#and all I can hear is my doctor telling me I’m obese and need to eat less when I KNOW that’s not what’s healthiest for me

[ironicscavenger]

So, today I was diagnosed with polycystic ovary syndrome, which comes on the heals of the news I got last month that I also have a myoma in the endometrium that causes incredible pain. And, while it’s nice to finally have a name for what is happening to me, let me tell you, I am pissed.

Rant under the cut. If reproductive health issues are triggering for you, just skip it.

PS: If you’re struggling with these same issues, please let me know. I would love to hear how you’re managing the experience. Because after the anger, I am a little scared.

For starters, I have been complaining about all of these symptoms for years, and no one ever took me seriously. Now I finally was, only because I was insistant and wouldn’t let it go. It took like three visits to the doctor and multiple tests to finally get answers. But then, the treatment is nothing but a band-aid, and I was given the same old “do more exercise, eat more fruit and vegetables” bullshit solution. I feel like there isn’t something anyone can really do, and I am so tired of existing in this bullshit misogynistic world. If this disease happened to a man, you bet there’d be three different ways to fix it. But if you are looking for answers all you will get is “it is believed…” or “it is unknown…” or “some say…” or some other “unknown” explanation for why this happens, what it is, or how to fix it, because they just don’t know. And it isn’t like its just pain I have to put up with, but actual consequences, like diabetes or cancer. All terrible things that could happen to me, but their answer is “just work out more, I guess”. You are not fixing anything, you are barely managing it, and no guarantees it’ll actually work. Like fuck this! I am tired of worrying about my health because of my useless uterus and ovaries, like I don’t need this, yet it could kill me. And don’t get me started on “you need to lose weight and manage your weight, but here’s your medication: birth control with multiple side effect, one of which is, you guessed it, obesity.” Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. Like fuck it bro. Seriously, fuck this. I guess I’m just gonna live my life until one of these things kill me. I am just so tired.

[mismagieus]

Ok buckle up ‘cause this is gonna be an angry rant unlike most of my positivity posts and whatnot. Like. This is the opposite of what my blog usually is- “You're beautiful the way you are now. Your current body. Your face. Everything about you is precious. You're wonderful. Don't live at war with yourself.” yeah whatever aaaanyways I need to lose weight desperately and I’ve been working hard on it (I.E. hardly eating and exercising much more than usual) but seeing minimal results. I hate PCOS I hate PCOS I hate PCOS I hate PCOS I hate PCOS I hate PCOS and I WISH I DIDN’T HAVE TO TAKE A MONTHLY ANTIPSYCHOTIC INJECTION ‘cause those REALLY fuck with your weight and hormones!!! it increases ghrelin, a chemical messenger in the brain associated with appetite control and energy metabolism, which can lead to increased hunger levels and weight gain!!! it also affects neurotransmitters like serotonin, dopamine (that’s literally part of the job of an antipsychotic; to act as a partial agonist or antagonist at certain serotonin and dopamine receptors so it can balance mood and prevent psychosis), and histamine which can then lead to inappropriate hunger cues!!! but even when you don’t overeat, you can still gain weight with this shit, because most of all…

…it increases blood sugar levels!!!!! and makes insulin resistance much worse! so watch out if you have PCOS

…and yet you will NEVER fucking hear a psychiatrist mention this information to anyone who receives treatment with antipsychotics, not even if they’re obese and at risk for Type 2 diabetes OR IF THEY’RE LITERALLY DIABETIC. they won’t say a word about it!!! I’m only prediabetic, but still, if you take Abilify (like I do), they’ll tell you “oh this medication is one of the more weight-neutral antipsychotics” (actually said to me by several psychiatrists and psychiatric nurse practitioners) WHICH IT IS NOT, AND THE MEDICAL LITERATURE LITERALLY SHOWS THAT IT’S NOT. Dumbasses that need more CME’s, all of them.

………anyways.

yeah. I reeeally wanna lose weight and I’m basically starving myself most of the time to get there, and I have to continue cutting out carbs bc of the insulin resistance and blah blah blah, AND IT’S THE SLOWEST PROCESS EVER. Last time I lost 100lbs, it did not take me this fucking long. It was also 10000x easier.

but yeah, idgaf about “not being at war with myself UwU” WHEN MY WEIGHT IS LITERALLY RUINING MY HEALTH. My lab results were horrible from my last doctors visit. Half the shit was “out of range” and I have non-alcoholic fatty liver disease and abnormal kidney function, but PLEASE tell me more about how my body is fine the way it is. Lmfao. I’m in such a bad mood over this. It’s probably because I’m just hangry, but I literally can’t even eat or else I’ll gain weight because of PCOS and Abilify. I wanna scream!!!!!

And then when you’re this big people look at you like you’re lazy as hell and gorge yourself on Big Macs day in and day out WHEN I LITERALLY DON’T!!!!!

Sorry to get this upset about what was actually a very innocent and kindhearted text post someone wrote, but man, it just struck a nerve.

[carolineasweet-blog]

Sometimes I feel like my heart might burst. Often I feel it is bursting - with emotions, with anxiety, definitely a heart attack. 

I think about being a woman and what that means. When I was growing up, it meant that I had ‘big, wild emotions that can’t be contained and are not suited to work in business.’

That makes me angry. 

Mostly because I believed it. 

When I was cheated on by my first boyfriend in high school, I remember thinking “How cool would it be if I forgave him?” and I did. Mostly because I had already fallen out of love with him, if I actually ever was, so I didn’t care. When my second boyfriend cheated on me, I was devastated, inconsolable, but I showed it to no one because how lame would it be to be a weak woman hurt by a cheating man? Stereotypical. Weak. 

So I swallowed it. I swallowed every emotion - sadness, anger, pain. It’s so unbecoming of a woman to be angry, right? And it’s so expected to be sad - cry over a man and eat ice cream. Instead, I ate myself. I silently suffered all the while becoming cool. 

Sometimes, I still don’t know if I actually like things or if I like the aesthetics of it. 

The truth is, I have big emotions, wild ones. 

“Stop whining,” I can hear my parents and siblings say in my head. “Caroline, you’re whining again!” I thought I was expressing myself, but they must be right. 

A therapist recently told me I had “right-sized reactions” to situations. I thought so! I shared that with my sister and her husband. “That therapist really knows her audience,” my sister said as her husband laughed. “So you think I’m overdramatic,” I wanted to say. But I ate it instead.

Being overdramatic is so unbecoming of a woman, don’t you think?

But I feel like my heart is going to burst. Almost daily. I might have a heart attack if I eat anymore. 

I was poisoned by a health food company in June of last year. It sounds insane, but I don’t know a simpler way to put it. A frozen smoothie and health foods delivery company unveiled a new, whole food, vegan protein substitute. I tried it and ended up in the ER twice with what they said was fatty liver disease - insanely high liver enzyme levels. 

“Did you used to be obese? Are you an alcoholic?” Neither is true, but when I said it must be the food product I ate, the (male) doctor said, “not likely.” 

It was. 

And I’m angry. 

After my body healed (two full months later), I wanted to go back to normal - to pretend it never happened. It’s easy once the physical symptoms are gone. I can walk without getting winded, even workout, and my stomach doesn’t cramp, I don’t have the brain fog - so I am healed, right? People would ask me about it, and I would think “how silly, it’s over!” 

But it wasn’t. A month ago, I had to face the fact that I am still, secretly, angry...At the fucking company that refuses to admit any wrongdoing or pay my thousands of dollars in medical bills.... at myself because I’m anxious over every single fucking piece of food I eat, and any time I feel tired or have a slight stomach ache, I am riddled with anxiety that it could be something worse... and at the world because it’s told me if I eat healthy, I will be healthy and that I need fixing, and that I am not thin enough and that and that and that and that... The anger runs deep in my body and in my mind, but heaven forbid out loud.

I’m afraid people will roll their eyes if I tell them I am still upset, that it still affects me, the way they rolled their eyes when I was still physically sick. I’m making much too big a deal out of it. 

It’s a wonder of the 500+ people who’ve been afflicted, it’s mostly women in their late 20s/30s, some social influencers at that, and there’s a lack of follow up or interest in the case. Never read the comments, right, but tough to when the schadenfreude of internet trolls is all over this with “LOL influencers” (women). And worse yet, when my response is, ‘but some of us are normal people too!’ Yuck. Internalized that right up. 

It’s a wonder that of the 500+ people who’ve been afflicted, the two loudest voices on the internet forums are men. One, a husband of a victim and two, a marathon runner who’s lived his life absolutely perfectly and purely, so how could this happen to him? How could this happen, indeed, Tim. 

I’ve never run a marathon. I don’t intend to. And I don’t always make healthy choices, but here I am too. And don’t I deserve to be angry?

I don’t want to eat anymore. Poisoned food or otherwise. I don’t want to swallow these big emotions. 

It’s no wonder I wanted to become an actor. Big emotions are heralded; It’s a safe space to be irrational. Hell, I’d win an academy award for it. Those fictional women are safe, tucked away in movies and studied as characters. Big, angry, loud, respected, safe. I want to be safe too. Until then, I’ll be perfect. 

[thisisthinprivilege]

[tw medical abuse, mention of child abuse, fatshaming]? i have a huge fear of doctors now after being repeadly mistreated as a child and teen by them.

one of the last times i remember going was to grab a letter that allowed me to apply for therapy at 17, i asked my doctor specialized on working with children and teens, if i may have a bandage for a blister. it was 42C outside, i ran to make it to my appointment on time and i was wearing brand new leather sandals. he said with a smile that he wants to check it out first, confused i agreed and let him inspect it. "this wouldn't have happened if you lost weight. just as i thought this i caused by your obesity. you need to stop eating so much junkfood and work out." my mom kept me on strict diets and refused to give me food since i can remember and i had 5 hours of dance class a week, pe and i went swimming laps every weekend he refused to listen as usual.

at 16 i had an accident in PE, my teacher forced me to go beyond what i was able to do due to hypermobility even after i tried to explain it over and over again she simply blamed my weak joints on my weight, my wrists gave out and i fell on spine, i couldnt see i couldnt hear i couldnt breathe everything hurt so bad. i refused to be sent to the hospital because i was afraid it would be blamed on my weight. the pain didnt go away i couldnt lift my arms i couldnt lay down and after struggling for a week i bit the bullet and went to a doctor. he refused to treat me. he barely touched my back and only after i begged him repeatedly, obviously disgusted by me. then concluded again that im fat and need to diet. i pressed on and on until he finally agreed to have me x rayed. i had a nasty contusion and the intervertebral disc's were badly inflammed. even after seeing those results and diagnosing me, he refused to treat me. telling me itll go away on its own and i should diet. after more arguing and begging he prescribed me pain meds and was 'generous' enough to excuse me from PE, but refused anything else. i now have horrible chronic back pain. i havent been to a orthopedist since. my pe teacher failed me that year for being too lazy.

years later, when i was forced to have a check up for my social welfare the doctor ignored me when i mentioned my chronic back pain. i told him it hurts to put any outside pressure on it. he made me lay down and pressed with all his weight where i told him my injury was. he blamed the pain that was so bad i started crying on my weight.

how am i supposed to trust doctors? these are just a few examples. last autumn i slipped and sprained my toe so bad i was sure it was broken. i couldnt walk, couldnt move it, it was so dark blue it looked black. i refused to see a doctor, yes my toe still hurts and i cant stand on my tip toes anymore but this beats having to see a doctor and it made me realize there is absolutely nothing i would seek a doctor out for*. well other than my endo i see irregularily because having to exist in public is just traumatizing for me at this point. she is fat herself and she never tells me to diet or blamed my pcos/hashimoto on my weight but her substitutes always did, reminding me that she is a rare exception. they questioned the diagnosis she gave me, the prescriptions and ive heard the receptionist talk shit about her...

*(before someone flames me about corona and not wanting to see a doctor, i'm privileged enough to be able to stay home and have been quarantining alone since march 2020.)

[pregnant-and-fat]

Let’s talk reproduction and fatness.

But, wait. Who says you’re qualified to talk about reproduction and fatness??

Fair question. Let me introduce myself. Hey yo! I’m Janine, The Rainbow Doula. I have a B.S. Health Promotion and Health Equity and Gender and Women’s Studies. I am a Certified Doula, Certified Lactation Counselor, Certified Sex Doula, Fertility Doula, Abortion Companion, Certified Placenta Encapsulator, Childbirth Educator, Certified Yoga for All Teacher, Certified Nursing Assistant, BSN To MSN (Midwifery path) nursing student. And I have been living in a fat body for most of my life. I fight daily for pregnant people to be centralized in their labor and delivery. To empower people to have their voices heard.

Wow, that sounds pretty hardcore. I mean, I didn’t hear anything about MD in there but I’ll bite. . .

Okay. Okay, you’re new here so I’ll let that one slide. . .(for now) Now where was I. . . Oh yes, reproduction and fatness. Where do I start with reproduction and fatness. . .

You should probably start with obe-

Hold up. Hold up. Hold up. Let me stop you right there.

If you use the term “obesity” or “BMI” as actual forms of descriptors and health indicators for fat people, you will not be welcomed here.

This has been the very problem with fatness and healthcare in general. As I mentioned in an earlier post, those in bigger bodies have been so denigrated and pathologized that most feel they are lesser. This is amplified by 10 when you’re talking about being pregnant and being fat. Most fat pregnant people, especially those considered super fat (bigger than a size 26+), can not fully enjoy their pregnancies. It’s BA like this that gets thrust upon them “Fat pregnant bodies have been described as “wiring” offspring for future “obesity,” placing them at the epicentre of the so-called “war on obesity” (Parker et al, 2018) Really?? Fat people, you need to be careful of getting pregnant because you will just be spawning another generation of fatties!

As ridiculous as this is, there is even more. A vast majority of those in bigger bodies are told they shouldn’t even start trying to conceive unless they get down to an “optimal weight”. What’s an optimal weight? Well that’s when health care providers turn to the good ole Body Mass Index or BMI. It takes your height. . .and your weight. . .and then tells you whether or not you are at your perfect size.

For real. That’s what it does.

So then people are told that they can’t start a family unless they reach some arbitrary number. Because based on this stupid number, you can apparently tell the health and wellness status of the person in front of you.

There is an entire article devoted to answering the posited question: “Does it make sense, medically or ethically, when fertility clinics refuse to treat prospective mothers they consider too large?” (Sole-Smith, 2019) The article goes on, attempting to give context to this question using anecdotal evidence, “I would never give you I.V.F.,” they recall her (the specialist) saying. “You’re too fat. Have more sex and lose the weight.” (Sole-Smith, 2019) This. This is how fat people are treated when they go to the doctor. Dismissed out of hand. Symptoms ignored for the “bigger problem”. This is how people go undiagnosed, this is how illnesses can get worse. And when you’re pregnant? This treatment can equal life or death.

Soo, uhh, what else did the article find out?

The most important take-away from that article is that there is a purposeful ignorance by those in healthcare to the growing mound of evidence that clearly shows that you definitely be healthy at an “unhealthy BMI”. When a fat person gets sick, it doesn’t immediately indicate that weight is the cause.

🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️

[bnhayyy]

... :/

This is one of the genuine qualms I have with One Piece. I heard that Oda tends to draw villains as ugly, ridiculous, and/or gonkish to give a visible indicator that they’re bad guys - especially the women. Contrastingly, most, if not all, of the heroic female characters are beautiful. If a woman is overweight, she’s a villain. Likewise, if a woman is overweight, she’s ugly. And if she has any confidence in her appearance, it’s a joke.

Feelings shared below, but be warned, it gets kinda personal.

I myself am an overweight woman who struggles a lot with self-esteem issues. I’m fairly strong physically. I can’t run very fast for very long, but do have very high stamina and endurance. If I just stick to a simple workout routine, I build muscle quickly and easily. My daily walks alone have given me fantastic legs. And I still have trouble seeing myself as anything other than a horrible, hideous, amorphous blob. I don’t think fat people should be seen that way, but myself? Horrible. Ugly. Disgusting. I’m constantly scared that people see my as slovenly or someone who doesn’t make an effort or is definitely gluttonous and greedy.

On the flip side, if I’m nice, I can avoid that a little. I can be funny and unassuming, that’s fine. Fat people can be comic relief. But god forbid I be confident and commanding. I get told that it’s fine if I’m not in a relationship, not everyone needs romantic relationships to be happy - but no one ever seems to address the possibility that I might want a relationship, but be too scared and ashamed of myself to pursue one. And in all honesty? I do. But if I notice someone flirting with me, I back away more often than not, because I can’t swallow the fear that they’re gearing up for a prank or I’ll be shot down if I make a move. Because I’m ugly. 

Hell, I only just recently started wearing nice clothes out in public. For years I felt like I wasn’t supposed to. Like it wasn’t allowed. With what I do wear, I only let myself wear something semi-tight around my legs. (And not even all the time, even though I know my legs are nice). Tops have to be flowy. Have the time I seriously consider wearing or try to wear a short-sleeved top, I have a nervous breakdown. I get caught up in my own mind and keep hearing people telling me that I’d be pretty if I “just lost some weight” or “ate a little less”. (Fun fact: I’m not actually a very big eater most of the time.) I think back to doctors who refused to seriously treat me or look into my problems because they assumed it was all weight-related. 

(I ended up spending all four years of highschool experiencing “phantom pains” that kept being dismissed as heartburn, nerves, or constipation, but turned out to be the result of a failing gall bladder. A PA at the ER figured it out after I went there with pain so severe that I had to get two shots of morphine to be able to doze off after being awake for 36 hours. By that point, my gallbladder had zero functionality and was chronically infected. Someone continuously suggested to me that my gallbladder failed because of my weight. We later found out that it was genetic - the same thing happened to my normal-weight grandmother at the same age. My bloodwork is perfectly fine where stuff pertaining to body weight is concerned.)

This isn’t me trying to cancel One Piece or say that the story must be bad. All authors (and artists) have their flaws. This is Oda’s. It is me saying that aside from my general (admittedly occasional hypocritical) disdain for certain shounen tropes, various preconceptions, and not being a big fan of the art style (even outside of this), this was one of the biggest reasons, if not the biggest, it took me so long to start One Piece even after I agreed to do it. The female character designs, especially where it concerns overweight or “ugly” women and their moral alignments. Societal perceptions of obesity are something that make a significant negative impact in the lives of overweight individuals, especially women. Seeing media reinforce these perceptions, especially a piece of media that you know is well loved by a lot of people?

I may be silly for it, but it hurts. It hurts a lot.

[awed-frog]

What I don't understand is how angry people get when they are told that obesity and being overweight are both risk factors for poor covid outcomes. I was already working on losing weight but that lit a fire under me. I shared some of my weight loss journey to help. The pushback was insane. It's not a moral judgement, I'm overweight too! Boomers can't help their age, but weight is changeable. Diseases don't care about hurt feelings. Anything we can do to better our chances should be priority one.

Hey, first of all congrats on making good decisions! It’s not easy but you’re right - if you’re overweight or obese, now is a great time to take care of your health and reduce your risk to catch this thing, so KUDOS!

(Really: I know we’re all panicked af, and I’m not shaming anyone who’s gaining weight because of a stressful home situation or emotional eating or anything, but developing healthier coping mechanisms is absolutely crucial, and we all need to do our best there.)

As for the why, I think there’s several reasons.

First, nobody knows anything about nutrition. Even doctors barely study the subject in med school, and for most of them it doesn’t go beyond ‘What foods to avoid if you have turtle vomiting disease’ and the like. The idea that nutrition may be the best form of preventive medicine is still beyond reach for most healthcare professionals. As for regular people, we’re not better off. Most of us discussed nutrition maybe twice in formal education - I remember a two-hour lesson on what calories are, and about six cooking lessons which only featured party-appropriate foods and a few cakes.

Second, the issue is complicated by the fact food is not just how we keep our bodies alive. For mostly everyone, food is about culture, tradition, habits, personality, comfort, being shown affection and showing affection to others. Food is not neutral, and that’s one reason why recovery is so difficult for people with eating disorders, and why people who need to change their diet because of specific health concerns find it so challenging to let go of certain foods. 

Finally, and possibly most importantly, the food industry profits off low-quality stuff and it will fight to the death to protect its turnover. Politically, they lobby against any kind of regulation, from safe working conditions in their factories to clearer labels for consumers, but they also target people directly. On top of increasingly sophisticated marketing and lab-perfected recipes, the industry actively funds biased research and makes sure disinformation is spread. Back in January, during my no-sugar month, I read a French book detailing how this works in France - it’s beyond scary. As with smoking and climate change, the goal is not winning the argument but confusing people. ‘One day you hear [food] is bad, the day after they say it prevents heart disease’ - one of those two facts is complete bullshit, but the damage is done. People are fed up and automatically revert to the path of least resistance, which is littered with soft drinks and junk food.   

(I don’t want to add fat activists to this list because I’ve never seen any studies on how influential they are and how many people they brainwash, but while their ideology may not be a huge contributing factor to the mess we’re in, they certainly don’t help.) 

The result of all this is that people mostly grow up steeped into what some call ‘fat logic’ and never manage to claw their way out of it. We live in an obesogenic environment; we accept the idea people put on weight during college, with pregnancy, as they age; that weight gain is mostly inevitable and irreversible; that how much you weigh is out of your control, down to genes and luck. And for most of us, disastrous attempts at fad diets only reinforces the belief nothing can be done and you should just find a way to accept yourself and be happy. 

If you buy into these arguments, then yes, you’re going to be angry and resentful af. It makes complete sense. You’re surrounded by enticing high kcal food and encouraged to snack all day long. Meanwhile, you’ve got fat activists on one side, actively spreading the idea that telling people to lose weight is basically conversion therapy, as weight is as unchangeable as your skin colour or your sexuality, and governments on the other, focusing on the ‘personal responsibility’ message, which further reinforces the idea weight gain is a moral failure. It’s a complete catastrophe.

On the whole, I’m not surprised people react so negatively. I want to hope this virus can be a watershed moment and bring about systemic change, but for now it doesn’t look likely. Still, I’m dreaming of a better future of sustainable food production and the industry heads being dragged to the Hague. No law against optimism, is there?

[onlyonewoman]

Concerning obesity

Being obese is hard. Yes, the judgemental looks from some people suck and no, not every health related problem in your life is due to your weight - and it would be real dandy if people just stopped thinking like that.  But if we think aside from bullying and doctors thinking every thing you need healthcare for can be solved with weightloss, obesity is still a dangerous thing. Let me explain.  I’m 38 years old. I was thin as straw as a kid, then gained a bit of healthy weight in my late teens due to mucle building and then at 22, I walked straight into severe mental health illness that, thank fuck, has lessened with time, but I still have two shitty disabilities and struggle with things most people don’t have to think about. And in my late 20′s to early 30′s, I went from a healthy 65 kg for my height, to 90 kg.  It was hell. My knees, joints and muscles ached. My physiotherapist banned me from jogging and even longer walks. I got sore skin as my thighs rubbed together, I was flustered from walking up the stairs.  I didn’t reckognize my once strong body and I was ashamed and felt very low. I had a severe sweet tooth since early childhood that I couldn’t curb and it wasn’t until I got to 90 kg and I finally spoke to my partner about how ashamed and low, stressed, lost and miserable I felt, that things turned. It was crucial to me to not hear slurs or jokes from him. I needed a soft, gentle support and he gave it to me and so, I started to slowly loose weight and while it was really nice to find clothes fitting, it was literally NOTHING compared to: - feeling the pain in my knees lessen - not sweating as much - sleeping better - decreasing the risks of severe illnesses like cancer, heart problems etc - no longer having red marks on my tailbone from the pressure of sitting down - getting some fucking space between my thighs - moving with more and more ease - decreasing my backpain Let me tell you, ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE STILL IN YOUR EARLY 20′s: Your. Body. Will. Slowly. Decay. Age will eventually make your skin less firm, your joints less smooth, your muscles less easy to build and your bones more frail. Things will start to hurt to some level and weight is a crucial part of this. You see, being too skinny, is shitty too, because you NEED some fat to cushion you and not only the butt. I have witnessed my tits sag due to weightloss in combination with “the late 30′s” force of nature. It wasn’t nice at all, no, but I also realised that this meant I had to add more fat and protein and by doing so, I was treating my body with something positive. Losing my excess kilos was a positive thing to my body. Regaining those I shouldn’t have lost in the first place, was just as positive. But in all seriousness, there is a reason why you rarely see old people who are obese. Because obesity leads to a range of health problems that might not come until you are 30 plus. It’s not fun to help wiping a 75-year-old’s sore bottom in their bed because their old age and high weight have made them bedbound. When you have already spent your 20′s in the BPM telling you that being kind to your body by eating healthily and getting a healthy amount of excercise, is somehow a plot to create ashamed, pressured, unhappy, eating disorder affected zombies, you might feel all fine - we are all different after all - but my friend, then you turn 30, 35, 40 and suddenly, your knees and feet, back and colon might not feel all too good, due to your weight. Your health, your life, your ability to live your golden years more healthy, matters so, so, SO much more, than what a few fat acceptance influencers spit out to make money off - that’s right - bodies.

[loominggaia]

“Okay New York Anon here. I’m really sorry about this chapter and regret writing it, the way i did. Thinking about it post production I’m realizing I made it come off as transphobic and tasteless. Angry guy was supposed to be a parody of the stereotypical sjw you’d see in a cringe comp violently going off on people for accidentally being mis gendered. Sorry if this train wreak of a chapter offends anyone.”

Anon, I’m so honored that you would spend the time to write fanfiction about my series. Not everyone is a perfect writer (I’m sure not), and personally I don’t believe that every piece of writing has to “set a good example” when it comes to politics and morality. The Looming Gaia series is for ages 18+, not preschoolers. I think adults have the mental capacity to differentiate between right and wrong and form their own opinions when they’re reading something (at least I hope they do), so I’m going to go ahead and post your story.

But I also care about my followers’ well-beings, so I’m going to compromise and: 1) Put this chapter under a cut so they don’t have to see it if they don’t want to. 2) Put a content warning ahead of it so they can decide if it’s worth the risk.

If anyone proceeds from here and gets offended, that’s 100% their own fault. I care a lot about writing an inclusive series that doesn’t alienate anyone based on race, gender, sexuality, and so on. At the same time, I’m hugely against censorship, so I always welcome fan content even if it’s off-color or I don’t personally agree with what it’s trying to say (barring anything illegal or blatantly hateful towards any group; i.e. glorification of pedophilia or abuse, calls to real-world violence, supporting real-world hate groups, etc. I will never accept that kind of content. If anyone comes in here praising nazi ideaologies or calling for action against LGBT folks, they can fuck right off.)

Readers, you’ve been thoroughly warned.

You can read the other parts here.

CONTENT WARNINGS: This fan content contains scenes of captivity, mental hospitals, depictions of violence, off-color depiction of a transgender individual, and (censored) racial slurs. While reading this, I personally didn’t get the impression that Anon meant any harm. It comes off as goofy, edgy, over-the-top satire to me, like something you’d see in an episode of South Park. Use your best judgement and proceed at your own risk.

(content under cut)

The crew had squatted in an abandoned building on the outskirts of the city that night. They already knew that only humans existed in this world and the reaction that lady had to seeing Elska only compounded the need for stealth. Their only plan right now being find Evan and get back to Gaia. That morning the crew split up, Alaine and Lukus where to continue searching for Evan, Issac and Jeimos where to go shopping, Elska would search the outskirts out of sight and Zeffer would search at night.

Evan was not mad at doctors for keeping him hear. He knew they where just doing their jobs and where concerned for him, since magic, elves and werewolves where fictional to them he understood he looked like a crazy person to them. That didn’t take away from how annoying it was to be trapped here in this stupid hospital. Knowing his crew was out their somewhere he knew he needed to leave and contact them somehow, he needed a escape plan.

He had two plans so far, plan A was to butter up the therapist into letting him go. Behave himself, take his meds, admit Gaia’s not real and say he’s feeling better. Hoping that upon seeing this drastic improvement the therapist will approve his release and he can finally go out and find his friends. Plan B was in case plan A failed. He would bust himself out of here and go on the run. He really didn’t want to hurt anybody, just slip out unnoticed, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be that easy.

Issac and Jeimos wandered around the city streets aimlessly in absolute awe of the sights and sounds all around them. Jeimos was getting more unnerved by not being capable of feeling any magic in their surroundings and was starting to wonder if it was just all the iron nearby or something more? Not being able to read any of the signs around them made trying to find a store to stock up on supplies difficult. Finding a food place with golden arch’s they go their as their first stop.

The pair enter this strange restaurant, the place smelling of grease and fry oil. Theirs quite the line so they just wait, taking a look around and absorbing the experience. They see a lot of interesting people and things from pictures of a clown holding a burger, groups of people on strange devices and messy families eating, an extremely obese man the two mistook for a troll horking down a massive pile of greasy food. Kids running in and out of a indoor jungle gym. This place had it all.

They waited their turn almost at the register, waiting behind a mother and her kids who kept changing her order every three seconds and trying to corral her kids. The cashier, a young man around issacs age but with a tired, dead look in his eyes that made him look as if he’s seen a war zone rang the lady up and ushers our pair to the register, asking in a flat, apathetic voice what they would like to order. Neither of them can read the electronic menu so using the numbers and pictures they order

The disgruntled cashier rang them up, totaling their order up to over $55! Him not being pleased by Jeimos’s constant questions and issac playfully asking for a kids toy. They try to pay, placing some gold coins on the counter. The cashier just looks at the coins then back to them, and, in an even more annoyed voice, told them they only take usd, not foreign currency. Telling them they can either pay in cash or card or just leave, the line was building up behind them and getting restless.

Jeimos trying to salvage this, nervously ask if theirs anything they can work out. Not wanting to have wasted their time. The cashier breaths deeply, saying he’ll get the manager, leaving the counter behind. The people in line are angrily starting at the two, Issac having a ball and Jeimos being highly uncomfortable with all the staring and swearing from them. The cashier returns with a fat, sleezy looking middle age man, presumably the manager. Him asking what’s going on here?

The cashier explains the situation in his most annoyed, apathetic tone with the manager glancing over the two. He repeats what the cashier told them, they only take usd and if they can’t pay then just leave, their clogging up the line. Jeimos try’s to explain this is all they have and is about to give up when Issac speaks up and tells them the coins are solid gold. That catch’s the managers attention, who in a greedy smile picks up the coins to check, seeing yes, their real gold!!!

His greedy smile grows wider and he tells them they can understand work something out! Snatching up the gold coins and apologizing for the inconvenience, talking about his no good employees and starts berating the cashier right in front of them for being “rude and unhelpful” to such fine paying customers! The cashier takes one look at his boss, takes off his hat and apron shoving them into his bosses hands and just says, completely monotone “I quit” and walks out without a second glance.

Meanwhile, Lukus and Alaine where walking down the streets through the massive crowds looking for any sign of Evan. Despite trying to keep a low profile they where gathering a lot of attention, walking through down town in medieval armor and brandishing weapons tends to do that. While walking outside a storefront Alaines eyes are caught by a beautiful blue dress, he being mesmerized by. “Nice cosplay” she hears suddenly from behind, Turing around to see a short, well dressed women behind her.

Alaine jut awkwardly thanks her for the compliment. The women also compliments Alaines scales, believing them to be a make up design for whatever cosplay she’s doing. The women introduces herself as Kimi and ask if she was looking at that dress in the window. Alaine answers yes and now both are both gawking at and gushing over the dresses beauty. Kimi complaining about the ludicrously high price tag but before their conversation can continue Lukus calls back to her, wondering where she is?

Alaine snaps back on into mission mode as Lukus returns. She apologizes to Kimi for leaving and tells her their looking for someone, asking if she’s seen a large blonde man with a metal leg. She says no but wishes them luck on trying to find their friend. The two head off once again search the city streets for Evan and once again have no luck, it didn’t help that a lot of people where stopping them, asking for photos of their “costumes” and asking what characters their dressed as?

After hours of searching and coming up empty handed both where rather hungry. Stopping at a cafe looking place to grab a quick bite. The place smelled of coffee and a sign outside had a picture of a twin tailed mermaid on a green background. As they where waiting in line observing all the weird people around them they saw a familiar face ahead of them, Kimi. She had a coffee in her hands and was thanking the barista but didn’t see them. Neither did she see the weird guy she bumped into.

The guy she bumped into looked ridiculous to Alaine and Lukus, having fluorescent pink cloths, big goofy glasses and a oversized beanie I’ve this colorful hair. The guy yelled at her to watch where she’s going, she apologized but then she said sir. The pair could already sense this guy would be trouble as the moment kimi said “sir” it looked as if the weird guys was about to explode. SIR!!! He screamed, grabbing everyone’s attention, his face beat red and eyes bulging in rage!

To say he exploded on Kimi would be an understatement, he started loudly screaming at her “ did you just misgender me”!!! The screaming got even louder as he started listing off a bunch of gibberish and loudly insulting her, calling her sexist, anti-lgbt, telling to kill herself and die in a hole. His screaming getting more incoherent and seemed to be literally frothing at the mouth. Kimi was just backing away, scared and trying to apologize but the guy just kept screaming over her plea’s.

(Feel like I need to put a trigger warning for this one so here it is. Trigger warning for Lukus and Alaine getting in a fight with ‘that kind’ of trans guy, the kind responsible for all the negative stereotypes about the trans community. And Issac being called a racial slur. You have been warned.)

Alaine and Lukus stepped in to stop this dude from hurting Kimi. He seriously looked like he was about ready to punch her. They stepped in and tried to diffuse the situation, putting themselves between kimi and the angry man. They try to explain to him that how could she have known he wasn’t cis, that’s it’s an honest mistake and to let it slide. That only seemed to pissed him off more as he threw a drink in Alaines face and shoved Lukus in anger, wrong move.

Just as Lukus was winding up a punch Alaine beat him to it, knocking the asshole clean to the floor in a single strike. He went down like a sack of potato’s and was laying out cold. The three just left, taking Kimi and leaving. Alaine was fuming but if she where calmer she would have noticed it was water he threw at her, and would have also noticed she didn’t flop to the floor in her aquatic form, she was too pissed off the notices.

Kimi thanks them for saving her from that crazy guy and try’s frantically to explains to them she’s pro-lgbt, always try’s to respect peoples pronouns and is actually a lesbian herself. They cut her off, she didn’t need to explain herself to them. On the flip side Jeimos and Issac are carrying back their huge bags of fast food back to the groups hideout waiting to hear any news. Issac see’s a downed old man and the street and rushed to help him.

Just as Issac was reaching out to help him the old man swats him away, screaming at him. “Keep your hands off me you filthy N@$$#r”! Heads turn and people stop dead in their tracks in pure shock at what they just heard. Issac and Jeimos had no idea what that weird word meant but it guessing by the crowds reaction, it was really bad. The old man gets himself up and goes off on a racist rant, accusing Issac of trying to steal from him, calling all his “kind” low-life scum and just screams at him.

*

First of all Anon, your depiction of working at a fast food place is a whole-ass mood and I felt it lol. I’m interested to see what role this character Kimi plays! Maybe she has ties to the hospital? Seeing the crew clash with real-world culture is very interesting. I’m enjoying their adventure so far. TO BE CONTINUED…?

[saintmariana]

How civilization effeminates men.

My brother and I were close and affectionate in our early years as most brothers typically are, this changed when one day I had taken his head and slammed it against the corner of our tv stand, or rather his tv stand; this happened when I was in first grade. Why would I betray my brother with whom I was perhaps closest? We’ve endured so much together and yet I betrayed him; it’s a question that has haunted me for many years.

My brother’s been effeminate for as long as I can remember, as far as I’m concerned this didn’t bother me very much until after we moved back in with our mother after having stayed with our grandmother: we came back to find that not only had our mother found a new man but this new man had two children of his own, a boy and a girl; two sisters with an effeminate brother left me feeling as though the new boy as my final option for having a brother-when we were home anyway.

My mother had grown up with about five brothers leaving her with only one other sister whom she resented; add this to the list of ingredients of her heroin mother and horrific abuse she endured among with being experienced in the courts along the way and you have one of the sickest types of women you could imagine; I had laughed when a former doctor had told me this all these years ago, that women growing up older brothers go on to become some of the sickest and most vile women you will ever have the grace to meet-and she’s right, I’ve seen it with my own eyes, how bizarre such an arrangement could influence an individual so profoundly.

My mother held contempt for men and though I was oblivious to it throughout my youth there was something about her my body had picked up on as her ways had never sat well with me; though I was a monkey of a boy in the way I had fought back at times I admire my stupidity for having preserved what is pure and innocent in me: my sacred masculine.

My mother had done everything she could to destroy not only the man in me but also the image of other men whom I’ve admired, my father having been among them. She would keep us sheltered at home, punished us whenever we would trade toys with other children, refused to let us play with other children in the neighborhood-she especially hated white boys: why would my mother do this? It terrified her to fathom the prospect of becoming like her brothers, like my father, and yet it was her mother who put her torment, but it was men whom she hated, and still does to this day. She would rather keep us from the world lest we pick up on savage wit, exercise cruelty, explore the bodies of other girls, and that’s exactly what she did. Her lifestyle was a life I held contempt for as not even our grandmother, her mother, was as tyrannical as she was despite her fidgety nature; even my father was more forgiving of our wild behavior and often enabled us to simply be children, often wrestling with us; but not my mother-she would keep us in the house all day where we would endure the beatings (not the traditional belt, belt and switches were a blessing compared to his fists) of the man who would go on to become our sister’s father, the home in which my mother would spend her days drinking, cooking, watching Jerry Springer-I was so ashamed of myself to admit then, I was too afraid to, but I despised my mother more than I had anyone else in the world during this time-I would often go into the bathroom with the lights off and pretend I was Spider-Man coming to save us all from the monster I couldn’t see but only sensed and then I would beat myself all over my body as hard as I could.

There’s also the fact my mother had something to hide: there were the beatings from her boyfriend I remember but there’s something else my body whispers to me, something deeper my body wants me to know: flashes of a little boy being taken advantage of by other men comes to mind-the little boy being me, I can smell it now as I type this-I can see their sardonic grin-I can feel my mother’s presence, I can feel their hands all over me, sticking their fingers in my hole, laughing at me-lest I let this slip from my mouth when plying with the other children, unless it already has!

It’s true, you don’t keep a child prisoner unless you’re trying to hide something and that was certainly the case with me mother-my body will reveal to me more of the truth when necessary but for now I’ve only warnings of my body to speak with me.

If I had endured the sexual abuse there’s no doubt my brother had just as well, perhaps the boy in my glimpses aren’t myself but my brother-and I feeling helpless and worthless as all I do is watch them defile him: perhaps I participated? Perhaps they guided me to partake in the sexual abuse of my brother? Whoever they and whatever happened, Insee a Mexican man with a facial hair in similar style to mine with the mustache and the goatee, smiling ear to ear with malevolence in his eyes completely nude. Perhaps the man was my mother’s lover with she had an affair against my father: Santiago?

So much to unearth...

When I witnessed my brother with our little sisters prancing around and giggling just as they were I felt we had lost, I felt we had succumb to the will of our mother and our sister’s father and whoever that man in the glimpses is; I felt we had lost all the power we had surrendering and accepting our fate as the obedient boys of our mother for the sake of her vanity. There was a time in kindergarten when I stood face to face with my brother giving him a monologue about how we need to stay strong and stick together no matter how badly they hurt us, no matter how lonely and lost we feel we have to stick together and fight back whatever it takes-tears fill my eyes as I type this; where was that brother willing to stand by my side and fight? What happened to our pact, our bond, our brotherhood? Was it all vain? Is this who he is? Is this his fate, is this our fate?

So many questions and truths I couldn’t comprehend I only knew one thing and it was that I will not submit to the will of sacrificing what little power I had left-my power, I still have my power, and so long as I do I can be formidable, so long as I preserve myself I can redeem myself of my own afflictions and so I betrayed my brother; slamming his head against the tv stand was only the beginning. My mother and stepfather rushed to my brother, soothing and nurturing him, she was angry with me and I was glad of it; I couldn’t assault her outright but I could inflict harm upon as I betray the ideals and fantasies she’s fought tooth and nail to impose upon me, even if it meant inflicting harm upon my brother, my blood.

My torment upon my brother only worsened over time, beating him every day just as our sister’s father had done, humiliating him in front of everyone at school, mocking his effeminacy; I was so cruel even the other children were shocked beyond belief, sometimes even intervening and pleading with me to stop, sympathizing with my brother.

Everyone told us we’re brothers and we should stick together as such no matter the odds but all I felt was rage and contempt; I wanted to kill my mother and father, I wanted their blood on my hands, I wanted them to know it was I, their son who has taken their lives for himself, I wanted to watch them burn, I wanted to hear their cries but I couldn’t, because of law and guilt I did not wage war against my family (my mother, even when I was at a young age, always made sure to remind how I’d get fucked up the ass by groups of me if I had ever gone to prison, even threatening to turn me in herself at one time after I flashed my cock to the neighbors behind us-I was petrified,) and so I inflicted cruelty upon my brother in hopes both of my parents would feel it but especially my mother-I’ve always hated her most.

There came a day when I was mocking my brother whilst standing on a chair searching through our closet, he had enough of it and pushed me off; I cried and he ran off-I knew everything would change between he and I from then on.

The older my brother and sister had gotten the emboldened he became (our step siblings by this point had long since moved away as it turned out our stepfather was not their biological father though he still loved and embraced them all the same-his love was not enough in the eyes of the court and so his children were forced to go back to their coke addicted mother-they’ve visited occasionally throughout about a year but lost contact afterwards: running into them years later the sister had become morbidly obese and the little brother was still such a little boy, I despised them, I despised everything that was powerless, and yet I still loved them as brother and sister but could not bring myself to show them any affection;) he developed a tight bond with my sister as she was also emboldened as the favorite among both our mother and her brother: my sister would often intervene in our quarrels either through the means of physically hitting me knowing I couldn’t hit her back without the consequences of our mother’s wrath and if not that she and my brother together would simply tell our mother on me.

After the death of our adopted baby sister when I was in fourth grade I became far softer and far more merciful. I mostly left my brother alone though I would still get into fights with other children (many actually, though that’s a story for another.)

My brother and I had mostly gotten along fairly well throughout our middle school years.

It was during high school the tables had turned considerably; my brother and sister were far more emboldened to challenge me and would often pair together to inflict random assaults on me knowing if I fought back they would simply run to our mother for her help. They danced, sang, pranced around and played with each other as though they were sisters. The mannerisms of my brother and the pitch of his voice was literally in line with a woman-it’s no wonder my sister, the only sister among us, revered his company so delightfully.

Between the effeminacy of my brother, my little sister, my mother and my contempt for our stepfather I felt alone as the only man in the home further compounded by our sheltering in the prison we called home.

Throughout high school I attempted to adopt a new identity as a MS13 member from Detroit and I failed miserably: during my second year of high school I had gotten into several fights of which I had lost and pathetically so having froze upon impact; rumors were spread about me having been fucked in the ass so as to join a gang and having licked a dogs asshole; everyone believed the rumors and having lost the fights no one had any respect of me; all I wanted was to lock everyone in the school including my family and watch them burn.

Where did these rumors come from? They came from my mother after I had run away after she had threaten to send me to my father’s for having stolen various iPods from other children at school despite having told her he molested me when I was nine: during my runaway time my mother had gone through my phone and saw I was ditching school multiple times with a couple friends of mine whom I’d go to the mall and steal things with; my mother assumed this as me getting butt fucked and roared about it to everyone with ears including my friends at the time who she ordered to show where I could potentially be: she also found a massive collection of bestiality porn of which I was very fond-she broadcasted this as me fucking dogs and licking their ass-again, where my then friends could hear. After I was caught and brought back home I was too humiliated and enraged: my friends were wanting to talk with me about my mother had told them but I was too distressed to care and kept my distance from them: they were offended and so they told everyone. I dropped out of school that Valentine’s Day after having been suspended for bringing a knife to school-my intentions were to kill those two friends.

My brother lost any respect and fear he had for me after all this and it’s hard to blame him. My mother would shame me at the top of her lungs each and every day reminding me of how much I fucking disgust her, always teasing and mocking me far more than even the kids at school ever had. I had no leverage against my brother and sister and so they’d always tease and mock me all the same-it escalated to the point my brother and sister had awoken me by slapping my face over and over laughing as they had done so.

A couple years later after my 17th birthday my mother had raided my brother’s phone and discovered he was gay; we were living with her brother in his apartment at the time so she decided heighten the drama of the show screaming everything she found at the top of her lungs, drunkenly choking him in an effort to kill him, and pulling him into her bedroom every morning to remind that he likes women, not men, and that he will marry a woman and have children.

I used this as an opportunity to get back at him back not as much as I thought I’d like-I teased and mocked but we all ended making light of the situation all the same: I had always known he was gay and found it ridiculously stupid my mother truly believed he was straight, even her brother had teased her about it. I couldn’t care less for his sexuality, what I despised of my brother was his effeminacy; there’s a difference, though my brother had understandably confused the polarity between the two in my contempt of him.

A year later several months after I turn 18 my mother and I had ensued in a passionate argument of what I was going to do with my life, where I was going to go, what am I doing, why am I still here-I had enough of her and put her in her place; she was shocked and brought my brother in to join her-I had just gotten out the shower at the time and was still in a towel, my body so wet and glistening; they both looked at me in disgust and mocked my body, my brother taking her side in wanting me out. Throughout the months leading up to this moment my brother would progress with his humiliation of me in front of his friends-there was a time he even slapped me across the face and I did nothing-even his friend had taken my side against him at times.

Eventually I dressed myself and went for the door, my brother had it locked a certain way as the police were outside-I didn’t care I wanted out. I was arrested and that was the last I had ever seen of my brother.

My sister had found me on Facebook a year later, as we talked over the phone our brother walked in on us and told her it’d be a good idea to tell me our mother knows where I live-though not out of spite.

After several years of my sister trying to balance what was left of the family between my brother and I knowing of the tension between us. After my then girlfriend and I had split apart I pushed her away in hopes to heal our family; no longer did I want us to walk on egg shells and cower away from the truth; I reached out to my brother but he never responded.

It escalated to me having been done with playing the rational card as I was putting in far more effort into healing than anyone else in the family was; my sister and I would rarely communicate with one another-I’d often send her long letters as a way to encourage our openness only to be met with one word responses. None of them were willing to be honest of what happened and to confront their shadow; I decided to hell with them all.

I have my sister an ultimatum between my brother and I; she was heartbroken and declared I’m no different than our mother-I declared I’m not going to walk on egg shells among anyone and that if she was going to continue cowering in fear of all that she is then she is no company to keep around.

My brother has always been an escapist; he loves the modern luxuries of the modern world, social media, mainstream music, Netflix, Orange is the new black, Lars Von Trier; my brother has been on a miserable decline ever since I’ve left; he’s gained a significant amount of weight, lived with our mother until the cusp of just this last summer (he’s 22 now) allowing her to walk all over him with mockery of his weight gain and other little mind tricks she’s been prone to throughout the years; and why did he tolerate it? Because he was going to school for hairstyling and needed a place to stay; I declared to my sister there were no excuses-he’s simply a coward looking for the easy way out as opposed to becoming his own man on his own terms.

I declared to my sister I’m the better brother to walk with as I embrace all that we fear of ourselves; but she and our brother had already planned on moving into an apartment together so she decided he would be the best to walk with-we haven’t spoken ever since; she very much prefers her raves, her concerts, her weed and her acid.

I’ve tried making amends with my brother but it’s clear we’re far too fundamentally different from one another to ever reconcile the brotherhood we used to share. The years and the paths we’ve walked have changed us dramatically and will only continue to do so as time prevails.

Give women power and they will make a woman of men.

Women in power are even more evil than men for men express their cruelty physically where as women exert their cruelty through subtle means you’ll never be able to see unless you refine your senses even if they don’t know it.

Women are at their best in service to their husbands.

[zankivich]

Neighbors: Shawn x Plus-Size Reader: Epilogue Part 1

a/n: we back bitches! I just couldn’t let my babies go yet. I really wanted to see what a future could look like for them. I really wanted to allow them the room to grow and evolve and be deeper, more complex beings. Please let me know what you think. Like honestly. It would mean the world to me. I just wanna talk about them. I missed them. Ok bye. 

Trigger Warnings: Weight issues. Trouble conceiving. Smut. 

*5 years later*

You always thought that when the other shoe would drop you’d be in a little bit better of a position to handle it. Like at all even. But sometimes that’s not what you get. Sometimes you’re in a med gown with your feet up in sternups while someone is swabbing and poking away at your cervix because your body doesn’t work right. Sometimes that’s all you get.

You vaguely hear the doctor explain to you about the length of time the test would take, how relaxing could help things, that you shouldn’t get stressed out quite yet. It all sort of feels like you’ve got cotton in your ears though. Like she’s talking but you can’t hear and you don’t want to hear you just want to go to bed.

It doesn’t help that they lead you out to the waiting room and he’s sitting there just as nervous and smiley as ever. Somehow he’s gotten so good at keeping your spirits high that you don’t even know how he manages to make you smile in that moment. Really all you wanted to do was cry. You go to fill out the exit paperwork and he’s right there rubbing circles into your back soothingly. You really wanna cry.

“I called your assistant to let her know you wouldn’t be coming in. Figured we could spend the day together, aye?” He hummed against your temple.

You nod silently. Thank fucking god he’s there to drive you home too, because the second you leave that building your eyes glaze over. You can barely see.

He lets you hold his hand, lets you pretend that those aren’t tears spilling silently down your cheeks as you stare out the window.

It’d been a hell of a five years. From the moment Shawn went completely and totally public with your relationship to the moment you moved into his apartment. To the rest of the tour finishing out sort of perfectly. To the vacation to Portugal. To the meeting of his grandmother and Allyiah’s graduation. To this random night in Madeira when you missed a New Years Eve party to make love with the windows open and he had laid beside you and put a ring on your finger with some sappy ass question of allowing him to love you for the rest of your lives. Not marry you, just love you. Wild. To the house you bought together with the stainless steel kitchen and the island you’d always wanted. And then of course there was that day over a year ago when he’d given you the puppy dog face after making you cum before work and asked if he could put a whole ass child inside of you, which had landed you here.

You walked into the house and immediately crawled out of your pants and back into bed. And he’s there almost as fast. His fingers trace out the words, “ i love you” onto your back and he throws his leg over you to smother you the way that you needed. It doesn’t matter though. None of it matters. And his love for you only hurts you more in this moment. Because you don’t deserve it. Can’t return it equally the way the way he deserved.

“It doesn’t matter to me.” He murmured softly. “You gotta know that, y/n.”

You snort softly, tears soaking into your pillow as he lies to make you feel better.

“It’s all you wanted. It’s the only thing you’ve ever asked me for.” You sniffled.

“I--I know. But I’d rather just have you, healthy and happy. That’s the only thing in the world I want, my love. Please don’t be sad.”

���I’m not healthy. I’m morbidly obese and now my uterus doesn’t work because of it.”

The tears come a little harder then and you try to take a breath but it just sort of chokes you. So he rolls you over and settles all of his weight on top of you. His runs his thumb along your cheeks and down over your chin, lips pressing to your forehead.

“That’s not what they said. They just said they need to run more tests.”

“She said my weight was definitely a contributing factor.” You argued gently. “It’s the whole reason my periods weren’t regular growing up. My mom had the same problem.”

“And she had four kids. All your doctor said was that it could make it harder, not impossible. So let’s let them run the tests. I never in a million years want you to blame yourself for this. Either we’ll make a baby naturally or we can adopt or do a surrogate or any of the other million ways people have kids now. This is not a thing to add stress, sweetheart. I hate seeing you sad like this.”

You swallowed  heavily and look hesitantly up at him from beneath your lashes.

“If you just would’ve married one of those skinny model types, you’d probably already have a kid by now though.”

His eyebrow furrows and you notice an emotion on his face that he rarely ever shows towards you. It’s anger. He slips off of you and pulls the covers back taking all of the warmth away with him

“No. No, we’re not doing this. I’m not even going to entertain a discussion where I shouldn’t be with woman I asked to spend the rest of her life with me because of something so insignificant. I’m not going to let you sit in this house all day and blame yourself for a body that I’m so incredibly in love with. Get up we’re going out.”

He tugs at your hands until you’re sitting up and then disappears into your closet.

“Where are we going?” You mumbled reaching for the tissues on the bedside table.

“We’re going to go spend the day together.” He huffed pulling out one of his favorite dresses of yours. “We are going to go out to lunch. We’re gonna go see a movie. We’re going to do whatever the hell we want. We’re just not going to sit here all day. Understand?”

He steps between your legs and holds your face in his hands and it really is the most soothing thing in the world. You don’t know how he does it. How he makes it all better. Or, how he puts up with you all the time. How even when he’s clearly irritated he’s looking at you like you’re his whole world. Because you actually, genuinely are.

“Look at me.” He said softly. “You’re everything to me. Everything. And that could never change, no matter what. So never look at me like it could, or should. I love you and you’re it. Tell me you understand that.”

“Understand. I love you.” You whispered.

He smiled down at you. “I love you too. More than anything in the world. Let’s go.”

It doesn’t fix it. Not at all. But it also doesn’t let you stew for the moment. It’s okay. For now.

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

His parents invite them over for dinner. It’s a known thing at this point that the struggle of getting pregnant is taking a toll on them. It definitely didn’t help that the press had gotten whiff of the Mendes’ trouble to conceive. She had only been harder on herself.. He’s afraid to touch her anymore if it means she’s only gonna think about whether her body will cooperate this time. He’s even more afraid to not touch her if it means she’s gonna spend a second thinking he’s not absolutely obsessed with her in every way. All he wants in the world is to make her happy, and he can’t help but think it’s his fault for ever bringing it up to begin with.

His dad pulls them both into a hug and his mum does the same. She’s in that jumpsuit he likes with the gold belt that makes him weak in the knees. There’s wine that’s been sitting in the freezer because they knew she was coming. He pours her a glass and grabs a beer for himself.

“Did I tell you how much I love this outfit on you?” He asked as he hands her her glass.

She smirks. “When I put it on in the house. And when we got in the car.”

His cheeks warm. “Sorry. I still mean it though. I think it’s my favorite. You’re beautiful.”

A giggle passes through her lips and she smiles at him over the rim of her glass.

“Look I know what tonight is about. And I know I’ve been...really difficult to be around lately.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Not even remotely.”

“I don’t believe you. But, I just….I’m gonna try and do better. So, what do you say we have dinner. Maybe drink a little. Maybe we can have a night like the ones we used to have? Before all of this?”

“Sweetheart that sounds amazing. I’d love nothing more than that.”

He reaches in to kiss her and it’s like the first time. She still makes his fucking toes go numb. She makes his heart flutter and his stomach tighten. He’s so in love with her. He’s never not been in love with her. She digs her fingers in his hair and pulls just slightly and it still gets him going like he’s twenty-three again. And when his fingers find her thighs and she bites at his lip, it’s the closest he’s felt to her in months.

“Shit. I cannot pop a boner in my parent’s kitchen.” He groaned pulling away.

“Like physically incapable or like…?”

“Not funny. Let’s go eat dinner.”

Dinner starts out smooth. It’s catch up and y/n telling his mum how great the food is before they start exchanging recipes at the dinner table. And it’s better. She holds his hand. She tries to let go. He can tell she’s trying, but it’s different than it usually is. Y/n is never not trying. Lately she had been trying so hard that it was painful for him to watch. This time is different because this time it actually works. He can see that she’s not in her head as much and she’s not worrying about everything. It’s exactly what they need.

“So Shawn what’s going on music wise? You working on anything?”

It’s a loaded question. And of course his dad couldn’t have known. At first he put the album on hold to make a baby, and then he kept it on hold when y/n started having trouble so he could be there for her. Every now and again she could hear him argue with Andrew over the phone, or refuse another meeting with the label. It wasn’t that he wasn’t making music. He just didn’t want to do anything that might take him away from her. But somehow that makes her stressed too. Tonight instead of completely falling in on herself she tries to stay in the moment. She takes a bigger sip of her drink.

He slides his hand onto her knee and squeezes gently.

“I’m always working on something.” He chuckled. “Nothing concrete though. Just creating to create. Cause it makes me happy.”

He peers over at her in hopes that it’ll click for her. That he’s happy the way things are. That she doesn’t need to be anything other than what she already is for him.

She smiles and takes another gulp from her glass. But she doesn’t shy away so maybe it’s okay.

Until it isn’t. She finishes her glass before anyone else, and then goes to fix another when his parents start talking about aaliyah and what she’s up to.The final straw is when she gets up to try and help clear the table and she stumbles and drops a plate. His parents stare on with concern, and she’s giggling up a storm. She goes to try and pick up the pieces, but the last thing he needs is for her to cut herself on the glass, so he politely intrudes. She’s not hammered enough to get angry at him yet.

“Hey, honey? Leave it alright. I’ll clean it up. Why don’t you lie down on the couch for a little while until it’s time to go.”

She stares up at him eyes completely innocent in that way that wine does for her. It’s kind of adorable.

“Why? What did I do?”

He smiles. “Nothing. Nothing. You’re perfect. Just don’t want you to hurt yourself. We can leave in a little bit okay?”

“O--Okay.”

Her eyes already heavy before she sits on the couch. He hands her a blanket and knows that she’ll be out like a light. His parents hadn’t really brought them there for dinner anyway. He really was just there to get advice from the only people he knew could make it make sense.

“What’s bothering you kiddo?” His mum asks before he can even take a breath.

He sighed and let his shoulder drop.

“I just feel like I’ve messed everything up. And I can’t really see anyway out of it. She’s--She’s blaming herself for all of this, and I can’t figure out how to get her to stop.”

“Well what have the doctors said? Anything?” his dad asked.

He groaned. “Just that her weight is playing a role in her hormonal imbalance and it’s leading to issues with her fertility. But nothing about her being infertile. It’s just gonna be harder for her, I guess. And I don’t know how to make her believe that I would rather have a beautiful happy life than put her through anything like what these past few months have been for her.”

“That must be so hard for her.” His mum murmured laying her hand on his shoulder. “And hard for you too, sweetheart. Is she talking to someone about it by chance?”

“I try. I don’t think she wants to talk to me because she’s afraid of hurting me. She talks to some of her girlfriends I guess, but we don’t really have any friends with kids. And it’s not like she’s gonna call her mom up and talk to her about it.”

“That’s okay. You can only be there for her and offer as much support as she needs.When’s the last time you two just...went on vacation or got out of Toronto for a little while. Sometimes it’s the environment. Babies can be tricky things.” His mum shrugged.

“Tricky, aye? Was I tricky?”

His dad chuckled. “You sure were. You showed up without even bothering to tell us you were coming!”

“And look at all the good it’s caused.” He grinned.

“Nothing but good, sweetheart.” She smiled.

He peered back into the living room where his person was dead to the world, sleeping the sleep of the innocent. And his heart just felt full and safe.

“I’ll figure it out.” He promised himself. “I’ll figure it out.”

***

*y/n’s point of view*

You are in the middle of a meeting. A rather important meeting one might add. With like spreadsheets and projections and shit. You have a laser pointer for Christ’s sake! So when your assistant let’s your one and only dumbass enter into the conference room with nothing but a shit eating grin on his face and a suitcase, you are certainly at a loss for words. What in the hell?

“I--I...Shawn what are you doing here?” You blinked.

“Sorry ladies and gents I’ve kinda come to sweep you away. I already got the okay from your boss so….let’s go!”

“I’m sorry? I’m in the middle of a meeting babe.” You wave your arms around at the general meeting-ness of the room. “I can’t just leave.”

“Oh. Well that’s cool I guess. It’s just that I got a jet waiting for us, and although they technically can’t leave without us, I’d still like to be punctual. I’ll wait in your office.”

There’s a running joke about the jet. It’s not a joke at all actually. It’s extremely serious. He took you on a jet one time. When you had decided that the concept of marriage wasn’t nearly as important as just loving each other forever, you went on your “not-honeymoon”. On the flight to Italy, he ate you out in the bathroom right as take off happened. It was the best orgasm of your life. To this day every time he brought up that stupid ass jet, your thighs got tight and you got just a little wet. Bastard.

The rest of the presentation is a complete and total wash. Your dumbass is somewhere in your office waiting to whisk you away to God knows where and you’re sitting here talking about revenue? No thank you.

“Everyone have a lovely weekend. I will be back...whenever the hell he brings me back I suppose.” You sighed heading straight for the door.

He’s sitting at your desk with his legs propped up in those jeans that somehow had not changed size in five years with an ass that still made you wanna cry. Rude.

“What in the hell are you doing here?!”

He rolled his eyes. “Well it’s lovely to see you too dear. I’m doing great!”

“Don’t get snooty with me. You know that I’m happy you’re here, although you could have texted. Where are we going?”

“Coachella!” He exclaimed. “You and I are going to coachella. We are going to live our best lives in the most ridiculous, boogie ass, VIP style that you can imagine. We’re gonna take pictures in flower crowns. We’re gonna be surrounded by people half our age and it’s gonna be awesome.”

Coachella. It was something you’d talked about once upon a time ago. Back when what you had was still new and expanding and you were making plans for the future without any thought of what might come later. Something had always gotten in the way. The tour. An album. A movie project. You hadn’t talked about it in years.

“Coachella? What in the hell made you think of Coachella?”

He got out of your chair and wrapped his whole body around you in that way that made your body feel more firmly rooted to the ground. His arms were warm and firm and he nuzzled his nose into yours.

“I thought we might be missing what makes us, us lately? Let’s just go to Coachella. Let’s have a fun fucking time. You don’t need to worry about anything in the world. We can just be us again ya know?”

You frowned softly. “You don’t think we’ve been us lately?”

He sighed. “I think we’ve both been under a ton of pressure, obviously you more than me. I just wanna take you away for a little, baby. I just want you to have fun.”

“Look I know that I’ve been--”

“No. Don’t you understand? I don’t want you to apologize. I don’t need you to make excuses for me. I don’t want you to try and make anything better. I just want you to go to Coachella with me. I’ve already packed your suitcase. Please will you go with me?”

His eyes are set firm in that way that they often times get when something means a lot to him. He’s not giving in, and more than that you can tell it would hurt him if you tried to fight in. Your emotions are a little all over the place in regards to why he felt the need to do this. But honestly, what was the worst that could happen? You weren’t getting pregnant in Toronto. How the hell was California gonna make a difference?

“Okay, okay!  I’ll go.”

“Yes!”

He kisses you until your breathless and your toes curl and you can’t remember anything other than kissing him ever. Asshole.

Sure enough he takes you a jet where your friends are already waiting for you. It’s Brian, Stu, Bryan, Connor, your friends Cynthia and Taylor, and...Priyanka. Priyanka had been very annoyed to find out that the friend she made had neglected to tell her when she was solving all her relationship problems that they were Shawn Mendes related. You managed to stay friends from halfway across the world. She had even made a visit to Canada once, and you and Shawn had visited her in Barcelona again. You were closer than close, especially for friends with such physical distance between the two of you. Shawn knew that. Of course he knew that.

After you’ve had enough screaming and squealing over your friends, you decide to actually board the plane. Shawn is always there and waiting with a mimosa and quite expertly rolled, but still fat as all hell, blunt.

“I should’ve married you.” You mumbled reaching for both.

Everyone gets comfy in their seats, and you’re enough passes into your blunt that Stu is making grabby hands for not sharing when Shawn begins to nuzzle into your neck. He knew how sensitive you were there, especially high. Ugh.

“Babe,” He whispered kissing at your throat. “Need you to come with me.”

You whined softly and took another hit.

“Mmm where are we going?”

“I wanna do the thing. Please let me do the thing.”

Your eyes pop open at what he’s implying, and you’re not sure if it’s more intoxicating or sobering. Oh you’d let him do the thing alright.

You practically throw your blunt at Stu before tugging Shawn back towards the bathroom. Giggles bubble up from your throat as he presses you into the sink that’s nicer and bigger than the one you had in your first apartment. You hadn’t felt like this in a while. Playful. Care-free. In the moment.

It feels good. It feels like maybe everything he’d been asking you to do for months. You don’t know if it’s the weed or the mimsoa, or if instead it’s that sheepish fucking smile he gives you when he goes to take your pants off and nearly trips in the small space. In the end it doesn’t matter. You feel yourself falling. Into complacency. Into calmness. Into an ecstasy that has your legs locked around his head once again the moment the plane lifts off. Coachella here you come. Literally.

***

“Americans and your festivals.” Priyanka sighed nestling a flower crown over her headscarf.

You snorted softly. “Still not American, Pri.”

“Yea, yea, you’re the kinder version. I know. What are you wearing to this hotbox?”

Your day one outfit is a white cotton dress that falls off your shoulders and brings attention to your collarbones. There’s a big floppy hat to keep the sun away and sneakers because who the fuck has time for heels? You felt like a fat Florence Welch or a woodland fairy. It was kind of adorable. The fact that Shawn had somehow managed to pack your suitcase to your liking was a standard that you had never thought to set, but it surely came in hand.

The second you step out he’s waiting for you in a floral button up left undone over a tanktop and those damn jeans.He’s got one of those little pens with the cannabis oil in them, and you’ve never loved him more then when he smiles wide and goofy at you as you jump into his arms. Sometimes in your most insecure of moments, you would imagine that look going away, or even dimming in the slightest. But, it never seemed to happen. In over six years together he seemed to only love you more. Wild.

“You look so pretty. Are you excited?” He hummed fingers curving under the swell of your ass beneath your dress.

You bit your lip and pressed a little firmer against him. “I’m excited for something.”

“Sweetheart we should probably at least make it to Coachella before we run off to hook up somewhere.”

You pouted, bottom lip jutting out. “Well who’s idea is that?”

“Weed really does make you horny, aye?” He chuckled. “I promise to keep you more than satisfied this weekend.”

“Yea?”

You licked your lips and made yourself busy with pressing kisses along his jaw and neck.

“You’re gonna be trouble this weekend.”

“You have no idea.”

Coachella is...hot. Mostly. You get the feeling that you’re not exactly experiencing it like a normal person, the second Shawn leads you by your hand past a roped gate. It reminds you of the time you snuck into the VIP section in college, except for now there’s not sneaking in. Your person just leads you right through the entrance. There are big tents set up with misting fans and bars and people in outfits that don’t look comfortable. You’re a pretty big group, but it matches the vast amount of entourages  walking around. You think you spot Kime Kardashian in a diamond encrusted tank top, but then you spot hot dogs and those are more important.

In reality there are only five things you needed to experience at Coachella. Weed. Alcohol. Food. Sex. and most importantly Lizzo.

“So is this little wristband of yours gonna get me to the front?” You asked waving your wrist in Shawn’s face.

You were nursing a long island in cup that looked more like a bucket and a hot dog in the other. Your priorities were perfectly in order.

“Not quite. My face should do it. I made a call ahead of time. Lizzo knows we’ll be in the crowd.”

You nearly choked. “Don’t tell me that. I don’t need to know that. I just want to shake my ass in peace, Shawn.”

“And shake it you will, my love. Preferably on me, but I’m open to negotiating.”

You were so crossed at that point your soul felt cross-eyed.

“No negotiating needed. You wanna bend me over, you just say the word Mr. Mendes.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “You know I think that could definitely get me going. We should explore that at some point. Not in public. But we should explore it.”

“Boo. You’re so boring.” You snorted.

You go see one of the smaller acts where the crowd wasn’t large and no celebrities were there. Connor and Brian are on molly and jump into a mosh pit. Bryan and Stu start grinding to a techno beat immediately. Priyanka and the girls are jumping up and down in pleasure. It’s fun. It’s funner than maybe anything you’d ever done in your whole life. There’s something so freeing about being surrounded by people who are sweaty and drunk and just want to hear and feel the music. It’s incredible in every way. And you can’t get over the fact that he did it for you. That he plucked you out of your own head, out of everything that had been going on the past months for this. It spoke to the idea that maybe your happiness really was all that mattered to him. That as long as it was you and it was him, everything else would work itself out. You just had to get the two of you down. The rest would follow.

You’re sitting on a blanket between his too long legs. You flopped your hat on top of his head and stole the pen from him to take another hit. From where you’re lying he looks like the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. You fall a little deeper in love.

“Hi.” You murmured as he nodded his head to the music.

He smiled at you. “Hi. You feeling okay?”

“You’re so pretty.” You say instead. “The prettiest fucker I ever saw.”

“How high are you right now?” He asked caressing your jaw.

You shook your head softly and pouted.

“No. You’re pretty, honest! I’m so in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you, too. The love of my life, you are woman.”

“I wanna give you a baby so bad.” You sighed letting your head fall against his collarbones. “I never even thought I wanted to be a mom, ya know? Thought I’d live so happy on my own. But we’d be really fucking good at it.”

His arms were wrapped around you already and he intertwined his fingers against your stomach from behind

“We will be, baby.” He promised. “You can teach our baby to be a total bad ass, how to be strong and fearless and smart. And I’ll teach them out to play music, how to be stubborn. We can both teach them out to be stubborn. And we’ll love them more than anything. It will be perfect.”

“You think?” You grinned tilting your head up to look at him.

He peered down at you with your big ass hat on his head and suddenly the only thing that you could do was giggle your ass off. Definitely still high.

“Are you laughing at me?!”

You shook your head gasping for air. “No! No I’m not I just---that fucking hat, Shawn!”

This sends both of you into fits of laughter. Moment absolutely ruined.

***

“Hey…Everyone is heading to one of the house parties before we come back for Lizzo’s set.” Shawn murmured.

You were dehydrated and still drunk. Getting out of the sun sounded lovely.

“Okay.”

He frowned and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Yea. I was thinking you and I might head back to the house instead for a little while. You know...to relax.”

“Oh. Oh! Yes. Let’s do that.”

“Yea? I thought we could maybe try something, ya know new? Like the other stuff?”

Your eyes widened. “What the hell did you have in mind?”

The past five years had seen many an explorations in the bedroom for the two of you. You dead ass Louis and Clark’d that shit. But like without the slavery and the general white supremacy. Once you discovered you liked having your ass slapped, you found out that there were some other things you liked. You liked when he was a little rough with you, liked being pressed up against something and taken for all you were worth. You liked being restrained, not so much with actual restraints which had taken a handcuff situation, panic attack, and an accidental black eye that meant Shawn couldn’t leave the house for a week, to find out. No need to go back there. Shawn liked praise. Endless amounts of praise. Good news was you liked praising, and he liked punishing. What a life.

Your friends are not even remotely convinced when you tell them you’re gonna stop at the house for a nap. Bryan offers to ride back with you both to grab his fanny pack and Stu very loudly explains to him that you’re going back to fuck. He’s not wrong though. So you skip over towards your car happily with your person because you were too secure in your relationship to get skittish about sex anymore. You were a sexual creature and you weren’t afraid to hide it dammit!

“God I have wanted to touch you all day.” Shawn groaned. Pushing you against the first wall he can find the second the door is closed.

You giggled. “That’s what I’ve been saying! You wouldn’t listen though.”

“You wanted to have sex in a very public VIP tent.” He snorted. “I want you all to myself.”

“Well you got me. Come take care of me, aye?”

“Of course. Anything for you. Come here.”

Did you have a bedroom? Yes. Were you staying in a mansion that probably cost a shit ton? Accurate. But you were a simple girl, with simple needs. And sometimes? Sometimes you just wanted to be fucked on a very sturdy, very expensive, mahogany desk instead.

You reached for the belt buckle on his black jeans already trying to pull him closer than close, already wanting his body on yours.

“Here?” He asked a little surprised but still pressing kisses to your throat.

You moaned. “Now. Need it right now.”

“Fuck.”

You both pull apart from each other just long enough for you to rid yourself of your underwear and Shawn to get his jeans and briefs far enough down his thighs for movement. It’s maybe the most needy that either of you have ever been. You and Shawn thrived in foreplay. Sometimes spent whole hours in foreplay wihtout ever even getting to the sex part. When he shoves his way between your thighs, holding his tanktop up with his hand to spit on his dick as he made his way within you, something animalistic occurs. Your body practically convulses around him. It’s dirty and hot and fast and you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“Holy fuck you’re so tight.” He groaned against your shoulder. “God, baby.”

“Harder! Just want it harder. Baby please.”

He’s got your thigh propped up on this desk and it’s just the perfect height to have him fucking into you with the stroke from the gods. Crossed y/n didn’t need much, she just kind of wanted to get railed in broad day light. What? Like it’s hard?

He finds a way to get your leg over his shoulder and you back hits the wall and he pushes so deep inside of you, you see stars. He’s rocking himself against that spot inside of you that only he could touch like that. Your back arched and you squeezed your eyes shut in complete and utter ecstasy.

“What’s the thing?!” You gasped fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Huh?!”

“The thing! What’s the thing you wanted to do I’m gonna fucking cum soon.” You whined.

“I read an article!” He panted hips still moving. “That choking makes the orgasm like more heightened. Don’t wanna hurt you. Just wanna make you feel good. Always.”

“That’s so hot. Now--do it now!”

“Just...hit me if it starts to hurt, okay?”

His fingers, long and roughly calloused, gripped experimentally at your throat. At first he’s just touching the skin, just familiarizing himself with what it could feel like. Meanwhile his hips are still slapping against the back of your thighs, the desk beginning to squeak and rattle on its feet. His grip tightens slightly and you start to feel the restriction. His other hand hand digs deep into the wood behind your back for leverage, and he takes you somewhere entirely new.

“Oh my god. I can feel your body fighting for it.” He grunted against your lips. “Shit!”

Your eyes roll entirely backwards and your legs come together in some weak attempt at a defense as your body just kind of explodes on his dick. Is it squirting? Is it just another orgasm? Is he ripping you apart from the inside? Who knows? Not you, that’s for damn sure. The last thing you’re even fully conscious for is your fingers grabbing at his waist to pull him desperately against you. Maybe he cums. Again. You’re not sure. By the time you come too, the entire world is lopsided, and you still can’t breathe.

“We’re gonna have to pay for that.” Shawn wheezed against your neck.

“Mmmm...what?”

“The desk, baby. The desk.”

You peer down at something that isn’t your person for the first time notice that the world had not gone lopsided. Instead some of the legs on the desk had just completely given up at being legs. Oh well.

“That’s hot.”

He chuckled. “Yea? Broken furniture get you going?”

“Mhm. You wanna try and break the bed too?”

“I just came in you not twenty seconds ago.” Shawn sighed running his thumb along your cheek. “But, you’re so fucking sexy. Yes. Yes let’s go.”

“Think you can still lift me?”  

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead just grabs you up and stumbles his way towards your room. Thank god for gyms and thank god for Coachella. What a hell of a woman.

****

September in Toronto was your favorite time of the year. The temperature dropped a little bit, all of the kids were back in school, just as the city was becoming it’s most beautiful. You thrived in September. And when you were at your happiest it tended to have really good effects on Shawn. He fed off whatever energy you put off, and he loved seeing you happy more than anything in the world. So when some asshole named Andrew decides that he’s going to take the love of your life away from you in PRIME apple picking season, excuse you for feeling like someone was trying to rain on your parade.

“Baby it is a three day trip. We can go apple picking the second I get off the plane.” Shawn assured you as you watched glumly while he packed his life away from you.

“It won’t be the same. The temperature on Saturday was going to be perfect. They have the adult hayrides with the spiked cider and everything.” You mumbled.

He dropped one of his shirts and came to crawl into bed with you, warm hands coming to cradle your face like always.

“And it will be just as perfect when I get back. Because I’ll be with you. It’s just a quick trip to New York to meet with the label. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You fist your fingers in his sweatshirt in a feeble attempt to keep him there with you.

“That’s not true. I always know it when you’re gone. Always.”

He sighed softly. “I know. It gets a little harder every year to be away from you too. But three days, and then I’m yours. We can pick apples and make our own cider and bake your famous apple crisp and watch movies. You can not go into work. It’ll be perfect, aye?”

You frown but he kisses at your cheeks and your lips until you smile for him. It’s so annoying.

“Besides by the time I get back you’ll be in your ovulating window. I’ll be back just in time.”

You had drastically shifted your approach post Coachella. Shawn stopped making appointments with the gynecologists and the fertility specialists. You’d had a really vulnerable and honest conversation that hurting yourselves mentally and emotionally wasn’t going to be the way you became parents. So the plan became to just take the pressure out of it. You still had sex during your ovulation period every month, amongst a lot of non-ovulation sex as well, and if after a year you got nothing than it would be time to look into alternative options.

You scrunch your face up as he presses more kisses against your neck.

“You track my ovulation?” You asked.

“Yes. It’s incredibly easy on this little app I have. Now don’t be sad anymore, please?”

Your fingers scratch at his scalp and he practically purs still.

“Fine.”

“I love you, don’t ‘fine’ me.”

“I love you too.”

Shawn heads off to the airport leaving you home in a big ass house by your lonesome. You get the fireplace going and set about making yourself something for dinner. Nothing feels off at all. It’s just a normal day. You have to decide whether to do stir fry or tacos, but that’s about it. You set up the rice cooker before hopping into the shower for a much needed jam session with one of your favorite playlists. You figure a deep conditioning might do you some good since your person isn’t even around to play with your hair tonight.

You’re at the island chopping onions when your eyes trail up to the calendar on the fridge. It held random dates, usually when Shawn had business to attend to, so that you weren’t in the dark. You peered at the calendar and just noticed your ovulation dates and your period listed in pink marker. Shawn had taken to putting them up there for his own memory. And mostly because you were god awful with dates, which in hindsight was very telling.

You peered back down at the cutting board as you diced your onion before a little bell went off in your tummy. Your eyes moved back up to the board as your hand kept moving on the cutting board. There wasn’t time to question anything as you sliced your finger like an amateur.

“Shit.” You hissed as your finger pooled with a little droplet of blood.

You headed straight for the sink, letting the water turn red for a few seconds as you cleaned your wound. It was the visual of the blood that convinced you to count backwards. Again you were shit at time so you had to do it twice. But sure e-fucking-nough you might just be the dumbest fucker alive.

You ran straight for your phone dialing up the only number you could think to call in times of crisis, food and everything completely forgotten.

“Oh thank God you called.” Stu whimpered. “The in-laws are here and if I have to listen to Betty tell me one more time that my fucking crudite  is wrong I’m gonna fix her a crudi-taint and call it a day.”

“This is an emergency, bitch. Forget the crudite!”

*Forty-five minutes later*

“I got one of every color and kind! A gallon of apple juice and also a snickers bar because I am stressed and I don’t even have a uterus!”

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

He stopped at some really bougie ass boutique and bought them matching scarves on his way home. He thought it might be a good “honey I’m home, please don’t hate me” gift. The meeting with Andrew had been to discuss some soft releases the label was looking to him to put out. He had some friends who needed features and wanted him to get on them. It would be a build up to his first album in three years. Which meant he kind of needed to make an album. That was a problem for another day though. For now he just wanted to take his person apple picking.

“Babe?!” He called dropping his keys into the bowl and tugging his bag behind him. “I’m ready to pick apples!”

She’s not in the living room. Sometimes when he had to go away she would take to the couch instead of their bedroom in protest, but the blanket on the back of the couch is still folded. The dining room is immaculately clean, which throws him slightly for a loop. Then in the kitchen he comes across a massacre of treats. She’d really gone to town. There was a cake, brownies, and fudge at first glance. He peered into the freezer to see that she’d somehow found the time to make three different flavored ice-creams from scratch. Wild. He wasn’t concerned because she always did stress baking when he was away, even if this time was quite...intense.

“Honey we’re gonna have to start donating your stress baking! It’s gonna send us both to an early grave.”

He reached for a piece of fudge anyway and took to the stairs when his very lovely human neglected to meet him downstairs.

He finds her in their bathroom cleaning the tub. With a toothbrush.

“Y/n? What’s going on?”

Her head popped up, her eyes widening.

“You’re home.”

He nodded frowning at her. “I”m home. Come here.”

He reached for her hands, helping her off the floor. His arms snuck under her big t-shirt tracing at the soft skin of her hips. She was tense enough to burst, but she seemed to lean into his touch.

“What’s up? What’s going on with you?” He asked softly.

“Why would you think something’s going on? Nothing’s going on.” She lied.

“Since when do you clean the bathtub with a toothbrush? Or at all for that matter. I always clean the bathtub.”

“I don’t know. I just figured I’d get some stuff around the house done. No big deal.”

“Okay. And the bakery pop up shop you started in our kitchen?” He chuckled squeezing her tight. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? You know you can always talk to me.”

She sighed, her arms coming to wrap around him as well.

“I’m okay, honest. Guess I just got a little anxious with you being away is all. I’m good now. I promise.”

He nuzzled their noses together and kissed her for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Okay. Maybe some apple picking would help? I hear they have adult hayrides with spiked apple cider.”

She smiled for him finally. “Yea. That would help.”

His favorite y/n was always y/n in the fall. Her soft, cozy sweaters, boots, and those leggings that mapped her thighs out perfectly. She was so beautiful it hurt. When he wraps her new scarf around her neck for her and she shimmies her shoulders a little, his heart soares. God he loved her. He loved date nights, he loved spending time with his best friend, and he loved showing her off to the world. It was his favorite thing in the world to do.

She loves apple picking. And so they drive out there armed with baskets and bags galore. Without fail every year by the third or fourth week, she will be pissed off at  how many apples he “let her buy”, as if he has a say in anything that is taking place. But, in the moment it’s the cutest shit ever. And he takes pictures of her leaning up into the trees to get the best choice. They feed each other apples and kiss under one of the trees. It’s sort of perfect.

He saw a family packing up their car as the sun began to set and the air got colder. He watched a mom lift her son up in the air and kiss and hold him close. It caused a painful squeeze in his chest, and he was thankful y/n wasn’t around to see them. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about family trips to the orchard. He had. He thought about chasing tiny legs through rows of trees, of stopping grabby fingers from digging gross apples out of the dirt. He knew y/n and him had had quite the different upbringings, but this was what he’d always wanted. But, he meant it wholeheartedly when he said he’d rather have her than anything else. He believed wholeheartedly that she was meant for him and he for her, that their energies had probably started as one once upon a time, and that he wasn't meant to be without her. Whatever his life was meant to look like, it had to revolve completely and totally around her. There was just a tiny, selfish part of him that would like to be able to have them both.

When the backseat is overloaded with apples, they walk hand in hand to the store they have set up. The sun sinks low in the sky and there’s a little folksy band playing by an open campfire. There are twinkly lights and tables set up all around. It’s kind of romantic as all hell. She smiles at him like she always has, like somehow he’s worth as much to her as she is to him. He’s so fucking in love with her, it’s insane.

“Do you want me to get us some of those hard ciders before the hayride?” He asked squeezing her fingers.

She shook her head. “Actually can I try one of the cider slushies instead? Wanna switch it up.”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.”

They climb into the hayride just like all the other couples. Toronto is home and it really feels like home because no one shoves a camera in his face when he’s trying to cuddle with his person. And that feels really important to him. Her privacy, her happiness. It’s all he cares for.

“You happy?” He asked squeezing his arm around her.

She nodded and tucked her face into his neck. “So happy. Love you, ya know.”

“I love you too. So much.You’re the light of life.”

“Stop it.” She giggled.

“No. Never. You’re everything.”

“Yea...You are too.”

They order chinese food on the way home. She takes a shower with him and lets him run body wash over the parts of her that he cherishes the most. They climb into bed together, soft and warm and sated. He finds himself hopeful that every day will be this way, that every night could find him so lucky.

“Shawn?” She whispered, her fingers tangling in his necklace.

“Yes, my love?”

“I gotta tell you something...Or I guess maybe show you something.”

Her fingers trembled against his throat, and he knew they were finally getting to what must have caused her to bake everything they had in their home.

“Okay.” He murmured calmly. “You can always share anything with me. You know that, right?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “Yes, I know.”

She leaned up out of bed and reached over to the nightstand on her side. She hid it behind her back and turned to him, the suspense slowly driving him insane.

“Baby, what is it?”

There are moments in life that you never forget. Moments that, on your deathbed you could recount with startling clarity, right down to the way the air felt. This was that moment for him. He remembered that her night shirt was black and white stripes. She was wearing black underwear that night with a lacy back. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she smelled like apples and cinnamon and lavender and smoke. Because even after a shower the campfire smell would stick around for days. Her eyes had a wicked glint to them. A happiness so vast and so deep that he wanted to cry just looking at her. And then she holds it out for him and it’s like his world explodes, or expands infinitely, because there it fucking is. Right there.

“But--what? Is….is it?...is it?” He mumbled like an idiot his heart picking up speed in his chest.

The glint turns to actual tears in her eyes and she nods softly at him.

“I took fifteen of them. And the doctor fit me in last minute to make sure. I’m a little over a month along.” She tells him.

“I’m--I’m gonna be a dad?” He whispered, his throat closing up. “You’re gonna be a mum?”

“I hate to burst your harry potter bubble, but our little bean is most certainly going to call me mom.” She giggled. “It’s real. I promise. I’m pregnant.”

And he just fucking falls apart. It’s the hardest he’s cried since he broke his ankle at age thirteen. And he has to keep blinking through every tear because he needs to see her, needs to never take his eyes off her again, because she’s everything. She’s giving him the greatest gift in the world. As if giving herself to him had not been too much, had not been more than he could ever deserve. She was going to create life with him, for him. She was going to be the mother to his baby.

He’s never hugged anyone in his life as hard as he hugs her then. Like tackles her down to the bed and squeezes the hell out of her. She laughs and they cry and they hug and they kiss. It’s the greatest happiest he’s ever known.

“ I love you so much.” He gasped. “We made a baby. We’re gonna have a baby.”

She nodded running her fingers through his head. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

There’s more laughter. There are a hell of a lot more tears. And he completely pulls her body into his own and refuses to let her go. Not that she’s asking. It’s his baby after all. His babies. Holy shit.

“There’s something I gotta do.” He whispered in her ear.

“Yea? What’s that?”

He crawled gently down her body nestling himself between her legs. The second he reaches for her t-shirt she giggles and squirms.

“Are you really gonna eat me out to celebrate me being pregnant?”

He stared up at her, mortified from between her legs.

“No! Oh my god, y/n. Our child can hear you! I simply came down here to kiss your belly and talk to my baby in there. Get your head out of the gutter.”

She rolled her eyes. “The baby doesn’t have ears yet jackass, but excuse me.”

“Don’t listen to her baby.” He grumbled rubbing his thumb into soothing circles along her belly button. “Daddy is gonna sing to you all the time. I’m gonna take such good care of you and mommy forever okay?”

She lets him talk to her belly for the rest of the night. It’s the most incredible thing he could ever ask for.

Permanent taglist 

@simpledomain @liliane106 @thecurlsofgod @kamahriii @sinplisticshawn @lifeoftheparty74 @xeuphorically-moonstruck @euphoric05 @daijanicole @bruhh-whateven @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @decewill @goldiean @bitchacho25 @bruhh-whateven @shawnase @kamahriii @sinplisticshawn @simpledomain 

[scarluxia]

My son: I'M AWAKE AND I HUNGER!!!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO WAIT??? FOR BREAKFAST??? THAT'S NOT FAIR! I'M GOING TO SCREAM FOR THE NEXT 20-35 MINUTES!!!

My husband: ¯\_(🙄)_/¯

Me: omg just like pick him up and cuddle him while I'm pumping it's not difficult

Me: (to my son) it's your own damn fault you won't take the breast

Actually it's the hospital's fault, since they put him on a tube and then transitioned him to a bottle and then discharged him without teaching us how to breastfeed, like, they said "oh just keep trying :)" but no, whenever I tried he would cry louder and turn his head away so I stopped because, like, RSD sucks and imagine getting rejected by your literal month-old infant??? and having PPD on top of that??? they could have at LEAST used the Tommee Tippee bottles that are shaped like a boobie, like I didn't learn about those until my pump malfunctioned and I got some of those bottles off Nextdoor with my replacement pump. Oh and let's not forget that lactation specialists are like, doing things over the phone/Zoom instead of in person and that helps exactly zero for my neurodivergent self. So my son has to wait close to half an hour because I have to pump and I'm underproducing

(I'm severely allergic to lactation tea, my job doesn't fully comprehend "just had a baby" OR "high functioning autism" and basically see me as a slacker who gets more special treatment than everyone else but I need to work in order for the County to continue to help support us because I absolutely cannot stay home alone with the baby so anyway I don't get enough sleep, and "just eat this thing" or "stay hydrated :)" don't work for me)

but neither Loki nor I want to switch the baby's liquid to "just formula" so I'm stubbornly pumping every few hours and basically he usually gets 2 oz milk and 5 oz formula per feed, UNLESS he has eaten his fruit (2.3 oz per container but he usually finishes 1.5-2 oz), in which case I have more time to relax and eat food before I pump and then he gets like 3 oz milk and 2 oz formula

We had some milk saved in the freezer but then Beb had to go back to the hospital overnight so Loki took the milk supply and the formula can with him, and yes I pumped while the boys were gone, but we still ran out really quickly

Anyway, every morning I have to hear him crying because his food is taking too long and I really hate it :( Loki says he's just making noise because he's awake and wants to play, and since he's the primary caretaker I kind of half-believe him? But it's still hard hearing him through the door and feeling all kind of way about it.

I've also had to leave/unfollow some mom groups because they were passive aggressively shaming people who formula-feed, like, "oh noes in my toes, your baby will consume MICROPLASTICS if you bottle feed!" Well gee, you know, I did have to pump for several days in the hospital to even get milk in the first place, and the pumps are made of-- surprise!-- PLASTIC. And so are the little dollar store containers I put his baby food in (we get free produce and I like to boil and blend my own rather than buy baby food from the store even though WIC will cover it if I tell them he's eating fruit).

Wow this turned into a whole rant. But yeah I've tried to talk to lactation specialists and, like therapists, they all have the same Generic A, B, and C answers that don't fucking work for me because I always gotta be a fucking outlier and it's not cool or fun, they GENUINELY don't understand that what works for other moms doesn't work for me and I hate it so m

OH AND LET'S

One of the common advice things is to eat more, like, consume 300-709 kcal more as a breastfeeding or pumping mother than before becoming pregnant. But THEN I've got the-- that really isn't working ok first of all. Secondly, I'm getting FATTER. I don't have the time or energy to exercise (I am exercising more than I did, but it takes A LOT of extra planning and a huuuge push to make me stick to my phone's reminders) and the doctors are like "you need to exercise :)" YEAH OKAY WITH WHAT??? TIME??? AND WHOSE??? ENERGY??? WHAT KIND OF LIFE DO YOU PEOPLE FUCKING THINK I'M LIVING? "But your cholesterol and blood sugar"

I just

*SCREAMS*

I wasted my entire 20's being overweight and I had just got some semblance of body acceptance for myself after Beb was born because my body was clearly strong enough to grow and nurture this whole new person, but that actually faded away sometime within the last six months and I fucking hate that i SOMEHOW FUCKING GAINED BACK ALL THE FAT I LOST A WEEK AFTER GIVING BIRTH???

I don't fucking WANT to eat more!!! The other day we went to the store and I ended up putting on a corset because I was so mad that I couldn't zip up my old work pants that, again, fit a little loose after I had the baby. I hate having to eat to stay alive, like, if I could just live on water and vitamins I FUCKING WOULD.

And due to my schedule I can't "just exercise", like, I work in office. I work from home. I pump every few hours so no matter what I do I always feel like I'm going to be interrupted "any minute" and then when I am it throws me off and I CANNOT relax. I have horrible executive dysfunction. And it's like the fucking universe is conspiring to make me morbidly obese (my medical chart actually said that when I went to the ER for a new inhaler) and underproducing milk

like I'm GLAD I'm fucking bigender because I'd feel like an absolute failure if I was just a woman

[one-abuse-survivor]

(TW: anorexia? I think) So I’ve always had a complicated relationship with my weight. When I was really young I would refuse to drink anything but breast milk and it got so bad that a normal stomach bug got me hospitalized. Later on I became depressed largely due to what I think was my mother being verbally and emotionally abusive. This caused me to use food as a coping mechanism, I was constantly eating and when I wasn’t I was chewing on either my cheeks or nails. Luckily my parents got (1/?)

me a therapist who helped break the habit. However I was still fat, and because of my depression, rather lazy. So sophomore year of high school (I’m going to graduate in 2022) I started skipping meals. I was eating breakfast at lunchtime, eating lunch at around 3 and completely skipping dinner. My therapist basically called it a borderline eating disorder. Luckily I was hospitalized for suicidal ideation before it got worse and I recovered there. Now throughout all this my parents weren’t (2/?)

really helpful. Before they were aware of my starving myself they would mention my weight fairly often, even complementing me on my sudden weight loss. The problem though was that even after the hospitalization and finding out about the starving they still mentioned how much I was eating (even though my 10 year old brother gets the same serving size as me). I told them to stop mentioning food/calories/exercise/weight in general citing my fear of relapse. Yet they still continue. (3/?)

I’m aware that I’m fat, I’m aware that it’s not good for me, but personally I’d rather be the most obese person ever than go through that again. Hell my mom not a week ago mentioned that with my butt and my breast I would have an amazing body if I just lost some weight. And yes she’s constantly complementing my butt and breasts even though she knows I abhor them. And at first I thought maybe I was the one who was thinking about weight too much (4/?)

but I KNOW it’s not just me because now my underweight 10 year old brother wants to go on a diet. When I asked him why he said that he WANTS to be underweight. And thinking about it I’ve might be partly to blame because I mention how much he eats whenever my parents mention my weight, but when I do that it’s trying to prove the opposite point, that me and my 13 year old sister should be eating more than a ten year old. Idk maybe I’m crazy, (5/?)

maybe my parents are right and I am a fatass, but like, I’ve asked them nicely to not mention it. I’ve told them why. And being honest I think that they’re projecting their own self body hatred onto us. And I’m sick of it. I’m trying to lose weight but it’s hard to not fall back into bad habits at the same time. At one point during one of our talks about weight I proposed that I eat when I’m hungry and stop when I’m full, reasonable right? (6/?)

Well my parents found that ridiculous. Listen to what your body is telling you? Ridiculous. Later the same day my dad told me not to accustom my body to feeling full. Like wtf?! You shouldn’t tell that to anybody, let alone someone who might relapse into a borderline eating disorder! Again, I know I need to lose weight, and I’m trying, I’m 185 lbs at like 5’4. But they just mention it so often I can’t help but feel like they care more about my looks than my health! (8/?)

I go swimming daily despite fearing covid and I’m eating less but it’s just never enough for them! I’m trying I really am. I don’t know what to do anymore. Should I just give in and starve myself again? Would they notice? Maybe I’m just a fatass who needs to stop making excuses. Maybe they’re right. But it can’t just be me if my siblings are feeling the pressure too right? Idk, I’m getting an eating disorder specialist soon but I just needed an outside pov sooner than that. Thanks. (9/9)

-----

I am really, really sorry that your parents have put you through all of this 😔 they are not in any way, shape or form right, and they do indeed sound like they care more about your physical appearance than your physical, mental, and psychological well-being. And you have every right to be sick of it! No one deserves to hear those kinds of comments or to live around people who think your worth as a person depends on your weight (it doesn’t). Also, your mom’s comments about your body and how “amazing” it could potentially look according to her are completely inappropriate. You shouldn’t have to care about whether you have an amazing-looking body or not. And the fact that they’re projecting their own issues onto you and your siblings does not excuse or justify the harm they have caused and are causing in any way.

It’s okay to be fat. It’s also okay to pay attention to what your body needs in order to live a healthier life with the guidance of doctors/profssionals that you can trust regardless of your weight (for example, I have really bad back pains and I’m trying to stretch my back every day like my osteopath recommended so it doesn’t bother me as much). What’s not okay is what your parents are doing: ignoring the boundaries that you explicitly asked them to respect and hurting you knowingly, and constantly reminding you that they would rather have a dangerously sick kid that hates themselves than a healthy, happy fat one.

You shouldn’t even be trying to exercise more and eat less without consulting a professional first (one that isn’t biased about weight, too, because many of them are 🙁), and much less during a pandemic, where going swimming could expose you to the virus. You shouldn’t have to put yourself through diets and unwanted exercise and the sensation of “never feeling full” just because the people around you refuse to respect you based on your body type. Fat doesn’t always equal unhealthy, and even if it did, being unhealthy NEVER equals being deserving of less respect than others, being worthless, or deserving to be shamed for living your life like any other person. And I completely agree with you in that I’d rather you--or anyone else--was obese than go through the hell they put you through.

I really hope your appointment with your ed specialist goes/went well! ❤

[spoonie-swiftie]

Tw: eating disorder and self harm

no specifics, no numbers.

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I’ve been thinking about my “journey” with my eating disorder since I read the article through a steady flow of tears last night. I usually HATE using words like “journey” and “warrior” and it still doesn’t feel like it fits right or natural in this context even though its the truth. It’s been a very long, very wind-y, crappy and treacherous road that started and stopped many times over the past 28 years and while I wish I didn’t have to ride this very shitty, low budget, rickety ass roller coaster it’s mine and I’m proud to have made it as far as I have. I’ve wanted to talk about it and I have in bits and pieces for years. But between the article coming out last night and seeing so many of my swiftie friends talk about their struggles with body image and disordered eating and seeing a ton of my chronically ill friends coming forward and sharing that they, too, have struggled with the same issues as well (unfortunately most of us have since chronic illness takes a lot of body autonomy away and eating disorders give us a very false sense of control) I really wanted to open up and share, Just to get it out of my brain, even if it gets buried by algorithms or nobody cares reads it.

I read this article written by Variety on a snippet of @taylorswift new documentary Miss Americana as soon as it came out. In it she explains how the unsolicited comments and opinions of people in and out of the media about her appearance ended up putting thoughts in her mind of what her body “should” look like and subsequently what she should or shouldn’t eat. Thankfully it sounds like she’s doing better but as I know all too well it’s extremely difficult to kick those self critical thoughts out of our brains once and for all. The thing that I think hurts my heart most is that after her helping me through years and years of my eating disorder and listening to Tied Together With A Smile on repeat so many nights and hating everything about my body, or lyrics like “and it’s a sad picture, the final blow hits you, somebody else gets what you wanted again. You know it’s all the same, another time and place. Repeating history and you're getting sick of it But I believe in whatever you do, And I'll do anything to see it through. Because these things will change” or “Wish I could make it better, Someday you won't remember, This pain you thought would last forever and ever” or “Ten months sober I must admit just because you’re clean don’t mean you didn’t miss it. Ten months older I won’t give in, now that I’m clean I’m never gonna risk it” i sang these lyrics like they were prayers I was sending to God and they were some of the few things getting me through and making me feel better. It felt like she opened me up like a well loved novel and took excerpts of my life and made them poignant and purposeful. I just hate that she has had to deal with the same feelings and it makes me wanna drop kick all the people who put their two cents in on her appearance. Repeatedly. With spikey steel toed boots.

If you’re unfamiliar with my story, here’s a tiny snippet of my life and my experience with the crappy brain monster that is disordered eating and it’s best pal body dysmorphia. I went from being tiny (thanks to growth hormone deficiency) and twig like my first 14 years, being a cheerleader and never even thinking about how I looked and then I got injured, (which kicked my genetic condition Ehlers Danlos Syndrome unbeknownst to us at the time into high gear) went from being active every day to being homebound and spending most of my time on the couch. My muscles that I worked so hard on left and everything got soft and squishy and between years of different doctors looking me up and down, deciding I must not have anything physically wrong and telling me and my mom that I was just making it up for attention I got angrier and angrier at my body for ruining my life and taking most of my friends away and started taking it out on my body. I struggled with self harm in silence for many years before I ever dealt with food issues but as I’ve learned it self hatred is damaging no matter what actions you partake in. My mental health got better after I went back to school, was diagnosed with fibromyalgia (EDS was still hiding) and joined band but after I had to drop out of community college & went back to spending most of my life in bed that’s when I developed my eating disorder. I didn’t even realize that I had an eating disorder until after I had gone through multiple rounds of treatment. I thought I couldn’t have an eating disorder if I wasn’t underweight (spoiler alert: eating disorders have very little to do with your weight or size and more to do with your thoughts and actions just so you know 🥰) When I was my sickest and was admitted to a residential treatment facility I wasn’t underweight (I was actually “obese” according to my BMI which is the biggest crock of shit but that’s a whole other story) and I had to be constantly reminded that I deserved to be there because even if I couldn’t see it my brain was just as sick as the girls who were underweight. When I finally started accepting it (5 ish days in) my insurance decided that even though all my providers said I needed to be there, had completed multiple outpatient treatment programs, and I was pre approved before I even stepped foot on property I wasn’t “sick enough to warrant such intensive treatment”. Literally told my mom and I that they wouldn’t pay because I wasn’t thin enough. I’ll never forget hearing my mom sobbing on the phone and promising them that if I died they were to blame. Thankfully, even though I didn’t get the treatment that I deserved and needed, something clicked during my third program and I recovered and while I still consider myself to be mostly recovered, having my weight yo yo-ing from Gastroparesis (literally my stomach is paralyzed and food doesn’t digest normally which is why I have a feeding tube) and other symptoms of GP screws w/ my head every once in a while. But I’m so thankful that most of that is behind us, for me and Taylor, and I hope to God it stays there. And while it’s definitely not something I would have chosen for myself (they’re really not fun, 0/10 wouldn’t recommend) I’m thankful for the people I’ve met along the way because they are some of the strongest people on this earth (even if they’re rolling their eyes while reading this, you know who you are ♥️) and I’m so proud of us and the things we’ve learned along the way. And I hope one day I can hug Taylor and thank her for all the strength and courage SHES passed on to me through her music over the last 13 years.

~love love love~

Mandie

Photo timeline:

1-this was taken at the ComeBacks retreat this November. I can honestly say I feel the most at peace with my body image now than I have in 13+ years (2019)

2-when I was physically my healthiest. I was an All Star competitive cheerleader and was very physically fit, but at the same time I didn’t think about how I looked hardly ever (2003)

3-after I got injured and was homebound from school. This was when my feelings about my body started to plummet and I was super depressed (2005)

4-during my very short time in college, just before my disordered eating started (2010)

5&6-after I had to drop out of school because my health dropped off a cliff. This is when my mental health started to turn and my disordered eating took off but I was hardcore in denial (2011-2012)

7-during one of my intensive outpatient treatment programs that actually ended up making me a hell of a lot worse (2012)

8-right after I finished my last treatment program and it finally stuck. I was in recovery but not considered Recovered yet (2013)

9-one year behavior free! (2014)

10-definitely the heaviest I’ve ever been and the sickest physically but also some of the happiest times as well (2016)

[theunlimitedskye]

Tumblr Truths That Are Hard To Swallow But Need to Be Said (a.k.a Unpopular Opinions That Tumblr Will Probably Eviscerate Me For Having)

Hi. Me again. With more of the truth that this garbagefire of a platform needs to hear. I'm basing my words on things that I've seen a lot of on Tumblr as well as other platforms that need to be addressed for what they are. I'm not going to go into detail here. If you're a smart, sensible person, you'll know exactly what I mean when I say it. I don't mean to offend anyone, but merely to attempt (and who am I kidding, probably fail because this "community" is so far gone) to educate the bottom of the Tumblr barrel here. Call me a hater or an anti. I don't give a fuck.  If you're offended then you're too sensitive and need to rethink your morals.

•Contrary to popular belief, being fat is NOT OKAY. You're putting yourself at risk of diabetes, heart disease and other equally as horrible disadvantages to your health. Body positivity is fine and dandy, but when you weigh 400 pounds and keep shoveling food on top of it because you're beautiful no matter what ANYONE says, there's a problem. There's a difference between being curvy and "thicc", and being morbidly and disgustingly obese. You're not beautiful. You're not perfect. You NEED to get in shape and lose the weight. The messages of "body positivity" are all wrong. Encouraging this type of behavior is entirely fucked up and the complete wrong way to handle it. You shouldn't be discriminated against just because you're a bit plump. When you're a gigantic blob, well, that's obviously different. And, no, being told you're dangerously obese and need to get healthy is not discrimination. It's literally what a doctor would tell you, and if you're getting offended then you REALLY need to rethink yourself. Lose the weight before you lose your feet.

•Also, here's something a lot of Tumblrians won't like. AGE GAPS, TO A CERTAIN DEGREE, ARE OKAY. You will not BELIEVE how many times I've seen people try to say that when there's an age gap between two LEGAL and CONSENTING ADULTS that it's pedophilia. Excuse me, Karen, but how in the FUCK is it considered pedophilia??? When you have a minor and an adult, that's pedophilia. That shit isn't okay. But when you have two adults, then that's perfectly fine. It's pedophilia if it's a 14 year old and a 20 year old. NOT when it's a 20 year old and a 23 year old. Basically, if there's ANY age gap between two LEGAL people, then it's perfectly fucking acceptable. My mom's 40 and my dad is 42. Tell me, Tumblr, is that a pedophilic relationship? Or does something like this only apply to, say, when you don't get your way in a ship you like? I've even heard people say that it's pedophilia if one of them even remotely LOOKS like a minor. If she's legal and likes bright colors and wears pigtails then fuck off. She's also an anime character and you're getting way too invested in your so-called "waifu". Age gaps between adults are fine, and if you think otherwise then you need to get your head out of your ass you uneducated fuckfaced shitgoblin.

•Here's another one I see predominantly and almost exclusively in artwork. RACEBENDING IS NOT FUCKING OKAY. For those of you who have been blessed with the ignorance of not knowing what racebending is, it's when a bunch of minging SJWs get ahold of a character that they think would look better or somehow be a better character if their skin tone and/or ethnicity was changed. Essentially, take a character with canonically light skin. Now make their skin darker or brown. That's racebending, and it's not fucking okay in the fucking slightest. Who the fuck gave you the right to do something like that? To just DECIDE a character is better YOUR way and not on the way that the CREATOR was happy with? It's a real infuriating double standard, too. For some reason if you take that canonically skinny white blond girl and make her a thicc black woman, that's fine. But if you took a dark-skinned character and made them even SLIGHTLY lighter than their skin in canon, then you're a horrible, disgusting racist whitewasher who deserves to be doxxed and have death threats sent to you. Racebending is not okay. Changing a character's skin or ethnicity just for the sake of art is not okay. It's extremely fucking offensive and the fact that it's praised more often than abhorred is very, VERY worrisome, and rage-inducing on top of that.

•You don't get to inconvenience people just because you don't like something. The term "trigger" is thrown around so often for the stupidest fucking shit that it makes it incredibly hard for me to actually take people's "triggers" seriously anymore, and I always have to take it with an entire gallon of salt. Are they legitimately uncomfortable with this topic, or are they just using the term "trigger" as a way to get people to not talk about something they don't like? If you dislike something then that's fucking fine. But there's a difference between disliking something and being triggered by it. I'm not trying to make you feel insignificant for having trauma or difficulty with shit, and I'm not going to get into what is and isn't a legitimate trigger because that's a whole other can of worms that I'm not getting into right now. But let me tell you something. If you use the term "trigger" to describe something you're mildly discontented with or simply dislike, then you're a fucking piece of shit because you're making it way harder for everyone else to distinguish what other people's REAL triggers are when you throw it around so fucking loosely like that. I'm sorry you dislike a show or fandom and think you're entitled to bitch about it, but other people have far more important problems than you do. We're not going to trigger-warning every single fucking thing we do JUST for you. With this logic, EVERYTHING IN EXISTENCE is a trigger for SOMEONE and we all may as well never say or post ANYTHING because SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE will get a tummyache over it. Fuck off. I'm going to post what I like and if you're "triggered" then don't fucking look.

I don't know im tired and angry I'll add more as i think of shit people need to hear.

[ndragoon]

It still sucks having doctors that won't cooperate, with little to no options to go elsewhere.

When you have welfare insurance, you are stuck in this narrow aisle of doctors you can go to and going out of network means you have to pay out of pocket.

My GI reluctantly diagnosed me with "maybe IBS", not even an actual diagnosis. This was simply because with Crohn's, one of the "signature criteria" is "massive weight loss", and I've basically been the same weight since before I left high school 11 or so years ago. I can literally feel the inflammation in my backend through the softer tissues, but clearly that doesn't matter. He'd rather keep an eye out for my "fatty liver" despite no test showing I even have signs of it simply because I'm overweight.

I went to an eye doctor and she told me that I have severe astigmatism and could never wear glasses. It was something that would keep getting worse even though I don't have this other condition, while describing that I'm dealing with exactly that condition. She told me that I am forced to wear these contacts that will need to be replaced and adjusted often for the first 6 weeks or so, and would cost me $425 out of pocket WITH my insurance. I now need to wait another 6 months to even get a second opinion.

The endo just did a call checkup last time, and did it earlier than we were supposed to. He wanted to see how my hormone levels are, and they were apparently still so low that he didn't believe that I was even using the gel. And despite using 3 packets of the 1% offbrand gel daily, my testicles are still shrinking to the point that only the tubes between them and the ones that go inside are the only things I can feel in there. My drive went from taking care of things twice a day to maybe one time every week or two. It's still so numb that I ejaculate without orgasming, and anal stimulation does nothing, even with a vibrato made for men.

I have to find another psychiatrist because my last one was bad for my health. Told me all of my problems were because I was fat and lazy, because I let other peoples opinions of me matter too much, because I "want to go on disability" instead of proving my self worth though getting a really well paying job, and because I refuse to follow any kind of routine. He refused to even test me for ADHD because I didn't have a job, and refused to treat me because I was clearly just going to pop pills all day out of boredom since that's what all unemployed people do, apparently. He refused to test me for autism because "you are just trying to explain away your trauma" after asking me why I think that and giving me enough time to almost finish one reason before interrupting.

My neuro is good, as long as I actually get my main doc. Her aide was very unpleasant. Talked about how I'm tired despite the B12 supplements and the CPAP I have to deal with every night. How I can't remember anything to the point that I doubt I ever knew anything at all, how just thinking feels like drudging through wet concrete and fatigue makes it feel like it's hardening, and he just told me that these are symptoms of being obese. I need to stop eating so much junk and actually get outside to exercise more often. It wasn't until I kept pushing that he even bothered with an MRI (which turned up nothing, anyway). And through the request of my doc I need to see a specialist for my lupus to get it treated, and if I still feel like it, she gave me a referral for a neuropsych analysis for autism and ADHD (which I hope insurance covers, since I keep hearing that it's not, and it's ridiculously expensive on top of that).

So for now, I get to deal with multiple bathroom trips a day, having to dance around foods I want to eat because I can't eat them anymore, and then nearly cry myself to sleep because just laying there on a comfortable bed is enough to hurt all of my joints, only to wake up the next morning and roll the dice while I figure out what's going to work today and what I have to work around.

Not to mention my family, who is convinced that it's just because I'm so overweight. They tell me almost weekly that I just need to lose weight and I'll feel a lot better. So much so, that they expect me to eat nothing but one can of cream soup a day with no noodles or any additives like crackers.

And I'm sorry for anyone who actually reads these. They are long and whiny, and I really should just deal with it all and pretend I'm a happy, functional adult.