sexy costume ideas: dress up as a dental dam, throw on a condom suit, show up to the party as a nuvaring
It’s a truism that people tend to resist change and cling to the familiar. Yet we all know by now that one of the few universal givens about sex is...”
The sun isn’t bright just because I say it is. It just is. It was bright before I...
SEE THE THING IS, he said, BIG GIRLS LEAVE MORE SPACE FOR ME TO GRAB AHOLD OF
i’m not your handlebars
SEE THE THING IS, she said, BIG GIRLS ARE BETTER THAN SKINNY ONES BECAUSE MEN DON’T LIKE BONES
other girls are not graveyards
SEE THE THING IS
a baby girl isn’t beautiful because somebody is gonna hold her
i mean we all wanna be loved but i want her to
a baby girl isn’t beautiful because a man’s fingertips can dig
bruises into her hips, she’s beautiful because
she just is
in nature we don’t say a flower is beautiful
when somebody wants to pick it
in fact we say that nature’s beauty is at the height of purity
when it would destroy you to even touch it
SEE THE THING IS
i would rather be an ocean of danger and deep black and
thick mermaid thighs rather than
a body you want to cruise across
i would rather be the night sky and crush ribs with a suffocating sense that we are all small and purposeless
rather than a landscape of freckles someone happens to think
are akin to constellations
i would rather be storms and lightning and a bright sun rising, i
would rather make you quake in your boots than get your heart
i would rather be beautiful like a cold spring stream:
not beautiful because you said so
but beautiful because
i am me.
I saw a young woman the other day who was in her late teens.
I had a moment of admiring how strong her legs looked, how able her shoulders; where she had curves and where she didn’t, how kind of mixed-up and funky some of her coloring and parts were, a study in contrasts. It was a moment of appreciating what, in my eyes and perspective, her beauty was and how aesthetically beautiful I found her. As someone who’s worked in art and photography, who looks at people and their details deeply and richly out of habit, I didn’t think anything of it until I realized something about her was really resonating in a big way with me. I was having a hard time looking away.
Then it struck me: the things I was admiring about her and taking in so much of? Those were all ways my own body looked at her same age. It was like looking in a mirror that traveled through time.
But when I was her age, and my body and its parts looked like hers, I didn’t appreciate them this way; I didn’t find them so interesting or so beautiful. There were some parts and ways of looking, ways she and I both have looked like — me twenty-five years ago, and she now — that at best, I had a grudging acceptance of, often balancing those things out with more positive feelings about other parts of my body or how it looked. At worst, I was horribly unkind to myself and my body about some of our shared physical traits.
It’s tragic, really. There I was, looking at a body that was nearly an exact replica of my own-body-of-once, appreciating it, thinking it so fantastic, when I did not do the same for my own at the same age. There I was, wishing I could send some sort of note back in time, an apology letter, to my body-that-used-to-be for clearly not seeing it clearly.& For being unkind and unaccepting, for lacking the perspective, the esteem and the basic kindness to see it differently, to see it the way I was seeing this young woman’s body now. For wasting any time or energy at all, even the briefest of moments, hating on my body or its parts when there wasn’t a thing on earth wrong with them.
Read the rest at Scarleteen