#And now here I am. And they're still calling me out on gaining weight. And it's gotten worse

[wakanai]

xx

[tw: ed; fat shaming]

[heliosunny]

YANDERE! YOMI X READER

He’s the worst villain, your brother’s sworn enemy, and yet, for some twisted reason, he’s taken a liking to you.

“Well, hello, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes.” Yomi drawled, his voice dripping with mockery as he sat at the lavishly set table, his dinner laid out before him like a king’s feast. Across the room, you sat on the cold floor, wrists bound tightly behind your back. The icy sting of the chains biting into your skin was nothing compared to the hatred burning in your chest. You refused to respond, your eyes fixed on the ground despite his taunting gaze.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” he sneered, the metallic clink of his knife and fork punctuating the silence as he sliced into the perfectly cooked meat on his plate. Normally, he would share meals with his band of misfits, but tonight, it was just the two of you.

“Being his sister must mean you’re used to situations like this, huh?” His voice was casual, almost conversational, as though he were discussing the weather. The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement when your stomach betrayed you with a low, pitiful growl. “Aw… hungry? Want some?” he teased, gesturing at his plate with a smug grin.

You lifted your chin just enough to glare at him, defiance flickering in your weary eyes. Even though hunger clawed at your insides, you refused to give in. You wouldn’t break, not for him. Not even if it meant dying here.

“Suit yourself.” he said with a shrug, returning his attention to his meal. The rhythmic clinking of his silverware, the soft chewing sounds, the faint splash of wine pouring into his glass, it was all torture. Your resolve wavered as the smell of the food filled the air, cruelly reminding you that you hadn’t eaten in two days. The edges of your vision began to blur, and before you knew it, the world around you went dark.

When you woke up, the sterile smell of a medical room hit your nose. For a fleeting moment, you thought you had died and somehow reached heaven. But the cold, unyielding weight of a shackle around your ankle quickly shattered that illusion. You were still his prisoner.

The soft creak of the bed as you shifted must have woken him. From the corner of the room, Yomi emerged, his ever-present smirk in place. “Good morning, sleeping beauty” he said, his voice low and smooth, yet laced with mockery. “How are we feeling?”

You didn’t answer, turning your head away from him, hoping silence would somehow keep him at bay. But Yomi wasn’t the type to be ignored.

His tone hardened, his smile fading into something far more menacing. “You better start talking, Y/n, or I’ll have your best friend’s throat slit.”

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide with shock and terror. “You…” you whispered, your voice trembling. The thought of Ainz, your one ray of hope, being dragged into this nightmare sent ice through your veins.

“Ah, there we go..” he said, satisfaction dripping from every word. “See? All it takes is a little persuasion.”

“You’re a monster,” you spat, your voice gaining strength despite the weakness in your body.

His smirk only deepened. “Monster? No, no, I prefer… necessary evil. Now,” he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent shivers down your spine, “you’re going to tell me everything I want to know. Or else, your precious Ainz won’t be so precious anymore.”

“YOU'RE A MONSTER!” you spat again, this time louder, your voice trembling as anger and fear swirled within you. Despite your defiance, you couldn’t stop your heart from pounding like a drum in your chest.

“Monster, opportunist, necessary evil… you can call me whatever you like, Y/n” Yomi said, his smirk curling into something darker, more possessive. “But I think deep down, you know what I am. I’m the man who owns you now. Your fate, your choices, your life... They're mine to play with.”

His words were like a poison sinking deep into your veins, each syllable wrapping tighter around you like chains. You wanted to scream, to fight, to claw your way out of this nightmare, but the truth was painfully clear. You were too weak, and he knew it.

“What do you want from me?” you finally choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. Even as you asked, you hated yourself for giving him the satisfaction of hearing your desperation.

“What do I want?” Yomi chuckled, leaning closer. The dim light cast shadows across his sharp features, making him seem more beast than man. “I want you to sit there and realize how little power you have. I want you to think of every way you can defy me and then realize I’ve already won. But most of all…” His hand shot out, gripping your chin and forcing your gaze to meet his. His touch was firm, almost gentle, but there was no mistaking the dominance behind it. “I want you to know that no matter how much you hate me, no matter how hard you fight, I’ll never let you go.”

Your breath hitched as you stared into his eyes. They were dark and unrelenting, as though they could see through every wall you tried to put up. You refused to cry, but the lump in your throat grew heavier with every passing second.

“And don’t think you can escape this” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as his thumb brushed against your cheek. “This room, this chain, this life, it’s all yours now, thanks to your dear brother. You can curse him for that if it helps.”

“You’re insane. He’ll come to save me.” you muttered, the words trembling on your lips.

Yomi smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Insane? Perhaps. But at least I have purpose. And you…” He released your chin, stepping back with a cold laugh. “You’re just a pawn.”

As he turned to leave, you felt the weight of his words settle over you like a suffocating blanket. You could hear the sound of the door locking behind him, sealing you inside the room. The chains around your ankle felt heavier than ever, a cruel reminder of your helplessness.

But even in the depths of despair, a spark of resistance remained. You might have been his prisoner now, but you would never let him break you. Not fully. Not yet.

-----------

I guess this is part 1. Too lazy to continue whatever is in my head~

[typicalopposite]

Thanks @priincebutt for the tag 🫶

slowly making my way through chapter 7! 🫠 sorry this has become my whole personality lately 😂 this is my main fic at the moment!

“Kinard!” Captain Collier calls from his office, nearly causing Tommy to drop the laptop he has meticulously balanced on his (extremely, dreadfully, embarrassingly) large belly. He has long since been able to comfortably do anything at his desk— the bump getting in the way, and sitting at an angle hurts his constantly aching back— so he has been using the bump instead… God knows it sticks out far enough anyway. He lifts the laptop off, and sets it on the table; crumbs from the bag of chips he was eating topple from his shirt to the floor when he stands. He frowns at the mess and grabs the broom he keeps close by (this happens often) and sweeps them into a pile. “Tommy?” Collier repeats softer this time, poking his head out of his office. 

“Uh, come— coming Cap!” He tries in vain to bend and reach the dustpan. He holds on to the desk for support but he feels like he’s going to tumble forward every time he starts to lower himself. Then he sits back down and tries again… still with no success; he even tries to flip it onto the broom and balance it up to the desk.

“Let me,” Collier says, now beside him. He takes the broom then bends down and sweeps the crumbs into the dustpan. After he throws the crumbs away he straightens back up and sits on the edge of Tommy’s desk. “Tommy…” he says again, and just from the look on his face, Tommy already knows what he’s about to say. “Listen. I know you want to work up until you deliver, but I really think it’s time.” Tommy can feel his mouth pulling down and Collier sighs.  “Hey… come on, don’t do that.” 

Tommy is trying desperately not to humiliate himself by ‘doing that’— i.e. crying— but it has gotten so much harder lately. He feels huge, and heavy, and tired, and sore all the time! All that meshes together and has made him somehow even more emotional. 

“What did you do to him, Cap!?” Lucy gasps, walking into the hanger. 

Collier sucks at his teeth and pushes off the desk. “I didn’t do anything but suggest he make these last weeks easier on himself.” 

“Well,” Lucy says… more so to Tommy. 

“Not you too, Luce?!” Tommy feels his pout deepen. 

Lucy laughs, and comes up behind him, squeezing and massaging his shoulders before wrapping her arms around him. “Don’t get me wrong, work will suck without you, and I am going to miss you so much; I don’t want you to leave…” she says. “I just want you to get some rest… you know the whole cliche you better sleep while you can because you won’t once baby is here— except you’re gonna have two babies keeping you up, and I honestly can’t remember the last time you’ve come to work and not looked exhausted… you’re overdue for some rest.”

Tommy would argue, except he knows he can’t; she’s right. The twins are growing beautifully, which makes him so happy and relieved… and massive, and miserable. He isn’t upset at the weight he’s gained, he is confident in himself enough to know he can lose it once they're born (and honestly even if he doesn’t lose a single pound, he is so happy both babies are healthy and thriving he wouldn’t care). However, he’s not been allowed to lift above his head since he announced the pregnancy, and getting something from lower than his waist at this point is damn near impossible. Lacey says he shouldn’t be carrying anything more than 15 pounds; and between the twins using his bladder and his lower spine for kickboxing practice, he is either in the bathroom or pacing the hanger trying to ease the back pain. 

He’s exhausted from the lack of sleep the pain is causing, and he needs help doing pretty much anything that’s not sitting and typing, and that is not something they even need him at the station to do. Collier has been trying to convince him to work from home for a couple months… Tommy’s just— Hell even he’s not a hundred percent sure why he’s holding on to working for so long… He looks past Collier and Lucy at the helicopter’s, and he can’t even fly at the moment, but it’s been nice being near them. Watching them take off, watching them come back… he misses it. He’s going to miss this, and his team. “You’re probably right…” he finally admits. “I guess I should take advantage of the last few weeks of calm.” 

Lucy smiles, and hugs him. “Good for you; you have more than earned a break,” she says squeezing him. “I’m gonna miss you, Kinard.” 

“I’ll miss you too, Luce,” he replies, voice soft and shaky. 

“Hey,” she says, pulling back to wipe the tears that are starting to fall from both their eyes. “This is not a forever goodbye, okay? I am going to come by and get my baby fix every day I have off… you’re gonna be so tired of me!” 

“Never,” he laughs.

Tagging: @onthewaytosomewhere @30somethingautisticteacher @judymarch15 @nine-one-wanton

@bidisasterevankinard @kinardsevan @somethingaboutfirefly @bucksxkinard @mmso-notlikethat

@sunnywithachanceofbi @herrmannhalsteadproduction @marvelousbuckley

And anyone else who wants to share their writing 🫶🫶

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

Hear me out I am very high from a edible rn but HEAR ME OUT DUDE

so we all know Chris Evans and his absolute slutty build like cmon he literally was nicknamed the human dorito bc slutty waist

Anyways thinking about that one promo pic of Chris in the cap suit with his back turned to the camera and his ass is just perfect ANYWAYS FR THIS TIME

Thinking about stucky but not like dating but Bucky being obsessed with Steve’s absolutely slutty figure and once the two get close to being fully retired Steve gets bigger as he slowly grows accustomed to taking it easy for once. but not exactly just fatter everything is the same but somehow softer and bigger. His thighs spread out more when he sits his chest is massive not quite defined pecs but far from being flabby moobs they’re just huge, his abs are long gone but he doesn’t have a round gut (Atleast when he’s empty) and the best part that makes bucky go crazy is his love handles , ass, and thighs, all perfectly packed together in one big package that makes Bucky lose his shit. Steves ass has nearly doubled but it’s still a perfect bubble butt, and his thighs have filled out enough to close any gap that might’ve occurred even when he has a wide stance. (Think those really chunky frat boys that manspread and their thighs are still somehow touching) BUT Steve’s suit and most of his wardrobe hasn’t changed so his clothes just accentuate his assets. His thighs and ass taking up most of the room in his pants and they perfectly leave Steve’s bulge completely on display almost like a gift from god to Bucky. Anyways I’m sure if you did add to this you’d be able to express that better than I could! And if you don’t THATS ALSO COOL (pls by no means feel like you have to answer this right away )

THIS HAS VIBES 🤤🤤

You know what kind of vibes? Exhibitionist Captain America vibes from this post by iwritetheweirdstuff

And I assume you're talking about this photo, which I nabbed from forchrisevans

Okay, shit...

Now you just have me thinking about chunky but still super fucking muscular Steve. I’m going off the rails over here, biting and clawing at my enclosure. I don’t think this rambling is actually totally related to your original idea, so just know I love your original idea!

But this reaoly gets me because Steve would be such a fucking classic MAN. Yanno? Big and heavy and robust. He looks like he could take Bucky in his big, beefy arms and rip him apart. He’s healthy. Hefty. Rippling muscles hidden under this layer of pudge.

Yum.

Unbeta'd stucky belly kink ahead. Warning for weight gain, muscle chub talk, tight clothes, Bucky being a little creepy by drooling over Steve before they're an item, etc.

Before gaining weight and when he was wearing the title of Captain American so tightly that it was suffocating him to the point that he was unforgiving of himself, never good enough as Steve Rogers, Steve was like a Thoroughbred. A racehorse, smooth and lean, with a single objective. Win. But now that he’s looser with the title and deciding what he wants for himself, more often calling himself a nomad than going by Cap… now he’s gruff, ignoring the rules (ignoring them even more than he did before, which is saying something for a troublemaker like him), and he’s like a Clydesdale. He’s a tank.

A fucking beast.

When he’s running, you get out of the fucking way because of all the mass behind that force. If you let him collide with you at full speed, full force… it ain’t pretty. His feet pound the ground. Jesus wept. These days his chest, belly, and ass shake when he runs, even when his big, big body is wrapped tightly in all that deep, navy-blue Kevlar. The sight just destroys Bucky.

Bucky can’t fucking fight next to him anymore when they’re called in for Avenging every now and again, half-retired as they are. It was bad enough when Steve was that Thoroughbred, rippling lean muscle and a shiny, bright blond head of short hair. Always distracting Bucky. But now it’s worse because Steve is a Clydesdale with this heft to him and his dirty blond hair and dark, thick beard. He’s even letting his body hair grow in, and it’s all Bucky can do to not faint, landing face-first into the deepening cleavage between his robust pecs, inhaling the musk of him. Every time Steve grunts with the effort of punching or kicking or tearing some offending villain to pieces, Bucky swears he feels faint. He has this completely involuntary feral reaction to the burly man he’s become. Hunky. Stocky. Ripped. Hefty. Whatever fucking word there is for the built he’s got going… it makes Bucky’s mouth water.

Of course, Steve’s still only two inches taller - 6’2” to Bucky’s 6’0” - but suddenly he feels a whole foot taller, and he feels twice as wide as Bucky. Those broad shoulders are only made wider, reinforced by the extra protein he’s eating, thickening his muscles and adding soft pudge; his pecs are still high and tight but even more… they’re swollen almost, added to by an irresistible layer of fat that Bucky has the primal urge to bite; the abs he had once upon a time, defined enough to use as a washboard have softened, especially after a hearty meal like a good lumberjack’s breakfast or a caveman’s dinner, just, these big plates with plenty of meat piled onto them, which turn his stomach into this drool-worthy curve, a little belly that sticks around until he somehow manages to digest it all; that fucking ass made even rounder and more shapely to the point that his pants all strain across it, his sweats especially, nearly splitting down the middle whenever he gets out of his comfy recliner; his thighs, oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, they’re ripe, rubbing together and trying to bust outta his jeans, his sweats, even his Captain America uniform.

Bucky has it bad.

If he weren’t so focused on trying to not let his animal out, growling and just fucking tackling Steve to the floor, he would feel terrible for how much he’s sexualizing his best pal. It seems no matter what he’s doing, Bucky’s caveman brain is thinking about how to best peel him out of his too-small clothes. Too tight when he was lean with rippling muscles, barely any body fat on him, and especially too fucking tight now when he has this delicious extra give to him. He looks like a size two sausage stuffed into a size one casing. Bucky curses his wardrobe at the same time that he would fall to his knees and thank it with his hands pressed together, praying to it. He wants to be there for the day that Steve busts out of it after a heavy, hearty, indulgent dinner.

‘Cause, listen, Bucky’s spank bank is just overflowing these days:

When the most recent battle is done and Steve bends over to pick up a fucking massive slab of concrete, he unintentionally gives Bucky a front-row seat to his thick ass. His curves barely fit in his uniform these days. Honestly, Bucky doesn’t know how he puts that godforsaken, tight-as-hell uniform on by himself anyway. And he doesn’t want to think about it. Not in public! The only way he can imagine it happening is with Steve naked save for a jock strap, alone in his room. First, he steps into the legs, then he works it up his calves, getting it to his thighs where it gets stuck. He’s outgrowing it. It’s a tight fit, but he still fits for now. At least, he fits when he shimmies and wiggles into it. Better than a damn stripper. Moving his body in this unintentionally, totally sexy way. Wiggling. Pulling. Squirming. Even jumping while he’s at it, pulling hard at the thick Kevlar, his biceps bulging - they’re bigger than Bucky’s fucking head now - grunting as he holds his breath, sucking in. Sucking in! His chest expanding without his pudgy, starter belly going anywhere, stubborn and jiggly.

Whenever he bends over, he gives Bucky a show, really. It doesn’t matter where they are...

When he’s bent over looking at the leaky pipe under their kitchen sink, his waist filling more of the open cabinet than it once would have. While he’s down there, his shirt rolls up over his soft little hips, the new weight just beginning to accumulate there. The start of what could be real love handles someday.

When he’s looking through the bottom drawer of the fridge, doing a head count before they head out for groceries. He’s not dressed yet, though, so he doesn’t have a belt to hold his pants up and his sweats slide down the shelf of his ass, displaying just enough of his asscrack for Bucky to feel starved, meaning he’s extra grumpy at having to wander around an overcrowded store. Shoulder to shoulder with strangers. Hungry and horny.

When he’s drawing on the couch and he accidentally lets a pencil fall onto the floor, so he has to get up, but, oops, it looks like it must’ve rolled under the couch so he gets even lower. Onto his knees and forearms. Searching blindly for the pencil… blind to Bucky’s eyes, perving out on how his thighs touch from the back now, his legs getting just as thick as his ass is. And it’s thick.

When he’s doing stretches on their balcony in the morning, breathing in the fresh air, doing some cat-cows, and inadvertently displaying his new belly that’s still rumbling through last night’s dessert. A classic, couple 'a slices of pie and ice cream. Too much pie and ice cream judging by how distended his belly looks.

When they’re getting some of their energy out now that they’re not constantly going out and avenging, half-retired, by sparing with each other in the gym. Sparing, kind of wrestling, too. They’re not trying to be tactical about it, they’re just having fun, being big kids, reminiscent of the days when they’d pull the mattress off the bed and start to play fighting on the floor. But they aren’t kids and Steve isn’t so much smaller than him, so Bucky doesn’t have to focus on finding that perfect balance of holding back just enough where it doesn’t seem like he is but he’s also not at risk of pushing Steve’s frail body too far. Now they can really whale on each other. Which is fun… until it isn’t. Because Bucky is laughing and sweating and actually starting to feel tired, and then he’s pinned, and he’s choking back a moan, sweating harder. Steve is on top of him. Steve is crushing him. Steve’s big, hot chest is against his back - Bucky can feel how he’s sweating through his skintight white t-shirt, his thick pecs squishing against his shoulder blades. Steve’s delightful, chubby, little belly is slotted perfectly into the small of his back. While fighting, Bucky’s shirt has risen up, and apparently, Steve’s has done the same, despite how firmly it had been clinging to his soft middle the last time he dared to sneak a peak because now their sweaty, hot skin is pressed together. Steve’s hairy tummy is tickling him, making Bucky want to squirm. He wants to moan. It’s a good fucking thing he’s face-down with Steve on top of him. He wants more than just to squirm and moan, he wants to hump the floor like an animal because with Steve’s tits pressed to his back and his belly squished to his back, it aligns his crotch right up against his ass. Bucky can feel Steve’s dick on his ass through the thin layers of their sweatpants and underwear. He can feel how heavy it is. And he’s thinking about how Steve’s dick probably blushes a dusky pink and gets wet at the time and how it probably curves a little and gets so thick when he’s hard and… this is where Bucky dies because Steve readjusts himself, making it worse by spreading his killer thighs to either side of Bucky’s legs, practically grinding into him, trapping him between his watermelon-crushing thighs. “Had enough?” Steve teases him with a shit-eating grin. God. Only if the fucker knew.

When Natasha adopts a new, abandoned kitten that she’s named Liho and they go over to play with him at Tasha’s apartment and Steve decides to grin like he does, always breath-taking, his smile the sweetest, most affectionate thing as he lifts Liho up above his head like Simba in the Lion King (yes, they’ve caught up on that modern pop culture reference, thank you very much). Bucky nearly goes cross-eyed, staring at his pecs. His t-shirt clings to his round, heavy tits. With his arms up, it forces his pecs to move up, too. High and plump. Bucky can see every detail of them, he can see every breath he takes, making them heave, and he’s almost able to pick out the tiniest creaking groan of the seams of his shirt screaming under all that pressure. Tasha doesn’t bat an eye, at the treatment Steve is giving her new companion, she just squeezes past Steve in her kitchen (is the apartment that small, or is Steve that big?), flicking one of his hard nipples. The points of them are obvious through the straining, thin fabric. She refills her mug with coffee but she doesn’t take a sip until she reminds Steve that if he wants to see how much more comfortable running can be, he only has to say the word and she’ll show him the magic of sports bras. Everyone can see that he needs it, and he might as well embrace it. They can even get matching ones if he wants. Her smile is razor-sharp, teasing. Bucky nearly chokes on his tongue, imagining the heavy mounds of his tits hoised up higher, giving him even more cleavage than he normally sports. Guh. Bucky wouldn’t survive.

When later during that same day, Steve decides he’s going to lie down on Natasha’s couch as they watch a movie - some Russian production that Tasha’s been telling Bucky about forever (he’s hardly paying attention and it’s Steve’s fault that he’s going to have to watch this again, on his own, during one of his sleepless nights when he can pay attention to it) - and Liho decides that Steve’s his favorite. So, he wanders back over to curl up on his soft chest and belly and starts fucking kneading his plush chest and belly like it’s the comfiest, fluffiest pillow ever. It probably fucking is! And Bucky can’t blame the kitten for purring so loudly - despite Steve’s and Tasha’s amusement at it - Bucky would be no better. He spends the rest of the evening biting the inside of his cheek and trying to banish all the mental images of his own hands kneading and squishing and groping those tits until Steve’s blushing, his mouth open, eyes heavily lidded, sweat beading at his hairline, begging Bucky to move on and touch him somewhere else, anywhere else! His nipples swollen and so hard. Irrestable. Bucky would indulge him… sort of. He would move on. But he’d have to give the same thorough attention to his soft belly, his growing hips, his thick thighs, and his fat ass. His body deserves to be pleasured until he’s out of his mind.

When Steve’s loose and warm, they’re hanging out in some back-alley sports bar in Brooklyn for a game, watching the feed on TV, downing beers and greasy bar food with Sam and some other guys from the VA, and a sip goes down the wrong pipe so Steve has to pound his chest with a closed fist, ending up not coughing but belching loudly. For everyone else, the sound is covered by the rowdy cheers filling the crowded, dimly lit space. But not for Bucky. For Bucky, Steve is the only thing in focus. Steve, with his looser fit shirt disguise, blending in, his baseball cap tugged down low on his forehead, shading his eyes, his beard grown out, thick, and… Bucky can’t take it. His body. The way his belly scrunches up when he sits down, bulging out further. The way his throat moves when he chugs from a long-necked bottle. The way his pecs jiggle when he jumps up excitedly, cheering loudly, and the similar way his belly wobbles at the same time. The way he groans at the end of his beer burp, voice rough from yelling all night and soaked in hoppy, malty richness. The way his thighs spread out over his bar stool, expanding, stressing the seams of his jeans. He’s taking up so much space with his broad shoulders, excitable hand gestures as he talks, and his manspreading. Yet, it’s still not enough. His thighs fill out his tight, dark-wash denim so well that even when he’s manspreading, his thighs still touch. Bucky aches to curl up in his lap and kiss him, feeling his beard tickling his face. He wants the heat of that big, big body underneath him. He wants to feel the hot line of his erection when he grinds down into him - their stomachs pressed together, Steve’s heavy with bloating, greasy, fattening bar appetizers.

Bucky’s spank bank is over-fucking-flowing as Steve starts putting on weight and if Bucky didn’t know better, he would think Steve is doing it to him on purpose, teasing him, trying to get him to jump his bones 😏

[zenis-castle-in-the-sky]

Two year update -v-

6 paragraph essay warning!!!!!111!!!!1!! Nah, I'm just kidding.

I started this blog as a coping mechanism to deal with a toxic friendship I had from 2017-2021. It took me a couple years to figure out that I was just the backup choice for a potential relationship. I also figured out this "friend" needs serious therapy and healing. But what do I know? My only regret was allowing myself to become way too attached. As they call it, Stockholm syndrome, I was addicted to this person.

I no longer make poems, and I haven't documented a dream in this blog for two years. While I still miss these people that I've constantly complained about, I am also still trying my hardest to move on. It's getting easier day by day as I grow wiser and think less on it and more about how much better life is now.

That being said, life is so much better now. It's not AS great as two years ago, or even last year, as I had lost 60 lbs and was feeling happier and more confident in my skin than ever. Unfortunately, I gained all the weight back during last autumn and winter, so now I am back where I started with that. It has led to more anxiety episodes from me. However, that doesn't mean I've given up. It's just harder for me to lose weight now. I'm still trying. I just have less ways and options at the moment. I will be moving again, soon, so then it will be easier.

Oh yeah, I haven't mentioned yet. I moved to Texas in February this year. Why? Because my husband lives here! We initially were supposed to get married in February, but due to ~things~, we have happily married on September 6th, 2024. We have struggled a li financially wise due to ~things~, that were out of our control, but again, we will be moving again, soon, so then it will be easier.

I am absolutely in love with my husband. He and I met in 2021 as friends but we did not start dating until May 1st, two years ago. I am truly grateful I decided to play Roblox that day that we met, or else I would be the same woman as if I did not. Lonely, sad, hopelessly romantical, mooching off her father, still. I do not feel like I deserve my husband, especially since I have gained all this weight back I don't think he should have a fat wife. And I mean FAT wife. I have a double chin, overhanging belly, my fingers are sausages. But somehow he still loves me. For a while I was convinced it was a friend of my ex boyfriend's, pretending to love me as a prank because he was salty he never got to see my tits. But, like, I met his parents. He met my parents. He married me. We had sex. There's no way that he could be that. He truly loves me, and yet I'm over here with this mental illness that will only go away when I lose weight. I feel bad, making him go through that. Still, he says he will always support me, help me when I need it, and he's even agreed to be the regulator for how much I eat, and prevents me from cutting myself. I am truly grateful for this man He makes me the happiest woman in the world.

I've thought about going back to documenting my dreams, but I haven't been having them as much as I thought I would. Even when I was getting tons of sleep, I had no dreams. Even now that I have less sleep, I still have no dreams. they're rare, now. It's okay, though, I don't mind it. It just means that I don't remember the dreams. After all, everyone dreams. We just don't remember them. And that's why we write them down.

that being said, I DO have some of my dreams written down. I only have a few, in my notes app. Maybe I will start writing them down again? I dunno.

[kidelune]

Nov. 26 2024

Dear dust caked journal,

This is the longest I've gone without a word to you. Without the debilitating need of your familiarly, your tacit comfort. It feels strange– almost novel, to stroke your back and split you open again. Your blank pages nearly blinding me out of thought. It would seem that people hardly ever stir unless they're upset, depraved, or content. Today I'm here to confess that finally, finally, I'm the latter.

The year's close to ending and reinventing itself again. I remember where I was at this time a year ago; skin between my teeth, on my stomach, my eyes jaded and sleepless. The pain sewed throughout my vertebrae, unending. I remember everything, as does my body. I shiver at the thought of turning my back to the stove. I never do, but that's the only remaining tendril I've left of that person I was last year. Maybe someday he'll find the courage to rest alongside the ones who came before. Make more room for whatever or whoever else I'll become in the future.

That's not to say that I have any inklings of who I am today, though. I still don't fucking know. In my head I'm still six, eight, twelve, sixteen, seventeen, twenty-one, twenty-six. In my head, I'm still just surviving, even in the secure safety of mundanity. Still figuring out what exactly I'm supposed to do with this life I've repeatedly been given a second chance at, for whatever reason. (What is the reason?) Only thing I'm aware of is that I'm alive, that many graves are full because of me, and that somehow, by some sort of divinely conjured up miracle, exactly twelve days ago, I got married.

In Thailand, the knot was tied. 14th of November, ten days after my 30th birthday. Neither of us could speak Thai and yet we signed their papers and welcomed their cheers. Then it was about ten of us combined in a party room, including our photographer and makeup artists. I never knew I could cry so much. Never even thought I'd hit this particular milestone in this life, let alone bawl my way through my vows like a broken dam. Now I understand why marriage is so sought after among all generations. It's not about the wedding itself, but the feeling of it. Like a once in a lifetime high; like the first drug you ever do. Humans are notorious for chasing after euphoria, to the point of inevitable divorce. Or death. As it's only death that could do two apart, after all.

Upon landing back in Seoul, just married and very exhausted, I quit the office job my husband gave me about a year ago. Instead, I'll be opening a bar with my dirty money and setting us up with a second stream of income and thus securing our early retirement in place. Found the perfect spot a while back; a tiny, obscure nook in Itaewon. The alley elevation slightly downturned. Barely touched by the light, drowned in the shores of night. Byungwoo did not trip once on the way up to it, which is how I knew it was perfect. L.32 it'll be called; serving as the perfect little spot for my husband to swing by and hang out after work–alongside others, of course. Who knows? Perhaps while I'm doing this, as I adapt to and grow from it, I'll finally manage to figure out for good what kind of man I am. Or want to be. Will this new thing keep blood off my hands long term, or will I find and hide the crusts beneath my fingernails while fixing a framed wedding photo on my desk?

Only one way to find out. But for now, it's needless to say that I'm happy. I've stopped collecting scars. I've stopped running for my life. I'm sober and have gained weight. I no longer flinch in my sleep. I sleep. I've never been more safe and content than I am right now. My fists have no need to fly anymore, not to protect my life.

And I guess that's enough.

[dangerous-advantage]

concerning the new changes (07.10.23)

all right fuck it i wasn't gonna do this but then i ended up filling the tags on the post i reblogged.

so here's my thoughts on staff's 'Tumblr's Core Product Strategy" post and the things that i think could actually be good!... if staff respects tumblr's culture in implementing them.

to note, i am referring to this post. for better context, please go read the whole thing and try not to skip details, since i think it's important to understand the post through your own perspective if you want to participate in the conversation.

this post worried me at first, both because changes in the tumblr ecosystem with as much weight as this post carries have, historically, been pretty bad for the userbase.

starting off with a focus on creating a larger user base and inviting more, new creators rather than with a strong plan to focus on improving the current state of tumblr sets off alarm bells.

reading through the rest of it leaves me with... mixed thoughts. while it honestly does seem like they've heard a lot of the things we've been screaming at them about and might actually take steps to make things improve, i'm still wary.

this isn't a post explaining specific changes tumblr plans to implement. in fact, there are relatively few examples of actual strategies being communicated. it's just an overview with a lot of implications for the future.

i mean, not even the new tumblr labs group has any idea what the exact changes are going to be. just look at this:

[ID: A screenshot containing text from a post made by the aforementioned account. It reads, "But we're not sure exactly what that change looks like, so we've assembled a new team, called Tumblr Labs, to figure it out as quickly..." It cuts off here. /End ID]

and i think that's the problem.

so, the post. staff explains that the issue, as they see it, is that the platform is fundamentally flawed-- i.e., because tumblr is difficult to use if you don't have an understanding of the site before, it tends to scare off new users rather than encourage engagement.

this isn't untrue. however, it should be noted, the tumblr userbase has cultivated a culture of teaching newcomers how the website and the website's culture functions. (see: the many posts made as 'guides' in the wake of the twitter and reddit fiascos, as well as @/strange-aeon's video on the topic.)

(not to say that this system isn't imperfect and could be improved by directing new users to the these posts, buuuuuuut i'll get into that later.)

now: i (and i think most of the userbase) agree with staff on the main point-- tumblr, as a platform, is broken. we have long complained about the bugs and the messy reblog chains and the notifications overwhelming you if a post gains traction.

(though, we've also just integrated that into tumblr culture, but that's a tangent for a different time.)

here's the thing: staff does mention these things as problems they want to fix.

here's a short list of some things the post mentions that i honestly agree are a problem, and that a lot of people have wanted to see change!

[ID: Screenshots of items taken from the bulleted lists on staff's post. These read as follows: "Improving Tumblr's search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards." "Making it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread." "Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral." "Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.""Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users." /End ID]

again, these are things that i agree are issues and would be cool to see improved upon. but staff doesn't tell us how they plan to do this.

in staff's response to the userbases' assumption that they're going to remove the reverse-chronological dashboard, they state they're 'surprised' users came away with this assumption.

i, for one, am not.

the relationship between tumblr staff and the tumblr collective has been strained for a long time. mounting frustrations about users' actual issues with the website being ignored while new features are implemented that are almost unanimously disliked doesn't help.

and don't forget, the last time a change as drastic as this post is making it seem came into action, the porn ban was implemented. a change that had an overall negative effect on the community and tumblr's culture at large. it tore away crucial aspects of tumblr's identity that we'll probably never get back.

so while this post does address issues users have wanted to see fixed, of course we're still going to be wary.

the bottom line is, users don't trust staff to implement changes that will be beneficial to improving the platform for the tumblr userbase. (the recent reddit and twitter debacles don't help things much, either.)

i think staff needs to realize, as the final poster put it, tumblr already has innate value. value created by the community.

if staff focuses on improving tumblr to be easier to use-- in accordance with elevating tumblr's culture-- it will attract more people, simply by being less broken all the time.

this brings me to the other (main) issue i have: putting new users first over the current userbase.

this may not have been what staff meant to imply, but the emphasis seems to be on improving the userbase for incoming users, rather than those of us who are already here.

to be clear, i don't think that making tumblr easier to navigate for new users is bad. i mean, there's a reason we were writing guides. joining tumblr if you aren't already exposed to it can be daunting.

allowing new users to rely on an actual, working algorithm (although i think a user-driven algorithim is possibly one of the best parts of tumblr) isn't inherently bad. using that algorithim to elevate new creators isn't bad, either.

it's the way they choose to do this that makes us wary. like i mentioned before, we already have somewhat of a system for on-boarding new users to the site: word of mouth from more experienced users. this helps with both learning how to navigate tumblr and introducing new users to tumblr culture.

with all this in mind: where do we go from here?

in my mind, the solution for these problems comes down to communication. if staff wants more trust from the tumblr userbase, they need to show they are willing to listen to feedback from the tumblr collective.

when implementing changes, a great way to avoid the immediate backlash and distrust of tumblr users is by clearly outlining the changes they plan to make and the strategies by which they will be carried out.

another user made the analogy that websites should be like cities, where the users have a say in (as staff puts it) the 'evolution of tumblr.'

(mmmmmaybe we could use that spiffy new poll feature, too? everybody loves polls!)

for on-boarding new users, staff could take inspiration from the userbase in implementing a system by which new users are given the information needed to navigate tumblr. tidy up the site, remove bugs, and make it easier to use, and a lot of problems will sort themselves out.

then, we can go from there.

regarding the rest of the stuff i brushed over, i don't feel i can really say much without knowing what they actually plan to do, or where they plan to go with these things.

for example, here's another list of images of things from the post that i am cautiously intrigued by, but am worried will be improved for the worse:

[ID: Another series of images, showing more of the items listed in staff's post. They read as follows: "Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs." "Get creators' new content in front of people who are interested in it." "Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting." "Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs." "Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds." /End ID.]

the bottom line is this: if staff wants the support of the userbase in upcoming changes, they need to show that they respect and value us and the culture at large. in my opinion, staff has made strides in embracing tumblr culture, but we need to know these changes are not just motivated by profit.

if staff intends to keep it's current users, they need to to recognize that we deserve a say in this, too.

without the userbase, tumblr wouldn't exist. end of story. we are what keep tumblr alive. as stated before, expanding the userbase is not a bad thing. but doing so to the detriment of tumblr's culture is.

in this regard, i do truly hope that staff means what they said in the conclusion of their original post:

[ID: An image of the conclusion of staff's post. It reads: "Our mission has always been to empower the world's creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that priotitizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we--" The words then cut off. /End ID]

so, @staff. if you really do believe this: prove it.

[cantbelieveyouregone]

Level 65 - 5 Years, 5 Months On Testosterone

Well, it's been a hell of a long time since I last did this. Almost like a pandemic happened and made me forget because there were slightly more pressing matters at hand. But it's just past trans day of visibility, so figured I should provide some sort of update here.

First big change since you last saw me do this is that I got top surgery. I'm now about two and a bit years past when it happened, and it wasn't completely smooth sailing. Surgery itself went fine, but I ended up having some of my stitching come out during recovery. That's, like, a whole other story, though. It could take up several paragraphs here. I got the periareolar one done, with my chest being just on the borderline of being too big for it, but I begged them to let me have that one, as it'd always been my preferred one if possible.

I'm still trying to get on the waiting list for bottom surgery, but even trying to get through to the GIC to make progress is a nightmare right now. I don't help my case by being someone who absolutely despises making phone calls, so I only try getting in touch by email. I've asked to be put on the list, twice, but I have not received any confirmation if it's happened. Really wish that I wasn't dependent on this whole GIC system, but here we are.

Besides that, in terms of testosterone changes, things have been pretty stable for a while now. My voice hasn't gotten much deeper for like a good couple years. I am a hairy boy - saw it coming, thanks to having beheld my dad swimming, and seeing that we were three for three in having facial hair among my grandfathers and dad as well.

I am still a very physically weak man. Exercise took a backseat for a lot of the lockdown period of the pandemic, as well as me doing very little exercise post-surgery on surgeon's orders. I've really only started picking it up again relatively recently, after moving out of the house I always take these selfies in (my old room - now my dad's work from home office - still has a mirror in it). I can do only about 15 push-ups before I have to stop for a breather, as my endurance has remained atrocious. I managed to do ten bicep curls in a row per arm with dumbbells weighing 8.5kg each, but I truly just reached that point. I can do like 100 sit ups on a workout bench or 50 on the floor in mostly one go, though. And I can do a plank for like two and a half minutes on a good day. So, y'know, I'm not in terrible shape, but I could be better. I want to do bouldering more regularly, but that requires breaking my existing routine to do so, so I find it hard to go very often. At least me and my flatmate walk in to work some days.

I have gained a noticeable amount of weight, compared to my last update, but that's honestly more to do with the fact that I moved out and got a job. My flatmate works at the same place I do, so we go to work at the same time. So I actually eat breakfast every day because they'd quickly notice if I didn't. Lunch is covered by our work, but it's Deliveroo from select places, so it's not the healthiest stuff we have as options. And dinner, again, flatmate and I get back at the same time and make dinner together most nights. Might not seem like a big deal, but before I had a job and moved out, I regularly slept in and didn't have a proper meal until dinner time. So funnily enough, I'm not surprised jumping from one meal a day to three has caused weight gain.

My mental health is an open question as always. I've described myself as "one thing going wrong away from a mental breakdown", and I still think that's accurate. I'm still on meds for anxiety and depression, and I still feel noticeable effects when I forget to take them. I don't think they're going away any time soon. Top surgery has helped with some of the mental health stuff, since it's one less thing for me to worry about on a daily basis, but... y'know, bottom dysphoria still exists, and it's bad. I did make some friends during university which helped to make things tolerable when I definitely otherwise would've been alone, since I pushed a lot of my high school friends away after I dropped out. I'm not in a relationship, and not only do I have limited desire to be until I learn how to take care of myself better, but I still have no idea what anyone would see in me.

I never know how to end these things. I don't know when I'll next remember to actually do one of these, because it's been a long-ass time since I did it before. Maybe I'll do a more detailed update about my top surgery experience. Maybe the folks that follow me ain't here for this, but if my post makes it across the dashboard or in the search of another person going through it, maybe it'll be helpful.

It's kind of why I started doing this in the first place.

[crypticbydesign]

Here's something I realized;

I just realized that my dream.of being a real fit dude and looking like it will never, ever happen. Like ever.

I can be fit. I can be as fit as i want. I possibly will get strong enough to meet my goals (picking up my friends and spinning them around despite them weighing more than me and being much taller than me.) But i will never look like it, if i'm lucky when i transition i'll get a bit more visible muscle, but not much.

The reasoning behind this is that my dad has a genetic condition that causes him to not process the proteins needed to create visible muscle. (He still is very fit for being in his mid 50's and has a bit of tum/it isnt defined as abs) but he can carry 120 pounds (3 bags of roughly 40ish lbs wood pellets) on one shoulder. With minimal trouble. But he doesn't look like he should be able to do this. He doesn't have a lot of visible muscle because of his condition.

Knowing all this about him is important because I just got work out equipment (two five lbs weights and an eight lb kettlebell weight) in order to try to get some abs and some more visible muscle since i have noodle arms. I knew that it was extremely possible that I also had this condition because i have trouble with gaining weight/having it fluctuate (which my dad also struggles (struggled with.) (Not sure if he really struggles now that he's a bit older and his metabolism has slowed down due to it). And for the fact that in highschool (last 2 years) i was carrying a haybale that was sopping wet by myself. (That was closeish to 100+ lbs cause square bales are 80 lbs dry and straw/hay holds water like no other). I had a bit more visible muscle than i do now (not much cause other than lugging horse stuff around a barn and working fast food i didnt work out. And now i work in fast food and work out at least once a week. Usually only once a week).

My dad also confirmed that even without genetic testing there's a pretty much 100% chance i have the same condition. I am gonna be my tiny 5'1 self and be 120 pounds and carry my friends that weight more than me and i wont look like i'll be able to!! Thats gonna be awesome! 😈 One of my goals is to pick up my manager friend he's about 6' tall and he said over 200lbs. It's my goal to pick him up and spin him around. Preferably one armed. (The one arm i know aint realistic but i can dream aight?) I'm gonna be so good at huggin!

This also goes hand in hand with something else that gives me gender euphoria; being happy and bubbly. I say 'good mornin' to everyone at work as soon as i see them. Sometimes in my regular voice, sometimes in my customer service voice, sometimes in a silly voice for a specific person. I've had people cuss me out over doing this or say that it's not very manly of me to do that. As if showing love and affection is a gender related thing. I've had to explain to them that i do it because i want my coworkers to smile; i want them to have a good day and if i can bring a moment of happiness by singling them out to call them by name and say good morning then i will and not one person can stop me.

What i don't tell them is that i can not physcially find worth in myself or think that i matter, but I think that every single person i work with matters, that they have an immeasurable amount of worth and by saying something as simple as good morning and getting a smile or a laugh or even a 'dude it's not morning anymore.' And having to explain that if it can be 5 o'clock anywhere it can be morning at 2pm and that gives methe most gender euphoria because through everything in that moment they're seeing the true me; unmasked and a happy little dude.

[exosorcery]

- THE EXOSORCEROR -

@dukeoftheblackstar tagged me EVER so long ago to fill this in, and - in typical Life of the Teacher fashion - I am just now getting time to do it. So here you go.

It's been so long since I was last able to post, I'm gonna just assume everyone has forgotten who I am.

Name: Kim :) My nickname is Kasey/KC.

Pronouns: They/them

Where do you call home? Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada - a little city on the Bay of Fundy. Interestingly, CNN voted it THE place to visit in the world just recently. I am still in shock over that.

Favorite animal: Horses. I love to ride. I used to lease a horse but it became cost-prohibitive and now I just WISH i rode horses. My favorite breed is the Morgan horse. Rode them waaaay back when and loved them.

Cereal of choice: Um, good question. I love MINI WHEATS but they make me gain weight faster than you can say YUM. So, no. I love them - but, NO.

Are you visual, auditory, or kinesthetic learner? Auditory OUT. I walk around talking to myself every single hour of the day. The busier the day, the louder and more constant the dialogue. My High School students just nod and smile, now. Their mums and dads (who had me as a teacher) did me a huge favor by warning them it just was my way of processing; I am not peculiar.

First pet: A stray Tabby chonker my family named Tuna. I still seem to adopt cats from all over the neighborhood... Expo, Fanta, Oliver... The list goes on and on, and I STILL do it. That's how I got Simon (the cat I have now. AKA "Pussy Pissyfoot".

Favorite scent: I am a perfume collector, so this will be a super precise answer. I LOOOOVE Vintage Poison (I know. Cringe.) A super modern one I like a lot is Fenty. Try it and thank me later.

Do you believe in astrology: Yep. I was an amateur astrologer in University in the early 90's. I also read palms and was really good at that. I am a Gemini, Moon in Pisces/Aries, Gemini Mercury, Sagittarius Mars and Taurus Venus. My chart is all over the board. I am sure this is no surprise to the people who know me well.

How many playlists do you have on spotify/apple music? I've lost count. My favorite I Tunes playlists are my 80's playlists. I also love my Bjork and Kate Bush playlists.

Sharpies or highlighters? Sharpies.

Song that makes you cry? "End of Innocence" by Enigma. Every time... but they're happy tears. It brings back wonderful memories of driving across Quebec with my family in the 90's. Quebecois have terrific taste in music and the rural stations ALL had this on their station playlist.

Song that makes you happy? "Faces" by Clio.

And finally, do you write/draw/create? Yes :D

The above image is a painting/with artistic filter I did for another graphic novel I have been working on forever. I was the reference for the female character Case... I feel like I'll never finish it. Bummer :(

[tellywoodtrash]

hi TT! can I ask you for some advice? I'm a teenager who is really insecure about how i look. i don't really think there's anything wrong with my appearance per se, but everyone around me does. my dad keeps recommending me fairness creams (even though he is dark skinned himself) and my mom keeps telling me to lose weight (even though she is fat too). i have been dealing with some health issues for the past couple years that have led to a LOT of weight gain. i now have stretch marks all over my body and my friends always comment on it and make fun of me for them. it makes me wanna never show even an inch of skin again. what do I do?

Hello love,

First of all, big hugs. 🤗🤗🤗 People (who are supposed to love you regardless of how you look) are being shitty to you and you absolutely do not deserve that crap. I'm here to tell you they're wrong. You are good the way you have been, are right now, and however you will be in the future.

i don't really think there's anything wrong with my appearance per se, but everyone around me does.

I'm glad you have accepted the way you look. You realise that the problem is with the people around you. Good. That's a massive step 1 already sorted. Because so often, we start believing what people tell us, and it becomes the "truth", when it's absolutely not.

Tbh, I'm a rudeass bitch and I'd let off verbal zingers at everyone, including parents. idgaf about politeness when someone's coming for me like that. But perhaps you're a much better person than me, lol. So maybe when your dad tries to push fairness creams on you, you just reply with a curt but polite "No, thank you!" and end the conversation right there. Walk away. With your mom and the weight loss, ask her if she's willing to take on a "get healthy plan" with you, where you both eat better and exercise TOGETHER. If she's unwilling, then ask her why she has expectations of you that she's not willing to subscribe to personally. Again, walk away. Don't let them think they can just say these things to you and you'll sit and listen like a good bachcha. And boy oh boy, your friends. To them, I say be straight up rude. Like, call them out. Say "What makes you think you can talk to me like this about my body? Why are you so obsessed with the way I look? How does this affect your life in any way????" coz literallyyyyyy; friendship doesn't mean a free pass to talk any shit, that too such superficial garbage. Everyone's body has something or the other wrong with it. EVERYONE. (Another thing almost everyone has???? Stretch marks. I've had them since fucking puberty, still do in my 30s. They're as much a natural part of your body as body hair.) That is just the nature of the flesh prison we reside in. This is just a pile of fucking electrified meat that holds our brain and soul, which is what really matter. To have someone who calls themselves a FRIEND talk to you unkindly like this should make them ashamed, and honestly, make you reconsider if you even wanna be friends with that person if this is how they choose to behave.

This is the outside stuff. Now for the inside stuff - the internal work you do. First, make sure you watch and subscribe to media of people who look like you, and make you feel "hey, they look just like me and they're so pretty, so that means *I'm* beautiful they way i am too!" I'm telling you as someone who grew up in the pre-social media age; I had zero representation of ppl with my body shape/size and hair texture. It wrecked my self esteem. I spent hours poring over magazines and looking at airbrushed models thinking "why don't i look like that too????" even though I KNEW they were digitally altered images. It just got into my head SO MUCH. One good thing about social media being in the hands of EVERYONE is the ability to see such a range of people from all over the world, looking amazing in their own ways. Follow a diverse looking set of people and see the beauty in them, and thus yourself. Second, do some minor work to alleviate your health issues if you can. Be regular with your meds if you take any, do some daily movement to the extent you can, eat mostly healthy and stay hydrated well, etc. It won't change the way you LOOK, but it will make you FEEL better about your body, and how you are doing your part in taking care of it like it needs. Third, only if you choose to, feel free to beautify the flesh prison as you see fit. Wear whatever you like. Colour your hair. Get a piercing or tattoo. (Obv. wait till you're a legal adult!!!!!! Also, never get names of people or something that is just a ~~phase or trend you're into at the time. Aesthetics come and go. Body modifications like these are forever. Choose wisely. Very very prudently.) Do things that make you feel like "this is MY BODY, and *I* GET TO CHOOSE what kind of pretty it is". Take agency and make your choices and be proud in them, and fuck literally everyone else's opinion. They're LOOKS. The least interesting thing about you. They don't matter in the larger scheme of things, and they'll keep changing as you go through life. Just do whatever makes you feel good to be in this body at the time!!!!!!!!

I love you lots baby sibling. 👩🏽‍🧒🏾👩🏽‍🧒🏾👩🏽‍🧒🏾💗💗💗💗 I am threatening everyone shitty around you with angry laser eyes as I protectively wrap an arm around you.

[growandrecover]

Hii, I have a question.

I haven't been diagnosed with anything, and no one ever really knew I had an eating disorder, which leaves me thinking if I ever did. My disorderedbehaviors started a year ago, and it has been just two months of *actual* restriction and fasting. With such a short term problem, could I still call myself anorexic? (or former anorexic, as I am trying to recover now)

Let me just start this off by saying, a formal diagnosis is not required for you to consider yourself an anorexic (or a bulimic, orthorexic, someone with bed, someone with ednos, etc.).

**Before I say anything else, I just want to mention that I am not a professional, in any shape or form (though hopefully one day, I will be), I just happen to have an ed and have been treated for it. I can't diagnose you, but I am someone who believes that self diagnosing can be very helpful and "empowering", in a sense. Also, me explaining this topic is not me being "pro" anything. (Anon, this is not pointed at you, I'm just saying this for the people who are reading this and could possibly interpret it the wrong way.) I am not pro ana, pro mia, or pro any other harmful behavior. I am, however, pro recovery, and if you need help, please don't hesitate to reach out if you need someone to talk to.

I'm going to put the rest of this post under a 'keep reading' in case anyone finds this triggering. (Anon, please don't take this as an insult, I am more than happy to answer your question <3 )

TW: ed behavior, symptoms of eds, mention of addiction, and specifications of anorexia (types). Please do not continue if you think this will be triggering to you in any way.

Honestly, I guess it depends on what the disordered behavior looked like prior to what it does currently. Fasting and restriction aren't the only ways to be considered an anorexic.

Also, no one knowing you were having trouble does not mean you didn't/don't have an ed. I think of eds as an addiction (just like drinking or gambling), and addicts are known for being good at hiding what they're addicted to. Our disorders tell us that we have to keep it a secret, and we listen. Even though I've been in recovery for over a year now, my mom and I talk about my ed sometimes, and she always admits to me that while she knows a lot of what I went through, she'll never know the entirety of it. And it's possible that it'll be the same for you.

But, I do have a DSM-5 (I needed one for a psych class), and this is what it says:

"There are three essential features of anorexia nervosa: persistent energy intake restriction; intense fear of gaining weight or of becoming fat, or persistent behavior that interferes with weight gain; and a disturbance in self-perceived weight or shape." (pg 339, American Psychiatric Association)

There are also 2 types; restricting and binge/purge. (both of which use a timeline of the last 3 months. for example: during the last 3 months, the individual has done *insert disordered behavior in here*)

It says a lot more than that, but I think (hope) that may be the most helpful to you.

I think it's 100% up to you whether or not you consider yourself an anorexic. You're the only one who knows what that looked like for you, and it's yours to decide. :)

If you'd like more information from the DSM, or if you have any other questions, feel free to send me a message or another ask.

I wish you nothing but the best in your recovery, and I'm sending you lots of love and well wishes, darling. ♡

[gtzgoblin]

Guys the message here is so important.

If you ask anyone in my family they'll tell you about when I was "thin" or "thinner" or "before I put on all of this weight" or whatever.

Y'know why I was thin? Because my insulin, the medication I need to live, wasn't working right. My diabetes was terribly controlled. I wasn't testing because of the anxiety that came with that, I was going to the hospital once a year and they'd basically go "ah well". My Lantus wasn't working for me like it should, it was wearing off too early, but all people did was increase it, leading to really dangerous nighttime hypos but still with a really high hba1c. But they didn't believe me about the hypos at the hospital because of the hba1c, either.

I switched hospitals and went on an insulin pump once I gathered myself enough to realise I was basically dying and pretty rapidly started to gain weight because I was able to utilise my food rather than have it go straight through me with a side of acid blood. And yknow what a VERY CLOSE member of my family said to me? "That insulin pump is doing you no good, look how much weight you've put on."

Because thin = healthy, right? At least in my family's minds. And they had no idea, and no intention of trying to understand, why my weight was changing and how that related to my health.

Back when I was "thin" I had protein in my urine and developed background retinopathy that STILL HASNT CLEARED OVER 10 YEARS LATER. I had a hypo so bad overnight that I almost didn't wake up. I had no energy and couldn't focus at university (re-sit central) and got so many chest infections I was diagnosed with asthma (I don't have asthma!).

But I was thin.

I am healthier now than I was, even though I've gained a significant amount of weight. I'd like to lose some, I'd like to be healthier. But I was not healthy then, I was barely surviving. To hold that over me is essentially saying I preferred you when you were almost dead because aesthetically, the bones were more pleasing than a bit of a belly. What kind of a message does that give? I'll tell ya: how you look to others is more important than your life.

It. Absolutely. Isn't.

If I'd listened to my family and given back my insulin pump I'd be on 5+ injections per day, with a higher hba1c and far less ability to correct bad blood sugars with a much lower quality of life. Would I be thinner? Who even knows. I left early adulthood and aged like everyone else does. Half of my family (on the side of the main commenter) are overweight. How do I know it isn't genetics? Why are we blaming the medicine and medical technology that keeps me alive for the weight gain and not any number of other things that could be causing it.

Please be careful what you say and how you view others. Even celebrities, because they are people too and they don't deserve to be scrutinised just because they're in the public eye. And we certainly don't deserve to know every single thing about their lives in order to make an informed decision about something as dumb as their recent weight change. But your comment could be the one to tip the scales. And even if they're "wrong" (whatever that means) about their healthy, calling them out won't change that, it just adds to the pressure that might have caused it in the first place and this is what leads to poor self esteem, eating disorders and all sorts of other issues.

People get ill physically and mentally, people experience grief, people experience depression. People go through times where they can't afford food, or the right food. People have to care for others or put things above themselves. People need medication to save (or drastically improve) their lives.

Everyone's healthy isn't the same, and what might seem unhealthy to you could have a reason behind it that's difficult for that person to change/may be deeply upsetting for that person. I've spent years dealing with negative body image and I genuinely think even if I lost a load of weight again (healthily or unhealthily) I'd still find something else to be upset about because it's almost been conditioned in by people who have constantly had an opinion, and felt a right to share that opinion with me, about things I can't really help (my natural hair colour, my teeth, my weight, my bloody glucose sensor at my wedding was an issue for some people because it might dare to show in the photos!)

And anyone who is in this situation rn please be kind to yourselves too. Weight isn't everything. Living with this shit is really difficult, and you're doing great.

[stepfordgoth]

I keep trying to make goals/resolutions for the new year but I'm stuck. I've never been very good at making goals. Last year I think I kept it completely abstract like "in 2024 I want to continue improving myself in every possible healthy way", which is, of course, not really a goal. Goals have to be specific and have to have a time limit to achieve them and a way to measure your progress. Among other things. Im referring to the SMART goals system right now btw:

However I will say, despite it not being a goal set scientifically, I do think I did improve vastly in the last 12 months and I certainly wouldn't call that goal a failure! Compared to where I was last year, here are some of the things Ive achieved:

I am drinking way less frequently (and way less in general) now since this time last year (I was becoming messy tbh)

I joined a gym for the first time ever in my life in august, and I fell in love with it fast. What a confidence boost to not only be going to the gym regularly at all, but to commit to it after the idea of it has scared you for so long. And then to fall in love with the gym too! I'm giving myself lots of praise right now, thats a brand new set of several skills I acquired when I decided to walk into the gym! Compare that to the girl I was a year ago who was drinking way too much and not eating healthily and getting enough exercise and gaining weight because of all of these things. I've definitely lost a little bit of weight and I look a lot better/sexier/healthier now too

I've got my chronic physical issues more or less under control. Some weeks/months are better than others. I spent a lot of time this year trying to understand and fix my gut health and I can proudly say that a year ago I kinda thought I was going to die because of the terrible flare up I was experiencing, and today I have a pretty decent handle on it. January 2024 was the worst flare-up I've had in my life, and it has never approached that level since then. And it still flares up and it's awful when it does, but they're fewer and further between now, and they aren't nearly as painful or damaging. I'm really proud of how I've done the research and tried things until I found something that helps.

I have been strong and supportive and helpful as much as possible for my husband while he's been going through a lot of changes in his (and our!) life. I am so proud of him! It's been a crazy ride but it feels so good and I know he's got this, he's a fucking rockstar.

I have given so many new things chances this year. Specifically, new music. I've really allowed myself to be more open minded musically this year than I have in a very long time.

I have persevered this year. In so many ways. I have navigated lots of situations and always come out of it okay.

I have stuck up for myself. I have spoken up and stuck to my guns for what's right for me while also being proactive and trying new techniques and ideas to deal with my life issues. I have been assertive and I've spoken my thoughts and wants and feelings. Somtimes I have made big choices or changes and stuck to them even when others around me weren't huge fans of it.

I've gotten closer to truly loving myself. I'm still working on it though, but I made some big breakthroughs this year. I've put conscious effort into being more feminine and attracting more feminine energy to myself this year, and I've done a lot of reading/changing experimenting with different hair and makeup techniques and products and clothes this year!

I went to a Caribbean island (that alone is a first) and I saw so many more stars than I've ever seen in my life and I learned to boogie board and i started to realize that it's time to let go of that "I was raised as a prisoner" mentality that makes me forget that I'm a free, grown adult and I can do whatever I want. And I got the cutest little whale tail tan line! And I learned that my husband is more in tune with "the cosmos" (so to speak) than I gave him credit for.

I finally put some things into motion regarding some stuff around the house that has been bugging me for a while but I kept getting put off for whatever reason.

I was finally able to recognize the root of an issue I've had in my life on and off since I was 14, and accept it for what it is and make peace with it. It no longer obsessively plagues my thoughts as it did for many years, thank god!

I shyed away from fewer social engagements this year than I did last year (i think?) and I tried a little bit harder to make friends, or at the very least build some sort of personal familiarity with a few new people.

I was not perfect with it, but I made HUGE strides in my not abusing my stimulant meds journey. Yes I did indeed have slipup moments but I think overall I probably took the least total amount of stimulants in 2024, that I have since 2018.

[diaryofa90sbaby]

Getting ready for work this morning. Just ate some breakfast and I'm about to take a shower so I can wash my hair. I'm almost fully booked this week which is so exciting, I'm actually trying to get an extra day added this week to my schedule so I can maybe get another appointment squeezed in. I'm excited about potentially getting fully booked this holiday, it feels like people are starting to feel a little more comfortable spending their money. And I'm getting a little more comfortable with everything that I'm doing. I still feel like I'm slow sometimes, I'm really struggling with highlights and multi-step processes specifically. I think I get too focused and overwhelmed.

I'm feeling a lot more hopeful for this election too after seeing more DNC footage. But we can't lose momentum. Seeing everyone talk about how Trump is so horrible makes me feel valid. Sometimes living in Tennessee is really tough, but we also have extremely low voter turnout here. It really baffles me that in this state that we call the volunteer state that people are not willing to volunteer a portion of their time to simply go vote. It's such an easy process and I don't understand the apathy. I understand that people may be feeling tired from constantly having to hear from every single side about how horrible everything is. But I also feel like you can't be apathetic. That's how people take your power. You have to fight for what's right, you have to fight for your place in this world unfortunately. And I will not sit back and let someone just take everything away from me. Is it exhausting? Yes. But I know when I look back in my life I won't regret advocating.

I'm also really missing my partner today. He has been out of town for a little over a week and a half now and he won't be back until next week, at least that's what they're saying. I feel really lonely, and I feel also isolated because this is not my home. I think it would be different if we had our own space. But I just feel like I don't really have time for friends either, so now that I sit here alone without him I don't know what to do with myself. I've been trying to find hobbies to cling on to, whether it be coloring, making slime, or writing in this blog. I also started a group for the new hair color line we're using at work. I just feel like really down about everything lately. I also feel like I have adhd, and it's getting worse. Since my brother has it I've always thought that maybe I could have it too, but it didn't really strike me until I was about 24 or 25. And it has gotten progressively worse since then, and I'm really scared to treat my mental illness because I've tried it in the past but I think I'm at a point where I am mature enough to accept that I need help. It's just really scary to go get that help, I don't want to act differently, I want to still be myself, I don't want to be a zombie. And I don't want to gain a bunch of weight.

I've been going through a lot of things mentally and I think sometimes it would be easier to get my car and drive away and then stop and whatever city feels best. Run away from all my problems. But I know that's not the right way. I know the best way to deal with your problems is head on but I just feel so alone sometimes.

[groondon-blog]

Fuck we're back. Alright. Okay. Sick. Okay, so I see a lot of people here talking about plurality, and I may have it? Idk, but the voices in my head do eventually get some form of consciousness if they can handle the pressure. Usually, it's just me and numerous screamers. I wonder why they scream. Anyway. I've had three that lasted a while and one that lasted years. I still miss her... Sometimes, I think about trying to bring her back, but it wouldn't be the same. So now I sit here with the loud voice. I do a pretty good job hiding it in person, but they come out easily through my art and writing. I don't know what causes them, but when the meds music and time all line up its quiet usually for about 10 minutes and in this time I get to plan out my day week month and years. I get a glimpse into who I really am despite the noise. Right now is one of those moments. Yesterday was not. I should figure out what content warning means. Nope, don't get distracted, yet this is your journal. Get down what you want before their back. Anyway, I like to call this version of myself who is clear and without limitations, The Genius. Hehe like Henya! Their the exact combination of all of my pieces without any limitations on my thinking capabilities. They're the one who was able to work around the medication I'm on to be able to think clearly again. They're the one able to get out of and handle the anxiety. I'd like to be them all the time, but their way of thinking is exhausting. Mentally, I mean. Very quickly, headaches roll in, my skin begins to crawl, and I begin to disassociate from myself quickly. It is all very dangerous for someone like me. Someone weak. Next topic! I went to my friends house and cosppayed astolfo! I've been wanting to do it for a while and lost 70lbs to look good. I was 280 and I've learnt that I could've cosplayed him then too. But I set a goal and I wore it out! I'll prolly post something where I do show my face. But now my meds make me really really hungry all of the time instead of before where I could eat now I eat all of the time. I've gotta pick a lane either massive weight loss or massive weight gain. The bulk or the cut that is the question. Whether tis nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to take up arms against a sea of troubles. Oops my bad. Next! I had a dream last night and it wasn't a nightmare! This doesn't usually happen and when it does I can't remember them. But last night I dreamt that someone either on reddit or here asked me to draw something from a Kaif video. So I'm gonna go watch some and the draw whatever matches my dream I'll post it here. Next! I'm picking up Japanese again. Next! I'm struggling still woth the idea of getting bigger or smaller. The two I use as a frame of reference are Astolfo (5'4 135) and Barghest (6'2 260 lbs). Both extremes I know, but I'm a pretty hard worker sometimes. Especially if I want something. Astolfo would come as a result of better diet and a lot of cardio. Barghest would come as a result of a better diet but a lot of protein and some heavy lifting and sprinting. Also going for barghest could result in a buff astolfo plus I wanna start hrt sometime soon. All of that works. I think I'm gonna go for Barghest. I also think a demon who's a bottom fits me better than the extroverted lover. Anyway this is it for my post, I'm not dead yet! I love you!