Previous installments of The Toast’s advice column from two disparate and imperfect persons can be found here. (We are STILL open to better names for it.)
I have a friend who, in the last few years, has become a very negative person. Or maybe she was always like that, but it seems to be highlighted more now. I understand she’s not all that happy with her life situation–she’s single and doesn’t want to be, she doesn’t have a good group of friends where she lives, she can’t afford to travel to see the good friends she does have, her job is going nowhere–but every time I talk to her it quickly turns to her complaining about everything in her life. Even when I try to change the topic to something more positive, she quickly shuts it down, and often makes fun of me or my situation in the process.
I’ve tried offering advice or suggestions, but so far those haven’t really worked. I want her to be happy, and I feel sort of powerless. Help?
Nicole: There is nothing you can do. I think there are people who are negative in a very specific, situational sense due to life tragedy or job loss or crummy season of a beloved show, and then when the situation changes, they rebound. You should have infinite or near-infinite patience for the dumped or the grieving or the unemployed and their misery. And it sounds like there’s a chance that’s your friend’s deal? However, “last few years” is not a great sign to me. She might just be negative, which is immutable and a personality trait and a total downer for glass half-fullers, who are aggravating as shit in their own way. And, whatever, that’s okay, all the studies suggest that negative people are more keyed in to the realities of our miserable planet than those of us who wake up and are dressed by small woodland creatures every day, but they can be a nightmare to hang out with. Is she a good friend? Is she a friend you would be horrified to lose? No, don’t even answer that, because if there’s nothing you can do to fix it, it doesn’t matter.
I would find a moment to ask her if she thinks she might be depressed. It probably won’t go well. Other things that don’t work: talking about how her life is actually okay because North Korea. I’ve tried that. Mistake. I don’t want this to come across like “cut ‘er loose,” but if you are actively not enjoying the friendship and she seems like a consistently negative person who can never shake it, start broadcasting your disapproval and then spend less time with her. Adjust your own air mask, etc.
Mallory: Oh, I love negative people. They’re awful. The best part about negative people is that you can be very honest with them, because they are being very honest with you. You can actually say things like “It’s very boring when you complain for more than fifty percent of our conversation, and I’m bored right now.” It’s amazing! Have you tried it? She will laugh in astonishment, and you will feel a little shocked with yourself. It will be amazing. (Or terrible, but that doesn’t happen as often with the congenitally negative, only the profoundly sensitive.)
Besides, if it backfires, then you’ll know it’s time to stop talking and you won’t have to do the slow and vague fade-out, which I abhor. No one who gets faded out ever understands why it happened, and the one who does the fading has to work at it like a part-time job (“okay, after three weeks I’ll unfollow her on Twitter, and next month I won’t show up for our usual Thursday thing…”).
She’s telling you honest things 100% of the time (“my job sucks, men suck, everything sucks, suck suck sucky sucktimes”) and you’re trying to gently shepherd her into positivity and give her subtle advice. You are fighting fire with a damp rag. Blowtorch her with some reciprocal truths. Not in anger; not because you’re frustrated and you want to hurt her feelings. Say it lightly, say it gently, say it lovingly. “You’re being ridiculous, and this is not an unsolveable problem” is a wonderful sentence that doesn’t get said nearly often enough. It doesn’t work for everything, obviously. Sometimes people aren’t being ridiculous at all, so please employ it judiciously.
She’s giving you a really rare and unique opportunity, by telling you how she really feels all the time. She’s giving you a chance to be unbelievably honest with her right back.
How do I be Maid of Honor to someone I generally don’t like very much?
A friend of mine from middle school just got engaged, a gal who I was BFFLs with for a few years before we hit the part of high school where she ignored me for a serious boyfriend until senior year, and then was generally a very terrible friend (pathologically lying, used to text the guy I was seeing across the table kind of terrible friend) who I basically only talk to every few months when tries to guilt me for never calling her. But according to her I am her “oldest and best friend” (….????) and when she asked I said yes.
Because WHAT ELSE DO YOU SAY?? To someone’s FACE, when they’re all smiley and giddy and telling you they just got engaged? Anyway, any advice on resentfully planning and paying for showers and bridesmaid dresses would be great.
Nicole: WHY DID YOU SAY YES? I was all set to have this be literally the easiest thing in the world to resolve, but you’ve messed it up. When did this happen? How recently? Because I think you should just lie. Just straight-up lie, and say you are going through something really private and difficult and will not be able to bring your A-game to maid-of-honoring, and you want her to pick someone else. Then be a totally decent low-grade flunky in a more limited wedding capacity and ignore the fact people will talk about you. She can’t make you do it. She will also be a lot happier and less justified in being a bitch to you when she thinks about her wedding if you do a good job handing people a guestbook to sign instead of a passive-aggressive shitty job as her maid-of-honor. You can’t be her maid-of-honor, is the takehome here. Don’t.
Mallory: Never grin and bear anything. Never smile. Get out. Get out. Never text anyone, either. You’ll be a garbage maid of honor, and she’ll know it, and you’ll know it, and she’ll punish you in a thousand tiny, petty, hotly miserable ways because you both know it but neither of you would dare acknowledge it until she drags her white-tulle-enruffled carcass down a hallway and flings herself into marriage. I love my friends, and I have made it very clear that if any of them ever ask me to be in their weddings, I will joyfully and respectfully decline (Nicole, thank God you were already married when I met you).
I know it’s very easy to say “just don’t do it!!!” here from my safe and cozy corner of the Internet. I know that it will be awful, saying no, if you’re the kind of person who has a hard time saying no. I don’t even think you should lie. Just tell her through whatever form of communication you’re most confident in that you’ve thought about it and you really can’t dedicate the time and energy and money necessary to do a good job, and you are not going to be able to be her maid of honor. And then don’t say anything else. No followed by silence is the greatest trick in the world. You’ll be armed so strong with honesty that her threats will pass you by as th’ idle wind, which you respect not. It will feel weirdly great.
Don’t give her a long and detailed explanation, don’t over-apologize, don’t anticipate her reaction, just say “I’ve given it some thought, and although I’m really flattered that you asked me, I won’t be able to make this commitment,” and then shut up. People are allowed to back out of things, especially early on in the process. This is a thing people do; this is a thing you can do. She’ll yell at you, or her hair will turn into birds with bronze claws, or whatever, and then it will pass, and she will find a new best friend she hasn’t spoken to in years to rip open like a Tauntaun and use her for warmth and party planning until she bleeds out on the frozen tundra. Meanwhile, you’ll be merrily toasting your toes by a fire, immensely grateful to yourself for having weathered an hour of unpleasantness in order to get out of being her hate-servant for eight months.
Get out.
This is totally vain and ridiculous, but I really wish someone sane and sensible would talk to me about stretch marks. Like, do we all have them? Is that OK? The only place I see them discussed positively is in the context of how they are a woman’s “tiger stripes” from pregnancy, and that’s all great and empowering, I guess, except I’ve never been pregnant, and this year they suddenly blossomed all over my stomach. I’ve had them on my breasts since puberty. My husband has them on his knees. So I guess they are common enough? But still — it feels like this one thing is so permanent that it means I can never be beautiful again, no matter how thin I get, or how much makeup I wear, or whatever, and I like to think that I’m a smart woman who doesn’t have to define herself through beauty, but I keep on feeling pretty awful about having scars on my body that came from a time when I got a little fat.
Nicole: About a month and a half ago, I got a text from Jane Marie, professionally attractive woman, who said she had been crying since 11pm the previous night after getting her first pregnancy stretch mark. Most of that was hormones. She is fine now. And you’re right that we’ve carved out a particular cultural space where stretch marks acquired IN DOING BATTLE TO CREATE LIFE is all rah-rah-sisterhood, whereas the fact that skin stretches for other reasons as well is just…a thing that happens and you keep it to yourself and feel shitty.
But I think it is very normal and natural to react badly to anything new on your body that you don’t like the look of that will never quite go away (except to fade and become part of what you are used to seeing on your body.) People have scars and moles and stretch marks and port-wine stains and all manner of detritus, because we are sacks of flesh waiting for death. I have some on my hips from puberty, and I don’t even see them anymore unless I look for them, because it’s just my body. Everything becomes normal in time. You are not required to either feel empowered by them or disgusted or neutral. You can have literally any reaction to them you want, but know that you will almost certainly think about them a little bit less every day of your life. Or maybe it’s like Frodo’s only wound from the Black Rider’s blade, and it will bother you forever, while other people will only think of it when you mention it to them. I don’t know. I’m very sorry that this is a source of frustration and sorrow to you. I think it will be less so over time. It is not a wall between you and being beautiful, even if it is at least temporarily a wall between you and feeling beautiful.
Mallory: I have a few little ones on my right hip. This was an easy question! You just wanted to talk about them, right? I don’t have to fix your Complicated Feelings About Your Only Body? I have a few little ones, and I’ll probably get more at some point, and they don’t really bother me yet. Skin is amazing, but also disgusting. I don’t know who else has them, but I’m sure it’s fine.
Is your life imperfect? Have you troubles at work, or in your dark and moldering soul? Consider asking us for help at [email protected]. And take it easy on the romance questions, will you? One busted heart per customer.
Ugh, just this past year or two I got a bunch of new (so, red) stretch marks around my bellybutton, like a target, and they’re really bothering me. The ones on my hips I was mostly fine with, because they’ve faded and also whatever, but I feel like they’re really noticeable. On the other hand, I should probably wear shirts swimming anyway because cancer, so it works out, I guess.
Also, along the lines of “everyone has them”: Mr. Fringehead has a ton from all the weightlifting he did in high school, plus some that are probably from growth spurts/weight gain. Everybody does it! We really are just gross meat bags, and one day we (…I) will just own it.
Pointing out that we’re all gross meat bags is the maybe the most true and comforting thing anyone has written in forever.
Stretch marks do fade, though. I got a ton of them when I hit puberty and my skinny, boyish frame suddenly grew hips and boobs. They were bright red for awhile, then they were purple, and they slowly faded and eventually turned white. Now I can see them in certain light but it’s not a big deal. My last boyfriend had bright red ones on his sides/belly, and I still banged him. Stretch marks are SO COMMON.
LW3, there are creams and oils you can get that reduce the appearance of stretch marks. I had a cream from Avon that was fantastic, and Bio Oil is magical.
Isn’t “the appearance of stretch marks” the entire point of cocoa butter?
I think “smelling like a cookie” is the entire point of cocoa butter.
True, but for the LW I would frame the entire thing as “stretch marks are an opportunity for you to smell like delicious cookies.”
Regularly massaging the oil in every day is key, too. Just, like, a minute a day.
I just started getting my first pregnancy stretch marks (I have a bunch from puberty on my hips/thighs/breasts) and I have been SO bummed out about them, and it makes me feel so much better that Jane Marie cries about stretch marks, too.
I have to work on restraining myself from sharing half of the posts on this blog on Facebook. I loved this. I can’t wait until the next time someone asks me about my favorite blog so I can say The Toast. I would marry this blog and ask you two to be my maids of honor. Just kidding. Sort of.
Everyone has stretch marks. Everyone. I have both vertical and horizontal ones alllllll over my hips and thighs from my growth spurt/transformation from a willowy child to a not-so-willowy woman. And yes, they’re noticeable, but they’re also unremarkable, because everyone has them. Skin is weirdly fragile for something so important!
Yup. I have never been pregnant, nor has my weight fluctuated a lot since puberty. But I have some pretty heavy ones on my knees (not really noticeable unless you look for them) and a few lighter ones on my hips from my hips shifting to their current state in high school. I think I even have some on my shoulders! It’s just what skin does.
I recently gained some more stretch marks over my stomach and I haven’t even gained any weight as far as I’m aware. I just got stretch marks there.
I have old ones (gone silver) on my hips and my thighs and my breasts.)
My husband had ones over his joints from where he had his growth spurts.
Everyone has them.
“I have a few little ones on my right hip”–I’m sure that’s making her feel a lot better. Lots of people have them. From pregnancy, from weight or muscle gain (look closely at NBA players, they all have them on their shoulders), from puberty and totally normal growth. On a recent beach trip I noticed that many of the most svelte, modelesque women on the beach had them. I got all mine at puberty (combination of normal growth and weight gain, but I like to think less about the latter). I think Nicole’s right. You’ll notice them less over time not because they disappear but because they’re just part of you. I totally get it though. I will never be someone who flaunts her cleavage because STRETCHMARKS.
I have stretch marks on my butt that don’t bother me much because butts are just weird in general so what’s one more weird thing?
I recently got them on my chest, which was at first kind of horrifying, but then kind of awesome, because OMG am I finally not flat-chested? (Just checked; still am.)
So yes, spectrum of emotion about them!
“…because butts are weird in general so what’s one more weird thing?”
This is great and thank you for it.
I have been working hard on being comfortable in my own body (with scars! and jiggly flab! and stretch marks! and weird stubbly hair that won’t go away!) and I felt like I was starting to get a handle on it. Then this morning I tweezed two gray hairs from my brows and now I just want to go dip myself in a Lazarus pit to regenerate. BODIES, AMIRITE.
nooooo sparkly gray hairs are like diamonds! you’ll have a natural tiara!
(I started going gray at 22, so.)
They were eyebrow hairs!! Which is suppose is better, but also feels so WEIRD. (And I apologize, I shouldn’t be bitching about having a few gray hairs at 31, I have friends who started going gray in their 20s and rock the look.)
Even better, then you can show this look off.
(I feel like aging-related things are fair game for self-bitching since it’s really all we can do as a way of shaking our fists at our unfeeling genotypes.)
I’m in my late thirties, and realized this week that I really want all of my friends with grey hair to dye it so I stop feeling so fucking old all the time (because I’m very vain).
But then I have hella stretch marks and don’t think about them ever, so.
If I’m honest, what I’d really like is for my hair to stay almost entirely dark for a while, and then IMMEDIATELY flip to gray. I actually really like gray and think it would be a cool hair color to have, it’s just the piecemeal process of turning gray that sounds frustrating.
My mom’s hair is still very dark mostly (she’s in her early 60s) but she started getting her grays all around her hairline and it’s gorgeous.
The worst thing about gray hair is the way each and every one of them attempts to spring out of your scalp and wave joyfully to the world. Besides that I find the whole late thirties ageing process fascinating. I can spend quality time staring at my face to discover new moles and really stiff grey hairs spouting in new spots.
And chin hairs that totally weren’t there five minutes ago, the last time you checked.
My friend and I call these grey hairs “head pubes.” It’s fascinating and horrifying at the same time.
I started going gray in high school and stopped coloring it in my 20s. Someone I loved had just died young, and I was standing in my bathroom in a ratty t-shirt with a dye-stained towel slung around my shoulders, a squeeze bottle of dye in my hands, and suddenly I realized I was throwing away one good night every three weeks coloring my hair.
At the moment, it was very much an existential choice. I thought, hey, time’s awastin’. How do you want to spend your time before it all slips away?
These days, it’s partly a political and feminist statement: this is how I look and I’m not covering it up to make other people more comfortable. I’m sure it would be easier to find a day job (and, before I was married, would have been easier to get dates) if I colored my hair, but I can’t cave in to that expectation.
Congratulations, how wonderful.
Stretch marks! On my back! On my stomach! On my hips! On my shoulders! On my boobs! Pretty much all from puberty and growth spurts, but also from being overweight my whole life .
We all have ’em.
I have a bunch of old stretch marks on my hips and breasts from puberty (it hit me hard, I guess). My boyfriend has them all down his lower back, which is an odd place to have them but everyone gets them somewhere, I guess!
That’s from getting taller quickly. My husband has that too.
Ohh, makes sense. And is also a bit funny, because my boyfriend is 5’5″, so it’s not like he got much growth in exchange for the stretch marks.
I had a boyfriend with horizontal stretch marks on his back that looked like some kind of crazy whip marks and I thought it was so weird! Not bad at all, just weird. Then I saw (a lot) more men naked and realized it was pretty common. Hell, maybe I have some of my own that I can’t see. I never got very tall though.
LW2, I got out of two bridal parties after already having agreed to them. They weren’t awful friends like your bride sounds like, but it was still a situation of “I’m not really sure why you’re asking me–oh, I see, you’re just trying to match how many groomsmen there are.”
My excuse (which in both cases was true-ish) was unexpected travel plans: e.g., family just planned a vacation for those dates and you really want to spend as much time with them as you live far away from them, etc. etc. But be prepared to substantiate via social media!
The Maid of Honor advice is dead on. I MoH’d a dear friend’s wedding (after three years of engagement) earlier this summer and am essentially MoH-ing it again for another dear friend in a few weeks, and it is TOUGH. It is tough to do for someone you love dearly and deeply. I cannot imagine doing it for someone who I was pretty meh about.
Lie like a dog and get the hell out. It will be better for everyone.
Tall lanky skinny dudes get stretch marks on their BACKS when they grow too fast during puberty, sometimes!!! I learned this recently and I was so immensely pleased. Because not only do WE THE WOMEN all have them, but WE THE HUMANS all have them. HURRAY!
Yep, this happened to my tall lanky skinny friend when he grew too fast for his skin.
Icebergie! This would be a great place to post “everyone is gross” again.
My last boyfriend was very tall lanky and fast-growing as a kid, and then outward-growing in adulthood. He had all kinds of stretch marks. It’s nice to be reminded that you’re not the only one.
oh all right. 😉
Yay! Speaking of hiding it, I wear pants and shirts with sleeves so nobody can see how gross my unshaved legs and pits are. Though they’re not that gross because my hair is fine and sparse. I really wish people didn’t think it was gross. A breeze blowing my leg hair is a wonderful feeling.
This happened to my younger brother. While on vacation recently with all three of my brothers one of the older ones was like “John what are those scratches?!?” And my older brothers would not believe me that they were stretch marks from John growing too fast. He has had them ever since he grew who knows how many inches in one year.
Yup! My ex was 6’4 and had them going all the way down one arm (no idea why the other one didn’t get them.) I thought they were kind of hot, honestly, but I’m a bit weird about that sort of thing.
Stretch marks- Add me to the list of people with a ton of them. Mine are from puberty and are all over my knees and hips. I probably got a couple of new ones on my hips/stomach from pregnancy, too. I didn’t realize that they were something to hide, I guess because they’ve been there essentially my whole life. No one has ever made any disparaging remarks about them either.
When it comes to bodies, I have realized that no one (other than the person living in the body) pays THAT CLOSE attention. So don’t worry about it. Rock the marks and live your live like you always would. No one will be the wiser!
Everyone ever has stretch marks. I read a poem once that called them “silvery ribbons,” but most of the time I don’t romanticize/think about mine at all. I do, however, hate my cellulite with a nonsensical passion. Flesh sack waiting for death!
“People have scars and moles and stretch marks and port-wine stains and all manner of detritus, because we are sacks of flesh waiting for death.”
Goddammit, now this is an advice column.
I have stretch marks down my sides (from gaining 60 pounds during pregnancy). they’re not super visible now, (2.5 years later) but I was wayyy madder about how awful my boobs look (after losing 90 pounds post pregnancy).
I understand what it is to suddenly feel horrible about your body and think that you’ll never feel beautiful again, but to be honest I don’t even give a shit about my horrible tube-sock boobs any more. Not because I had an epiphany or grew wiser or some shit, but just because this is the body I walk around in every day and I just had too much other shit to be worried and depressed about to maintain feeling bad about my once-fabulous tits. It’s kind of like when you get dumped, at first you’re like “I will never love again!”, and then a few months later you wake up and you’re like “ehhh, that guy wasn’t that hot anyway”. You know? Time passes and new things happen and you eventually just get over it.
I had two body parts I was vain about: my hands (I had delicate, creamy, Victorian-heroine hands) and my boobs. And pregnancy/motherhood ruined both. I was really depressed over this for awhile, but time marched on and now I feel the same way you do. Funny how that happens.
I’ve been in your position, LW1, and will bet you a million internet dollars that your friend has situational depression. This is harder to deal with when you’re living in different cities because the best way to get someone out of that is with practical help, and that’s best achieved by a local support system, which she’s specifically said she doesn’t have. Until she’s ready to stop wallowing and help herself (no judgment; I’ve been the depressed friend too, just not the Depressed Lonely Complaining Friend On The Phone), Mallory’s answer is the only thing that will get you anywhere. That is, if in fact you do want to get somewhere and not just bow out temporarily, which is okay too.
I’m so late to this party (and the Toast in general because I just started the new job at Kickass Law Firm of Justice), but I want to say YES to what you said. I was That Negative Friend for a long time; I made some shitty decisions after college in an attempt to please other people, and it backfired, and I ended up single, miserable, and lonely living and working in rural Virginia at a military boarding school. I taught 9th and 10th grade at the military school. Did I mention that I hate: kids who are not my blood relatives or the children of my good friends, WalMart, small towns, the armed forces, misogyny, etc.
And then I was laid off because the economy crashed and nobody could afford the tuition at the ridiculous boarding school.
I was Negative Nancy for a few years. I snapped out of it when I started making good friends, had people to hang out with, started working out, ended up moving to Boston and went to law school with my cousin (best life decision ever), and ended up interning with the Kickass Law Firm of Justice on a whim. But what really got me there was having friends who dragged me out and told me to STFU about the shitty millennial problems, find a therapist, and figure out how to be happy.
I have stretch marks, my husband has them, as far as I know everyone on earth has them, which doesn’t make them any less crappy, but I like to tell myself that’s what god invented clothes, airbrushing, self-tanner and darkness for!
Stretch marks! I have some on my hips from hitting puberty a little harder than expected, but I think they kind of look like sun rays and it’s like saying “Hey, I have this pattern on my skin and normally to do that you have to get tattooed and that requires needles, which I hate.”
I’m sure when I get new ones I won’t be nearly as zen about it,, but yep – we’ve all got them!
RE stretchmarks: of the sample of people I’ve gotten naked, all the women who were over 30 or had children had them, and half the men did. But more importantly: yes, it’s okay! In real life, in person, I don’t think anyone who’s not preternaturally shallow is turned off by them. Even the sorts of people who might note celebrities’ tiny physical flaws have entirely different standards for people they actually meet. Honest. While we all might have perfectly clear, smooth skin as a theoretical ideal, very few of us are actually turned off by moles, stretchmarks, etc.- they’re just a neutral part of someone’s body, like the fact that our fingers are all different lengths or something.
Oh man, I seriously wondered for a bit if I or another friend had written that first letter, because that really describes a friend of mine and I’m struggling so much of what to do about it. Except that most of her outward negativity comes out on Facebook, and while I’ve been so tempted to be negative right back in comments, that feels very mean and catty. And this one is another “it’s been years” kind of situation, so. Ugh.
You can hide her on Facebook!
I know but she is a person I really care about, not just a Facebook friend keep around out of not wanting to defriend. Sigh.
LW2, it sounds like the bride is not someone you’re super into staying in touch with anyway. You sound like you’re kind, and considerate, and don’t want to cause big dramz, but if you pull out of her wedding and she promises to hate you forever, will that be such a horrible outcome?
Agreed! God, I won’t even GO to weddings of people I don’t like all that much (Remember, kids: an invitation is NOT a legal-binding summons!), I can’t imagine being IN one.
What’s the worst case scenario, here, if you decline? Bride gets mad at you and stops talking to you? That…actually sounds pretty awesome. Just because you were once friends doesn’t mean you are obligated to be at her beck and call for life. Hell, even when y’all were close friends it doesn’t sound as though she was a very good friend to YOU.
And if it helps, maybe think of this as doing her a small favor – Bride is clearly more invested in your friendship than you are and that sort of emotional imbalance is really unfair to the person more invested.
My oldest and most persistent stretch marks are on my inner thighs. They’re white and scar-tissuey now. My problem isn’t with their appearance, it’s the fact that that skin is sensitive. When they chafe against my partner’s stomach during sex it really hurts unless we’re both totally dry or super slick with sweat.
Anti-chafing cream! I put that sh*t on everything.
That’s a great idea! “Hey baby, how ’bout you come over here and rub some anti-chafing cream on my thighs?” 😉
OK, so I have pretty much always had all the stretchmarks. I get them when I gain weight, I get them when I lose weight. As long as there isn’t too much fluctuation going on, they do fade, but that is not how my body works, so they’re just always there. I see it more as a symptom of having easily marked up skin than a personal flaw at this point.
Can we talk about cellulite? Supposedly tons of people have it and you can’t do anything about it, but you really don’t see it in representations of women anywhere, even body-positive ones. It gets me down, because even when I work out my ass gets firmer, but the cellulite doesn’t go away. Ugh.
Oh yes please let’s talk about this, because I just started getting it and as body positive as I would like to be, I hate it and it makes me feel awful about my perfectly normal body.
I have it, I hate it, it looks gross, but that’s okay! I don’t think we have to think every single thing is cool and perfect. My strategy is to pretend I don’t have it and live life accordingly.
It’s a drag. It really doesn’t go away – like, 300 mile weeks on the bike (not now, but in the past!), and yes, still there! Stupid hormones.
On the bright side, everyone really does have it. It’s normal! And natural!
I live in California. I go to the beach a lot. And you know what? You see all kinds of bodies and shapes and stretch marks and cellulite and wrinkles and saggy bits – all the things! – out there in bikinis. (Dudes, please, boardshorts, not speedos.) And you know what? It’s okay. We’re all happy playing in the sun. Nobody really stares at each other, because we’re all weird and imperfect in our own particular ways.
So maybe try not to dream of perfection. Step away from the mirror and go live joyously.
I feel like I don’t have to stay away from the mirror if I make sure to look at real people’s bodies, as you say, and really, seriously stay the hell away from advertising photography. Because that’s what gave people the idea that there are adult bodies without cellulite or stretch marks.
Also, the stretch marks on my breasts when they first inflated? Purple on my white, white skin. Nice!
I have stretchmarks just about everywhere people get them – ass, thighs, hips, boobs, back of my knees. And a cellulitey backside. I am as body-positive as they come, but I’m afraid I am not posting a picture of my ass on the internet, even to make other toastie people feel better. But I promise it’s there! It has never occurred to me that anyone past their early 20s didn’t have cellulite. I have three horses so my legs and backside are proper hard and muscly from all the riding, but the cellulite sits merrily on top of the muscle and when I clench my bumcheeks it pops out to say hello. I do not care.
I’m 22 and have had a lumpy butt for as long as I’ve been thinking about my butt! I do NOT like how it looks but that’s my butt and I like it otherwise so I try not to dwell. And since it’s on the back of me I can’t even really see it unless I try, so then I just forget for a while.
The cellulite cycle.
My thighs are like 100% cellulite! And apparently it doesn’t go away because it has to do with the specific way your skin is attached to the fat and muscle layers. I think.
My little (in more ways than one) sister, who one time weighed over 100 pounds, but that was ten years ago for about three weeks, has not an ounce of extra fat on her. She also has cellulite. Bodies are weird, as ever.
I have some around my butt/hips and hated them until I realized that when I get a bruise the stretch marks don’t discolor so it looks like I have a majestic thundercloud festooned with lightning bolts on my ass.
Other things that don’t work: talking about how her life is actually okay because North Korea. I’ve tried that.
Side note: “Someone always has it worse” is my mother’s go-to argument when I’m feeling down, and it SUCKS. Please, nobody use it. The person you say it to just ends up depressed about their own dumb shit AND North Korea.
(No kidding, she used that argument after a friend of mine was murdered. “Well just think of how much worse her family feels.”)
Depressed about their own shit, *and* North Korea, *and* feeling shitty about themselves for feeling bad when they’re not in North Korea. I hate that argument as well.
Duuuude. Were you not supposed to feel bad about your friend or something?
:O YOUR MUM! NOOOOOOOO
i have stretch marks alllllll over my ass. i’ve had them since puberty and have always been mystified by why they’re there of all places and no where else.
i think they are pretty noticeable and i’m somewhat self conscious about them, but luckily not too many people see my ass. i agree that the permanence is unsettling.
Conversation I had with my ladyfiance yesterday…
Ladyfiance: Miranda the cat scratched your butt!
Me: No she didn’t! Miranda doesn’t scratch people’s butts! *looks at cat adoringly*
Ladyfiance: No honey, there’s a cat scratch on your butt!
Me: No there isn’t. *looks in mirror* Wait, that thing?
Ladyfiance: yeah!
Me: …that’s a stretch mark.
Ladyfiance: No, it’s a scratch…
Me: Ladyfiance, that is a stretch mark. Here, look at it up close, it’s the same as this one on my thigh.
Ladyfiance: Oh. Oops.
Then we snuggled and watched Parks and Rec on Netflix. (Life lesson: this is also why dating/marrying ladies is the best)
That is such stellar advice for LW1. Also I think I may have written that letter and sent it whilst sleepwalking, so perfectly does it sum up the last year of dealing with a very dear friend who is going through a lot of similar things. Luckily, she decided to address the problem and has gotten herself a therapist and some meds, and I’m super proud of her/hopeful that it can keep the sads at bay. Because it really is so difficult to be helpful to someone who is deep at the bottom of their “everything is terrible” well, and turned me into a Pollyanna, which is not a great color on me. In short, Nicole and Mallory, a toast to you for your real talk, as always.
Everyone’s different, but sometimes with depressed friends you don’t need to say some big thing or have a deep Are You Depressed talk. All it took for me to really examine the relationship with my abusive ex was a well-timed “We need to talk about your boyfriend” from a wise all-knowing friend. Or a curt, “Stop posting so much negative shit on Facebook” from another when I was deep into posting woe is me statuses. When you’re depressed it’s easy to think no one cares about you or even notices you, much less notices the negativity you’re projecting especially since all your friends are trying to subtly ignore your pain by redirecting the conversation and not responding to it. So that can create this unending cycle where you feel you need to repeat your negative thoughts over and over and over again until you get a response, so sometimes an exasperated “OMG enough already!” is enough to acknowledge the depression while also lovingly slapping a little sense into them.
I’ve had them on my knees and hips (and probably my butt, too, but I try not to look back there too often) – have since I was 11 or 12, so I guess it’s puberty-related – thank you to everyone for explaining this! When I was younger they freaked me out, because when you’re 12 no one knows what stretch marks are, so I just thought I was an alien or something. Sometime in college I learned about stretch marks, decided that’s what they were, and began to utterly not give a shit.
But recently I was having a conversation with my mom (who just lost a bunch of weight so now has both stretch marks and wrinkles in weird places) and I mentioned that I’d had stretch marks forever and she was like “What!? WHY? YOU’VE NEVER BEEN PREGNANT” and I was like “who knows, I guess some people just have them” and she gave me this look like I was some kind of utterly bizarre and unfamiliar creature and I felt like I was right back in junior high.
I like my stretch marks, weirdly enough! I feel they’re kind of like rings on a tree, marking where and when I grew. Hello body rings!
This may be obnoxious to say but… this weekend I was at a festival with my friends, and an acquaintance named Brittany came by in her bikini. And she had hella stretchmarks all over her stomach. And first I was shocked and embarrassed for her which says sad things about me. But as she sat there all nonchalant in her bikini top not worried or self-conscious… I started being embarrassed for me. She looked good! So… new goal is to just chill the fuck out, and we should all learn to be like that girl Brittany. Cuz she was awesome.