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fastallein:

mr-dalliard-ive-gone-peculiar:

whalesam:

toomuchtaylor:

Newest tattoo!
It’s on my left forearm. It’s a note my mom left me the night she died. Here’s a side-by-side shot of the two.

Deserves every note.

I cried and then I reblogged


wish i got a message

fastallein:

mr-dalliard-ive-gone-peculiar:

whalesam:

toomuchtaylor:

Newest tattoo!

It’s on my left forearm. It’s a note my mom left me the night she died. Here’s a side-by-side shot of the two.

Deserves every note.

I cried and then I reblogged

wish i got a message

Source: toomuchtaylor

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is eight years old, she’s got pink cheeks that her grandmother calls chubby. She wants a second cookie but her aunt says “you’ll get huge if you keep eating.” She wants a dress and the woman in the changing room says “she’ll probably need a large in that.” She wants to have dessert and her waiter says “After all that dinner you just had? You must be really hungry!” and her parents laugh.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is eleven and she is picked second-to-last in gym class. She watches a cartoon and sees that everyone who is annoying is drawn with a big wide body, all sweaty and panting. At night she dreams she is swelling like the ocean over seabeds. When she wakes up, she skips school.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is thirteen and her friends are stick-thin ballerinas with valleys between their hipbones. She is instead developing the wide curves of her mother. She says she is thick but her friends argue that she’s “muscular” and for some reason this hurts worse than just admitting that she jiggles when she walks and she’ll never be a dancer. Eating seconds of anything feels like she’s breaking some unspoken rule. The word “indulgent” starts to go along with “food.”

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is fourteen and she has stopped drinking soda and juice because they bloat you. She always takes the stairs. She fidgets when she has to sit still. Whenever she goes out for ice cream, she leaves half at the bottom - but someone else always leaves more and she feels like she’s falling. She pretends to like salad more than she does. She feels eyes burrowing through her body while she eats lunch. Kate Moss tells her nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, but she just feels like she is wilting.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is fifteen the first time her father says “you’re getting gaunt.” She rolls her eyes. She eats one meal a day but thinks she stays the same size. Every time she picks up a brownie she thinks of the people she sees on t.v. and every time she has cake, she thinks of the one million magazine articles on restricting calories. She used to have no idea a flat stomach was supposed to be beautiful until she saw advice on how to achieve it. She cuts back on everything. She controls. They tell her she’s getting too thin but she doesn’t believe it.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is sixteen and tearing herself into shreds in order for a thigh gap big enough to hush the screams in her head. She doesn’t “indulge,” ever. She can’t go out with friends, they expect her to eat. She damns her sweet tooth directly to hell. It’s coffee for breakfast and tea for lunch and if there’s dance that evening, two cups of water and then maybe an apple. She lies all the time until she thinks the words will rot her teeth. She dreams about food when she sleeps. Her aunt begs her to eat anything, even just a small cookie. They say, “One bite won’t make you fat, will it, darling?”

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is seventeen and too sick to go to prom because she can’t stand up for very long. She thinks she wouldn’t look good in a dress anyway. Her nails are blue and not because they are painted. Her hair is too thin to do anything with. She’s tired all the time and always distracted. She once absently mentions the caloric value of grapes to the boy she is with and he looks at her like she’s gone insane and in that moment she realizes most people don’t have numbers constantly scrolling in their heads. She swallows hard and tries to figure out where it all went wrong, why more than a granola bar for a meal makes her feel sick, why she tastes disease and courts with death. She misses sleep. She misses being able to dream. She misses being herself instead of just being empty.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is twenty and writes poetry and is a healthy weight and still fights down the voices every single day. She puts food in her mouth and sometimes cries about it but more and more often feels good, feels balanced. Her cheeks are pink and they are chubby and soft and no longer growing slight fur. Her hair is long and it is beautiful. She still picks herself apart in the mirror, but she’s starting to get better about it. She wears the dress she likes even if it only fits her in a large and she doesn’t feel like a failure for it. She is falling in love with the fat on her hips.

She is eating out with friends and not worrying about finding the lowest calorie item on the menu when she hears a mother tell her four year old daughter “You can’t have ice cream, we just had dinner.
You don’t want to end up as a fat little girl.”

Why do we constantly do this to our children? /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

Source: inkskinned

sevenhued-cerise:

And now, for a bit of positivity in this cesspool of terrible events.
Park Ji-young was a crew member of the sunken Sewol ferry. She lived with her single mother and younger sister, and was known to be a bright, smiling young lady.
When the ship began to sink, she took charge of the life jackets. When there wasn’t enough to go around, she grabbed life jackets from the fourth floor and gave them to the people on the third floor. When asked “aren’t you going to wear one too?” she replied “Crew members go last. I’ll leave after I’ve gotten all of you out.” 
Her efforts saved everyone she helped. Unfortunately, she herself did not make it.
Rest in peace, Miss Park. You will be missed. Thank you.

sevenhued-cerise:

And now, for a bit of positivity in this cesspool of terrible events.

Park Ji-young was a crew member of the sunken Sewol ferry. She lived with her single mother and younger sister, and was known to be a bright, smiling young lady.

When the ship began to sink, she took charge of the life jackets. When there wasn’t enough to go around, she grabbed life jackets from the fourth floor and gave them to the people on the third floor. When asked “aren’t you going to wear one too?” she replied “Crew members go last. I’ll leave after I’ve gotten all of you out.” 

Her efforts saved everyone she helped. Unfortunately, she herself did not make it.

Rest in peace, Miss Park. You will be missed. Thank you.

labellavita-l:

They are the real heroes.

Please take a second to pray for the survivors in ferry & also these heroes

 Last messages from Survivors and Students trapped inside the ferry
... PRAY FOR SOUTH KOREA

shereadsbooks:

I will always be grateful for how this was depicted in the film.

Source: hernance

Source: wetdreamsonlylastforanight

Source: seempiternaal

hiiiiirachypie:

butt-hole-bread:

jeremyblogsthings:

justcallmejude:

booksbreathe:

123lee:

Banksy.

I’ve reblogged almost all of these. Fuckin dope artist.

I will never tire of Banksy.

The last one though.

So true

Source: 123lee

lovesexdevotion:

That was so beautiful

lovesexdevotion:

That was so beautiful

Source: johto-jordan