Despite that, having a literal shoulder to lean on was invaluable. I could move about the bus alright once it came, using my arms and seat backs to mimic the effect of crutches, but in front of the emergency room I would have had to hop on one foot over several dozen yards. No walls to support me, I probably would have fallen over in my clunky winter boots. I hate it that you were right.
Even then, you stayed by me. Waiting in the ER was hell, but I could finally sit down. You managed to cheer me up a little by pointing out badly-photoshopped photos of women on the cover of the waiting room magazines. I remember this one girl – her arm looked normal at first, but the longer you stared the more you realized how impossible the angle was! And then there was that actress with the laughably tiny waist; there wasn’t even enough room for her organs, let alone the weight she was supposedly putting on for her next movie.
Finally, the doctor came and you left. It turns out my ankle was broken after all, and I emerged from the hospital with a new cast below my knee. Underneath all that wrapping was a heckuva bruise, bulbous and distracting. No wonder I had been in pain all the way here. I didn’t know until later how impressed you would have been. You secretly had thought it was a sprain, not a break, and believed I was overreacting. Little did you know I had been UNDERreacting. Hah. Take that.
Of course, you still pulled a sly move at the hospital. After I went in to speak with the doctor, you pulled a nurse aside and asked her to write something on my cast. I wish you had thought of something more original than your phone number. But there it was, just above the toes, an unimposing 10-digit number waiting for me to acknowledge it.
Hmph. You were being presumptuous. For all I knew, you were just going to take advantage of me. No way. I had never asked for your help and pleasant though you might be, I saw no reason to include you in my life.
Green pajama pants with an orange hoodie and flip flops.
Because finals week.
i cant believe there was a time in my life where i hated the color pink. it just feels unreal to me. i dont feel a connection to how i was in the past
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’
I wonder why I cannot be both.
He kisses me
My college theater professor once told me
that despite my talent,
I would never be cast as a romantic lead.
We do plays that involve singing animals
and children with the ability to fly,
but apparently no one
has enough willing suspension of disbelief
to go with anyone loving a fat girl.
I daydream regularly
about fucking my boyfriend vigorously on his front lawn.
On the mornings I do not feel pretty,
while he is still asleep,
I sit on the floor and check the pockets of his skinny jeans for motive,
for a punchline,
for other girls’ phone numbers.
When we hold hands in public,
I wonder if he notices the looks —
like he is handling a parade balloon on a crowded sidewalk;
if he notices that my hands are now made of rope.
Dear Cosmo: Fuck you.
I will not take sex tips from you
on how to please a man you think I do not deserve.
He tells me he loves me with the lights on.
I can cup his hip bone in my hand,
feel his ribs without pressing very hard at all.
He does not believe me when I tell him he is beautiful.
Sometimes I fear the day he does will be the day he leaves.
The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop
assumes we are just friends
and flirts over the counter.
I spend the next two weeks
mentally replacing myself with her
in all of our photographs.
When I admit this to him
we spend the evening taking new photos together.
He will not let me delete a single one of them.
The phrase “Big girls need love too” can die in a fire.
Fucking me does not require an asterisk.
Loving me is not a fetish.
Finding me beautiful is not a novelty.
I am not a fucking novelty.
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says, ‘No. You are so much more’,
and kisses me
Rachel Wiley (via cunicular)
Your body is made of the same elements that lionesses are built from. Three quarters of you is the same kind of water that beats rocks to rubble, wears stones away. Your DNA translates into the same twenty amino acids that wolf genes code for. When you look in the mirror and feel weak, remember, the air you breathe in fuels forest fires capable of destroying everything they touch. On the days you feel ugly, remember: diamonds are only carbon. You are so much more.
I forgot how many times Peeta almost died during Catching Fire.
A psychologist walked around a room while teaching stress management to an audience. As she raised a glass of water, everyone expected they’d be asked the “half empty or half full” question. Instead, with a smile on her face she inquired, “How heavy is this glass of water?” The answers called out ranged from 8oz to 20 oz. She replied, “The absolute weight doesn’t matter. It depends on how long I hold it. If i hold it for a minute, its not a problem. If i hold it for an hour, i’ll have an ache in my arm. If i hold it for a day, my arm will feel numb and paralyzed. In each case, the weight of the glass doesn’t change, but the longer i hold it, the heavier it becomes.” She continued, “The stress and worries in life are like that glass of water. Think about them for a while and nothing happens. Think about them for a big longer and they begin to hurt. And if you think about them all day long, you will feel paralyzed - incapable of doing anything.” Always remember to put the glass down.
Best thing I’ve heard all day.
i just started watching this new anime
it’s called durararararararara