#tattoo thinspo

[rottendolly666]

Little mysterious bruises...

[lostloveletters]

Big Girls Don't Cry (Bucky Egan x OC)

Summary: After a night out spirals out of control, Holly thinks she's doomed to be a haunted house. Bucky’s brave enough to let the light in.

Note: An angsty first kiss for Holly and Bucky…I’m so overwhelmed by the response to the MotA fics I’ve posted so far, thank you so much🖤 There's going to be a parallel Woody/Brady-centric fic to this, which is why I included a decent ensemble here lol. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Descriptions of a panic attack and related self-inflicted injuries; mentions of death and grief (hurt/comfort). Inevitable historical inaccuracies. Ends on a somewhat suggestive note, but nothing explicit.

Holly was exhausted when Bucky asked her to go to the pub in town with him and some of the other pilots that evening. She initially hesitated, but between his near insisting and her notion that a break from the base would do her good, she accepted the invitation. When she found Woody later on to ask if she was going, Brady had already invited her, a light blush spreading across Woody’s face when she told Holly. The overall group of seven required pushing two tables together and stealing some empty chairs.

“Holly, your drink’s on me. I got $4.50 when you won the last typing contest,” Bucky said.

“You bet on it?” Buck asked.

“I knew she’d win.”

“Beat her own record,” Woody added.

Buck shook his head, smiling a bit. Holly liked Buck a lot, especially the way his face lit up when she asked him about Marge. Seemed to be physically lighter, too, like the weight of being one of the de facto leaders of the 100th was off of his shoulders for that moment in time. He’d get almost flustered if he realized he was rambling, apologizing for taking up so much of her time talking about his girl even though she was the one who asked him.

“Which is why I’m buying my sailor a dark ‘n’ stormy, and the rest of you are on your own.”

She laughed, “Thanks, Bucky.”

‘My sailor.’ He had taken to calling her after they listened to the Nationals-Yankees game together. But she apparently inherited her sailorship from Stan, her preference for rum and penchant for cursing around Bucky (and few others), made him designate her so.

Nevermind she had only been on a boat a handful of times, one of which was the ship that brought her over to England from New York, and no, she didn’t know any sea shanties. He took it upon himself to learn one from a local laborer who worked on schooners at the turn of the century. Of course, Bucky had been drunk when he tried to teach her the song, remembering half of the lyrics and ad-libbing the rest. She left the singing to him.

She still had one secret–an anchor tattoo on her upper arm. An impulsive decision she and Stan made together when she accompanied him to San Francisco the week he shipped out to the Pacific. The same week she met Woody, and the rest of her life started before she could blink.

Being in the pub with everyone was the most normal she’d felt in a while. She hoped could finally shake whatever stormy clouds had made their home in her mind over the past year. 

“Hey Holly, you’re from DC, right?” Curt asked abruptly. “You ever meet the President? See him around the neighborhood or something?”

She laughed. “No, unfortunately I’ve never run into President Roosevelt at the drug store.”

“How would he even do that? He’d get mobbed,” Crank said. 

Woody nodded. “He’s probably got a mean security detail, too.”

“Well he can’t spend all day in the White House!”

“Why not? Heard they got a bowling alley in there,” Buck said.

“Woody, I’ll get you a beer?” Brady asked, his voice low among the clamor of what President Roosevelt did for fun in the nation's capital.

“Thanks, John.”

Holly sneaked a glance at her best friend when Brady stood up and headed over to the bar. She wasn’t sure if Woody had told him that Holly knew about them. There were few, if any secrets between Holly and Woody, and guys were certainly no exception.

“Look, if I were the president, I’d wanna know my neighbors,” Curt said.

“If you were president,” Buck repeated, toothpick between his teeth as he smiled. “Listen to him.”

“Hey, anybody can run,” Curt said. “That’s what it says in the Bill of Rights or something.”

“That doesn’t mean you should,” Crank said.

“You got my vote, Curt,” Bucky announced, setting his and Holly’s drinks on the table.

“Thanks, Bucky. You’ll be my VP.”

Bucky grinned, sitting next to Holly. His arm settled on the back of her seat, his fingers brushing the ends of her curly hair. 

The next few minutes was a game of musical chairs as everyone else came and went with their drinks of choice, Brady taking the seat next to Woody as soon as it was open. 

Holly found herself leaning against Bucky as she drank, nursing her dark ‘n’ stormy with the intent of making it last until it was time to leave. He was the only person she felt comfortable enough to be in such close contact with besides Woody. He felt like sitting next to the radiator in her childhood bedroom, and she nearly nodded off after some time, Buck and Bucky in the middle of some conversation she couldn’t follow. 

Curt returned to the table with what must have been his third or fourth beer of the night.

“Hey Bucky, some of these blokes are lookin’ to play darts,” he said, motioning behind him.

Bucky nodded. “Hope they’re ready to cover my tab.” He threw back his whiskey and gave Holly’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as he got up. “C’mon, doll.”

Holly didn’t remember much of what happened between then and when she heard it. An entire chunk of time morphed into a hazy blur in her mind. Vaguely remembered cheering for Bucky and Curt. Then Curt called an RAF pilot an asshole, and a fight nearly broke out before fizzling down by the grace of god. Or maybe Buck stepped in. Bucky had something to her before his turn, an aside she laughed at, but couldn’t recall.

Different conversations around her jumbled with one another, stringing together in a cruel way only her own mind could conjure up for her. She heard him clear as day. 

“Stan?” she whispered, her voice crazed with illogical hope.

Her heart raced. She looked frantically around the room for a sign—any sign of him.

But Stan was dead. There’d been a funeral with a body. His mother wept over the open casket. Her own mother had written as much. Sent her the funeral program which remained hidden among her belongings. 

She kept the accompanying memorial card on her person at all times. A nice photo of Stan in uniform. His full name. Dates of birth and death. A bible verse and a little mention of his service in the Navy. 

Stan was dead. Had been for over a year.

Her chest tightened, pulling like a rubber band about to snap. As the room closed in on her, she barrelled through the pub patrons, paying no mind to who was in her path, only that they were between her and a door. 

The cool night air shocked her skin, but it wasn’t enough to snuff out the burning in her lungs. Panic overtook her brain. With a strangled shout, she curled her fist, unleashing months of unspoken grief directly onto the brick wall in front of her. Pain struck her hand like a bolt of lightning, but she could breathe again. 

Her knuckles split open, bruises blossoming across her fingers in the darkness. “Fuck!” she shouted, both in pain and disbelief at herself. “Motherfuck–”

The alley door slammed open, chaos from the bar ringing in her ears as she looked wide-eyed at the person who interrupted her. A tense mortification swept over her body. 

She’d been doing so well. Kept the self-destructive thoughts at bay. Used to chew on her bottom lip until it bled, the pain of broken skin and taste of copper strangely grounding when her mind wandered too far. Hadn’t done in it months. But she never exploded. Not quite like this. 

Bucky stumbled forward, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. “Holly?” he asked, his gaze drifting down to her hand. “Jesus, what happened?”

Of course he would be the one to witness her breakdown. She wished it were Woody, but she sure as hell didn’t want to ruin her best friend’s night out with her boyfriend either. 

Woody was used to it. Holly was always too embarrassed to go to a nurse, so Woody would sit her down and carefully apply petroleum jelly to Holly’s raw lips, eyebrows knit together in concerned concentration as her fingers brushed across the cracked, scabbed over skin. Didn’t care if she had been working for over twelve hours straight or was in the middle of something else.

But Bucky wasn’t Woody, and she never wanted him to see her like this.

Holly stared at him, trembling as he took a tentative step toward her. Tears welled up in her eyes. She frantically rubbed at them with her sleeve. She let out a shaky breath. 

“Holly,” he repeated. “Are you alright?”

“I felt like I was going to explode in there so I came out here and…” She flexed her injured hand and winced. “I heard someone talking. He sounded just like Stan.”  She swallowed a lump in her throat, feeling more pathetic as she explained herself. “I guess my wires got crossed.”

“Hey, it happens,” he tried assuring her. “You think you’re the only one?”

Holly shook her head. “Even when I got the letter last year, I still showed up and did what I had to do. Didn’t miss a day.” She was silent for a moment. “I don’t know why tonight was so different.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it.” He took her bruised hand, whispering an apology when she hissed in pain. Examined it as best as he could in the cover of night. “At least not any more than you already have.”

“I punched a brick wall. I’m not gonna be able to type tomorrow,” she said, quickly adding, “I can’t go to a nurse. They’ll ask what happened, and I’d rather crawl in a hole somewhere.”

He shook his head. “C’mon, I’ll patch up that hand for you. It’s probably not even that bad.”

“Don’t cut your night short because of me.”

Briefly, almost enough to convince her it was just a trick of the moonlight, he looked uncharacteristically sheepish. “It’s the least I can do for making you come out tonight.”

“Bucky, you didn’t make me do anything. I don’t want to be some wilting flower who’s too afraid to keep living. Stan wouldn’t have wanted that for me. I just wish my brain would get the message.”

“Well, I’m sure Stan wouldn’t have wanted you to walk all the way back by yourself if you didn’t have to,” he said.

She smiled weakly. “Yeah, he’d chew me out for that.”

So would Bucky, if this had happened and he hadn’t found her. If she walked back to Thorpe Abbotts alone in the dead of night with nothing but the stars to keep her company. She never cared for them, especially not after Stan. They gave the night glistening teeth that tore her apart far too often for her to be comfortable beneath them.

“Hey, what about darts?” she asked, a good distance away from the pub.

“I pulled Crank in. He can hold his own. Besides, if there’s an angry bartender hunting me down on the base tomorrow, you could probably hold him off for me,” he joked, lightly elbowing her side. “You got one hell of a hook.”

“Stan taught me.”

“He taught you how to fight?”

“Sort of, but he was probably thinking more along the lines of self-defense instead of getting into fights with brick walls.”

“That wall had it coming. If you didn’t punch it, I probably would’ve.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Will you tell that to Chick so he doesn’t kill me tomorrow?”

“He’s not gonna kill you. Might be pissed that his best typist is gonna be out of commission for a few days, though.”

“I can still proofread. Or sort mail. Or—“

“Let me worry about that, alright?”

Holly hesitated. “Alright.”

—————

Bucky had the keys to the Air Exec office, empty for the night, and sat Holly down at her desk. He disappeared for a few minutes, but returned with an armful of peroxide bottles, absorbent cotton, and a roll of gauze. 

“Geez Bucky, don’t waste all of that on me.”

“If I brought you to a nurse, they’d use it on you, anyway.” 

He pulled up a chair, his knees touching hers as he took a closer look at her hand beneath a desk lamp. His eyebrows furrowed as he considered the dried blood, cuts that had already begun to scab over, and a particularly gnarly knuckle that didn’t sit quite right.

“I don’t think it’s broken, but one of your knuckles got dislocated. I’m gonna clean your hand and then pop it back into place.”

“Fuckin’ A,” she said. “I learned that from Stan, too.”

“Do you know what that means?”

“No. Neither did he.”

He snickered, grabbing the peroxide and some cotton. “What was Stan like, anyway? Sounds like an interesting guy from what you told me.”

“Stan was…” She paused. Nobody asked her about Stan. All anyone knew was what little she offered. What was he like? “He cursed like a—well, he was a sailor. Of course he was a Nationals fan. Loved detective novels. We’d have ones we’d read together and see who could figure out the big plot twist first. His front tooth was chipped, but god, he had the best smile. I’m talking serious wattage—“

“Wattage?” Bucky repeated incredulously.

“Okay, I made that up—think electric! He could light up a whole room with just his smile,” she emphasized with a smile of her own. “You know what I mean?”

He glanced up from her hand to her face for a moment. “Yeah, I do.”

“What else…we had this goofy thing going where we’d play tic-tac-toe in our letters to each other. I started doing that because I’m not great at writing letters. I never know what to say, but I wanted him to still look forward to getting them from me.”

“How’d you meet him?”

“I just started secretarial school when he got a job at this fish market up the street from my house. I remember thinking he was so handsome, he almost looked out of place,” Holly said, her voice soft for a moment. “Well, I’d spend so much time there that my mom would complain about how awful I smelled by the time I got home. I asked him out first.”

Bucky laughed. “You’re kidding.”

A wide grin spread across her face. “I wanted to make him mine before he could even think about another girl, so I went in one day and said, ‘When are you gonna take me to see a movie?’ Most guys wouldn’t have liked that, but Stan got a kick out of it. He’d tell the story to anyone who’d listen.” She paused. “I think what really scares me is that at some point, I’ll remember him for longer than I knew him, and I’m always gonna be…like this.”

“I’m gonna set your knuckle back in place now,” Bucky said, his voice low, almost contemplative.

Holly tensed, staring at the ceiling while Bucky pushed against her bruised knuckles. Bone clicked back into place. She groaned. Clenched her good hand into a fist, blinking away tears.

“Barely flinched,” he said. “You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for, doll.” 

She smiled. “Thanks, Bucky.”

They were quiet as he finished bandaging her hand. The room was almost chatty though, buzzing overhead lights, ticking clock on the wall, a leaky pipe somewhere. Among them, a thought broke free from the confines of Bucky’s mind.

“Stan was lucky to have a girl like you waiting for him.”

Glassy brown eyes, wavering with the weight of the world, stared back at him in silence.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Holly. I shouldn’t have—”

She kissed him, her bandaged hand caressing his cheek. Weeks of silently longing, lusting, and wondering, answered in full as she moved her lips against his. Nearly forgot to kiss her back until he felt her pulling away. 

He placed his hand over her bandaged one, still tenderly cupping his face. The gauze was rough against his skin, a contrast to the pads of her fingers. He curled his fingers around hers, her blunt nails lightly scraping against his cheek.

She gasped against his lips. “John.”

A shiver rolled down his spine as he brushed his thumb over the bandage he’d just finished wrapping, her knuckle that he set back in place for her. All for her. And she kissed him first.

‘I wanted to make him mine.’ 

Mine.

Mine. 

Her dulcet tone echoed in his head until he couldn’t think of anything but kissing her again, offering himself to her as the sole object of her affection. 

Mineminemineminemine. “Holly, baby—” He was trying so hard to be coherent, nearly choking on his words until finally uttering, “I’m all yours.”

[peaches-poisoned]

☆ tattoo thinspo ☆

[skinnyyatallcosts]

My body is literally thinspo.

I want to post pictures of my body (here on Tumblr) to have compliments and keep on starv1ng but I have tattoos and I don't wanna be recognized as I'm going viral on TikTok 💀

Anyways, I love to have skin on bones. But I want even less fat/muscle.

[pr3ttylilbutterfly]

(All photos from 📌trest)

Another dark theme thinspo + tattoos

pm to remove. please block, don’t report

[anasvoiceinmyhead]

What to do instead of eating:

1. Draw

2. Word searches

3. Make/drink coffee

4. Make/drink tea

5. Go on a walk

6. Chug water

7. Smoke a cig

8. Exercise

9. Take mirror pics

10. Scroll on tumblr

11. Hang out with someone who you won't eat around

12. Spend time with pets

13. Catch up with an old friend

14. Clean/straighten up

15. Rearrange your room

16. Listen to music

17. Stretch

18. Chew gum

19. Go clothes shopping

20. Online shopping (even just looking at stuff)

21. Paint your nails

22. Do your makeup

23. Work on homework/schoolwork

24. Take a nice hot shower/bath

25. Go chill in a woods

26. Just dance

27. Take a nap

28. Listen to hypnosis meditation (you can install on app store, there is hypnosis for weight loss and liking exercise)

29. Decorate your room

30. Give yourself a fake tattoo

31. Walk in circles in your room

32. Eat ice (maybe with salt)

33. Make your bed

34. Do the dishes

35. Cook something for your family/friends (not for yourself)

36. Drink hot water with seasonings (taste like broth!)

37. Brush your teeth

38. Straighten/curl your hair

39. Watch Eugenia Cooney's YouTube/look at her instagram

40. Go roller skating with friends

41. Wash your face

42. Get a manicure/pedicure

43. Dye your hair

44. Make a thinspo Pinterest board

I'ma keep adding what I can over time

[crowboybites]

Welcome!

Hello, please allow me to introduce myself.

You can call me Casper or Crow.

this is my horny sideblog so i don’t have to be horny on main lol. if that ain’t your vibe, feel free to skedaddle. minors return from whence you came!!!

some nicknames I love: good boy, pretty boy, angel, prince, love, darling, honey, boytoy, pet. I am open to other names as well.

pronouns are they/it/he (no major preference)

19

primarily t4t <3

sub leaning, fairly new

virgin but a slut at heart <3

https://pleasepraise.me/creaturebites

likes/limits and important info under the cut! <3

Likes:

praise (seriously, i’ll melt)

breeding (no preg)

monsterfucker

COLLARS

leashes

light restraints

light pain / impact

punishment

very mild exhibitionism

light petplay

biting

love ppl with tattoos. tattoos are so hot

very mild cnc

gentle doms!!!! <3

cowboys

did i mention i like tattoos

Hard Limits

misgendering / detrans

watersports / scat / ect

spit

ageplay and similar

raceplay

incest / fauxcest / anything similar

heavy cnc

DNI:

minors are not welcome here! minors and blogs without a listed age are blocked on sight.

racists

homophobic/transphobic/ect (i am trans and queer you are not welcome here!!!)

anti-neopronouns/xenogender

a-spec exclusionist

generally if your here to be a dick or start arguments or whatever, i don’t want that shit here

blogs centered around s/h

ed/thinspo/ect. blogs

Boundaries and other info:

MINORS DNI (obviously)

asks/anons : open and encouraged <3

dms : open

seriously, feel free to be silly or horny in my asks all you want as long as it’s not anything on my no or dni list! i may not always respond or may take awhile, sometimes i get nervous or can’t think of things to say BUT i promise they are appreciated :) (I love attention lol)

at the moment, i do not give out other socials and am hesitant to interact using my main blog for personal reasons. i am happy to interact here (reblogs/asks/messages). this could change in the future but for now it is a firm boundary.

within that vein, i do occasionally follow from my main blog. i try to keep this blog as separate as possible BUT if i follow you you’re welcome to follow back, happy to have new mutuals! but i still prefer interacting here for horny stuff tho and if you know my main blog… no you don’t :)

do not call me a girl/princess or anything like that. i do not tolerate intentional misgendering, you will be blocked.

i block as i see fit. feel free to block me if my blog ain’t your vibe, you’re not hurting my feelings.

[raspberryscals]

Hey guys im moving from edtwt back here bc honestly edblrs superior.. anyways heres my fav tattoo thinspo

[kmp3]

Day 3:

that thigh gap 🙏🙏🙏 really is all i'm looking forward in losing weight and bone Slim arms 😭 + the tattoos and the whole ahestetic are so (⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ💕💕💕 I have a whole pinterest with thinspo, here it is:

[sweetboysig]

An Introduction

Name: Sigil Alistair

Age: 20

Sexuality: Gay

Canadian.————————————————————————Transgender Ftm

T💉 July 25, 2022.

Top Surgery 🔪 January 21st 2023

Main Pronouns: He/It

Other pronouns: Star/Bat/Crow/Bug/Pup/Fizz————————————————————————AuDHD, Mentally ill, Chronically ill.————————————————————————⚠️DNI⚠️ Under 18, racist, sexist, misogynistic, transphobic, homophobic, conservative, against neopronouns/xenopronouns, transmed, ableist, pro-ana/thinspo blogs, pro self harm blogs. Generally, just don’t be a dick.

Hey I’m Sig, I kinda just realized I’ve on here since I was like 17 and have literally never introduced myself so here’s an introduction.

I love music, from any genre really, but especially emo, grunge, rock, punk, metal, pop-punk, and alternative.

I’m an artist and enjoy lots of mediums, but mainly I draw a lot. I am hoping to go into tattooing.

I mostly post photos, vents, and poetry on this blog, but may switch it up every once in a while and post something random.

My posts generally don’t get a lot of traction, so I’m not expecting many people to see this. But hey if you do and you think I’m cool, dm me. Perhaps we can be friends :)💜

[sk3letonan4]

Tattoo thinspo <3

[0shakeybones0]

Some tattooed thinspo. Where my other decorated degenerates at?

[softlittleheartsandsparkles]

age regressors: omg dni if you post: ed/thinspo/self harm. cause those aren't good coping strategies (okay true... But I'm feeling like public age regression is also NOT healthy at this point.) Age regressors: omg don't reblog bras because like those are sexual cause they go on your sex parts! (um...? my what parts. So.. are you saying then mammograms are sexual? ultra sounds? breast biopsies? breast surgeries...? bruh wtf) & also they are scary and they totally heighten my experience of age dysphoria!! So please don't!!! I'm a baby! protect me! Age regressions: oh yeah! we should totally normalize smoking, vaping, weed, drinking, tattoos and piercings! cause cute babies need this stuffs! (the only reason why I highlight this one is these are things adults legally can do, however they have fucking hissy fits over BRAS, which is something people in their teens and preteens wear and need.... but like, omg one is for sex parts! there for its sexual! but like yeah nipple piercing? cool uwu thats totally a baby thing! you do you baby! its baby safe! uwu; we need to normalize all the baby things!) Age regressions: WHAT this is healthy! okay! Unlike junkies i'm not like shooting up& wasting money on drugs!! and like unlike people who self harm I'm doing so much better!!! and I don't have UGLY scars!!! ... BUT I'm actually coping! oh but don't you dare critique me, I'm actually a baby and I got trauma! & if your say anything mean to me, I'll tell you i'm crying, experiencing *ACTUAL* panic attacks and its not fair and i have trauma! So don't YOU dare. (... you realize that there's maladaptive coping... right? Like this isn't to say its healthy or good, but it's to say there's a term for this& a therapist would point this out to someone who might feel ashamed. Just like if someone went to a therapist and said 'I keep spending money when i'm sad, i've spent over $1000 this month, on things I don't actually want or like or need, i want to stop." - a therapist would say something delicate like: 'okay... well have you heard of maladaptive coping? *Explains what it is* You said you do this when your sad. Would you be curious in trying other methods to emotional regulate...? Lets do this and also can you keep track of the urge to spend and how you emotions are when they pop up okay...? *home work*" - Your also belittling people society has enjoyed belittling for a long time. And these same people are actually aware of the harm there doing to themselves and there bodies, and they feel guilt and shame but it's also hard to stop due to different habits& emotions like fear, not to mention prior treatment from therapy might frighten them off.... Equally those same people, also have trauma. The same word you enjoy yeeting around. They actually *have* it. And those same people, they deserve a lot of respect and more respect then your giving them. These are still people at the end of the day& have families. And your extremely ignorant and fucking rude. So maybe don't use your trauma to kick down others who are unable to defend themselves. Cause trauma isn't an excuse to be an asshole. Thanks.) Same age regression blogs: *reblogs childrens underwear and will go on and on about age dysphoria and how there just coping& age regression is just oh so beautiful& super duper pure and super duper healthy and super duper adorable* Hey! WHY ARE DDLG/ERS FOLLOWING ME! I don't understand!?!1 don't you get it!1!1! there's a BaBy running this blog! I demand baby safe blogs only!! (your 24 years old, posting you 24 going on 2, reblogging kids underwear, and speaking about needing a cg, sfw "spankies" when your "naughty" & you say your a "baby brat", and you need someone to lead you around this 'world'... etc. wtf do you expect? your showing off in the very least is kink, its also borderline fucking uncomfortable stuff like reblogging kids underwear, & Is extremely triggering and wonders into areas I shouldn't have to fucking mention. But oi, your a "baby".)

[makemeanangelpure]

April 12, 2024-weight ???

🏴‍☠️21 days until party

Next time I weigh, I WILL be 107, because I will weigh Wednesday after my first truck day in ages on Tuesday. I ate tonight. Binged really. Three packages of ramen and 3 eggs.. up in the 1’400 today. I have til May 4 so 21 days til all my friends are supposed to get together for her birthday party. No idea what we’re doing yet, but I know I’m going to have some kind of major 3 week glow up by then. My hair won’t be much longer by then… less than half an inch but still something… I’ll make sure my measurements and weigh on the same day. If he starts regularly assigning me to truck I’ll get one day a week of two hour weight training technically and I can get back to how strong I was before in about 4 -5 months which would be about august or September and September is when I’m going to get my star tattoo on my shoulder which I’ll be damned if I don’t have some kind of definition there again. I’ll wake up 7 every morning and go walking even on and off day and rest Sundays when I’m not working or go walking anyway with my honey. I’ll be very serious and strict about my intake and what I eat. Only eggs I know are hard boiled, no processed shit, clean fruits and vegetables, no bullshit. Okay wait. For a couple days I’ll get my tattoo in July the same time they get their double helix done so 2 months and half to get some muscle definition back in my arms for that. Cause who wants to tattoo and show off a flabby arm? Ew no one. On my off days when I’m home by myself I’ll do my one video floor workout plus 20 minutes of weights exercises depending on how I feel. I gotta do everything I can. I will. I’ll drop 15 pounds by may 4. I’ll be 93-96 and then lose the 9-12 pounds left by the next month June and up my weights workouts and gym time and gain some muscle to sit pretty and tone at 90-98 pounds by July for tattoo procedure. So many years of this. I can fix it so fast all the time before will feel so damn pathetic. I’ll work on my water fasting too. Once a week the goal is the up the goal. Rn at 16 hours. If I really do this 442 hour LF and don’t eat solids enough to break til May 1, and I gotta break with like a 90 cal apple and be really fucking careful, that’ll be 18 days.

1st one 90 cal apple

2nd 90 cal apple + 7 carrots

3rd chicken noodle soup about 200 cal

4th- party hang out day ( we’re going to Dallas and walking around a bunch, going to the anime store, arcade and whatnot so I’m gonna dress super fucking cute and be thinspo irl)

The sooner the better, the faster the prouder.

You want to look like the angel you are don’t you?

[the-ugly-ly]

the tech at my tattoo removal clinic was talking thinspo with me but like in a comfortable and validating way. i love her sm

[gh0stly-pal3-sk3l3t0n]

🖤Tattoo Thinspo🖤

🕸center pic is my own🕸

(I wanted to test a stomach tat idea)