The absence.

It’s been over a year since I last wrote on Shitty Women. This blog requires a lot of emotional capital from me—and I just haven’t had it. Either a lot or not very much has happened in my life since my last blog, and I’m honestly not sure which. Either way, I’ve been simultaneously overwhelmed and largely apathetic.

Some days, like today, I can feel the fog fading—otherdays, notsomuch.

That is all the explanation you’ll get from me on that front—for now, at least.

I am not a dude.


This blog will take the average adult reader about four minutes to read. 

The premise of this blog is this: I am not a dude.

I’ve been treated dudely since I was a kid. (Yes, I just turned “dude” into an adverb. Deal with it.) My mother will recount the story of how I came home from school from the first day of kindergarten—after she bought me all dresses (and I apparently loved them)—and demanded pants as my primary butt coverer. My favorite toy in elementary school was my roller blades. I wanted to be a speed skater. I wanted to run the Iditarod. I joined my first sports teams in the second grade. From then until the time I graduated from high school, I played basketball, volleyball—and twelve years of softball. I wanted to be the first female to pitch for the Mariners. (I’ve since let go of that dream.)

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Dressing an overweight female body.

This blog will take the average adult about four minutes to read. 

As you probably know by now, I’m an overweight woman.


I first became self-conscious of my body around seven years old when a friend told me to suck in my gut if I wanted the boys to like me. Photographic evidence suggests I started actually getting chubby around the fourth grade. Once I became aware of how terrible my body was as a child, I started dressing like a boy—because even at that young age, boys’ fashion was more forgiving (and comfortable!) than girls’. It was all baggy pants and baggy shirts for years. With the advent of fleece vests in middle school, I spent much of my life in one of my vests—to hide the midsection, I suppose. In high school it was more of the same—baggy pants, baggy shirts, baggy hoodies—baggy pirate clothes (<- truth).

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This is a blog for shitty women (and other shitty people, too).

I regularly feel like a shitty woman—for a plethora of reasons. I regularly also feel like a shitty person—for a plethora of reasons. I am also saved by the grace of Jesus Christ. This blog will be a place for me to write about real life things, and confront real life lies with Biblical truths. It is my hope that the truths that I’m learning will be helpful to you as well.

I intend to be honest with my experiences, thoughts, and language. (<- that’s my warning that I’m going to use all the words.)

Here are some topics you can anticipate reading about here:

  • Anxiety
  • Feeling like a failure of a woman
  • Being an overweight woman
  • Suffering
  • Introversion
  • Sin

I’ll be writing about these things—and how the gospel is impacting them in my life. And sometimes I’ll probably be writing about how I don’t see the gospel impacting them, because I intend to be honest about the shitty, frustrating, parts of being a Christian (woman), too.