I’ve been waxing my legs lately.
I’m finding that the part when my legs are hairless isn’t even my favorite part. My favorite part is that I finally feel comfortable wearing a dress with hairy legs.
The rule is that you have to let the hair get long enough to pull out so there are days when it’s… long enough to pull out. And on those days, if it’s hot outside then that’s the right answer.
And that feels great enough every day to make up for 30 minutes once every few weeks.
I went to a yoga class yesterday. And the teacher kept telling us: You are enough. You are good at yoga. You are good enough.
Every single time she said it tears came to my eyes.
I felt completely ridiculous.
And yet it felt so good.
The other wonderful thing she said was that you’re allowed to be uneven. You’re allowed to feel strong in some places and unsure in others. You’re allowed to push yourself one day and treat yourself the next. Notice how the same pose can feel different on your two sides.
We will never be the same again.
But here’s a little secret for you: no one is ever the same thing again after anything. You are never the same twice, and much of your unhappiness comes from trying to pretend that you are. Accept that you are different each day, and do so joyfully, recognizing it for the gift it is. Work within the desires and goals of the person you are currently, until you aren’t that person anymore, and everything changes once again.
– Welcome to Night Vale, Episode 75 – “Through the Narrow Place” [x]
I’m incredibly proud of my relationship with my body, especially my breasts. And why wouldn’t I be? They’re perfect. The left is called “Per” and the right is called “Fect”.
And nothing makes me feel more grateful, not for them so much as for my comfort with them, as this series from The Cut.
The slideshow is amazing.
In a long life breasts are many things to many people. Sexualized, ignored, too much, too little.
It rings so true that even though some of the notes disagree with each other, you can agree with all of them. One may be complaining about them weighing too much, and another can be about them feeling too small, and it’s possible to agree with both.
It gives you permission to feel whatever you do feel about them.
There are so many images of breasts in the world. If you have breasts it can feel like they’re always on display, for comment. Subject to someone else’s lens, typified by their own preferences.
There’s something so different about the only important qualifier being your personal feelings about your own personal body.
I was hanging out with a guy yesterday and he was telling me a story about when his ex challenged him to think about sex in a way he never had before. He said he was interested in a threesome and so did she. It wasn’t until later that he realized that the mental image she was constructing was different than his.
But he readily admits that through that first eye-opening relationship with a beautiful bohemian european he realized a not so noble truth.
Not slut-shaming women results in better sex.
Across the board.
This isn’t exactly the best reason to root out slut-shaming in our culture but it might be the one that makes the best bumper sticker. Is anyone good at photoshop?
I just saw the pictures of Melania Trump. All of Melania Trump.
And I was immediately struck with a conundrum. I wanted to point to it, “This is the face you want on the white house? This is how you define Republican, family first values?”
Followed immediately by Dan Savage’s voice in my head about Anthony Weiner. Most young people today are taking pictures of themselves, the technology is just too accessible. Most people try pot. If you want to have leaders who aren’t amish then you need to be ok with the fact that they’re human and have pasts.
And then I hated myself for slut shaming her.
And then I decided that if throwing this in the face of the right wing sways one vote then posting it will have been worth it.
So I did. I put it on Facebook. And immediately felt guilty. Within a few hours I took it down.
I don’t want to use slut shaming just because it actually works in my favor this time around. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not human enough to have thought about it. A lot.
I’m sure everyone has seen this already but it’s amazing.
Share it far and wide.
I’m obsessed with poet/artist/feminist/tear-jerker rupi kaur.
I ordered her book Milk and Honey and am waiting for a quiet moment so I can read it and cry.
In the meantime I stalk her blog.
What beauty. What love. What a terrible world, what a beautiful world she reveals in this world.
My mother texted me last week,
I just realized you’re a millennial. How does that make you feel?
It doesn’t make me feel anything. It’s a buzzword and the definition of it seems to expand by the day.
But knowing that I have something in common with an artist like rupi, even if it’s just the assumption that we have to be somewhat similar in age makes me really proud. It makes me proud to be in a generation with artists who I trust to speak on my behalf.