I love us. Every picture. There was a time when that photo would have made me cringe. Messy hair, double chin, glasses? No way that’s going online. However I’ve learned to love myself and have learned that the right person will love you the most in those moments when your hair is sticking up in the funniest way and you just can’t stop blinking because you’re still sleepy.
I love this photo because I look genuinely happy. Happier than I’ve ever looked in a photo. I wasn’t trying to look beautiful, I just was. I can feel the love just radiating off this picture and it shocked me to the core when I first saw it.
This is honestly my favorite photo of myself. Because it’s real. It’s me and my boyfriend, still sleepy and rough around the edges, and in love.
Learn to love yourself and the right person will love you in the right way. <3
Ever have one of those days when you’re unsure how much phobia, hatred and all the bullshit society throws towards us that you can handle?
If I see one more Special K advert telling me I need to weight x amount to have self worth, I’m going to break my fucking television. Thank you for making my day 5x harder.
If I see one more poster of some airbrushed model who prefers to stand for nothing but an unattainable level of perfection to an audience of young, impressionable Women; I’m going to rip it off the wall and shove it in the garbage where it fucking belongs.
If I have to be fronted with one more comment like “This is ONLY x amount of calories; feel less guilty and have this disgusting alternative”, I’m going to take it off the shelf and stamp on it approximately twenty times. Because that’s what I fucking feel like doing.
If some ridiculous company ran by people who clearly have the intelligence of a fucking fish, tell me that I have to be a certain size to fit their idea of beautiful, hot, sexy, whatever; I’m going to cut the label out of every fucking clothing item in their store because it doesn’t matter what size you are.
The next time someone compliments my body based on their like/dislike/preference, it isn’t a compliment because YOU like it. I like myself for myself, if you want to actually compliment me, then state it based on something that matters; like the fact I’ve got a sparkling muthafucking personality, not whether or not I’m the size you find visually pleasing.
The next time some uneducated, naive person tries to tell me what is right for MY body; whether that be how much exercise I should be doing, how many calories I should be consuming, or whether or not I can allow myself to eat such a thing; I’m going to honestly tell them to shove their idealistic standards up their fucking backsides and grab a reality check. If you really had any concern for my well being, you would focus on my happiness; not some ‘statistics’ (informal consent, look it up.)
If someone decides it’s within their right to tell me I have to cover up my acne excessively in order to look pretty enough, I’m going to smash ten bottles of foundation and tell them to fuck off.
The next time someone tells me my ass is ‘too big’, my lips are ‘nice and voluptuous’, or my ‘hips stick out a tad’; I’m going to tell them that my body is no concern of theirs, because their opinion is no fucking concern of mine.
(This could go on forever..)
No. This is not satire. Thin privilege is writing about these kids who have been through so much pain, suffering, and terror that is probably still so fresh in their memory as if they were research subjects.
I’m a (thin) journalist. This entire story is about how they had to stay home because THEIR WORLD WAS ERUPTING AND FLOODING AND BEING WRECKED and now they gained weight. Like, fuck you journalism. This is the worst slant on the worst lead on the worst story of all time.
Learn to cherish this vessel,
the tired music of the body.
Let the skin be witness.
To grow. To grow.
Hiya. My name is Peach! I’m a singer, and graphic designer, I’m 24, and my measurements are 40-35-50. I’m 5’10, and I LOVE being tall. It has taken me a lot of heartache to love who I am, and it is such an amazing place to be. Confidence is everything ladies.
Lets be friends <3 http://funkypeaches.tumblr.com/
Some of my work from the last 4 months or so.
Edit: It should also be noted that all messaging has been written by me, aside from “me-sponsible” - If anyone knows the source of that quote let me know, I never did find out where it came from.
Re: This Post
“However, fat is not a feeling. When you say “I feel fat”, you are using it as a catch-all for any and all negative feelings you have about your body. Can you not see how that would be offensive to an actual fat person?
I recognise that you may not be doing this intentionally. It’s possible to hate your own body while accepting the bodies of others. That said, you’re not off the hook. Words mean things. When you say “I feel fat”, you are perpetuating the idea that fat = bad.
In short, why does your insecurity come at the cost of our dignity?”
Thoughts of fatness (when someone says “I feel fat”) can often be a common denominator for a variety of more powerful forces, especially dysphoric moods (look up body dysmorphic disorder that creates other eating disorders like anorexia or bulimia and even obesity). Here’s the kicker: the problem comes when a person is unable to decipher these moods and they get condensed into a final common denominator: feeling “fat” when, in all likelihood, they’re normal people who are feeling insecure and more (back to that list of synonyms above).
Feeling fat and/or having a “bad hair day” are part of the same phenomenon—the product of an internal bad feeling that gets projected out onto our appearance. Fat is definitely NOT a feeling. The problem with feeling fat is not literal fatness, but rather the painful emotional state within, whether you are actually fat or not fat at all.