Jennifer is a fat bitch and damn proud of it. She writes on issues like food and exercise from a "Health at Every Size" perspective, and also enjoys discussing mental health issues.
The electrodes on my scalp made me sweat. I dug my stubby fingernails into my thigh, straining them against the thin denim of my jeans. With my eyes closed, I focused on the stimulus.
The Torment of Time
Ten o’clock at night is not an inherently bad time of day; during the Summers here the sun has only just set, leaving a lilac twilight in its wake. The heat of the day is waning, and night’s breeze is rolling in.
The Truest Peace of Fear
Can you imagine driving on a dark country road, swerving, and having to spend the exceedingly long seconds where you’re skidding around at 80 miles per hour contemplating death for the first time? It’s not great. It is, as you can imagine, very scary.
I remember the first time I allowed myself to wear pink. It wasn’t the first time I’d worn pink; after all, I was assigned female at birth in the mid-90s. Between first breaths and the first time I heard that something was “for boys” or “for girls”, I bet I wore every colour of the rainbow. I have no memory of those simpler times.
Bella Black, Survivor
It’s three in the afternoon, and Bella doesn’t know where her humans are. She hasn’t been sure of much ever since she was adopted from a Romanian shelter and brought to the UK. Just now, her adoptive humans left with no more than an “Okay, bye Bella! No, puppies can’t come this time.” Are they dead now? They’re probably dead now.
Piecing Together a Broken Society
Imagine you’re sitting on your couch, binge watching Netflix, and a tornado spawns on your area rug. You’d convince yourself you were seeing things, until the turbulent winds picked you up, couch and all, and tossed you skywards. You’d probably grip the couch for dear life, do your best to dodge the flying tchotchkes, and wait out this weird, unpredictable storm.
That which Could Be
Sometimes the familiar isn’t familiar enough. As I come home with my dog after an early morning walk, the same door that would normally welcome me back pushes me away with an ominous presence. Cold winds swirl before me, rustling fall leaves before my feet, but the chill I feel comes from within. I delay the inevitable by snapping some photos of white wooden door, its fire-like glow radiating into the blue of early morning. The warmth contrasts with the cold dread that burns like dry ice in my chest.
My Eating, Disordered
It’s 4pm, and I’ve only had a small breakfast. I fell asleep before I finished my morning coffee and woke up in the afternoon.