Y P.I.Y.F.?

I figure the question will eventually come up: "Why Pretty In Your Face for a blog name?"

The answer is two-fold:

First and main, I often remember my grandmother commenting on a girl by saying she was "pretty in the face". My Nana is a sweet woman who struggled with being underweight during the late 50s/early 60s (when that was certainly not the trend), and years later struggled to keep unwanted weight off. She obviously means no offense to anyone when using the phrase. But when I hear it, I connect it to the fact that the woman did have an attractive face, but was larger than average. In checking to see if this blog name had already been taken, I ran across a few other instances of the phrase and it seems to mean the same across the board. "She's pretty in the face," and the additional, unspoken "but her body is ugly."

I toyed with the idea of someday writing a self-help book and fantasized that would be the title. It would be about overcoming issues of weight in our society, especially if a woman is larger than the (perceived) norm but also healthy (which is all that really matters!). There'd be funny quips and blunt exasperation. But I don't have enough experiences to fill a book with my 'knowledge', so how could I help anyone?

More recently, after finding more and more confident plus-sized gals and their blogs, I realized I could manage to write a couple paragraphs every day. Plus, with a blog, it's live. I don't have to have it all figured out, and part of the fun is that I don't. It's why we pull up these websites or feeds. We wanna see how So-n-So's doin' with her new workout plan, or if Missy McMisses will really stick to that all-cabbage diet ;). It's the journey that's important, and what connects us all.

Fine then, but what can I say that these other ladies haven't already laid out clearly for the rest of us? What can I bring to the table? And that's where the second half of the name comes in.

In late 2011 I joined a band. May not be intriguing to some, or no big deal to others who grew up in large schools with garage bands out the kazoo. But I went to a small school in a town of 800, graduating in a class of 27. Yes, twenty-seven. During 2002-2003, my senior year, our class had a casual band but their sound was punkish and didn't really need me (at least musically). College was only a little better; by 2004 I had befriended a guy who worked with me to put one of my songs to music. I was elated! I'd written poetry and lyrics for the past six years, and finally someone was helping me color in the lines.

Fast-forward five more years and it's 2009. I've met a guy online (in 2006), he's courted me, and we're married. A series of unfortunate events causes us to move back to his parents' place in Boise, Idaho. For two years I struggle with finding work (never do) and with missing my family, as I'd never lived out of state before. Then a random frolic through craigslist brings an ad to my attention. Some guys are looking for a vocalist. They aren't far away, and after a couple emails back and forth the Hubs and I head over to check them out. We fall in sync immediately.

For the first time, I'm able to realize my dream of singing in a rock band, my preferred music genre. Rock (grunge, modern, alternative, doesn't much matter) gets in your face. Gets in your face and doesn't let go. My bandmates and those who listen in seem to like my voice and what I add to the interweaving guitar and screams of my fellow vocalist. But then I look at myself, and I see this: a 5'10, 330 lb woman. I'm horribly out of shape. Nothing fits other than some jeans and baggy shirts. I can barely make it up the basement stairs after practice. I can't rock anyone's socks off -- I can barely put on my own!

It dawns on me. I haven't done much research, but I also haven't run across many blogs catering to women in my predicament. I'm sure we're out there: sad about the lack of alternative clothing at Torrid, and wishing corsets weren't so darned expensive (and TINY), and sick of buying men's bondage pants at stores like Hot Topic because the cutesy women's bondage pants are for twelve-year-olds. I can relate, ladies! And I want to hear from you!

I want to be pretty, and I want to be pretty (an idiom for completely) in your face. I want you to hear my message, and not shy away from the words I'm saying or the face I'm saying it from. Maybe it sounds a bit shallow, and really I guess it is. But it's my motivation, and I can only hope it motivates others as well.