#cw: body dysmorphia

[bimbosanddolls]

Hey Kiki! I'm looking to become more of a doll as well. Can you share some eating habits you've changed?

Sure. Though let me start off by saying I'm not a nutritionist or dietitian... so take my words with a grain of salt.

I honestly haven't made any like, super drastic changes. And I've only cut two things out of my diet completely. I love my surgary cereals, but I've replaced them with healthier, multi-grain options. I've also stopped drinking sugary pop/soda, choosing water or sugar-free options instead.

Other than that, I'm just a lot more aware of things like sugar intake and trans fats, and I make more of an effort to get fruits and veggies into my diet. At the very least, I usually have a green smoothie for lunch.

I do also allow myself two days a week where I can have a treat. Because sometimes a girlie just needs a little treat.

I also try, as much as my disability allows, to keep active.

All in all, things are working really well! I've lost almost 20 pounds in about 6 months since I really started to focus on this. Still have a way to go to get down to my goal weight, but progress is progress!

Kiki's Note: I think its important to note that I am not advocating for like "thin is in" or anything like that. My body dysmorphia materialized as a young age and I always hated the person I saw in the mirror. As such, I didn't always treat my body the best because it didn't feel like it was "mine" anyway. Now that I'm transitioning, I simply want to get myself back to a "healthy" weight so I can feel good about the girl I see in the mirror. I don't know if I'll ever be "skinny" but know I'm gonna be hot af so that's all that matters.

[an-sceal]

I got a haircut the other day, which was awesome. I've spent the past 48 hours looking at a stranger in the mirror when I pass one. I don't ever have a firm picture or solid understanding of "that is me in my body" when I look at myself anyway, just a vaguely recognized set of individual features (my ear with the elf point, my nose that is either too big or okay depending on the day, but is always the same shape, my eyebrows that are psychotic, my tattoo that is art.) Now my hair is short but still too long, which I will fix when I get home.

Before the haircut I was having a third or fourth day of feeling like nothing I was doing with or for my body was sitting correctly. Nausea from meds that are supposed to help my autoimmune disease, and bloating from meds that are supposed to help my stomach deal with the meds that help the arthritis, and fatigue from... everything? Anything? Breathing? (Possibly breathing, because allergens, and thus inflammation triggers, are high.) Clothes and hair and posture and voice were all clashing in this thing that contains me but doesn't fit. And I have had this body for many decades now, minus a part here or there, so I am very used to not feeling at home in it. Not feeling like my body is any sort of representation of who I am, or even a reliably identifiable placeholder for the spaces marked "ME".

It took me over 40 years to figure out that I wasn't a failure as a girl, as a woman, as a "female", even after I knew there were options well beyond the two I'd been given, or the notion of others thought I understood. Part of that was down to assuming I wasn't *____* enough to count. I didn't know what, but I knew I didn't hate my body, so I couldn't be trans, or even not-a-woman in some other way. Sometimes I clung to that as a defense, firm in reminding myself that I didn't, so I wasn't. Sometimes it just was, existing, a fact like my body, which is obvious to everyone else but a mystery to me at the best of times. In my mind, even though I've rarely felt at peace or in sync with "woman", I'd never had a moment where I explicitly felt that I wasn't a woman, much less one where I hated the idea. How would I have hated something that people told me I was, when I literally need to rely on the vague shape of myself and the labels people I trust have given me just to find myself in a mirror?

I was pretty clear for a long time on how I'd never felt any sort of gender dysphoria. Quite the opposite-- the things I held on to, got familiar with like the extra bump of my ear or the round tip of my nose, were all times I'd felt the MOST grounded and at home in this alien ecosystem I keep my consciousness in. Times I felt GOOD about how my hair fell or my clothes sat or my insides settled into my outsides. No dysphoria for me, no, no! Euphoria!

And that’s true! I have felt gender euphoria, lots of it, and bodily euphoria as I have moments where I'm seated and perfect inside my little squishy home. It never occurred to me that those opposite times, when I would have given ANYTHING to step outside my horrible hovel of a skin prison, might be... not how everyone feels. I'm not talking about self-harm or suicidal ideation-- the escape only counts if the me I know and am is intact when I emerge. I'm talking days where every part of me I recognized felt so disconnected and WRONG in relation to who I believed my body made me that I couldn't find any response but intense anxiety and eventual dissociation to cope with it.

I am not drift-compatible with my own body.

[recoveryrambles]

I wish I could see the same face in the mirror.

[daftpatience]

woo woo topsurgery waitlist vent comic incoming woo woo

[diagnosed-crazy]

Most of the time, I can do fine with filters. They don’t upset me. They can be fun.

But today...was not that kind of day.

I went to take a picture today, and I was moving my phone around and clicked a setting I didn’t mean to.

The filter option came up on my phone.

And the amount that every filter I looked through changed my nose made me want to cry. I’m not usually too bad with my body dysmorphia. It usually revolves around my muscles because I am much more uncomfortable and conscious of those, but seeing how small they tried to make my nose in those filters really set me off today.

I didn’t need anything else to make me upset today. I didn’t want to spend an hour being unable to look at my own face. It hasn’t ever been about my nose before, so I’m real glad that is now a thing.

[eggtomatosoup]

what's wrong?

[solarmorrigan]

[cw: weight loss, body image issues/body dysmorphia]

Consider: Steve whose migraines become unmanageable for a while, or who falls into a harsh depressive episode after everything with Vecna, or who experiences reduced mobility or chronic pain due to the many varied injuries he's picked up over the years, or any combination of the above

Steve who loses his appetite and who isn't able to keep up with the workout routine he used to have and who loses weight and loses muscle mass and fucking hates it

He's always been on the lean side, but he hasn't been skinny since probably eighth grade, when he was still gawky and growing into his frame. But this is different; this isn't awkward adolescence, something he'll grow out of, this is the sight of his ribs through his skin and his hipbones jutting out and his wrists getting too skinny for his watch. This is feeling cold all the time and struggling to lift things he used to be able to pick up without much trouble

(It's fear, too. Not just a fear that he'll never get back to where he used to be, but fear that something will happen and he'll be too weak to stop it. Too weak to help. Too weak to protect anyone the way he should)

There are days he can't quite stand looking at himself; can't stand the sight of baggy clothes that used to fit perfectly, can't stand looking at tired eyes staring out of the sharpened angles of his face. He feels insubstantial this way. Like anyone could look right past him - right through him

Eddie never does, though. He never treats Steve differently, except to worry about his health - but never what he looks like. He hugs Steve as tightly as before, kisses him just as hard as before, whistles at him when he catches Steve in the middle of dressing, just like before. Like he isn't disappointed that Steve doesn't look good anymore, like he isn't even bothered

He'll hold Steve, and pull him close on bad days, and he'll let Steve be upset, but he'll never stand for Steve speaking badly about himself. He'll always push back, sometimes gently, sometimes loudly, always reminding Steve that he loves him, and what he looks like is a part of that. Reminding him that Eddie loves it all

"But you can gain it back, if you want to. When you're doing better," Eddie tells him

"What if I'm never doing better? What if I can never get back to where I was?" Steve demands. "What if this is just my body now?"

"Then it is." Eddie kisses his shoulder, his neck, his cheek. "Then I'll help you learn how to love it as much as you did before. As much as I still do."

And he says it so openly, so honestly, that even on bad days, Steve thinks that maybe - maybe he could be okay

[clariiise]

My thighs are jealous of my collarbones.

[k3llyb3an]

i give maya kern part of my pay check every other month because maya kern keeps a lifetime of trauma over my body at bay. her thoughtful designs let me wear a huge range of cute, well crafted, fashionable clothes that i was deprived of my entire life.

if you're looking for clothes please support maya kern. https://store.mayakern.com

[nanu-arts]

Have you ever had the opportunity to listen to your own heartbeat in someone else's chest?

The scar over Eydís' chest is not just aesthetics. TWWW opened up the lil' lamb and took their literal heart upon the First Resurrection. To ensure no other mortal could have it; romantically, metaphorically. Having lost his own to the passing eternity in the Afterlife, they now beat in unity.

When sheared, Eydís has sigil tattoos on their left chest, shoulders and collar bone. :> Faith, Shelter, Communion, Forgiveness. These were each provided by the Bishops once they were slain and indoctrinated, as tribute.

[kaylasartwork]

It's weird how dysphoria works. Like I know that my face hasn't changed since yesterday, but it looks wrong. I did my make up exactly like how I did yesterday, but it looks wrong. My hair is brushed the same way as yesterday, but it looks wrong. Just everything looks wrong. My reflection is just wrong somehow.

These photos of me have the same make up, outfit, accessories, everything except one of these I'm feeling horribly dysphoric and it's weird how I acknowledge that they all relatively look the same and yet the dysphoric selfie just jumps out at me.

I dunno its just one of those days. I don't see "him" anymore but I still see "a him."

[makzmollpol]

Merry Yaoimas

dysmorphia

[theharellan]

Approval + Mythal showing the cliff faces and the wild ocean beneath a dark starry night for the first time (post physical body! mythal is showing all of the new beautiful parts of this world)

Approval Meme | Not Accepting | @mercysought

He tries to smile for her.

She is glad, after all, and he is glad to be with her.

(Is he not?).

The night sky is vast and bright above them, teeming with distant stars and brilliant clouds of dust. What darkness does settle his new eyes cut through. It was made for this world, the whole of it, as certain in sunlight as moonlight.

Smooth pebbles lie hard beneath the bare soles of his feet as he stumbles clumsy towards the rush of the sea. She walks behind him, one hand extended lest he need it. When he does, when he grasps it, her touch prickles as it didn't before. Where once he felt only her touch, her joy, now his intermingles. Overwhelming, even at the best of times.

In an intermittent pocket of sand, she stops, and he beside her. A thousand pricks beneath his flesh, biting with such agony that his tongue crashes against the roof of his mouth.

"Is it not beautiful?" she asks in a voice that crests with the waves.

He has seen it before, he thinks, the thought almost petulant in his head. He has felt it, he has been it. He has felt the tug of the moons sweeping him to the shore, crashing upon the sand as Joy dances over him, delighting in discovery.

But now it is a stranger.

He can know it only through his hands, his skin; the world is what he makes of it, and all he can do is change it. All he can do is destroy.

Wisdom does not answer, for he does not know. He walks towards the waves in silence, the pebbles giving way to smaller and smaller pieces until the ground is shifting sand beneath his feet. His footprints sink, and he sees in his path pockets of bubbles where creatures shrink from the sharp-beaked birds that swarm further down the beach.

Settling in the low tide, he feels the ocean retreat around him. Sand slides beneath the sides of his feet, and he stands tall against its pull. Something akin to joy flutters in his chest, and he looks down to see the shape of his heels where the sea has pulled the water back.

It is the breath of the world, the same that fills his lungs. The same that fills hers.

And then the tide breaks over him.

Suddenly he knows why the shorebirds skirt the tide on stilted legs, why the cliffside surrenders. He stands on the bones of living creatures, ground into meal by her loving caress.

It is devouring, destroying. It changes him, his skin bursting with pinpricks rough beneath his fingers, as though a thousand pine needles push out from within.

Bitter salt coats his tongue when he gasps, cringing in the flow of the sea. She comes to him, unflinching, the trail of her dress dragging in the current. She lays her hand on him, as gentle as foam that peaks the waves. Where it settles, he changes again, skin smoothing beneath the palm of her hand.

He looks at her with eyes that sting with the same salt as the sea.

"It is beautiful," he tells her, weeping. His tears carve trails down his cheeks that she does not dry with her sleeve, but leaves for the moonlight to drink. "But when does it end?"

She is the mercy of the world, benevolence made flesh, and if anyone knows it is her. Mythal smiles in the face of his dismay, without malice.

"Never, my love, if you do not let it."

He does not know if he approves or disapproves

[sphylor]

For the kiss prompts, number 21 with Mountaindew if you wanna! Please and thank you 🖤

can i just say thank you so so much for sending this?? i havent been able to stop thinking about it all day KJNFHBS ive been tossing around some ideas in my head for a couple of months now but this helped me turn those into actual writing shjbfd also on AO3

21. …on a place of insecurity. (cw for body dysmorphia)

Dew picked up the pair of jeans he had tossed to the floor before going to sleep the previous night and stepped into them. They slipped past his calves and over his knees with ease as he pulled them up. When they reached the meat of his thighs, though, he had to shimmy them up a little. He did his fly up and turned to reach for a tshirt but paused when he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

Something felt off. He stepped closer, trying to figure out what it was. He looked at where his trousers met his waist and noticed how they dug into his pale skin, causing it to ever so slightly spill over the top of his jeans. He frowned. 

There was a knock at the door and the sound of creaking as it opened.

“Hey, firefly. Are you ready to come help me in the greenhouse?” 

Dew didn’t turn to greet Mountain, he didn’t even lift his gaze to look at the earth ghoul’s reflection in the mirror. His eyes were still fixed on the fat of his waist and his brain was filled with roaring static. His view of the mirror was blocked, though, as Mountain stood in front of him. Dew sucked in a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been withholding and looked up at Mountain

“What’s wrong, droplet?” The concern in Mountain’s voice echoed the expression on his face. 

“I-” Dew faltered. He felt stupid for feeling so weird about it. He looked down at the ground in shame. Except his gaze never reached the ground, it got caught again on his waist. 

Mountain followed his line of sight and smiled softly. “I see...”

“I gained weight, Mount.” Dew’s voice shook slightly as he said it and he felt even more pathetic.

“You did.” Mountain agreed. “I’m guessing you’re not feeling too great about it, though?”

Dew shook his head and Mountain hummed as moved to kneel before Dew.

“I can understand where those feelings might be coming from… May I touch you?”

Dew nodded and Mountain gently placed his hands on his waist. “Do you remember how thin you were when you were first summoned? I do,” the earth ghoul brushed his calloused thumbs against Dew’s soft skin. “Your hip bones jutted out so prominently,” he moved his thumbs to circle the bumps of Dew’s hips, delicately pressing into the small layer of fat between the skin and the bone. “And your stomach looked like it had never been home to a good meal in its life,” Dew shuddered as Mountain pulled a hand away from his hip to stroke down the gentle curve of his belly. “I thought you were the most beautiful ghoul I had ever seen. But I also didn’t know if you were gonna make it-” Mountain’s voice broke slightly as he looked up at Dew, who wiped a tear from his cheek before the earth ghoul could notice it falling. “I still think you’re the most beautiful ghoul I have ever seen. But now? You have never looked more alive.”

Dew didn’t know what to say. He was overwhelmed with emotions that he couldn’t even name. He tried to open his mouth to speak, to tell Mountain how much he appreciated his words, his whole existence. To tell him how grateful he was each and every day to have met him. But he could only manage to say one thing. 

“I love you.”

Mountain smiled, clearly knowing everything that those words meant in that moment. “I love you too, firefly. Each and every part of you.” He lowered his head to press a kiss into the softness of Dew’s stomach, his lips as soft as rose petals. He moved further up and pressed more kisses into his skin. Over old scars and new curves. Looking up at the mirror, he saw every so-called imperfection suddenly made perfect. He wondered if this was how Mountain, how everyone in his pack, saw him every day. Mountain worked his way up Dew’s body with his kisses until he reached his face, where he stood up, planted a kiss on the tip of Dew’s nose then backed away.

“Hey!” Dew frowned.

Mountain laughed lightly. “What?”

“You forgot a spot.” Dew pouted and pointed to his lips.

Mountain raised an eyebrow. “You’re still meant to be helping me in the greenhouse today, remember? I can’t just give you your reward for that now.”

Dew somehow managed to pout even more and Mountain rolled his eyes. He bent down and gave Dew a little peck on the lips. 

“A little taster, then. Just for you.”

Dew laughed and shook his head “I guess that will have to last me all day.” He threw on a shirt and quickly brushed his hair before putting it up in a ponytail. As he turned to leave, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror again. This time he smiled. Only a small one, but it was a smile nonetheless. 

The fire ghoul looked up at Mountain’s reflection in the mirror. “Hey Mount?”

“Yes?”

Dew turned around. “Thank you.” Mountain crossed the room and cradled Dew’s face with a large, warm hand. “Thank you for letting me love you as much as you let me.”

[leaperfr0g]

Febuwhump Day 4, Hive Mind

@febuwhump

Master List (Click for better quality, Tumblr butchered it)

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Side Note,

GLORY TO PUPPET ZELDA!!!!

Omg TotK missed out so badly on making Puppet Zelda a boss! Like we missed out on the most traumatic fight in the game, it would have been so much more emotional and had a bigger meaning! [We are excluding stage two Ganondorf fight]

Nintendo missed out on a gold mine of content and trauma. And I feel CHEATED!! So I made my dreams reality! Because I'm an artist and I can draw whatever I want >:)

It would have been so cool if Puppet Zelda was the one who controled the gloom hands and was Ganondorf's general or something.

[mjrtaurus]

Crocodile being 1/4th thalattosuchid fish-man without realizing it because one piece humans can have claws and sharp teeth, and a little bit of extra webbing between thumb and forefinger wouldn’t be too far fetched either. The sealed up gills along his neck were wrote off as scars that Xebec gave him for whatever horrible reason that he’s blocked from his memory.

But then he runs out of puberty blockers after he gets marooned and… are those… scales? Scutes? Full on osteoderms? What the fuck is happening?!

Then he meets Reed- ribbon eel mermaid- and she takes one look at him and goes “oh kiddo, get ready for an identity crisis on top of an identity crisis.”