(Source: therealcalicali, via juicyjacqulyn)
Recommended Reading:
The Fat Girl’s Guide to Life by Wendy Shanker (Author)
-This is a fun, honest, light book about one woman’s experience being plus size. It is like reading a magazine article if it were fat-woman friendly.
The Unapologetic Fat Girl’s Guide to Exercise and Other Incendiary Acts by Hanne Blank
“30 things to love about exercise (none of which have to do with your weight, your size, or what you look like)”
Fat Sex: The Naked Truth by Rebecca Jane Weinstein
-Very honest portrayal of Fat Sex in many different kind of relationships. Fun read so fat. I am not finished with it yet, so I don’t know if everyone in the book is cisgendered, but I am assuming it is (unfortunately). Still, a good read so far.
The Wendy shanker book is light weight but was my first encouraging step towards loving my fat
(via bigbootiedtattooedcuties)
Oh my god lesbian weddings always make me crryyy!!! This one is so cute I’m going to die!!!
cutest ever.
Oh gosh they are adorable.
(via chubbycartwheels)
(via chubby-bunnies)
lol
(Source: northernintruder, via bigbootiedtattooedcuties)
(via bigbootiedtattooedcuties)
Queen Beth Ditto
“But wherever you shop, if stores don’t have clothes in your size, let them know. Try something on, stretch it out, rip it up, and put it back on the hanger as your way of saying, ‘Fuck off. Thanks for making clothes that don’t fit me.’”
(Source: paperspots, via sleepydumpling)
”
When I introduce you to my mother, I want her to say,
That one’s going to break your heart without looking back.
After they found the cancer in her chest, 2.5 centimeters
from her heart, I snuck into her room every night,
crouched and listening for her heartbeat to make sure
it hadn’t fled like a thief, leaving no prints behind.
I want you to fuck me so hard I can hear myself giving
up on the images I used to hold in the palm of my hand
like a baby bird waiting for me to grow its wings.
I need to know there’s something beneath my skin,
I want to hear every crack, every sigh, with every
twist of your wrist. I want you to scream the worst
words you were ever taught, bastard and cunt
and desolation and motherfucker, I want to taste
the way they feel so familiar in my mouth now.
When you say you’re going outside for a smoke and
walk two blocks to the nearest bar instead, I want you
to smile at the girl sitting in the corner on her own,
I want you to take her into the dirty restroom and
whisper quietly to her, cradle her hips in your hand.
Then come back, say, It was time for a new pack,
leave bruises on my waist with those same hands.
When you finally go for good, don’t leave a note behind.
If a girl laughs and there’s no one around to hear it,
is the joke on her?
That one’s going to break your heart without looking back.
After they found the cancer in her chest, 2.5 centimeters
from her heart, I snuck into her room every night,
crouched and listening for her heartbeat to make sure
it hadn’t fled like a thief, leaving no prints behind.
up on the images I used to hold in the palm of my hand
like a baby bird waiting for me to grow its wings.
I need to know there’s something beneath my skin,
I want to hear every crack, every sigh, with every
twist of your wrist. I want you to scream the worst
words you were ever taught, bastard and cunt
and desolation and motherfucker, I want to taste
the way they feel so familiar in my mouth now.
walk two blocks to the nearest bar instead, I want you
to smile at the girl sitting in the corner on her own,
I want you to take her into the dirty restroom and
whisper quietly to her, cradle her hips in your hand.
Then come back, say, It was time for a new pack,
leave bruises on my waist with those same hands.
is the joke on her?
Eulogy for the Body of a Hopeless Romantic (via poemsfortheinsomniac)
(Source: sincerelyoursanonymous)
I want this now.
My birthday is in October!
