I’m not a swearer, otherwise I’d be using more colourful language here. As it is, I kind of want to. But young people read my books and thus maybe this blog, and so I’ll just say …
Stuff you, media.
Stuff you all the way inside a place that is the worst and most rubbish place that ever existed, even worse than Hell, which actually doesn’t sound all that bad, since all the interesting people would be there and it would be hotter than this wretched Tasmanian summer.
Stuff you, mostly and firstly, for this:
Because I never was a fan of Colleen McCullough’s work, but I respected it and I respected her and, as a person, I thought she was someone to be admired.
I never thought of her as “plain”, until this reprehensible article called her so. I thought of her as fierce and funny and witty and powerful and clever and colourful and awesome and I hate that anyone felt any differently. I hate that anybody thought that this, above, was the first thing anybody should have noticed about this brilliant woman.
Stuff you, media, for making the arrangement of a woman’s features and the way her clothes fit her body the most important thing to consider. Stuff you for making me spend even one second of my day worrying that my hair is too messy or my nose is too long or my legs are too gangly.
Stuff you for all the little girls, not much older than my Tiger, who think they are fat or ugly. And who think that this makes them unworthy of as much time or space in the universe as someone “thinner” or “prettier”.
Stuff you, media, for the fear I have that one day Tiger will base any skerrick of her worth on the messages you send.
Stuff you for making me spend money on moisturiser instead of a new book.
Stuff you for using your advertising to make me consider going back to makeup, on the days when I’m exhausted and look it.
Stuff you for asking brilliant tennis players to do a twirl and talented actresses to show you their fingernails.
Stuff you for making Samantha Armytage think she had to wear bathers on a magazine cover.
Stuff you for photoshopping her.
Stuff you for the fear I have that Hilary Clinton sometimes looks in the mirror and wishes she looked different.
Stuff you for making me so angry when there are so many other things I could be using my anger for.
Stuff you for making me care.
Stuff you because Colleen McCullough was So. Much. More than her face or her body and all of us are and we are worth so stuffing much more than what you’re giving us.
Stuff the lot of you*.
And everyone else? You’re beautiful. You are beautiful. And you are fierce and you are amazing and don’t listen to the bastards. Don’t ever waste one second listening to the bastards.
* Except you, Tim Martain, because you called this out and you were always awesome anyway.