It takes a village...

A few days ago, I was intrigued by a facebook status that popped up on my feed. I cannot remember the exact verbiage now, nor do I want to dig it up to get the quote for the sake of anonymity. It bothered me for a days, honestly, and then one of the articles posted on our forum got me thinking even further.

Yes, there is a difference between rudeness and bullying. But for the bullied, sometimes even the one-off, rude remark from anyone can sting just a bad as the constant onslaught they live with.

Insecurity stems from the lack of confidence, that is true. The lack of confidence in a person should be everybody's problem and it being everybody's problem shouldn't be our personal responsibility.

When I turned fifteen, I had already endured years of bullying -- from a clique of girls calling me a whore because I had a mile long cleavage to a certain bunch of boys constantly groping me to see if my knockers were real. Let me tell you all something; having breasts as large as mine, there is NO way I can hide them. Period. I can wear a regular t-shirt and I'll have cleavage. I've learned to stand up on my own two feet and call out the hypocrisy. But back then? I didn't have the voice to do so.

I had also put up with a lifetime of chubby jokes, backhanded compliments and over-all judgement. The girls called me  a snob. The boys I grew up with didn't know how to talk to me anymore as their hormones had suddenly took over -- in one hand I had a body they wanted and at the other, I was the sister they'd grown up with. The men... yes, the same assholes who drove down the street cat calling me and telling me how delightful it would be to plow into me always finished the commentary by calling me an Ice Queen.

Needless to say that by the time mom insisted on throwing me a big ol' Quinceanara (that's a sweet 15 coming out debutant party) I didn't want any more attention, positive or otherwise. I didn't have many people to invite and my court of ladies and gents were made up of kids I didn't even know. The party, I understood quickly enough, was not for me. It was for the adults in my life. (I shit you not, I made my mom sign a contract that I'd do the Quinceanera if she'd let me have the wedding I wanted IF it ever came to pass. I may share that story at some other point.)

This was also the same year my grandmother came to visit-- and subsequently, spent about three years with us. At first I was ecstatic. I LOVED grandma. She always had fun stories to share, and a spirit full of sass I admired. But by the end of the first two weeks though, I was sick of her bullshit.

She always had an opinion. She didn't like the clothes I wore, how I styled my hair, the decided lack of make up I donned, my shoes were never good enough and let us not talk about my smart mouth.

Sometimes I purposely left my hair a tangled mess and duct taped shoes just to watch her squirm then holler "What will people say when they see you walking out like a homeless person!?"

See, I'd grown up in the states. I was not the homely, quiet, diligent little Catholic girl I was to have become if I had stayed in Guatemala. If there was a subject I did not agree with, religious or political, I said something about it. Well, as long as it didn't involve me.

Because I stood up for everybody. I had a voice for the underdog. I fought for the weak... but never for me.

If it hasn't become obvious, I have a rather opinionated family. It was disrespectful for me to say "Please don't call me that, it hurts."

I was fifteen, five foot five, thick-boned 165lb beauty. I had curves. My measurements, because I had to have a custom-made dress, that's how I know,  were that of 48 38 48.  I sported a 38k bra and hated to wear dresses, skirts or anything form flattering. I looked heavier than I was simply because I hid from the world.

And every time the family got together the jokes would start. I was called Shamu because I loved to swim. I was called Miss Piggy because was a loudmouth like her. I was told that I'd be GORGEOUS if I lost some weight because I had such a pretty face. If I didn't lose weight now, I'd be bigger than a whale by the time I was 30. I better find a 6 foot tall viking to marry me or else I'd crush my husband in my sleep. I better only keep dogs bigger than a foot stools they wouldn't get lost in my ass crack if I sat on it. I usually left before the alcohol started flowing freely because some of those jokes got so damned hurtful, I couldn't take it anymore. I know all this came from a place where my relatives meant well. They meant to encourage me to be healthier, step out of the shadows, be more positive.

I kept telling myself this over and over again until I couldn't anymore.

Grandma only heard the tail end of that fight. It was a regular Sunday churrasco (that's a Latino BBQ of sorts) when I couldn't take it anymore. The Friday before my best friend and I had gotten locked in a tennis cage and bombarded with water balloons where she was called every Asian slur in the book and I had been called *every* fat and slut joke this friggin' kid could think of. Needless to say my patience was at an all time slow.

So when my mom began with her "You should really loose a few pounds," commentary and my brother followed up with how I should take advantage of my assets and open up a webcam business to have some older men pay me to sit and be pretty and rake in the cash, I was done. I yelled and screamed for them to leave me alone, that it was not funny and to shut the hell up.

This surprised them all and they went on with the 'But we're just joking' and 'we're worried about your health!' crap. I firmly stated I didn't care and that they needed to stop. I don't remember who but someone said they were just trying to encourage me to do something and acknowledged they knew it was hurting me but continued anyway because, let us face it, if I was REALLY sick of it I'd actually start to lose weight.

I also fail to recall what vocabulary left my mouth but I'm sure I made a few sailors proud.

I immediately stormed off to my room and on the way there, almost knocked my grandmother off her walker.

I don't know what grandma told them, but I do recall snapping back into reality when she came into the bedroom.

She found me curled up on the floor behind my bed facing our window. I wasn't crying, I wasn't red in the face anymore. My lack of emotion frightened her. I am sure if she'd seen the lattice work I'd finished carving on my fore arm she would have killed someone.

Instead, she sat at her bed and called me to her until I responded. I pulled at my sleeve and held it shut in my hand as I got up.

At first she didn't say anything, just took my hands in hers and patted them. I was expecting a lecture. I was expecting for her to tell me to go out and apologize.

Instead she simply said "I'm sorry."

I could only stare at her in confusion.

"You know the saying that it takes a village?" I nodded. She  then let go of my hands and adjusted the hem of her sweater. "Its not just about rearing children. Its about standing up for one another and helping each other out. It is about making sure we are all taken care of and protected by nurturing each other. And as long as you're happy, as long as you're taken care of and aren't hurting anybody, who cares? Some people are broken inside and project this on people. They go around spewing their venom and hurting others because they hurt themselves. And if we all go doing this, how are we ever going to get better? I lost track of that. I'm sorry."

I cried. I cried until I got the hiccups and then she broke the spell with that rich, wonderful belly laugh of hers. And then when that subsided, she told me vitamin E helped with cuts and healing then told me to get off because she had to go to the bathroom.

She became my best friend and personal cheerleader. During the years she lived with me, I found comfort in her presence and sometimes she even stood up for me when she felt my folks were being 'insensitive idiots' (her words, not mine!)

I wish I could say that was the end of that pesky argument with my family. Sadly, to this day this heavy topic, along with the ever painful 'When are you having babies?' happens. Thankfully I remind them that neither topic is up for discussion and quickly change the conversation. Eventually they get tired of trying.

She left this earth eleven years ago and I try to remember those words every day, especially when I am hurting. I don't want to lash out at others. I don't want to be rude to people. I don't know what sort of burdens they're carrying on their shoulders and I would simply be devastated if my one comment pushed someone over the edge. God knows I've teetered on that line more than once and it was always a single, kind word or gesture that brought me back from the abyss.

Yes, there is a difference in bullying and rudeness. And yes, there is a truth that insecurity is an individual's problem. That still does not change the fact, however, that if we were all just a little bit kinder to one another every single day, the problem would get a little better each day.

It really does take a village to take care of the village.

2nd Annual Dream Girl Pageant

NOTICE:

The pageant location and time has changed.

The Yuppie Pawn Tavern  - Saturday, August 30, 2014 @ 8pm
$0.00 FREE ADMISSION
12031 Totem Lake Way, WA 98034
Map

Dames for Dreams 2nd annual pageant has the privilege of being held at the renowned Freedom Fest music festival. My goal is to have the ladies have fun at this event and we wish this to be the classiest, coolest, most fun pageant ever!
This year's pageants theme will be “Dream Girl” and will be open to registered ladies (18 and over). The contestants will be judged by Karmen of Rosewood Photography, Candy Coconuts and 2013’s KKF queen Miss Razor Rose and the winner will be chosen via people's choice. Registration opens May 31st and will continue until day of.

• Contestants MUST be at least 18 years of age.
• Entry Fee for each contestant will be $20.00. The prizes available to the winners of the contest are$100.00 (1st place), $50.00 (2nd place), $25 (3rd place).

For more information on the rules, please visit the FB event page. 

Upcoming Events - September & Onward

September 28

Pinup on a Penny - Steele Maiden

October 4

D4D Members Only Fashion Show - Christi Michelle (Sweet'n Lo)

** Models and designers wanted. **
You're invited to a fashion show presented by the Oddmall Seattle. Dress up in your highest fashions and head over to the Comcast convention Center to strut your stuff, spin & twirl. This is a competition FREE fashion show designed to uplift all of our dames & damsels alike and spread awareness of D4D's mission to motivate and inspire the youth and community around us.

To sign up, please visit the event page in FB.

October 18

Girl's Night Out ~ Christi Michelle, Liz Deville & Danielle Shepperd

Let us go out and paint the town red. The After Midnight Cabaret will be performing at Hale's Ales and what a lovely town Fremont is. The agenda is still pretty open for us to come up with plan still. I just know it ends in fabulous entertainment by some of PNW's most alluring performers.

The theme of the cabaret show is Naughty Nightmares.

To sign up, please visit the FB event page.

October - TBA

Polished Pinup Workshop - Kitty Mansfield

November 8th

D4D Benefit/Banquet Masquarade Ball

End of Year recognition and rewards. Food drive for King 5's Harvest

December 6

KING 5 Home Team Harvest Food Drive Collection Day - Sponsored by the Rat Bastard CC & Dames for Dreams.

We will deliver our collections to the Tacoma & Everett Mall locations.

Living Art

On the outside, I looked calm and collected, perhaps even confident as I sprawled my behind on the photography studio’s floor. Inside, though, I was shaking like a leaf. For a while we all stood around, nervously chatting pleasantries. One of us worriedly told us about a broken nail that she wanted to hide and another gal whispered she wanted to just hide from view. I looked up at Cat, the woman who, to my knowledge, has had no problem with disrobing in front of a group of ‘strange peoples’ (her words, not mine). She was standing with her arms across her chest, her usual loud-mouth demeanor silent.

I looked around again; everyone had gotten quiet for a bit and then started that nervous chattering once more. I frowned and looked at the floor. I felt like I did during my first school dance; boys in one end of the room, girls in the other. The anticipation and anxiety could be cut with a butter knife.

"Screw this!" I thought, standing up from my place. "I’m asking a boy out to dance. I’m stepping out on stage. Take a deep breath and go." This has been pretty much my mantra since my theater days.

I stood up with my eyes closed, tore my dress off and then offered Cat my back. "Can you help me take this off?" I asked, motioning to my bra. I couldn’t tell if my hand was throbbing because of the sprain or if I was just trying to coax her out of her own thoughts and into action.

When I finally opened my eyes, I saw two women already sans clothes. One, superbly petite and with a shy little grin that lit up the room. She was sprawled on the floor right next to where I had been sitting. For a split second I was a little jealous; she was after all absolutely gorgeous, had fantastic tattooes and looked so at ease. But I didn’t let that thought linger. I couldn’t help but play with the idea that maybe I looked the same to other women. After all, I didn’t hesitate to toss my clothes aside and I’d been loudly cracking jokes before that.

Behind her was another lovely woman, curvier and with fun-colored hair of teal and brown. She had a very relaxing aura about her. This woman, it turns out, was Jay, our photographer. I don’t remember who pointed that out but once that became common knowledge, it was like a spell had been broken. More clothes were shed, nervous chattering broke into laughter.

Jay went on to explain that it was more comfortable for her to snap shots without clothes on when photographing sessions such as Power of She. "It makes the models more comfortable," she explained "Plus I like having an excuse to not wear clothes when I don’t have to."

I can’t blame her. If I could get away with it I wouldn’t be wearing clothes either.

Before we got started, Jay and Christi quickly implemented a rule: We were not to complain or self-deprecate ourselves. We could compliment one another ALL we wanted (and trust me, we were all eager to do so. Mary was gorgeous, Liz had a fantastic smile, Christi’s effervescent attitude had me giggling like a madwoman, Jennifer’s tattoos both frightened me and awed me [I fear and respect ouji boards], Lachelle was simply beautiful, Breanna laid back with gorgeous hair and Cat, well, Cat’s Cat and she’s one of my best friends for a reason. )

With Jay at the helm, the shoot went a lot smoother than I expected. I’ve been asked to model before – I was ‘discovered’ when I was 6 but when it came to get in front of the camera, I seized up. It has been a reaction that has followed me through out life. EVERY shot anyone has ever taken of me has been with me hamming it for the camera. I don’t know what it is about a camera – photographic of cinematic – but I get nervous. I rely on self-deprecating humor to cope. I become a clown and a character.

Jay calmed the whole group by leading us with her soft, yet firm demeanor. She had a very specific vision and when she looked at us, we could see the wheels turning, and her eyes sparkle with an idea. We were her human puzzle pieces, and like the human pieces we were, that vision often changed to better suit us. I do have a feeling if she weren’t so booked and if us dames didn’t have other things to do we could have spent all day weaving our bodies in a living tapestry.

By the end of the session, once we had our clothes back on, I looked at Cat and whispered "I want to model for her again."

ETA:  D4D discount, 25% off! 

Jay&

Photo, video digital and fine art.

(206) 919-2392 |

BeMyAmpersand@gmail.com

Pushpulse.com  | facebook.com/bemyampersand

Soaked Sweet'n Lo & her dames

Straight up from the prez herself:

Miss Brittney and Amanda Stevens called out Dames for Dreams to participate in the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. On behalf of all of us, as the D4D president, I accepted and also will lead a donation collection to give directly to Alsa.org to support the resarch and assistance for those suffering from this horrible disease otherwise known as the Amytrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), often referred to as "Lou Gehrig's Disease," is a progressive neurodegenerative disease that affects nerve cells in the brain and the spinal cord. I call out The Punknecks, Jason Punkneck & Polly Punkneck, also the Hooten Hallers & the local celebrities of the Hot Roddin' Romeos to do this challenge. You have 24 hours to complete this Ice Bucket Challenge or happily give at least $100.

Watch the video here!

(Sorry loves, I can't do FB embedding. Blogspot don't like it!)

Here's more:

Frozen Dames, are ya in?

Sweet'n Lo, our fabulous Prez has decided to go ahead and accept the ALS ice bucket challenge on our behalf. She will be donating cash AND doing the icy dip.

Any ladies who are willing to join in the solidarity, please do so. We will be having a massive upload at 9:55pm, please tag D4D.

Personally, since Christi Michelle has kindly decided to be our figure head for the ALS challenge I'll be forking over some cash to her when I see her later on Saturday. I *know* for a fact I won't have the time to meet the challenge and my wallet's a little low on cash at the moment.

ETA: This is the video I mentioned earlier.

The cynical side of me thought this whole thing was a bunch of hullabaloo but after watching a video from an ALS patient and coming to realize what this disease is about made me cry. I too am having issues with doing simple things, like pulling up my pants, turning the key in the car, brushing my hair and teeth. All this has happened due to an injury and after speaking to my doctor last Tuesday, I should  regain full mobility and strength in my hand at some point. (And it is you Dames, my lovelies, who have kicked me in the rear and showed me that I can and will continue writing despite the pain. I'll find a way if I ever do have permanent issues, damnit!)

ALS patients will not and cannot get better.

So for those of you who have no desire to do a bucket challenge out of privacy or sheer distate of the cold, please follow a long to the ALS website and donate. 

Or, if you'd like, wait along patiently for more details about an upcoming collection on behalf of D4D.

~AnqeIicDemise

Hot August Night, 8/23

17724 15th Ave NE, Shoreline, WA 98155

Dames are still needed to help serve and sell tickets.  Head on over to the Event's page on FB to sign up. 

Its a family friendly event so bring the whole family over! 

--Bonus: Need a little help lookin' presentable? Kathryn N and our Prez, Christi Michelle will be helping dames with quick hair and make up. $5 between 2-4. 

August Events

August 9th -23th 

The Power of She photo shoot. 

Our president, Christy Michelle, had this crazy idea to emulate a photograph that was done not only by supermodels, but the boys from Jackass themselves. The concept is empowerment and embracing WHO you really are. No excuses. No covering up. Forget ALL other beauty standards and love the skin that you are in. We are partnering with Jay & Photography for this project with the goals set for possible Gallery/Magazine Submissions/Calendar Publications. (You can read this blogger's thoughts on this issue by clicking on the hyperlink above)

August 17th

Infest Car Show

Hosted by our sponsors the Rat Bastards Car Club at Kenmore Lanes. 

August 23th 

Hot August Nights 

Our sponsors, the N. Seattle Eagle's Club #4122 are celebrating America's love affair with the good old days. The Club will be hosting a diner event with a need for us dames to be the servers in our pin up style. We will be waiting tables, taking simple orders and delivering their food for two hours. 

4p-6p

17724 15th Ave NE, Shoreline, WA 98155

August 30th 

Dames for Dreams, 2nd annual Dream Girl Pageant 

11 Am at Freedom Fest.  -- As of 8/20/14 2:37am more contestants are needed. If you're interested, please PM the D4D community page for more information! --

Contestants -- Please check your messages as well as your "Other Box" in your message section. Danielle S. has sent through some very, VERY importante information that needs to be seen ASAP.

Donations for Swag Bags are also needed. Do you, personally, or have friends who have goods that can be donated?

Items requested, but not restricted to:

• Cosmetics and Hair supplies
• Gift Certificates
• Hand made items
• "coupons" for local and related businesses
• Clothing

**IN GENERAL** 

"I'm also in need of all our super fun D4D selfies, if you have pictures of dames at and about having fun before or after any of events...or even just on your own time...send them my way!" -  Danielle S.

The Power of She

Growing up, I hated myself. I hated the dimples on my thighs, the way my nails refused to grow, the rainbow colored tan I sported (ladies, I had seven different shades going on, okay? Turns out when you're out in the sun and wear different uniforms you'll end up with some oddly shaped tan lines.) the scar above my lip where a beauty mark should be... let us not talk about the tuft of dark hair that one lovely boy who shall remain nameless professed to be thicker than his own mustache.

I couldn't see me for who I was. I was too preoccupied with a very myopic view of my life that, unfortunately, only made my despair that much more hard to deal with. By the time I was seventeen, my forearms, thighs and breasts told a dark, frightening story that made friends pale in worry. I was careful, oh so careful, to keep my body hidden. And on the day that a friend saw what I'd done, I swore her to secrecy.  (You can read more about it here: I hated using a mirror )

I wish I could say that I haven't sliced myself ever again, but that would be a lie. I wish I could say that I *love me* stretch marks and self-inflicted scars and all, but again, that would be a lie. And if there is anything I hate in my life more than anything else is a liar.

The truth is, I am a human being. I have my moments of weakness where I will curl up in a ball and cry for hours. There are days when I look at myself in the mirror -- and yes, I still hate doing it sometimes as I have a tendency to hyperfocus on my flaws, real or imagined-- and I just want to cry. Though I have to admit those days are coming less and less frequently. I do everything I can to surround myself with positive influences.

And why? Because I want to see myself the way my husband sees me. I want to love myself the way he loves me. I want to be me and not worry about the dimples, the scars or the fat rolls.

This year has been hard for me. I've had some rather big changes and for any of you who are reading this who *know* me, I am not very fond of change. I got a new apartment, a new job -- a new cat as of almost a year ago. (That in itself was huge, as I'd been mourning Tabu for over a year!) My confidence, while it had gotten pretty damn 'sexy', as my husband likes to say, started to waver.

I took a pretty serious fall about a month ago and I've just been moping ever since. I can't paint. I haven't written anything in a year. My clothes don't fit anymore because I GAINED weight. I have a hard time taking care of Slayer (That would be this wild mane atop my head, and yes, he does have a name. Doesn't yours?) so he sits there in a bun all day and breaks things in anger. Fuck, some days I can't even put on my bra!

Knowing I was feeling like CRAP and that one of my dreams was to do a model for a pin up shoot, my own, personal Dame told me about Dames for Dreams.... and The Power of She.

This is a group of women who strengthen their community by empowering fellow ladies. They build them up instead of breaking them down. They get together and help *everyone* as best as they can and I can say, this attitude is euphoric. Just listening to her talk about what these women have done for each other has gotten me thinking a lot lately.

Cat also went on to remind me about my passion of writing and my passion for showing the world that there IS beauty in everyone of us regardless of how our outsides look. (Anyone else find wrinkles sexy as fuck?) It is the inside that matters, yes, but sometimes, that ugly outside is only ugly because we can't see it for what it is. And before I knew it, she'd put my name down on the list for The Power of she photo shoot.  Why? Because she knows I want to do a 'Real Shapes' shoot with Emma Booth from Light Fantastic -- a nude study in light and shadow.

What is "The Power of She"?

It is a photo shoot of implied or true nudity that takes the blinders off and let us women see that we are beautiful. We have come into this world with the bodies we have and they are beautiful. Freckles. Dimples. Scars. Rolls. Grey hair. Color hair. Tattoos. All imperfections and flaws, collectively, make us whole and that, my friends, make us gorgeous for really, the body, is a wonderful thing.

There will be photo shoots of multiple ladies, I believe 5-7 at a time, for a total of four shoots. MY scheduled day is in three days.

Yes. Me. The girl who wore long-sleeves and unflattering clothes for more than half her life is going to bear it all. Except this shot won't let me hide in the shadows at all.

So, here I am, overweight, covered in scars and stretchmarks looking at myself in front of the mirror. My boobs sag awkwardly -- as real, 40K bobs aught to do. If I turn ever so slightly I see dimples. I hide my swollen, stiff, almost useless arm behind myself for a bit. I want to cry, but I don't. For the first time in my life I'm starting to see a little sliver of the picture that my husband sees when he looks at me.

And speaking of the guy who thinks I'm hot cakes regardless of what I wear or don't wear have to say that his wife is going to be tastefully nude with a bunch of other women and potentially have the prints shared with the world?

'Its about damned time.'

HAH! I love that guy.