Category Archives: Personal

All hail the queen

What an exciting time we live in. A time where the question Do you remember the moment when Beyoncé announced her pregnancy with twins? is almost as relevant as the question Do you remember what you were doing on 9/11, when the planes crashed into the towers? used to be.

So…do you? I’m sure you know at least one person who does. Because people are crazy, and sometimes it scares me.

So yeah, Beyoncé got pregnant. Big news. First thing that always comes to my mind when celebrities have kids is – aha, in vitro fertilization, but I guess that makes me a bit crazy, too, so… (Because IVF often leads to twins – take RF, he has two sets of identical twins)

Anyway – is it really that big a piece of news? I know that we tend to get a little overexcited and weird on the internet, but really? Do you really care so much, you have to repost it, give it hearts and everything? Give her the feedback she clearly was aiming at, the one – isn’t it sad?? – she was sure to get from her weirdly staged pregnancy shoot?

Sure, it puts a little bit of pressure on the rest of us. In my world, a lot of people seem to be into weird pregnancy shoots – couple things, the ones where the husbands stand behind their preggo wives and lovingly stroke the oven. It gives me shivers. I love pregnant women, to me each and everyone of them looks beautiful, but I think one simple picture of her is enough and a better memory than a weird couple shoot, but I guess that’s a matter of individual taste. And then there comes Beyoncé, all VOGUE and stuff. Thx Bey, can’t wait for all the desperate housewives showing up to their upcoming shoots bearing veils and flowers.

I don’t know. Personally, I’m just not a fan of this orchestration of something natural. Sure, it’s an amazing thing to happen to every mother – but isn’t it weird not to be able to announce something ordinary (yet amazing) in just a casual, normal way? Not to have a choice but to make profit from every single step of your life, including your kids?

Imagine what Beyoncé’s life must be – excuse my vulgarity, but I can’t help but imagine how every time she takes a dump, she’s thinking about how to make it a huge publicity stunt. Like, I’m gonna put a ton of flowers there, Ivy Blue will have to hand me the paper from this angle over there and I’ll wear a veil in pale rose this time, so everybody understands that I’m all about fresh air and roses.

And the next thing I imagine is her reaction when she sees everybody going crazy over a tiny piece of ‘news’ of hers. Lol, peasants.

And as sick and annoying as this seems to me, she’s obviously doing something right. As soon as one of her pictures is online for a sec, everybody is going crazy, reposting and crying of joy – omg YAS Queen Bey has spoken, and what a revelation it is.

So she’s getting twins now. That’s it. Am I really the only one who couldn’t be bothered by this piece of news? Feels like it, seeing how my whole feed is full of it, days after the news. F*cking chill, people. Go out and feel happy for the news somebody of your closer circle has. I bet when that acquaintance from a couple of years ago announces her pregnancy on Facebook, the same people are close to choking on their negative comments about that person, letting that gossip group chat go wild. But hey, it’s Queen Bey.

Who is she to you, anyway? Calm your tits. I get it if you like her music – even though to me her work is getting more and more overrated – but that doesn’t obligate you to go nuts whenever she announces something personal, I promise.

Go out and be your own queen, trust me.

Anna

P.s.: I’m not a queen, but I could still use a like on Facebook. xoxo

 

Pic via Instagram

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Meat

It’s always hard for me to decide whether or not to cover things when they might be associated with political views which I don’t have or don’t want to debate – I know how the internet is: Especially people who haven’t been following you for a while and happen to take their first glance ever on your blabla, tend to pick up the wrong points from your texts, making it about something it is not. So for the next couple of sentences, please keep in mind: this is not an indication of my political believes or opinion, this is not a confession, nothing – it has nothing to do with politics, politics was just a trigger.

Two or three days ago, I saw one of my fav bloggers from Germany post a picture of terrorism statistics (that infamous one, recently twittered by acknowledged intellectual KimK herself) in her story, captioning it with ‘Fuck Trump’. What an impressive statement to make.

Now I know what sentiments a majority of the western internet culture seems to have at the moment and it’s ok and understandable. Me too, I can’t say I like the new guy, at least I can’t think of a reason for now – but I’ll have to add that this sentiment doesn’t only apply to the new POTUS but also the so called ‘alternative’, Hillary. I never understood how a country like America, filled with bright, ambitious minds, couldn’t come up with other candidates to fill such an important role – well yes, I did, cash is king etc, but that is a completely other topic which I consider closed for this post right here.

What really annoys me about this whole Trump debate is the choice of points to debate and the choice of words that often goes along with it. Again, I totally get it, I’m not amused, either. Me too, I’m sitting at home, in horror of some of the things he says and plots and is starting to implement. Me too, I have a problem with ‘alternative facts’. But some of the things that some people are debating irritate me almost as much and I think we should stop giving people the feeling that this is how you make a valuable contribution to any kind of discussion.

Calling his wife a hooker – is that really your biggest problem? Her being a rather easy woman at some point in her life, apparently? Me too, I ‘liked’ Michelle, but honestly, there’s a limit to what you can and can not say about a woman, no matter who she is and what she did to get her to the point where she is now, no matter what sort of monster you think her husband is etc. Not respecting those limits in a way just shows what kind of person you are, and I can’t say it’s exactly likable, either.

Talking about his orange face, his tiny hands, his double chin or whatever – really? I mean it might have been funny as long as we all believed he wouldn’t make it but now it’s just so far away from what really is important, it gives me headache every time somebody mentions his looks. It’s like you’re trying to jump in on the current anti-Trump train and can’t think of a more valuable argument. Me too, I laugh when I see a picture of his face made of sausage, but if you’re trying to make a point, mentioning his face certainly isn’t a very powerful way to do so.

Same goes for swearwords describing him, especially coming from people from countries or in positions that aren’t really concerned. Like a German blogger commenting on the whole debate saying ‘Fuck Trump’ and nothing else. If that’s really all you have to say to express your opinion, I think you should just keep it to yourself next time. I know that having strong feelings about the person seemingly everybody is having strong feelings about is cool, but it kind of isn’t if you don’t have your own arguments that support your feelings.

The list goes on and on. And I have to comment on it, because I can’t escape it and I can’t unsee it – all of my feeds, no matter where, are filled with such ‘rationale’. And whenever people deliberately choose to make him the topic, sooner or later it drifts off to arguments I don’t want to discuss – not about him, not about anybody else in the world, really.

Because it’s wrong, because it misses the right/important points. I mean the question is – would all of those things bother you if he was a brilliant candidate, apart from that? Of course not. So why, in all of these debates, can’t we focus on what’s important, at least – even if that again is more or less subjective.

So, to come back to making this a more general conclusion, detached from what is going on in ‘the land of the free’: if you want to impress people, if you want to make a point, if you want to make a valuable contribution to a discussion, you have to give it some meat. I know that having an opinion is important, just as is voicing it – but only if it’s equipped with more than just f*cks and mockery. Isn’t it so much better to listen to somebody with good arguments and interesting thoughts? If you have nothing else to say, nothing new to add, I assure you, you’re better off by just not commenting on it.

Disclaimer: I’m not saying you should stop criticizing, protesting or whatever, but whenever your ‘statements’ aren’t longer than two to three words and nothing but short, derogative comments, you’re not winning the debate, you’re disarming yourself.

Don’t be that person, trust me.

Anna

 

P.s.: Feedback is always appreciated, even if it’s negative – it’s ok if you disagree and I love to hear from you either way – so comment along or follow @girlcasm on Facebook – xoxo

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They don’t call it balance for nothing

You know how time and  time again you come across a social phenomenon you notice and catch yourself thinking – really? Are there still people falling for this / acting this way? Like girls who cry their eyes out because it took them forever to realize they fell for a f*ckboy. Or people, who don’t really know a single Russian person, think that Russians are evil just because everybody tells them so (personal issue here). Or those smart cookies who think that their bag of nuts is special because it says gluten free. Wow.

I had such a WOW moment the other day, when I came across a magazine promising a new way of dieting on its cover. Like… seriously? You people still need somebody to tell you how to lose weight? Wow. I mean…good for the people who can make a living off making a secret of something logical but you can just ask me the next time and spend the money on something else. (Not candy, ideally.)

You know I’m always here for you if you need any kind of advice, so here’s how it goes:

First of all: dieting sucks. Not having the body you desire sucks. Seeing a skinny bitch eating and not gaining weight sucks. Gaining weight just by looking at things – like I know you’re probably convinced it works with you – sucks. Having cravings 24/7 sucks. The perspective of having to put a shitload of work into changing that sucks immensely and so does not having as much discipline and dedication as everybody else seems to have.

But there’s good news, too: it’s not rocket science. The secret in losing weight is simple – it’s basic calculus. Yep, I know – sounds shitty again, but that’s kind of no surprise, is it? Maths suck and so does shedding weight, so at least there’s kind of a pattern here. Some call it balance, to make it sound less scary, but that’s basically the same thing. And that’s all, (almost) no other secret behind it.

That being said, you can do it without spending money on advice. Without buying e-Books, without buying magazines in the first days of January. All you’ll have to do is count or even just estimate. No need to count calories (or macros, god forbid), except if you’re an annoyingly obsessive person, which I totally understand and will never judge – whatever works for you, go you.

But to come to the point: If you eat like a hamster, you’ll look like a hamster – except if you’ll put an equal amount of effort in working your *ss off. Addition, subtraction, result. And that’s it. The sad truth and nothing but the truth.

Now before somebody starts crying like I know you usually do when I call something by its name: I consider myself a hamster, too, even if I know that some might not. Hamster does not equal to fat, it’s just a symbol. Most of my friends don’t know me without traces of food coating my oral cavity so I do know the struggle. Just as much, I think it’s totally ok to be a hamster, with or without the rat race – this is not a way of me saying that changing your physical appearance is necessary just because you don’t look like straight from a VS runway. Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes and this is not the point of this rant here.

But it makes me angry to see how people take advantage of somebody’s desire to lose weight, acting like there was a big secret behind it, something we don’t already know. We do know, even if, again, it sucks to know that it is all in our hands, basically.

A couple of days ago I saw one of those ‘I lost so much weight and girls you can, too – the secret is easy – go vegan’ posts and I really had to catch myself for a sec there. Breathe in, breathe out. Yes, it might be true, you might see some results after switching to a vegan diet – but I hope you don’t think that this can’t happen if you stick to a normal, not obsessive, balanced diet including everything, even an occasional slice of pizza or whatever sugary products float your goat, do you? It can and it will, if you keep your balance in mind. Just don’t overdo it. Or if you do, punish yourself, if you absolutely need to. Go crazy at the gym. Go for a nasty run. Hate yourself, blame yourself, whatever. And then get over it.

So I guess what I meant to say is – they don’t call it balance for nothing. That’s all you need to know, basically. Of course there’s food that is better for you than other food might be and there’s foods your body might process better than others  – but you don’t need to spend money on that information, do you? And you don’t need somebody to talk you into a lifestyle that doesn’t come to you naturally, just because it promises to make you lose some weight – and gain a sh*tload of energy or whatever else they offer as additional goodies.

The beauty of a simple balance – or calculus – is that it’s in your hands to work the cranks – now isn’t that good news?

Eat everybody who’s trying to sell you dieting secrets, trust me.

Anna

 

P.s.: Come share the love on Facebook – if you don’t share it, at least like it. xoxo

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Turn-off

I’ve been having inner rants about a recent group project at uni for a while now and it’s about time I draw a general conclusion from my experience – what do you think?

Just to give you a quick overview of where I’m coming from before I get to the juicy part: I’m currently working on a project with three male partners – one of which is working really hard for our common cause, using his brain, giving valuable input, showing up on time etc. The other two however keep it to the absolute minimum, low budget performance, sprinkled with excuses nobody has time for. In general, they are both nice and all, but there’s just something I feel like every man should be told:

Not doing what you said you would do is so unattractive in a man. Being indecisive is unattractive. Not using your f*cking brain is unattractive. Not doing an effort is unattractive. Ignorance is unattractive, just as is laziness. Not taking the lead is so so unattractive. And excuses? F*cking stop the excuses – I’m not your resolution.

These things might be unattractive in women as well, but they are an absolute turn-off in a man, if you ask me – no matter what kind of relationship you have with that person, personal or professional. You can be turned-off by the indecency of a coworker as well, right? To me, a man just becomes immensely unattractive if I notice a pattern of him not keeping to his word or being indifferent to me taking the lead. You’re a man, after all – at least act the part.

I know it’s difficult to say something about attractive and unattractive – there are countless men out there who probably find me unattractive for the length (haha) of my legs, the shape of my nose or just generally the way that I breathe – but think of attraction in the general sense of respect here.

On this occasion, please spare me all the witty remarks on how women are asking for emancipation all the time and how comments on qualities in a man are opposed to that – I do not work on becoming a confident woman so that we can switch sexual organs and live happily ever after. If a woman is confident enough to challenge, it doesn’t mean that everybody else can just sit back and relax. I’m not asking to become the bearer of balls, I’m fine to work what I was given, thank you.

You know, feelings and all, weaknesses – they are all good and it sure is cute to see some of them in a man sometimes, as a little present, a manifestation of trust or whatever. But as soon as weakness becomes his first, second and last name, things have gotten out of hand. Call 911 or just run if you can. While this is possible in a personal relationship, sadly, oftentimes you’re left with having to deal with it in all other kinds of interactions with people…

And then also, there’s a difference between having weak spots and just plainly not sticking to ones word – because having the courage or determination to state something, promise something and really sticking to it, that’s immensely attractive slash respectable.

In every context and in contact with everybody, really. What makes you a valuable partner in a relationship, to a certain extent makes you a decent human being in general. It doesn’t matter if it’s with somebody you know or a complete stranger. If you think you’re man enough in front of your significant other or whoever you’re trying to impress, but can’t be a decent, dependable human being in other situations, like work or just any kind of social interaction, then you’re still a wimp. And how unattractive that is…

To keep it simple: the most attractive thing a man can do, is exactly what he says he’s going to do – trust me.

Anna

 

P.s.: Why don’t you support my rants and go hit that like button on Facebook? I’d love love love for this little project here to grow – xoxo

 

Picture via girlboss

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AA

I was born with small breasts. Like everybody else, you know. No biggie.

It started to become a big deal not too late in my life, though. Because they just didn’t seem to grow. At the age of about eight I still had nothing worth mentioning, while my best friend at that time already had quite a lot to show. She had to wear a bra and I was convinced that this was the way it was supposed to be. I hated my body for not playing by the rules, at the age of eight. As a logical consequence I started pulling the tiny mass that had built around my nipples on a daily basis, hoping that this would help.

It didn’t. Some time around the age of 12 I still had ridiculously small boobs. By that time EVERYBODY was wearing bras at school so I got myself some, too. You know, the ones from H&M with the pads about as thick as a hand? That looked super funny if you didn’t have enough to fill them with? Yeah… it helped a little if you stuffed them with toilet paper, just the right amount to max out the full potential while not risking for the paper to stick out during class. So stressful, but I managed for nobody to notice – at least I thought so.

About a year later it finally happened. They had grown. Significantly. They were still ridiculously small, but all of my wishful thinking must have worked, because people were starting to notice and make fun of me, asking if I had started padding them with toilet paper. Even my mother asked. And so did a guy from my class who had always called me double A. Luckily he wasn’t exactly handsome so I could focus all my energy on wondering where a person with a face like his might get all the self-confidence from, making fun of other people. That’s a 75B, you loser.

If you ask me, I swear they didn’t grow any more since I was 13. What can I say – years went by and I have learnt to live with them. Learn seems like a harsh word now, but I guess that’s exactly what happened, as miserable as it sounds: as soon as I realized that no man ever seemed to mind going snack size, everything was ok. Yay me. Who would have known that I’d grow up to become a woman confident enough to share even such embarrassing details as all of those above with you.

There were times when I was super tempted to help those sad little stepchildren with hormones, but you know what my opinion on the pill is. There were times when I was absolutely sure I’d end up having them cut and stuffed like a turkey, but then I came back to my senses, remembering what my opinion on all kinds of plastic surgery is. Phew. Imagine me running around with two beachballs, just because maybe one out of 10 men is enough of a shmuck to prefer stiff watermelons over the real, modest but natural deal…

Anyway, why all these details, here and now?

For one, I know that there are girls out there who are thinking about getting something done, starting at the age of about 14, waiting to finally turn 18 and old enough not to ask their parents for permission. I know that there are women out there who never quite seem to get the thought out of their heads, that a little more might be just the only thing missing in order to be fully confident – even if, in fact, they already have ‘enough’.

And isn’t that sad? To be living in such a dark state of mind, instead of appreciating the amazing fact that you never have a problem finding a pretty (not pretty scary) bra? Ask your friend with the huge tits and she’ll tell you her own mission impossible. Instead of appreciating the fact that yours will probably never sag and forever look like two young chicks? Ask your friends with huge boobs, many of them will soon be picking up theirs from the floor. Instead of appreciating that sleeping is not a problem and so isn’t running and standing. Ask your friend with the huge tatas, she’ll tell you something about back pain and how she’s fantasizing about a reduction. And finally, instead of appreciating that looking tacky is never an issue – I can wear slits down to my navel and still look more modest than Pam A sporting a turtleneck. #freethenipple

And second, I just came back from my first mammography (aka the soft version of it, for females under 40, which only includes ultrasound and extensive scanning by hand) ever and decided to warmly recommend it to you. Besides having my two little girls massaged and scanned by hand for a considerably longer time than the usual five seconds at the gynecologist, the procedure involved ultrasound and detailed conversation about my breasts and their inner life, which by the way is always the same, no matter what size. Apart from being left at ease for the rest of the year, I learnt a little more about my body, which is always fascinating. And necessary.*

So if any of this sounded familiar to you, here, this is your sign: instead of wondering a second more about the size of any of your body parts, make sure they are healthy first. Because breast cancer is the most frequent type of cancer for women in many countries. And because, to put it simply, being healthy is pretty damn sexy.

Don’t get me wrong – me too, I find big boobs beautiful. Sometimes I find myself staring at them, too. I sure wouldn’t mind having them and I’d appreciate them just as much as those I am equipped with. Just see this as a little pep talk to those in need.

Let me know if you think that I’m overcautious or just leave a compassionate hi for my boobies – I always appreciate your feedback.

Enjoyment come in all shapes and sizes, trust me.

Anna

 

P.s.: Did you know that some companies won’t work with me because y’all don’t follow @girlcasm on Facebook? If it’s really such a big of a deal for you to hit that sad button, I hope at least you feel bad for not doing so. xoxo

*If you’re young and you feel like your gynecologist is spending a sufficient amount of time on scanning your breasts (more than a couple of seconds of touching), this might be enough for you and your needs. I don’t say you have to freak out and walk around being afraid of cancer, I’m just saying you should ask yourself if your doctor is doing what he can to make sure you’re ok. Another option could be to ask him to perform a more thorough scan by hand, depending on your needs and situation. Also, make sure to be aware of changes you notice yourself.

Pic credit: love.watts

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