Category Archives: Positivity

Any kind of positivity, really.


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.



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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A couple of months ago I was asked to write a post on women in the blogosphere and how they don’t like to see their fellow comrades-in-arms win, let alone support them. At that time I was like yeah, whatever, what do I care about the tiny battles fought on the grounds of Berlin fashion week?

But the truth is, that this is actually a common pattern in the female world, which is why it’s totally worth saying a couple of words about it – what do you think?

I was reminded about this topic two or three weeks ago, when I was sitting at a dinner table for my friend’s birthday. In a conversation between men and women, the question as to why women sometimes get along better with men than they do with women arose. I guess there are a few opinions on this. Some will blame it on a desperate yearning for D and attention, others will say it’s because there’s too much drama when females get together. My friend had the following solution on hand: she said she preferred to be friends with men because it usually didn’t involve competitiveness – something it did involve with most women she met.

That night I hated to admit that she was right. Eww, it hurts. Admitting that we’re not in the place we always say we are.

In the last couple of days, seeing #imwithher everywhere, made me aware of one thing – correct me if I’m wrong: we’re big in promoting fellow women and our solidarity with them for a greater cause, not when it comes to an issue that affects our own sphere of action, though. Meaning: if she’s potential competition, I am most definitely not with her, no – I f*cking hate the way she breathes.

Now I know that this might seem logical. We’re raised on competition, competition is what makes the world go round. Everything is a competition, no need to mimimi about it.

But how sad is it when competition comes in the way of things. Of random encounters, of work that should be done, of common goals or even friendship. And it doesn’t seem to stop in the course of a lifetime. It starts with toys, continues with clothes, boys and looks. Currently, I’m in a place in life where women of the same age see each other as competition in the working environment. Sometimes I’m worried that older women might see me as threat to their youth. Depending on the situation, I sometimes choose to dress down in a certain way, in order to avoid any possible tension – etc.

Now I don’t mean to sound dramatic, but think about it. How many times can you remember where somebody – a woman – obviously saw you as competition and probably didn’t wish you any good, where somebody was cold or fake with you from the very beginning for no reason – or where you were that woman, maybe.

Coming back to the world of bloggers, I know for a fact that even such silly things as the question whether to like, comment or follow somebody often is based on considerations about the level of competition. God forbid you might say something nice about somebody with the same goals as you have. Same goes for people who actually know you and are up to date with your life, not in a friendly way, though – you might remember another post on the topic of following from some while ago.

There are numerous examples to this, but to cut the sobbing short: I just wanted to remind you – as I reminded myself – that #imwithher shouldn’t be reserved for those fellow females who are out of our league, anyway. If you’re among those who preach equality and consider their mindset a feminist one, if you want the image of women being too weak to run a serious function to disappear, you’ll need to start with yourself first. You need need to ask yourself, who you’re not with and why – and then get the f*ck over it.

I know that some things are easier said than done. I know that insecurities play a big role and I know that it takes more work with some than it does with others. Like those snitches who dare to as much as look at your boyfriend? F them, I’m with you here. But start with saying nice things about those who you feel threatened by – you’ll see it doesn’t hurt, it might even start to feel good at some point.

Always happy to hear about your experience…let me know!

You should be with them all, trust me.




P.s.: If this offends you, you might want to check my disclaimer first. If it doesn’t, why don’t you visit @girlcasm on Facebook instead? I’m always happy to see you like, follow, comment or share the love. And if you’re interested in a free #girlcasm bracelet, do not hesitate to contact me xoxo

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Crushin #4: Morena

It’s been over a month since I last said something really positive on here, which is why it’s time for me to introduce you to another crush of mine. I’m quite sure that the Swiss readers among you will know her, but for the rest of the world, I think she belongs to those people you can’t mention enough. So without further ado, please meet Morena, also known as m0reniita.

Why is she my crush? Well, first of all, look at that face. That hair. That positive attitude she radiates, with or without makeup. Beautiful, I know. But enough with the superficial compliments – the world is full of beautiful girls, especially when you’re a social media regular, right? One, two filters, the right position and light and BAM! – no big deal. We’re all stunning on Instagram.

So let’s get to the real point. Why is she my crush?

She’s real. She’s brave. She’s what I’m trying to be with words, only with action. She’s a total badass, honestly, every time I see one of her pictures I get an urge to cuddle her, like real hard, and say thank you. Scream thank you. F*cking thank you, Morena.

Not having the perfect abs and feeling no shame for that? Talking about it? Showing it off? I totally respect that. I admire that. I’m aiming for that. Yes, me too, I joke about the fact that I’ve never been in a perfect shape or how I can never say no to food. But taking a picture of me in a bikini, just chilling there with my rolls, and posting it on Instagram? God forbid. Not because I don’t know exactly that it’s the most normal thing in the world for rolls to form when sitting down, even with very skinny people, but because I just don’t feel comfortable enough showing it off. I know it’s silly and I know I urgently need to grow up and forget such thoughts, but I guess I’ll just need another couple of months? years? for that.

And it’s not about stopping to care about fitness and health. It’s not about having found a legit excuse not to exercise or to eat whatever the f*ck you want. It’s about being happy and not beating yourself up too much with your own physical appearance. It’s about gaining so much life quality and a huge piece of sanity back, just from relaxing the way you look at yourself. It’s crazy slash sad slash absolutely ridic, but it’s true that many of us often have trouble loving ourselves and our bodies the way they are – so if you feel insecure about whatever silly reason that has something to do with your physical appearance, I strongly advise you to follow Morena on Instagram. To me, every time I see one of her posts, it’s like a reminder. Girl, you’re beautiful, with or without that piece of cake you’ve been trying to avoid all day. F*ckin’ chill.

So thank you, Morena, for being brave enough to show all of us that looking like a skinny blogger with changing outfits is not the goal. Self-love is. Thank you for being unapologetic about your ‘flaws’, even if you too probably suffer from self-doubt from time to time. And thank you for reminding us to be as nice to ourselves as we were taught to be with others.

But enough with the cheese, I got a little carried away there. On another note, she also seems to be a really nice person, which is obviously not my repertoire but probably something many people might feel inspired by. She’s also a very rhythmic dancer, which is definitely something a lot of your stiff german-speaking hips could learn a thing or two from. You get the message:

You should follow Morena, trust me.



P.s.: You can’t be offended, so instead of checking my disclaimer, why don’t you visit @girlcasm on Facebook? Say hi, comment, like, follow or share the love – and don’t hesitate to contact me, in case you’re interested in a free #girlcasm bracelet in yellow, orange, red, blue, purple or brown – xoxo

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So 2012

Finally something life-changing has happened to me, something I’d like to share with you. Two things, to be exact. They weren’t interlinked in any way but make total sense together now, which is why you’ll have to read them in the following. Here we go:

I had interviews for a job in the last two weeks, a series, all for one job. I was prepared, my profile totally matched the position, I knew I had everything I needed to succeed, be it knowledge or personality. The first two interviews went great. I was confident. I knew I was the girl for the job.

The last one didn’t. I knew it from the very beginning. I wasn’t confident that day, thinking and worrying about different things and I started to doubt myself. The second I entered the interview I knew I was going to fail. Just because. Not my day. I was sitting there, talking about myself, but not in the way I wanted to. It all felt as if I was asking them to give me a chance, when really it should have been me acting like I was their only choice.

While I was waiting for my rejection to hit me, somebody told me about a girl I knew from my studies, a couple of years ago. Apparently she is currently applying for firms that, not only in my opinion, are completely beyond what she has to offer, in every aspect. She wasn’t exactly known for her brains and just in general not somebody we had ever pictured for a demanding career, more the marry rich type of girl, to be blunt. I know that this is not a nice thing to say, especially in this context you might get this the wrong way, but….boohoo – such is life.

But you know what that girl obviously has? An insane level of confidence. I don’t want to get in too much detail here, but she’s basically H&M applying to be the next Chanel. She’s a sausage begging to be your new filet. She’s what’s left of your expectations as soon as reality hits you unfiltered. But she’s confident and I’m almost certain that she’ll get where she’s aiming at, no matter how incredible it will seem for all of us who think so little of her. Good for her – and honestly, I even respect that.

Meanwhile, I’m left being super disappointed. Not because of the chance that I have potentially missed. Things happen, it’s not even such a big of a deal. I have enough reasons to not be too sad to not starting work this week, while I still have a couple of exams to pass and my thesis to write. I’m not devastated about the rejection, otherwise I’d probably not share it with the world.

But I’m super disappointed in myself and the fact that I let doubts come in my way when I really had no reason at all.

It’s not like it’s breaking news that it’s often those who can’t really afford it have the most confidence – think of the tons of people who apply for casting shows, convinced that they are the sh*t or the mass of girls who put ‘model’ in the bio of their Instagram in order to justify the number of half-naked selfies they upload every day. I’m sure you have come across many people in your life, thinking – how the flying f*ck did you get here? And it’s just as known that other people often doubt themselves, even if they have little to no reason to do so. I know amazing people, men and women, who I wished saw this.

Personally, I will keep this in mind. I will not let doubt come in my way anymore, at least I’ll try. I know it’s easier said than done, but confidence is so important. It’s your real-life filter. It makes such a difference. It’s what often separates failure from success. It’s what makes idiots all over the world come further than anybody who might deserve it in terms of competence. Think Trump. Think your crush’s girlfriend. Think that girl who really thinks she can work in anything involving analytical reasoning when she’s still having problems keeping track with the number of D she’s getting on a weekly basis, from what I’ve heard.

I don’t want to be too cheesy but there are so many people, especially girls, who are far too special to be the only thing to be standing in their way. Let’s all make it a point to think of all the mediocre people out there succeeding, next time we doubt ourselves. If they can do it, you can do it. Go get them.

Self-doubt is so 2012 – trust me.


HUGE DISCLAIMER: I don’t mean to offend anyone, this is just a random example emphasizing my own, major weakness that I feel many other people have, too. If you are offended, please make sure to read my disclaimer first.

P.s.: If you agree with my blabla, why don’t you visit @girlcasm on Facebook, like, follow, comment or share the love? And please feel free to contact me for a free #girlcasm bracelet if you’d like to have one! xoxo

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Some while ago I got a personal message by a reader, saying how she admired my confidence, how she wishes to someday reach an equal level of it and be as effortless as apparently I seem to be. This made me think how I wanted to be even more honest about confidence and make it a topic on here more often, in order to be more real about what is behind looking as ‘confident’ as in that one picture chosen from a 100 awkward ones – what do you think?

I once dated a guy who casually told me how a real girl’s behind is never as nice as the one in the magazines because in real life they always had a flaw, like a couple of pimples, for example.

Besides a loud ‘duh, real life comes without a filter, you moron‘ inside of my head, this is since stuck in my mind as one of the most unsexy things somebody has ever said to me. Not because it made me conscious about my behind having flaws – I f*cking love my ass, it’s perfect, and you should love yours, too – but because I think it’s really unattractive that somebody would even notice such things, let alone memorize them and then bring them up in a casual conversation. I’m not a hardcore feminist or anything – but who the f*ck do you think you are?

Such things make me super mad because I know that a lot of girls are under the impression that they are not ‘good enough’ because of some silly comment somebody ones decided to make and face all sorts of difficulties because of that. Me too, at that time, I had either too little confidence and/or brain to realize that that guy must have had a serious problem which had nothing to do with me. Being left totally self-conscious, naturally and without going too much into detail, we didn’t make it much further than first base. And I can’t say hat I’m sorry about that. He’s still (again) single now, btw – I wonder why…

Because the truth is that, yes, everybody – and not only men – grows up having the weirdest ideals shaped by the environment he or she lives in. But also a normal person will know the difference between ‘that’s perfect, that’s something I like to think of whenever me and my hand have some alone-time‘ and ‘that’s perfect, just the way it is, for so many reasons‘.

For some reason it took me years to realize that, which is why I decided to jot down a short post about it – because I know that we all are stupid and that we all need to hear some things a thousand times or even more, before we really believe them. It took a very loving and understanding boyfriend to make me realize that my butt is ok, just the way it is, even with faint stretch marks on it – from growing to its current, yummy size. But it shouldn’t take anybody for you to realize these sorts of things, which is why I came here today to give you just a quick reminder:

Body hair is normal, stretch marks are normal, acne is normal, scars are normal – for men and women alike – in case you forgot.

So next time somebody dares telling you anything else, please send him over to me, I’d love to point out all of his flaws to him and see what kind of excuse he thinks he has. Dickhead.

Anything you’d like to add?

You’re flawless, trust me.



P.s.: You can’t be offended by this, but if you are, please consult my disclaimer. If you agree with my chatter, why don’t you visit @girlcasm on Facebook, like, follow, comment, share the love or contact me for a free #girlcasm bracelet, available in different colors? xoxo

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