I don’t like that term. It sounds gross to me. Like people no longer want to categorize you as beautiful or attractive without it somehow being linked to the BBW phenomenon. Its the whole “oh you’re cute…for a big girl”, type mentality. Like, what is that even? I’m not a BBW. I am big, I am beautiful and I am a woman- I don’t need to be boxed into an acronym that hosts a whole bunch of social and political entanglements for you to make that point.
“Ever since puberty, ever since I was 11 or 12, I’ve had cyclical depression. That’s something that has been a defining feature of my life as an adult. It’s manageable. But it’s real. And it doesn’t take away from my joy or my work or my energy, but coping with depression is something that is part of the everyday way that I live and have lived for as long as I can remember. … Depression for me, you can’t distract your way out of it. … When you are depressed, it’s like the rest of the world is the mother ship, and you’re out there on a little pod and your line gets cut and you don’t connect with anything. You sort of disappear. And so it’s not something you can talk-therapy out of. It’s really a chemical thing. You get adrenaline from work, but adrenaline is not a cure.”—Rachel Maddow on depression (via nprfreshair)
“There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.”—Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice (via selfinspiration)
“It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive. It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human. It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithlessand therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty even when it’s not pretty, every day,and if you can source your own life from its presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!” It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children. It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back. It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.”—Oriah Mountain Dreamer
“In itself, homosexuality is as limiting as heterosexuality: the ideal should be to be capable of loving a woman or a man; either, a human being, without feeling fear, restraint, or obligation.”—Simone de Beauvoir
“Realizing that other people have a problem with [homosexuality] was the weirdest thing for me. As a kid it wasn’t even something that was mentioned. It was never something that was even explained to me. It was just, “That’s Mark and he’s gay.” Mark was just another friend of my dad’s who would talk about his boyfriend instead of his girlfriend. I was 5. I didn’t care. It seemed perfectly normal, and still does….It just drives me crazy…that people can make such sweeping, ignorant statements and bring religion into it….Why would you want a god that’s up there picking and choosing who he lets in?…That doesn’t make any sense.”—Daniel Radcliffe (via holymotherofrowling)
We are not eating disorders and razorblades. We are not diagnoses and problems. We are daughters and crushes and best friends and siblings. We have futures, we have dreams. We fall in love, we laugh, we do stupid things. We go skinny dipping, we get drunk, we write poetry. We read books. We go to school. We are in the lives of everyone around us, and most of them do not know us as counted calories and vertical lines on our wrists. They know us as all of the other things.