"Wow how do you leave your house lol" I don’t. We don’t. Your crude jokes about our illnesses and disabilities are not funny. Some of us cannot, do not, leave our houses. Nobody is laughing.
Read this, and then read it again. I’m sick and tired of times in my life I barely made it through being used as someone else’s hypothetical and unimaginable worst case scenario.
The thing about this is that sculptures like these in art history were for the male gaze. Photoshop a phone to it and suddenly she’s seen as vain and conceited. That’s why I’m 100% for selfie culture because apparently men can gawk at women but when we realize how beautiful we are we’re suddenly full of ourselves…
Girls don’t let anyone tell you loving yourself is vanity.
The young lady that was shot in the head by a police officer is still waiting to be interviewed by the police department
(they’ve edited the articles to take out the white part and that she was killed hehehe)
Residents knew it was BS.
Turns out Mya was shot by a police officer. The department forced surgeons to take the bullet out and took the bullet for “Ballistics”
Over a week later, she still has yet to be contacted by the department
Do not let her story go ignored
When I have days off, weird shit happens.
Image: Harlem Blues singer Gladys Bentley
As it turns out, the blues world was the perfect realm for people who were thought of as “sexual deviants” to inhabit, as it thrived far outside the scope of the dominant white American culture in the early 20th century. In Jazz Age speakeasies, dive bars, and private parties, blue singers had the freedom to explore alternative sexuality, and on a rare occasion, they even expressed it in song.
“In lyrics, they talk about ‘bulldaggers,’ which is they called butch lesbians at that time, or ‘BD women,’ ‘BD’ being short for bulldaggers,” [documentary maker Robert ] Philipson says. “There were references to being ‘in the life,’ which was understood to mean same-sex activity.”
In 1930’s “The Boy in the Boat,” Ma Rainey’s protégé, Bessie Smith sang, “When you see two women walking hand in hand, just look ‘em over and try to understand: They’ll go to those parties—have the lights down low—only those parties where women can go.” A married woman who kept a female lover on the road with her, Smith is known to have exploded at a girlfriend, “I got twelve women on this show, and I can have one every night if I want it.”
before i forget, last night I had another dream with the bridge that has an upside down loop (like a rollercoaster). It’s the second time that I’ve dreamt with it (to my recollection), and it looked like a rollercoaster, except it was a road (a bride, really) for cars. It was in New York, somewhere, next to another (but normal) bridge.
I was terrified of it in both dreams, and yet in both dreams I had to travel on it instead of the normal bridge.
That is not a typo.
hi there, anon. i didn’t realize i took a lot of selfies. thanks for the info. so, your question was whether i think i’m pretty. you already answered that no, i am not.
and i have to agree, anon. i don’t think i’m pretty bc i’m not.
i always have a double chin.
i constantly look like i haven’t slept in a week bc of my dark circles
and, i always look sunburnt. idfk why
i have this white line across my nose that makeup can’t cover up
i have tons of wrinkles on my forehead. like what the hell? i’m 25
also, it’s the size of fucking texas
i still don’t know how to smile in pictures bc i hate my fucking teeth
my feet are flat. my hips are huge. my boobs are weird. i am covered in stretch marks. my voice is grating. my ears stick out two miles from my head. i am always fucking sweating and i’ve been asked if i was pregnant more times than i can count.
so, you’re right. i’m not pretty. i can’t stand the way i look.
which is why it’s so fucking important that i post “a lot” of selfies. bc, anon, you’d better fucking believe that if i look in the mirror that day and don’t cringe, i’m gonna take a fucking picture to save that tiny little second. and GOD FORBID i show the world that i posses a little self love every once in a fucking while.
TO ANYONE READING THIS: DON’T EVER LET SOMEONE MAKE YOU FEEL ASHAMED FOR LIKING THE WAY YOU LOOK—EVEN IF IT’S JUST FOR A SECOND. IF YOU LOOK NICE, YOU TAKE THAT FUCKING SELFIE AND YOU SHOW IT TO THE GOD DAMN WORLD BC THEY DESERVE TO SEE THE GOD/GODDESS YOU ARE!
that beard finally coming in? go ahead, bro. take a selfie.
you finally got that piercing you’ve been wanting? not really my style, but you’re fucking rocking it. take a selfie.
your boobs look awesome in that shirt? take a selfie.
you finally lose or gain that weight you’ve been working on? take a selfie.
your eyeliner look awesome? your new sunglasses make you look like a celebrity avoiding the paparazzi? you killing that tux? you feel a tiny, rare level of self love? you always on a high level of self love? you just like your face?
TAKE A MOTHAFUCKING SELFIE!
thanks for the question, anon. this one’s for you.