We’re Publishing a Book!

(Hopefully) In 2013, a book will be published that will share the whole concept of GreenEyedJupiter. Wish us luck on our next adventure – we apologize if the posts aren’t as frequent as we are in the process of putting the book together. 

 

So excited! 

#PopStarsDoEat #ThatsOkay

It’s bad enough that we don’t leave Lindsey and Amanda alone, but now we’re shitting on Gaga? 

For real? 

So what if she put on a couple of pounds? It really isn’t anyone’s business except hers. First she was too skinny, and people would make remarks about her tweets “#PopStarsDontEat”. Now all we’re hearing is that she’s been eating too many cheeseburgers. 

According to an article on Jezebel, she said this about six months ago: 

“I used to throw up all the time in high school. So I’m not that confident,” said Gaga. “I wanted to be a skinny little ballerina but I was a voluptuous little Italian girl whose dad had meatballs on the table every night.”

She also admitted:

“Weight is still a struggle,” she said. “Every video I’m in, every magazine cover, they stretch you — they make you perfect. It’s not real life … I’m gonna say this about girls: The dieting wars have got to stop. Everyone just knock it off. Because at the end of the day, it’s affecting kids your age. And it’s making girls sick.”

I used to think she was a little crazy. I’m not going to lie about that but now I really feel bad for her. 

Especially since she is right. No celebrity or normal woman/teenage girl should have to go through that kind of pressure. And I’m really glad that another celebrity is taking a stand. 

Ralph Lauren Introduces First Plus-Sized Model

Could this be an advancement in accepting body image in the fashion industry? 

At size 12, Robyn Lawley becomes the first plus-sized model to represent Ralph Lauren and says: “There are so many plus-size models in New York doing so well at the moment,” she tells “GMA,” “and it’s only going to get better.”

And we hope this is the case. 

Previous to be coming a plus-sized model, Lawley was pressured to diet and change the way she looked. For three years (ages 16-19) she struggled with trying to fit in, and now, here she is as a Ralph Lauren model. 

Congrats Robyn! 

Here’s a pic of the lady (I think she’s gorgeous by the way): 

Check out the full coverage on her on Huffington Post. 

He Went to Confession Every Time They Had Sex

Please read. Originally posted on The Cut by an anonymous writer. What would you do? 

The sex was great. That wasn’t the problem in my four-year relationship with Rob. He knew what I liked and how I liked it. The problem was the mandatory shower and praying afterwards. The hours we’d spend at church on Sundays. The talking about how we were going to hell.

When I started dating Rob after my freshman year of college, I wanted to have sex, but he said he wasn’t ready for it because he was so religious. Rob was raised Protestant, but his closest friend had been really Catholic and told him that no one was mentally ready to have sex before they were married. He took it to heart. I chose to respect that, but I got so many mixed signals. Rob would escalate things, and we’d almost have sex, almost undress, and then he would stop and say we couldn’t go any further. There was a point, and he made the conscious decision to have sex — then a few weeks later, he felt really guilty and said we shouldn’t do it on a regular basis. It continued like that for the next four years, even when we lived together and slept in the same bed every night.

I would get him drunk, telling our friends to feed him shots. I’d lie around our apartment studying in a G-string. I had a few sets of lingerie that I knew would work when I was desperate. I would do almost anything to have sex with my boyfriend. Sometimes it would happen a few times a month, maybe a few times a week if I was lucky. Then he’d swear off sex for weeks, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

Even though the church bans the use of birth control, Rob was okay with using it. God forbid I get pregnant — abortion would never be an option.

Even though we shared an apartment, we technically kept separate bedrooms. His had a twin bed with a crucifix on the wall and a little desk where he studied. My room was the one with the big bed and the candles. He ended up every night in there with me.

We never missed church. We’d leave our friends or stop watching a game, drop everything to be there for mass on Sunday. A few times a month, we would stay after mass and confession and say the rosary. It would take an hour, 45 minutes if I did it quickly. I was a Catholic, I was raised in the church, but even this was a lot for me.

The guilt consumed him. He would try to convince himself that premarital sex was fine because he was going to marry me anyway. He was going to be with me forever, or so he justified it. But even that wasn’t the case. The fall after we graduated from college and moved into a new apartment with both our names on the lease, he cheated on me.

I found out through a friend of his. It destroyed me. This was the man I was going to marry, had spent four years with; I had put up with all his issues. And then he goes and sleeps with some girl from grad school.

He’s still with her, probably because he feels too guilty to leave her. They’re having sex, I know that. I think that is what broke him, crossing that one line he said he would never cross. As for me, I’m married to a wonderful man now, one who doesn’t make me feel like a temptress whenever I want to get laid.

Brains and Hearts and Feelings

I think the biggest fight I’ve ever gotten into has been with myself. The one between my head and my heart. I don’t know what it is but they’re mortal enemies. It’s almost like they fake liking each other and then one day, when the heart is feeling extra happy, the head just wants to make it miserable. Then when the head is feeling confident, the heart breaks it down like no tomorrow. It’s an awful feeling, really.

The worst is that in situations like these, most of the time, there’s no winning. If you side with your heart, you may feel like you’re letting yourself down. If you side with your heart, you start thinking about all of the “what-ifs”.This will go on for awhile until something else comes up that is worth thinking about and maybe even then you’re still going to be kicking your own ass about the decision you thought so much about taking. Like I said, no winning.

So what do we do when we’re faced with a heart/head debate? To be honest, I have no idea. But my guess is that flipping a coin will probably save you a lot of time and headaches.

Be Free or Break Free

I grew up hearing stories of children breaking free from their cage-like nests, thanks to Disney.  I always empathized with Princess Jasmine, who dreamt of abandoning her controlled palace life for adventures and the ability to marry whomever she chooses.     Though I’m not being forced into marriage anytime soon, I could relate to being locked up in the house for… well, the first eighteen years of my life, wondering what was out there and why the universe gave me a sheltering father whose fears could evidently become my own.

From an early age, I had to adapt to tossing little white lies towards my friends on why I had to miss birthday parties and sleepovers, feeling heavy inside knowing I wasn’t allowed to go to them.  I’d confess my desires to my mother: to just be a normal girl for one day to be trusted with myself without parental supervision 24/7.  Forced to only play the good cop, she’d pat my shoulder and tell me to just be patient until I was a little older.     As I bit my tongue throughout middle school, I’ll admit I was granted some rights.  Although my parents opened some windows for me, there were plenty of doors that I longed to unlock.  I walked through my high school days expecting the glorious day when the chains would finally fall from my ankles, and that I could begin to make my own decisions.  That day never came.     Now that I’m eighteen and out of school, its no longer frustrating that I still have ridiculous restrictions – its exasperating and iniquitous (or at least through my eyes, it is).  I recently viewed a Steve Harvey episode about overprotective and controlling parents, and I would chuckle bitterly to myself as I watched what resembled my own predicament radiate from the screen.

“You have to allow your kids to be free,” Steve Harvey wagged his finger, “before they break free – because those are two very different things.”  As the audience cheered and clapped in consent, I allowed a familiar comfort in the back of my mind to resurface.  My friends, my boyfriend, even my own mother would try and encourage me to speak up for myself to seek the justice I long deserve.  For insecure reasons, I’d succumb to play the loyalty card by keeping my mouth shut.  But what Mr. Harvey said that day sparked something empowering inside me.  The real lawgiver that I suffered under – was really myself.

To break free, or to fantasize of being free: that is the question.

My goodness, this is hilarious, but what has this world come to?

#sasstag

About a year ago, I was at a point in my life that some force compelled me to follow an account called @Barbiestyle on Twitter. This is Barbie’s official Twitter account, not some fan bullshit. I don’t know why I clicked that “follow” button, but I did, and here we are.

At first, I thought it was just amusing that someone in charge of the social media over at Mattel thought it would be a good idea for Barbie to tweet. She says things you would totally expect Barbie to say, about her dream closet and being blonde and fabulous. But then she also says some preposterous shit like this:

Do you guys remember that movie with Lindsay Lohan and Tyra Banks called Life Size, where Tyra was a sort of Barbie doll that came to life? And she kept saying that she was an astronaut, and a secretary…

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Check out GreenEyedJupiter’s sister blog, Destination Feedback. Sam Hogan rockin’ it out as always.

DestinationFeedback

                Sooo….I very recently came back from a very much needed vacation and noticed something that makes me smile…well actually makes me want to fist pump while saying “fuck yea!”  A lot of women that I saw were openly, unashamedly, and proudly displaying their one of many tattoos. It was sleeves, back tats and chest pieces galore and I have to say that I can’t be happier with it. It’s another avenue that women are using to express themselves in a lot of beautiful and at the very least artistic ways. 

                Remember when cigarette smoking for women used to be prohibited and “un-ladylike”?  During the liberation movement in America, a lot of women engaged in smoking as a way of declaring independence, and acknowledging a right to choose to participate in an act that was up until…

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Celeb Role-Models…a vanishing concept?

Katy Perry, is she really THAT fake? Where have all of the celeb role models gone?

#sasstag

Oh, Katy Perry…will she ever do something not annoying? Well, I guess I have to admit…she has done one thing. The autotuning on her single Wide Awake was done so well that people can actually listen to it without convulsing. So there’s that. But everything else is beyond what my brain can handle. It is no secret that I dislike Katy, but it is not for lack of trying. Every time she does something semi-decent, I think that maybe she will redeem herself. Because she is cute and could be a great figure if she just kept her mouth shut. Not only because she can’t sing, but also because 99% of the shit that comes out of her mouth is just that. Shit.

Anyways…I digress. Katy Perry is the new face of Pop Chips. That is what I am trying to tell you. As you may remember, the company hasn’t…

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Please Don’t Tell Me I’m Beautiful – How I Feel

“I understand that we live in a culture where “beautiful” and “female” have a long and complicated relationship. I know that women want to comfort each other through the hurt of living in an air-brushed, surgically-enhanced, Top Model, Cover Girl society. I also know that the word “beautiful” can be used to describe the inner person and not just their looks. But I have to wonder if we’re really doing ourselves more harm than good when we insist on giving beauty such a dominant space in the sphere of women’s lives and conversations. Even in “acceptance” movements, beauty is a central theme.

Why is not okay to be un-beautiful? Why is it so painful to admit a lack of objective beauty where it may not, in any objective sense, exist?”  “

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“Why does the matriarchy feel so drawn to steeping itself in assurances of beauty? Not that I’m using men as a role model, but they don’t tip-toe around the subject of physical attractiveness, stopping to console each other that their beer bellies, balding heads and scarred faces are really, truly beautiful. They don’t insist on denying their realities or the realities of other men by promoting the concept that all men are “handsome” in their own way. Instead, they have come to take for granted a patriarchy where “handsome” may be a gift, but unattractiveness is really not that big of a deal.

I wish we’d get there. I suspect that when women quit focusing so much on beauty, theirs and other women’s — whether physical or in the broad sense of personality — that we will be able to change our real-world consequences. We will be more truthful, more realistic, more effective and therefore more tangibly helpful to one another.”

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“We’re never going to make it okay to not be physically beautiful if we don’t get off this beauty kick we’ve been on for so long. We’re not going to change our futures and those of other women as long as “beautiful” remains a priority. We’re not going to change the culture that places such an inordinately high premium on female attractiveness as long we keep promoting beauty myths through the lies we tell ourselves and each other.” 

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These are all quotes from Jane Devin’s Please Don’t Tell Me I’m Beautiful. 

Usually I am the first one to say that every woman is beautiful, even if society says they aren’t. Devin however, gives a different take on the situation. I don’t think she’s wrong at all. Maybe the American culture isn’t wrong, maybe it’s just us women who take it too seriously. 

It takes a strong woman to know what she is and what she isn’t. It takes a strong woman to know what she can and cannot do (because most of us think that we’re Superwoman). And lastly, it takes a strong woman to know what she deserves and when she deserves better whether it be in love, career, and just life in general. 

Maybe, we should start caring less about what our “culture” is, and start taking ourselves more seriously.

Thoughts?