reminder
Don’t you dare
Shrink yourself
For someone else’s comfort –
Do not become small
For people who refuse to grow.
m.v., Advice to my future daughter, #2. (via makelvenotwar)
Saggy tits. Who would spend money on that lol
Standard
What? My boobs are great.
See? Perfectly fine.
I mean, yeah, they jiggle and wobble and don’t sit high up on my chest. But that’s normal.
Like what do you think I should do about it? I mean
Nah.
My boobs just do normal boob things. They’re A-okay normal healthy boobs.
Moral: Boobs are really diverse. Do your boobs sag? Normal. Do they have hair? Normal. Do they have stretch marks? Normal. Do you get pimples on them? Normal. Are they different sizes? Normal. Big nipples? Normal. Puffy dark areola? Normal. Not facing dead ahead? Normal. Small? Normal. Big? Normal. Normal Normal Normal.
And they’re your boobs. If you can change any of those things and you want to, go ahead!
But don’t let people tell you that your breasts are wrong just because they’re affected by gravity.
You’re fine. They’re fine.
Do think she could have made the same point Without showing her boobs though :$ that just gave the world a look at her half naked. Not classy…
- They’re just boobs, man.
- I’m topless like 70 percent of the time anyway, but I made a point of showing them, and subsequently received hundreds of messages along the lines of “that’s exactly what my breasts look like! I’d never seen any like them before! thank you”
- Your concept of class is silly. I am laughing at you.
- Seriously, they’re just boobs. Am I supposed to be ashamed of my boobs or something? Are you 12
- I do not associate with people that are that scared and disgusted by nudity, because I am not a child and understand that bodies are not inherently sexual, and even if they were there’s nothing wrong being sexual
- How are you breathing with your head stuck so far up your ass. Are you okay?
- Grow up.
- No one asked you.
- Shhh.
Needed every bit of this.
This is important to know. As we evolve, so does our external reality.
Gonna let go for GOOD.
PREACH
I take myself out to dinner and do not look at my phone once. I do not call a friend up and ask them to join me. I listen attentively to the conversation in my head. I walk with myself to the library. Read novels, magazines, dusty collections of poetry. Browse zines online and buy a stack of ones that catch my interest. I close my eyes in bed and put my hands in-between my thighs. Know when to go faster, when to slow down, when to speed it up. I moan without shame. I make myself coffee, sip it languorously on my balcony, let my bare shoulders be warmed by the sun and ignore my neighbor’s sideways looks. I put on lipstick on the days I am not leaving the house. Walk around confidently, wearing only underwear and carelessness. Shake my limbs to the busting beat of a song and do not worry about my arms going one way and my legs another. I bite down hard on “monogamy.” Swish it around in my mouth, run my tongue over its bumps and curves, and then spit it out. I bleed on scraps of paper. Let my thoughts out. Listen to them more intently than any person could. I see all parts of me and do not blush. I do not look away. I do not try to run. I stare deeper. Force myself to keep eye contact. Accept all that is inside of me. Make my apologies. I bend my hands in forgiveness. I rise, dripping in the blood of past and future guilt and say, it is okay. All of you. All of me. It is okay.
In A Committed Relationship With Myself | Lora Mathis
(via lora-mathis)
(via lora-mathis)
would u call this narcissism or self-love pt. 2 (via lora-mathis)
This.
(via guiltypleasures11)
The meaning of life is just to be alive. It is so plain and so obvious and so simple. And yet, everybody rushes around in a great panic as if it were necessary to achieve something beyond themselves.
Alan Watts (via insanity-and-vanity)
People get used to anything. The less you think about your oppression, the more your tolerance for it grows. After a while, people just think oppression is the normal state of things. But to become free, you have to be acutely aware of being a slave.
Assata Shakur, Assata: An Autobiography (via britishmuslimahreflections)
Girls, romanticize yourselves. You are a queen. You are a warrior. You are an enchantress. You are a mermaid. You are a goddess. You are all of these things and more, you are the stuff of fairytales.