on, this princess worries little of her happy ever after

« Because I never needed a prince to be the greatest ruler »

Me and Acceptance and Possible Vulnerability

Hello my loves! 

Here is a creative writing entry by http://misanthropicdemoness.tumblr.com :)
enjoy <3

At the end of the day I am the only one who loves and accepts myself. I feel that people understand a part of me but not all of it. at the end of the day all this ‘love’ from others seems like one big scam to me. I am literally the only person I love in this world. This body that I am inhabiting is beautiful and real and wonderful and safe only to me. Everyone else seems so foreign and unforgiving to me, with their judgemental stares and how they criticize my body, my home with their hurtful scathing words and their cutting remarks. So that’s why I’m the only person that loves my body. I love every inch of it. Every stretch mark reminds me of the growth I went through and is a testament to the length of life many people cannot afford in this sad, putrid and rotting world. Every single hair on my legs and arms reminds me of a plain rich with trees. The dark circles under my eyes remind me of the nights I spent working for the things I want and are therefore an indication of my hardworking and meticulous spirit. The sweat that seeps from my skin is not disgusting. It is an indication of how absolutely alive I am from the inside and the outside. It is an indication of the outpouring of energy from metabolism. My heart is beating and there is blood coursing through my veins and arteries. It is an indication that I am a living being and there is a whole universe of energy inside me. It is an amazing thing.

I am the ruler of the grotesque domain I call my mind. I am in control of every word that I put on the paper. I am a spiritual being with feelings and emotions and ideas inside my brain. Every idea in my head stands at attention in rank and file, silently and patiently waiting to be used. They are as black as my soul and as red as the burns they cause. I feel like what I have to say is important. I don’t know if it’s selfish of me to think this way but I don’t really care now. Remember? I said that I am the only person that loves and accepts my self. So I don’t want to hate parts of me because there’s already so much hate and self hate in this world. It’s so tiring and depressing and frustrating seeing this collective low self esteem so I don’t want to add to this anymore.

My words are the clang of steel against steel in the dead of the night. They help liberate me. They empower me. They make me heard. My emotions are the power behind my alive and thriving soul and they help me deal with all the shit that the world throws at me. So I’m not a weak person that can’t take damage. I am the only person that comforts me. It’s my hand that wipes away my tears and it’s my body that helps me channel my negativity through physical activity, At the end of the day I am the only person that loves and accepts myself.

xoxo

Gabby

This Voice Inside My Head

Hello my loves!

I wrote a piece for the lovely blog Derriere Le Mirroir, which you can find here: http://www.derrierelemiroir.ca/on-blogue/cette-voix-dans-ma-tte-par-gabrielle-vachon/ , so I translated it for you:) Obviously it varies in little ways, typical bilingual problems, but I hope you enjoy the english version just the same.

This voice inside my head

There is a voice inside my head

Mine is different from yours, but we all have it just as well.

She points out all the wrongs on your body

Like the lack of space between your thighs

Or the enormous space between your eyes.

She asks why your clavicle isn’t prominent

Or why your stomach is so prominent

She builds a fort with your fixations

to keep you prisoner of your nonsense.

She fuels the fire of your obsessions with a dash of gasoline

So that when you look at your reflection, it’s all smoke and mirrors.

It feeds you your daily dose of humility,

so that you never recover from your poisonous lies.

There is a voice inside my head,

Stronger or weaker than yours, she speaks without end.

She fills your brain with images of pure fiction,

they deform your vision of your own body.

She whispers you insults from the time you get up in the morning to the time you go back to sleep,

They make your ears bleed and your heart weep.

And when someone compliments you, you don’t believe it for a second

This voice inside your head has become your reason.

But don’t forget that this voice is just in your head.

And it’s not a mountain of pills that will make her go quiet again.

You have to take down her prison, one fixation at a time,

So that you can finally be free of her shackles.

You have to put out your obsessions’ fire with a waterfall of truth,

So that your reflection can be clear of its smoky illusions.

You have to accept a dose of humility, but in moderation,

so that your brain can empty itself of her toxicity.

Close your eyes to what she wants you to see,

And open them to see beauty that transcends perfection.

Block your ears, shut out that tiring voice

And accept the kind words of your loved ones instead.

There was a voice inside my head,

But I made mine go quiet; will you let yours spread? 

xoxo

Gabby

The False Doll: by Najmah Bint Nasr

Hello my darlings!

This week's creative writing find is my Najmah Bint Nasr (themuslimbricks.wordpress.com). 
Check her out, send her some love, and enjoy this piece entitled "The False Doll" 

Looking at my reflection
Surrounded by a sizzling fume
Suddenly, I see an image of you
Questioning who?

Cosmetic paint scattered on your face
Tears bursting down from your eyes
I feel your presence cold as ice
Why are you crying, oh young lass?

You are pretty but are you well?
You look good in pink but why frail?
Did someone tell a bully tale?
Did someone bid farewell?

Then, I hear what your heart beats
Everything what your mind thinks
It’s in your eyes showing disgrace
Visible in your actions fueled by hate

You want to gain a confidence within
And that reflection of thin
You don’t eat anything at lunch
You do an hour of cardio crunch

You are healthy and full of intellect
Even everyone say you have a short neck
Do not look at anyone’s body as perfect
To your body’s needs do not restrict

Do not let starving take your personality
Nor Barbie to distort the image of beauty
Do not feel awful when you fill your belly
And isolate yourself with insanity

Save yourself from that miserable state
Everyone has her own fate
Create your happiness now- do not wait
For the scale to drop down its trace

Have a wonderful rest of the week:)

Gabby

The After Shot: By Anna

Hello my darling fudgies!

Today's creative writing piece comes from the immensely talented Anna, who is only 14 years old. We graciously borrowed this post from her equally wonderful blog storiesfromtheyoung.tumblr.com.  

Please enjoy and give her some love :)

The “After" Shot

Do you ever feel like a “before" picture? Like, one section of those side by side comparisons of celebrities or people losing weight. You’re the awkward first picture, flaws everywhere.

Your skin is uneven and often a different color entirely when compared with the rest of your body.

You have some fat in your cheeks that gives you dimples but you’d rather have cheekbones.

Any bone structure that genetics have graced you with is hidden under a layer of extraneous tissue.

Your eyes are to wide, eyebrows uneven, pupils dilated.

Your nose is crooked.

Your lips are uneven and too thin or too thick,

Your ears stick out.

Your hairs a mess.

We’ve all be there right?

But wait, there’s hope! At some point in your future you’ll gain/lose some weight in the right places. You’ll acquire tweezers and concealer. You’ll learn to style your hair in a different way to hide your ears and you’ll cover your under eye circles. The second photo will be professionally done. You’ll be prepared for it. Before pictures are too often selfies that were just on your desktop and you thought “hey I’ll use this as the before picture."

I’d like to be that person who says “I think the first picture is more beautiful/ amazing because they’re not made up and posed." Unfortunately I can’t claim that. We’re conditioned to value the second picture more. We find them more attractive and would rather associate with the mature then the juvenile.

I’m not going to go on about media and the distortion of what is beautiful. But I will say one thing.

I wish those pictures compared the people we are, not the aesthetic values of our skin.

I wish they showed the trials we overcame. The things we lost. The people we loved. I know for a fact that if someone compares a picture of me now and one in ten years they will like the after shot.

But I’ll like the before. I’ll appreciate the clueless and generally anxious and depressed teenager staring back at me. I’ll understand the bags under her eyes as a personality trait, not necessarily a flaw. She earned those dark circles from nights of insomnia and uncontrollable crying and hopelessness. She survived them and even though she’s never admit it, she wears them as a sign of pride.

Maybe as we get older we just get better at hiding ourselves in pictures. We are more willing to cover up our scars and tuck away our flaws.

Or maybe we just stop having those problems and have only those that don’t manifest themselves on our skin.

Of course I don’t have those answers, I’m only the before.

xoxo 

Gabby

A Spark: By Anna Hoyt

Hello my lovely fudgies!

I haven't written a post for you all in what seems, and okay might be, ages.

I am working on an amazing ad campaign video for The Fudge Perfection Project, which I truly hope you love :)

But today we have a new creative writing piece by Anna Hoyt (yes! the same one who acted and wrote  The Definition of Beauty: check it out at the bottom of the page!)

A Spark

A path of ice, of snow and sleet, one of a hurricane raging,

And a path of sand, of calming waves, of the ocean's innocent breeze.

Though these two paths are seasons apart,

Eventually their months must meet.

Along a road I had gone, until I met their crossings,

The path of ice, or the path of sand, both just as long and hard,

A choice that many have to make.

I took the path of sand and waves, the path my heart desired,

But after many seasons had gone,

I was again at the two paths crossings.

Regret and sorrow filled my soul, a journey of the weak-minded,

I had no choice but to start again, but now the paths were different.

One of fire, of raging heat, a nightmare waiting to happen,

And the other of water, of cool faith and forgiveness.

My heart longed for the path of forgiveness and faith,

But I took the path of fire,

And after many long falls, the fire had gone,

But now its spark is within me.

If you like her work, do let me know, for we may be seeing more of Anna's work in the future if you love her as much as I do. 

To see her monologue "The Definition of Beauty", click below!

http://youtu.be/tK1bUbyURec

Thanks so much dolls<3

Xoxo
Gabby

Music I'm listening to: "Knocking on Heaven's Door" by Guns n Roses
Because Axl Rose in the late 80s=ASDDFKGHHLLZXCVBNN <3
This performance blows my mind everytime: http://youtu.be/riH9aygQdjY

Book: US history book 1 and 2
Yay summer studies!! -_-

Beautiful Words about Beauty

Plucked from this wonderful tumblr http://blackbird-notcrow.tumblr.com/ , here is a quick piece about beauty.

“There is no ugly, there is no imperfect, there is no not-good-enough. 

Likewise there is no pretty, perfect, or good enough. Those are terms based on cultural standards which vary not only by culture but with each individual. 

The only thing there really is compassion, and if you have compassion for others then you are BEAUTIFUL. The question shouldn’t be, “maybe it doesn’t matter if I’m not pretty enough?” It should be “maybe it doesn’t matter if people are too blind to see that I already am beautiful?”

 Because someone, somewhere, thinks you are the most gorgeous creature ever. Because there is some culture, somewhere, where you could walk into the midst of the people of that culture and you would be a goddess in their eyes.” 

have a wonderful thursday <3
xoxo
Gabby