In the last few months, I’ve all but disappeared from polite society. I keep running into people and explaining the same things over and over. Yes, I do still live in Ottawa. No, I haven’t been ignoring you. I’m “focusing… Continue Reading
There was once a time when I didn’t look like me. My father had raised me with these ideas of what was ladylike and proper—no make up, no nail polish, no skin, nothing really. My appearance was entirely based on… Continue Reading
Hottawa is finally starting to hit some high temps and sunny days, thank goddess! But with it comes the perennial stress that I ought to get my *~beach bod~* ready so I can look like some kind of patriarchal expectation… Continue Reading
I went ripping through my aunt’s sunroom—denim jacket in hand, Doc Marten’s on feet, eight-month old piercing coming out my septum—and tried to pull my grandmother into a hug. I hadn’t seen her in over a year and she looked… Continue Reading
I’m wondering why you’re scared of the word “fat”. I got this really beautiful floral tattoo all over my chubby lil arm by a magical woman and I off-hand said to someone, “I covered my lil chubster arm in flowers!”… Continue Reading