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me as fuck
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there’s this moment of awareness for a girl when she realizes her legs (and/or arms, armpits, upper lip…) are unacceptable.
she’s just minding her own business, bopping along, when maybe a classmate starts mocking her for having visible body hair. or she goes to a sleepover and someone points out that her legs look different from all the other girls’. or she walks in on her mom shaving and asks why, and the answer is “because a woman’s body looks nicer this way.” or maybe her mother or sister actually approaches her and says, “looks like it’s time you learned to shave that jungle.”
the point is, the day before that realization, however it happened, the girl didn’t give a shit about her hair. she put on shorts and tank tops without a second thought. she didn’t feel unclean. she didn’t feel like a monster when she looked in the mirror (at least not because of body hair). her hair didn’t stop her from riding a bike or climbing a tree.
only after someone draws her attention to it does she start feeling self-conscious and wanting to remove it. removal, in this culture, is never a choice made free of coercion. it’s never born of a girl’s own naturally occurring desires. the seed of shame was planted in her by someone else (family, friends, bullies, magazines, razor commercials) and chances are that seed will stay with her forever- a sinking realization that her body can be wrong, that she can look ugly or dirty even when clean, that a thing she never even noticed about herself before should be a source of retroactive humiliation.
that feeling is like a scar. every time we look at it, the humiliation and judgment we experienced as kids comes rushing back and the little nasty patriarchal voice in our heads (the same one that says shit like “jesus you’re getting fat,” “ugh why did you think you could pull off this outfit,” “god who would ever want to touch THOSE boobs,” etc) says “ugh, looks like it’s time I shaved that jungle.” and it’s just parroting back what we’ve already been told.
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God came to my room last night and she told me every ygo character is gay and there’s nothing Kazuki Takahashi can do about it
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freya…
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gym, or as i like to call it, Baranormal Activity,
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back when i was suicidal in high school the tiniest things would make me want to kill myself but also the most trivial things would stop me
i remember looking at a bottle of sleeping pills and going “i’m going to kill myself. i’m not going to get out of this town. i’m not going to be able to get into a good college” and then i would go “but wait! if you die tonight, you won’t be there when they invent time travel. what if you die tonight and aliens land tomorrow and you miss it. the entire world would change and you would miss it.” “ah, yes. good point. i’ll wait until next week to die. once i’m dead i’m dead, so i can wait a little longer to see if something cool happens before then.”
it never did but it brought me back from killing myself until i started seeing a psychologist and got on antidepressants
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you know how sometimes a long time is just 3 years
u kno when u hav many thing to do so u lay on the floor for long time
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