Violet Photons Have Low Entropy or
I Used to Wear Black
I wear colors now!
a purple hat
green skirt blends in
when I lay back
to hug the sky
my lips as clovers
eyes brown caterpillars
their fuzz itches my nose
flies buzz into my hair
no, that’s wrong
but it’s just entropy
(sometimes, S happens)
we turn to iron
We need the Color need it
Raise it up raise it higher
Faster Bigger More Life More Light
Further further further from black
I don’t wear anymore.
When I was 18, I dyed my hair bright, tomato red. In the seven years since then, my hair has rarely been entirely its natural color. I had red hair for most of college. Then mostly blue and purple. My clothes also went from the mostly black and white of a wannabe goth to the exact opposite. Lime green became the predominant color in my wardrobe, followed closely by purple and turquoise. And, while I do love colors, I understood even then that it was about more than loving colors. It was about being seen.
Not in the stereotypical look at me look at me teenage angst kind of way, though there was also that. I was just. so. tired. of being overlooked. I was so tired of hiding my body. I was so tired of being ashamed. So I went to the other extreme, which is more-or-less where I hang out today. Because it is subversive in the US to be fat and to proudly inhabit your body.
I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my first taste of color, dying my hair that bright shade of red, occurred shortly after I started regaining weight from the most extreme diet that I’ve ever been on. I was devastated and I was feeling rebellious. And I was so tired of hiding in the back while wearing clothes that made me as invisible as possible.
There’s a lot of pressure, when you’re fat, to make yourself as small and unnoticeable as possible. Wear black! And grey! And navy blue! I have this habit of leaning off the edge of bus seats so as to prevent any possibility of my belligerent thighs coming into any contact with another person. But the more angry I get about the way fat people are treated, the more unapologetic I insist on being. And it’s been incredible.
I used to hate fashion, but now I see it as an amazing avenue for self-expression (not that anyone is required to use that particular avenue, any more than anyone is required to play a musical instrument). Giving myself permission to stand out has been so damn freeing.
Because it is OK for you to be noticed.
You are allowed to experiment with your dress.
The fashion police will not arrest you, I promise.
You are under no obligation wear black or grey or navy if you are fat fatty like me. It will not make you less fat. It may not even make you appear less fat. No carefully tailored top or placement of lines is going to make me look thin, because I’m just not thin. Once I realized that, I was able to focus on wearing what made me happy, which is a pretty awesome way to start the day.