Hey so- are you aware that you pretty much exclusively post pictures of skinny people?
i actually didn’t fully realize this. i rarely view tumblr on a desktop and mostly use the app on my phone so i don’t really look back on what i post. after seeing this message i took a look at my archive and it was VERY evident. which is VERY fucked up because i myself am considerably petite (and therefore, have thin privilege), and have many close friends who’ve dealt with severe struggles regarding their weight and appearances, ranging from eating disorders to body dysmorphic disorder. i’m actively enforcing that thin people are more desirable and socially acceptable by not sharing images other body types.
this message also made me realize that i have a tendency to just like posts about other body types, fatphobia, and fat discrimination—usually with the intention to reblog later (but intention does not matter, the impact of not doing so is already evident)—instead of reblogging them. which says a lot about me because i am consciously supporting, but still not being inclusive. and it’s a very fucked up behavior. at times i felt like it wasn’t my place to reblog posts about fatphobia, but considering i have thin privilege, it’s clear to me now that i should be showing some solidarity. silence is and always will be a form of oppression.
so i’m sorry. i need to do better. thanks for this.
“Dude, I’m a lawyer and these women are educators," she said in reply. "Why the hell would I be in here soliciting prostitution?" Washington said he answered, "I don’t know but that’s what you’re doing.”—
My name is Glenda and I have a problem. I’m obsessed with my boyfriend’s armpits.
I wish I could bottle his body odor and wear it as a charm on a necklace. Like the one Rosemary wore in Rosemary’s Baby, except only I can smell it, and it won’t be used in any satanic rituals (maybe). I know it’s an unrealistic concept but the idea of being able to get a quick whiff of his scent in times of feeling anxious is really lovely, because there’s nothing quite like it that comforts me the way it does. When we first started dating, he would sometimes fall asleep in my bed before heading back home, and for days, I’d actually fall asleep easier because the smell on my pillow was that soothing. He’s gotten used to me nuzzling the crevice of his pits and knows how much I crave the smell of a shirt after he’s worn it all day.
“Nothing compares to your hands, nothing like the green-gold of your eyes. My body is filled with you for days and days. You are the mirror of the night. The violent flash of lightning. The dampness of the earth. The hollow of your armpits is my shelter. My fingers touch your blood. All my joy is to feel life spring from your flower-fountain that mine keeps to fill all the paths of my nerves which are yours.”—Frida Kahlo in a handwritten letter to Diego Rivera