Apple.

I know it’s kind of a hard name to hear, I mean, have you looked at an apple lately?  It’s not the sexiest fruit in the produce aisle, but you’re not an apple—you’re an apple shape, and that’s something you can make work (“werk” even).  For starters, you’ve got a great rack and some nice stems.  You may wonder if nature forgot to give you waist, and you were pretty sure Queen’s “Fat-bottom Girls” was about you until you realized they weren’t saying flat, but those are things a few special pieces of shapewear can take care of in a jiffy.

And I know you were always secretly hoping to turn out to be an hourglass girl or have admired a pear’s comparably tiny torso and lush tush, but don’t sell yourself short.  Instead, go buy some clothes that will help you rock what’cha got.

First, if you’re a shapewear kind of gal, I’ve got one word for you: torsette. I’ve heard waist cinchers are good too, but why just cinch the waist when you can cinch the waist AND smooth everything out? (Everything meaning the front pooch and the back rolls.)  We carry our weight on our torso, apple girl—it’s just the way our bodies are—and the oh so aptly named torsette helps disguise some of the lumps and bumps, while also letting us wear our own bras!  Smoothing out the python that’s seemingly wrapped itself around my trunk and still getting to wear my nice, comfy DD holder from Victoria’s Secret? Yes, please.

Next, (and my apple sister, we should have this tattooed on our bodies somewhere) empire waists are our friends. Now this doesn’t mean you have to Baby Spice it—there are plenty of empire waist items that don’t look like they belong on a four-year old.  Basically, aim for something that embraces your luscious bust, but just kind of hover-hands anything below the bra line (It still has the shape of your body, but it doesn’t cuddle right up against it).

And if you keep seeing something super cute and empire-y and then are appalled when you realize you’ve ended up in Target’s maternity section AGAIN, stop getting so hung up on labels.  Maternity just means a little extra room in the belly, and guess what apple girl?  That’s where we need our clothes to be a little bit more forgiving.  If you’re killing it in a super fetch maxi dress, droppin’ jaws left and right, does it really matter what section you got it in?

Now, remember that waist that nature forgot?  It can make wearing jeans, or bottoms in general, rather . . . challenging.  If you don’t get a pair that sits on your natural “waist” (that barely there indention in between the top of the spare tire and the bottom of your ribs) you’re gonna have a bad time.  You’ll spend all day either hitchin’ up them britches or bemoaning that sweet belt bulge you see every time you walk past a reflective surface.  I know that waist-high anything probably sounds like granny-wear, but as long as you’re not tucking something into those babies, no one has to know how high your pants go. And denim, with just a touch of spandex, is almost as good as shapewear (I said ALMOST).

As for trying to find high-waisted jeans that give you an ass?  I’m sure they’re out there, but they might cost $250 or something, and you can get some of those butt implant panties for like, $25.

There are lots of other “secrets” I could share (like how the right kind of long cardigan can hide a multitude of sins, and that a button up shirt that doesn’t look like it’s about to concuss someone with a button is worth all of our weights in gold), but I don’t want to give you a checklist of what to stock your closet with.  Sure I recommend sticking with apple-friendly basics, but there’s a whole lot more out there than basics, right girl? Don’t be afraid to try on something new and scary; we should pay attention to our shape, but not let it dictate every single one of our dressing room choices.

Above all, my beautiful apple sister, wear what makes you look and feel good.

Amanda Johnson is a mom, tries to be a good wife, and wants to be a writer.  She rambles on with absolutely no consistency (but plenty of curse words) on her blog, The Humble Narcissist.

“You must be Angie’s little sister.”

For the past 35 years, that phrase has followed me wherever I go. From Kindergarten to middle school band, from my first internship to Twitter, I have dodged and ducked, trying to escape being known as anything other than just me. I resented any inference – implied or stated – that people would know me based on my older sister’s achievements and personality.

But as much as I wanted everyone to know that I wasn’t just “Angie’s Little Sister,” I sure got good at following in her much smaller footsteps (That woman has very delicate feet).

In 6th grade, I signed up for band even though 3 years earlier my lovely piano teacher fired me. Because Angie did it first. When I was 17, I got a job as a hostess at a popular beach bar & grill. Because Angie did it first. After I totaled my first car, I got a Fred-Flintstone-Powered Pontiac Sunfire. Because Angie did it first. In 1998, when I moved back to Florida after a failed attempt at being an au pair in France, I quickly chose UCF and moved to Orlando. Because Angie did that first, too.

Each and every time I followed her, whether it was when her friends came over to play or all the way to college, I learned from her.

She taught me that a game of War can last six days and a leg wrestling match can last 30 seconds. She taught me that it’s okay to shop in the ladies department when the juniors made me look like a sausage. And this woman, who still can’t talk about her period, taught me that it’s okay to read smut and like it. But most importantly, she taught me that the person you hoped you’d always stand apart from, can also be the one person you always want by your side.

This summer I’ll move 1,008 miles away – give or take a mile or two – and for the first time in our lives (minus the crazy month I spent in France) we’ll be more than a drive away from each other. But, I know that these miles will not deteriorate the friendship we’ve built since the day she wanted to bring “all the babies” home from the hospital, it will only make us more conscious of the time we are together.

Although she tried to drown me on more than one occasion, she’s the only sister I have. And I love her.

So now when people say to me “You must be Angie’s little sister,” I will proudly answer:

Yes. Yes I am.

Jackie is a former corporate publicist, part-time PR agency VP, and full-time mom to a 4.5 year old wildling and a 2 year old mini-me. She is also Angie’s little sister whose only “did it first” was wearing a bra.

It could be the new hashtag, #afhatesfatchicks.

Social Media has placed upon our doorsteps the latest in body hate news, Abercrombie & Fitch and their distaste for fat people. No wait, fat girls. Just girls.

You see, Abercrombie doesn’t make girls clothes past Large, but goes up to XXL for men. You know, for the football players and their All-American popular kid muscles.

From the mouth of AF CEO, Mike Jeffries to Salon in 2006,

“In every school there are the cool and popular kids, and then there are the not-so-cool kids…”

“Candidly, we go after the cool kids. We go after the attractive all-American kid with a great attitude and a lot of friends. A lot of people don’t belong [in our clothes], and they can’t belong. Are we exclusionary? Absolutely. Those companies that are in trouble are trying to target everybody: young, old, fat, skinny. But then you become totally vanilla. You don’t alienate anybody, but you don’t excite anybody, either,”

I’ve been asked for my response to this article for two days now, and my immediate response was… Abercrombie & Fitch is still the in-crowd? Granted, I haven’t stepped into a store since the early 2000′s and the cologne fumes temporary destroyed three of my senses, but truly, I had no idea paying $200 for tiny pants was still a thing.

So yeah, I was a bit snarky and who the hell cares about the whole thing. Until I realized that for girls much younger than me. Girls in high school or college, who exceed the AF standard of beauty, this is a thing.

It’s a huge thing.

Because it’s another thing on top of a whole lot of other things that tell them they aren’t beautiful, they aren’t valuable, and they certainly aren’t worth designing for.

Because, you see, my thing is to keep pushing other clothing designers, ones not potentially living out crappy high school revenge scenarios, so that finding awesomely fashionable clothing for you and all your curves is a positive, fun and stylish experience.

And in my opinion, that’s what the 2013 in-crowd happens to look like.

And after seven minutes, I remembered to exhale.

Hey you, curvy girl over there, did you know you can be fashionable and have a blast doing it? I think sometimes we forget that, because for so long, the style choices just weren’t there for us.

And even as more and more options open up, it’s admittedly a bit of a learning curve trying to figure it all out. Dressing to shape, deciphering size discrepancies, working out cuts and proportions, it’s an entirely new lexicon from decade’s past of one size fits all elastic or pastel tie back tunic.

I am always looking for amazing fashion role models to inspire and remind us just how fun curvy fashion can be, so I’ve launched a new feature here on Curvy Girl Guide that will spotlight women who rock their strength, confidence and style.

Texas native and fellow ginger, Chelsea McGowan, does just that. Chelsea is one half of the Dallas/Fort Worth photography company, McGowan Images, and stunning portfolio aside, I have yet to see her in an outfit that doesn’t ooze of creative soul and leave me coveting her skinny jeans.

I sat down with Chelsea earlier this week to talk about her body, her favorite outfit, and what inspires her hour-glass style.

How would you describe your body?

I’d describe my body as curvy. I used to think that was just a euphemism for “fat”, but now that I’m here, I know it’s not. I wouldn’t describe myself as “fat”, unless it’s a really bad day. But I do have curves… hips, boobs, thighs & tummy. Learning to dress those correctly I think is why I can see them as really sexy lines for a body, rather than flaws that need to be corrected.

Tell us about your favorite outfit right now.

My favorite outfit right now is this red blazer from Wet Seal that I got last year for $17, Old Navy Rock Star Skinny jeans, and my v-neck Avengers t-shirt from Hot Topic. I wear variations on this outfit all the time, but this shape is one I stick with… cinched waist, low neck, long legs. I like my boobs and feel best when that’s the part of me that’s showcased, and cinching at the waist draws attention to how small I am at the ribcage while I’m hiding the tummy I can’t seem to tone. It’s just there, whatever. Everyone loves a marshmallow, right?

You are in a creative and expressive field, how does fashion play into your role, professionally?

I’m a photographer, focusing on weddings & boudoir in the Dallas-Fort Worth area and around the world. We’ve worked our butts off to make this business what it is, and being able to travel the world and photograph people is more fulfilling than I ever thought my career could be. You can follow our work on our blog, Facebook, or I’m on instagram at Chelsea_McGowan.

My husband and I are full time partners in this business, and we both work “from home”. But seeing as how we don’t photograph sessions or weddings actually IN our home, I essentially have a bipolar style.

When I’m at home editing or taking care of office stuff, I refuse to wear pants that aren’t cotton & elastic. My husband doesn’t understand why I keep buying MORE pajama pants, but whatever. I need them. Today, they’re vintage coca-cola pants and a leftover nursing tank top (my youngest is 3… and definitely not still nursing. No hate, just NO.)

But when I’m shooting clients, it’s a whole different story. I used to not believe it made any difference what I was wearing… after all, I’m BEHIND the camera. But I’m here to tell you, it DOES matter. And I’m not just talking about weddings, when obviously I dress like a guest in some cute sundress (or suit, depending on the weather & venue). If I’m meeting with or shooting clients, I make sure I’m completely put together in a way that reflects an artistic, creative, successful small business owner. It’s too easy in this age when everyone and their sister has a FB page for their photography business for us to get lumped into a generic group of people “without real jobs”. I command attention & respect for my profession with the way I dress, and my clients are confident knowing they invested in a company that knows their stuff both behind the camera & in the business world.

This is never more important than when I’m shooting boudoir portraits (my boudoir work is featured at Girls on Film). When I’m photographing a woman naked or in lingerie, she’s nervous. That’s just a fact of life. In that moment, all she can think about is what she perceives as WRONG with her body. It’s my job not just to take gorgeous images of her, but to help her not focus on those (usually ridiculous) things she sees. I learned years ago that I am better able to help a woman focus on her own beauty when *I* feel beautiful, too. So when I go to shoot a boudoir session, I put even more attention on my hair & makeup. I wear skinny jeans & a cute flowy top that will move with me, or a sundress with bike shorts (so I can roll on the ground if necessary). Aside from my talent & experience, I think an appreciation for MY body and the shape of all my fellow ladies is what makes me a good photographer.

Where do you shop?

For work clothes, my go-to place to shop is New York & Company. I can’t wear button down tops from them which kind of blows, but their other blouses and pants work really well on me.

For lighter dresses & pretty much everything else, I’m a Target-aholic. My husband jokes that it costs us $200 every time I walk into a Target, and really, he’s not wrong. It’s a problem.

What are your 5 beauty must-haves?

1.  I spend MONEY on my hair. Real money. It’s a specific color of red that’s on file under my name at Toni & Guy, and if my stylist moves, I’ll just die. No one else is allowed to color my hair except Jamie. Every 5 weeks, I sit in that chair and get re-redheaded, and it’s wonderful. It’s the biggest investment I make in myself financially, and I think having that signature hair color makes a world of difference in how I see ME.

2.  Spanx underwear. I move around too much on shoot days to wear full spanx (and still like my job), but spanx panties are cut high enough to hold me in without restricting my legs. Love love love them.

3.  A good bra. I said earlier that I’m really proud of my boobs, and that means I have to be good to them. In the D+ sizes, the Victoria’s Secret Bombshell bra doesn’t have AS much padding… it’s more about lift than crazy size enhancement. Let’s face it… size, I’ve got. But that bra puts everything up back where it was before two babies and yo-yo weight battles that stretched my skin out, and for that, I’m eternally VS loyal.

4.  I have allergies AND I work with my eyeballs constantly straining through a camera or at a computer screen, so my eyes look tired a lot. Because the color is something about me that catches a lot of attention, I want to keep the skin around my eyes looking as fresh as possible. I LOVE Garnier Skin Renew Anti-Dark-Circle eye roller… it’s part of my daily routine, even when I’m just working in the office.

5.  Mascara. I buy a new kind every time I get a new tube, which is admittedly way too often. I’m addicted to that “new mascara” feeling. There’s something special about pulling the brush out for the first time… I swear I hear the angels sing. Right now I’m super crushing on Rimmel London Scandal Eyes in Extreme Black.

Before you leave, give us one last fashion tip!

Don’t limit WHERE you look for clothes. I have a few stores that I know what sizes/brands work on me, but I also know that I can find stuff ANYWHERE now that I know what shape works on me. I bought two shirts at WalMart last week and have gotten compliments on both of them. I bought a backless sundress at Wet Seal for a party recently… I guarantee I was the biggest girl in the store, and definitely the only mother of two pushing 30. But you know what, I look incredible in that $19 dress. Learn the SHAPES that work on your body, and look for them everywhere.

photos courtesy McGowan Images

I am not a curvy girl.  Not even close.

Breasts?  Forget it. I don’t wear a bra with 99.9 percent of all articles of clothing.

Hips?  Not even mildly interesting unless you count that weird mole I had but it fell off ten years ago.

My weight – all 125 pounds of it on my 5’4 frame – falls in my thighs and ass like most women but its nothing to write home about.

And when you get right down to it, I’m not even close to being a girl anymore. At 41 and as the mother of three teenage boys, I’m well past the expiration date on that term.

And I know, and completely understand, that many women who see themselves as “curvy” stopped reading when I wrote 125 pounds.  I get it. But I am submitting this anyway because it is a sad but universal truth that the majority of women, whether “curvy girls” or not, spend to much time looking in or avoiding the mirror and feeling inadequate.

I had a shining moment, when I was 19 or so, where I tasted all too briefly my own power as a woman and the effect that power could have.  While I would like to say that I used that power for the good of all mankind (think Mother Theresa or Madame Curie or even Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde) in reality, I used it to finally, for the love-of-all-that-was-holy, cast off the chains of my virginity.

That confidence, a confidence I never had in middle and high school as mousy, nerdy, glasses-wearing font of awkwardness (my 9th grade yearbook picture is beyond description), was intoxicating but short-lived.  As most women know, there are too many things in life that present themselves, whether real or imagined, and shake our confidence in who we are and what we are worth.

Madeleine Albright (not Taylor Swift as it has been attributed of late) said there is a special place in hell reserved for women who refuse to help other women.  And while Ms. Albright was talking about the workplace,  this is true for all of life.  No one understands women like women and that creates a sacred responsibility between us.  I suppose that men might say no one understands men like men, but let’s get real – we understand them better than they understand themselves, too.

So that is why I am writing this, because in solidarity with all you “curvy girls” are the rest of us who also look in the mirror and instead of being heartened in sheer amazement at these bodies that can produce life and the means to sustain it, we find fault at every turn.  And because many of you are raising your own daughters who need to grow up understanding that their beauty is not quantifiable in their breasts, or their hips, or the numbers on scale, but in their presence on the planet.  And many of us, myself included, are raising sons that need to see those daughters as beautiful for the same reason.

Nikki Jamison is a 41 years old wife and mother of three teenage boys (16, 17 and 19 – don’t judge, I started young).  I live in Fenton, Michigan and I am a fledgling business owner as of this year – Three Boy Bakery (check me out on Facebook) – and also work for a small marketing and consulting firm.  I am not highly educated or endowed with degrees, have a fairly sarcastic sense of humor, have refrained from drowning my children in the bathtub on several occasions and love, love, love my husband who does the best he can to make me feel gorgeous despite my natural inclination to see myself otherwise.

Occasionally, I like to take a break from regular blogging and do some product reviews.  And by product reviews, I mean eviscerate the inventors of anything in the Skymall Magazine and mock those who buy their products mercilessly.

There is simply so much shit out there that we just don’t need, and we keep coming up with more and more of it.  Back stretchers and garbage “systems” and blankets that are actually backwards robes and stupid shoes for animals; the list goes on and on.  So when I came across an article last week for the HAPIfork, I simply couldn’t stop myself from sharing it with all of you.

The HAPIfork is a vibrating fork designed to tell you when you’re eating too fast.  It is apparently going to revolutionize the way we eat, because eating too fast is the root cause of pretty much everything from acid reflux to obesity and beyond.

Need me to back up, you say?  Did you get stuck at the phrase VIBRATING FORK, like I did?  You read it right.  The HAPIfork, according to their website, “Records how long your meal lasts, records how much time elapses between each bite of food, records how many mouthfuls of food you consume, vibrates with flashing lights when you are eating too fast, and includes a USB port and is Bluetooth capable,” so you can upload your data and track your progress, you food scarfing monster.

So you’re pretty much using the vibrating, light-up version of a shock collar to feed yourself.

If you are eating too fast, HAPIfork tells you.  If you eat too fast a couple days in a row, HAPIfork tracks your lack of progress via an app you can upload to your smartphone.  If you eat at what HAPIfork considers a normal pace, HAPIfork acts like a regular fork instead of acting like a sex toy while you’re trying to eat dinner.

How does the journal read, I wonder?  Day One: You ate like a cow.  Stop it.  Day Two:  Slightly less like a cow, but still way too fast.  Day Three: Can’t. Stop. The Buzzing.  Day Four: Congratulations!  You ate like a “normal” person!  Maybe next week we’ll give you one of those potties that lights up when you make your pee-pee in it!

The science behind HAPIfork makes sense.  If you eat slowly, it gives your brain time to realize that you’re getting full.  I get that.  So does anyone else who has ever attended a Weight Watchers meeting or, I don’t know, taken high school biology.  But personally - and I suspect I’m not alone - I didn’t get overweight because I didn’t understand that I was getting full.

I got overweight because I really fucking like to eat.  Being full has nothing to do with it.  It has a lot more to do with the fact that, ahem, there’s-still-more-macaroni-and-cheese-and-I-know-it’s-there-and-what-if-it’s-the-last-time-I-ever-get-to-eat-macaroni-and-cheese-I’ll-be-so-fucking-mad-if-I-die-tomorrow-and-there’s-half-a-pan-of-it-left-and-my-last-thought-is-DAMMIT-I-should-have-eaten-that.

Also, I’m not a big fan of the shame-based tactic to try and lose weight.  On one hand, I guess it could work; after all, how do you explain that you have so little self-control that you essentially need a fork with training wheels?  But on the other, if I want to be ashamed of the baked potato soup-a-palooza that was this winter, I will simply go to the beach in my swimskort that I like to pretend hides my thighs and watch the skinny bitches that have the confidence to run in a bathing suit play beach volleyball.  (Seriously?  How does that work?  I suck at volleyball fully clothed.  In a bathing suit, especially my swimskort which can be slightly restricting once wet, I would probably knock myself unconscious when my boobs hit me in the face and end up face down in the sand and on YouTube in one of those fail blog videos.)  (Which is one of my biggest nightmares, by the way, right after getting caught on the jumbotron at a baseball game right as I take a bite of hot dog.)

This might sound self-depreciating, and it is.  In reality, I rock that swimskort and have a blast at the beach several times a year. It doesn’t hurt that we bring a bottle of rum with us, but that’s beside the point.  The point is that I’m able to have fun despite the size of my ass.  I play catch and go underwater and get sand in unmentionable places and laugh all day with my husband and friends.  And you know what?  I’ve yet to notice anyone making fun of me.  Because they’re too busy laughing and playing catch and enjoying the day with their own family and friends.  The last thing I need is to pull out a vibrating, glowing fork that records and broadcasts my eating habits to the general public.

I so don’t want an app for that.

Courtney Drobick is a scheduling coordinator in a pretty downtown office by day and a freelance writer the rest of the time. She lives in Chicago with her husband and doesn’t have any kids because she still hasn’t figured out how to get her two stupid cats to stop biting everyone. On average, she meets about six people a day that make her want to kick them, which may be because she has to take the bus every damn day of her life. You can read more from her at her blog, Crazy is Contagious. 

Thoughts from the Lizard King.

I could listen to him talk all day. Thanks, Kate!

I am 26 years old. Since I can remember I have had self-esteem issues. I don’t want to say that I’ve always struggled with my weight, because I honestly never considered myself fat, just self-conscious in tight clothes.

Until recently.

Clients at my work commented that I was pregnant…a stranger in the Coach outlet store said “Oh, you’re pregnant!” when trying to decide on whether the bag they were looking at would suffice as a diaper bag…and it hurt. I made it to the car without breaking down completely, but then I was a complete wreck for about 20 minutes in the car with Ernest, and there was nothing he could say or do to fix it because I am the problem.

I am stuck in a vicious cycle. I’ll hate the way I look, and make up my mind to eat better, track my food and calories on Spark.com, do more physical activity, etc. etc. etc. But then I don’t. I may do it for a couple weeks, but then I lose steam. Tracking every single thing you eat is kind of ridiculous and really difficult. I refuse to measure out 2 ounces of peanut butter to make a serving size, or measure out 2 tablespoons on salad dressing, 3/4 cup of cereal…so on and so forth. Some people have the patience to do it, but not me.

Let’s get real, I effing love Chiptole. Bacon Cheeseburgers with french fries and ranch dressing? Yum-O. Ice cream? Amazing. Don’t get me wrong…I don’t eat those things all the time, but I am not willing to give up some of my favorite foods or kill myself working out because people are insensitive assholes.

I am a victim of the media. I see the celebrities in their bikinis and tiny little clothes that will never, ever fit me and feel like a fat cow in comparison. I keep thinking that I should be a size 2 when that’s not a realistic expectation for my body type without looking unhealthy.

I love seeing celebrities like Adele, who don’t let the media get to them. It saddens me that amazing and talented people who are considered “heavy” or “plus sized” lose weight just to get out of the harsh and judgmental spotlight. I mean, have you seen Drew Carey lately? Jessica Simpson…she’s still freaking beautiful but the media killed her and now she’s promoting WeightWatchers instead of embracing her post-birth and curvy body and standing up to the critics. (I just Googled Jessica Simpson and the first 3 suggestions were “Jessica Simpson,” “Jessica Simpson Weight,” and “Jessica Simpson Weight Loss.” Case closed.)

Philip DeFranco is a hilarious, intelligent and insightful vlogger. But when he posts his new videos to his Facebook page, more often than not it is accompanied by a picture of a scantily clad, big boobed, stereotypical ”hot” woman to draw attention to his new post. I get the idea, but it makes me want to NOT want to watch his videos, regardless of how much I love them, because he is just another person perpetuating this cycle of women feeling inadequate because they don’t look like that picture.

One of my favorite bloggers is Brittany Gibbons. She is funny, honest, insightful, and makes me feel amazing after reading her stories. She is the Editor in Chief of the Curvy Girl Guide. She’s inspiring. She makes me not want to starve myself to be skinny, she makes me want to go out and purchase copy-cats of most of her outfits (Sorry Brittany, I just can’t get with the yellow pants even though you rock them) because she looks stunning in them.

And then I found this. She is wonderful, and she made me realize something:

I. Am. Average.

I’m 5’3, I wear a size 7 shoe, I wear a size 14-16 pant. Average. And average ain’t so bad.

Here’s the point: I am me. Ernest loves me for me, curves and all. In fact…he has flat out told me that he doesn’t want me to lose my shape because he thinks I am beautiful and sexy. I will totally still have those days where I want to cry because I feel fat, or days where I want to throw away my whole closet because I hate the way I look in everything…but those days will pass. And I will still be me, and I will still love who I am…love handles and all.

Jessi is 26 years old. She has a Bachelor’s Degree in Communication and is the Customer Service Manager at a pet boarding facility in Cleveland, OH. She has struggled with self-esteem issues due to weight for as long as she can remember, but is striving towards changing how she views herself and being more confident in who she is.You can find Jessi on her blog, Ridiculously Epic.

Hey, remember a few months ago when former Green Bay Packers cheerleader Kaitlyn Collins was the victim of insane cyber-bullying, with legions of fans on an unofficial Chicago Bears Facebook Fan Page “liking” a picture of Collins in uniform with the caption, “Like If You Agree The Packers Have The Worse Cheerleaders In The NFL,” followed by tons of people calling her ugly, and then she posted a super brave response on youtube?

Go ahead, watch it, I’ll wait.

So remember all that? Well guess what, society, we did it again.

Only this time, she’s not ugly, she’s fat. Okay not “fat,” just “chunky.” See? Way less demeaning.

This is Kelsey, an Oklahoma City Thunder Cheerleader, and according to CBS Houston, possible resident fatty.

You see, they posted this photo of Kelcey on their website, stating…

The Rockets looked terrible in Game 1, but some say they weren’t the only bad looking people on the court.

We’re not trying to be ugly. We are just discussing what men like in women, specifically NBA cheerleaders.

The pretty blonde has been criticized for having “pudginess” around her waistline. But if she’s comfortable wearing that tiny outfit and dancing for NBA fans, then good for her.

And then, they had a handy poll where you could vote on whether or not her body was “perfect,” could use some “tightening up in the midsection,” or if “she has no business wearing that outfit in front of people.”

They’ve since weirdly removed this story.

*deep inhale*

On what planet does anyone (the CBS Houston article was written by a woman, by the way) find it acceptable practice to publicly judge and condemn another person based on their body? Are we just one giant stereotypical 80′s movie sorority now?

We’re taking these young woman, and telling them that what they are doing isn’t good enough because, hey we took a vote, and they’re too ugly and too fat. Not to be trite, but what kind of message are we sending to our daughters? To be pretty or else?

“Like” if you think this has to end. Or better yet, how about we actually do something about it?

image courtesy CBS Houston