hey there hotties,
hope the start of 2021 has brought all of us at least a new morning stretch routine, a bath caddy, or a self-help book that will keep us open to what’s ahead. tomorrow, to the future, forward: the last 298 days whispered into my ear and told me that instability is inevitable no matter how hard you work, or try, or give. what we thought was going to be our 2020 glow up year turned into an unveiling, a deep reaping of uncontrollable anxiety and saving every single dollar that comes our way. and even though 2020 made me feel like a bag of wilted flowers tossed to a grimy soho street corner, it also gave me a new perspective toward gratitude.
secretly, i hate gratitude. i hate how it’s shoved in our faces as this all curing, all healing mindset. “be grateful to work here” garbage has mentally trolled me as a previous employee and current consumer of women’s media. i always think of being told i needed to feel grateful for any kind of attraction that came my way as a fat person. gratitude is hard to see when panicky tunnel vision is in the way.
breathe
even though 2020 is not too far behind us, 2021 does have that new baby smell and open to possibilities. and with that, this newsletter has evolved to be a little more personal and less “1-800.” Hey Laura is here and she is the kind of newsletter that eats pasta 5 nights a week, recounts embarrassing stories, lists out notes she writes down when high, and praises the intensity of the newest vibrator, vitamin, or velour track suit in a size 18.
buy yourself some fucking flowers and find some gratitude in this existence.
~laura
p.s. want more of a topic? tell me! i’ll write about all my moisturizers, laser hair removal, the insanity of buying denim, butts . . . anything.
everything is embarrassing
my first talent video shoot for refinery29 was swimsuit branded content for target. it was cool and wild and everyone swirled around me needing to be elsewhere or right there or somewhere, usually with a coffee in hand. the stylist handed me a 16 top and a 14 bottom. i’m an 18. “if you could squeeze in it, that would be really helpful.” i pushed my body into the unforgiving spandex — horizontal stripes, i might add, behind a curtain. my silhouette must have been hilarious as i tried to shimmy my way into bikini bottoms that barely covered my mons. labia for all the world to see. to make it worse, i was breaking out on the back of my legs because i had been working out so much to keep to the size 18 i requested for the shoot. they had to cover the lower half of my body in concealer. i was so anxious and stressed and hungry and sucking it all in and wanting to cry because i was just a fat, inclusive pawn that when the director said “pretend like your dad is about to take you on a beach vacation,” i replied: “oh gosh, i haven’t heard from him in years.” the silence was excruciating.
murder me, will you?
if we’re giving gratitude where gratitude is due, i’d like to say thank you so some of my favorites:
pasta. all of it. you’re so good, so hot, so nice. i love you my little noodles.
my still life pinterest page of images I just want to evoke but can’t because I’m not an artfully placed lemon or wine glass.
fabletics leggings for being the pants i always wanted. fuck denim forever.
crying. i am really grateful for crying. i have a scar on the outside of my right eye, and i’m told that when i was born my tear duct wasn’t working so i needed surgery. could you imagine 2020 without a working duct?
laser hair removal
dry bar’s brush crush electric hair straightener so i can flip my hair under like velma.
my non-girlfriend girlfriend’s butt. it has kept be very happy. all i want to do is lay on it.
water. that’s it.
rupaul’s mother fucking dragrace has kept me in such a state of true joy over the last year. i’m not someone who would have ever gone out dancing or to a drag show or even karaoke, but i’ve turned into a dragrace super fan and all i want to do is debate the fierceness of lip syncs.
found objects
breda studios watches . . . i don’t even wear a watch but now i want to.
minor history’s crossbody bag . . . any men here can buy me this with their money
linguine with lemon & tomatoes via love & lemons
365 days of me by nadine g. yes, i bought this.
chelsea paris max loafers . . . again, men don’t need their money.
is it weird that i’m grateful for being fat?
like, i would have never said that as a teen or even a year ago. but honestly, i’m really grateful for fatness. it has given me this crystal clear understanding of how we treat each other and what we value. it also makes it really easy for me to enter a pandemic and not have an existential crisis when gaining a few pounds — thin weight gain stress is the weakest, most dramatic panic of them all (i refuse to feel bad about this statement . . . okay, i feel a little bad . . . but come on . . . you literally have everything and 5 extra lbs is going to take you down?)
i’m grateful that i can walk in this world and know where i stand the moment i speak to someone.
i’m grateful that i’ve had to learn to love myself and not associate my value with my appearance (even though i do stress out about that).
i’m grateful that i’ve never had to say “oh my god, reformation is on sale.”
i’m grateful that fatness has made me stand out in every meeting forever.
i’m grateful for being aware enough not to sit in small spaces on the subway but also super grateful to anyone who has mistook me for being pregnant on the subway and gave me their seat (i’ll take the seat of any ignorant person any day).
i’m grateful to be a small drop in the ocean of body advocacy.
i’m grateful that i never had to stupidly say “i feel fat today.”
IM NOT GRATEFUL for the fact that if i was thin, i would have had a full on stripper career . . . . unless there is a strip club for performers who aren’t thin or athletic or can’t touch their toes (DM me with details).
Hey Laura is a weekly newsletter dedicated to body image, sad stuff, joy, sexual wellness, life, butts, confidence, essays, fatness, crying until you're a puddle of DNA, embarrassment, and so much weirdo stuff. note: laura doesn’t take responsibility for your life and actions. she’s just an odd person on the internet that deeply wants to write everything in her heart and genitalia and flesh. some links:
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