I was talking to my brother about women’s attitudes towards their bodies, especially regarding weight/fat, and when he said “most guys don’t notice/care about that kind of thing,” I tried to explain why it was a lot more complicated than that. I ended up telling this story.
Body image is something that’s so hard to talk about, and it’s hard to express body positivity without sounding cheesy, false, or overly simplistic. But I’m gonna try. This is only my own experience, and it didn’t magically cure me of all my body image issues - but it was a major turning point for me nonetheless.
So this is my body, until recently I have been ashamed of it and thought negatively about it, but now I realize, this is me, it’s my body and I need to love myself and all my imperfections. I will have this one and only body till I die and I can honestly say I love it. No shame.
Not only is OP physically delicious, but the sentiment of growing to love your body is just fucking beautiful. ♥
weeee it was too hot to wear anything knit today, but I did it anyway
Sweater ~ Ebay
Skirt ~ ASOS Curve
Socks ~ Sock Dreams
Flats ~ Target
funky editing (on some) due to some of these turning out super bright
Ugh Becca’s legs are so cute ugh I just wanna snuggle them. She just reminds me of an adorable plush doll (except yenno a human with legitimate feelings and stuff) :3 I’m a big weirdo whoops.
Becca and I are skirt and dress sisters from ASOS.
“Wrong Century” by Tomas Kucerovsky
…This might be the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. The expression on her face in the bottom right corner just kills me.
I always remember the critique where someone mentioned the painting she’s observing there is a depiction of a horrific rape. :(
I think there’s some kind of sentiment here worth noting, though. Basically that everyone needs to see, know, and be reminded of their own beauty and worth.
If my Blackness makes you uncomfortable, then I’m doing my job.
If my open fatness makes you disgusted, then I’m doing my job.
If you can’t handle my the nappiness and kinky swirls in my hair, then I’m doing my job.
You see, I do not exist for your pleasure. The color of my skin, the coils in my hair, and my open display of stretch marks and stomach rolls aren’t to be approved by you. I am proud of my body, my Blackness, and my hair because they make up who I am - and I am not your project, your experiment, or your guinea pig to be tested upon; you do not get to decode me and decide what you like and dislike about my features. I will not tuck away fat rolls, perm my hair, or assimilate to your standards to make you feel comfortable.
I am me and you don’t have a fucking thing to do with my appearance nor my happiness. Kiss my ass.
I want a fat Barbie.
A helpful starting guide to body positivity.