….Alright then

I’m just saying…

There is so much back and forth about body size and crap.

like this…

And also this… apparently making fun of the picture to the right

…Shut up.

All of you.

Seriously.

I’m sick and tired of looking and hearing about all this.

Hearing from my mother…

“You would look so pretty if you lost a couple of pounds.”

Looking at Victoria Secret models and wishing I could look like them ‘cuz of constant drilling into little girls and boys’ minds that this:

is the only definition of beautiful.

(mix and match hair color and eye color)

I’m sick and tired of it all.

She’s gorgeous!!!

I admit and good for her for being who she is!

As long as she’s healthy.

That’s what we, as a society, should be advocating!

HEALTHY DAMN IT ALL HEALTHY!!

Stick thin doesn’t mean healthy.

Hell, if I were to be my goal weight, I would still have hips.

But no…even as I write… I still think about the other attributes that I want:

Bigger boobs

Bigger ass

More almond shaped eyes

Naturally curled eyelashes

Skinny

I want to be beautiful.

And you know what… Images of Victoria’s Secret models come to my mind when I say I want to be beautiful.

Tina Fey spoke the truth, honestly.

Fuck you, fashion industry or whoever said that being stick thin is the only way to be beautiful and to be worth something.

Because in society today, who cares if you have brains?

You have to be attractive, too.

Women are expected to do more to be beautiful, of course.

“You look beautiful without makeup!”

*Shows up without it*

Same person whispering to other person: “Oh my Gawd, she didn’t put any effort at all.”

Jesus Christ!!!

WHO GIVES A FLYING FLADOODLE???

I’M SICK AND TIRED OF NOT FEELING WORTH IT JUST ‘CUZ I DON’T LOOK LIKE A MODEL!!

I HAVE A 4.0 IN COLLEGE AND I’M ASPIRING TO BE A FREAKING MEDICAL EXAMINER!!

I have to be a doctor for that, and I am very passionate about science.

I have a full-ride to college, and a lot of people are impressed with me being so ambitious if not a little cut throat about my future.

I even have a boyfriend who is in the Air Force and is doing well for himself.

He is content with who I am and loves my mind as well.

Now, why is it…with all of this.. I still feel like I’m not good enough?

The reason:

The way I look.

As far as I see, men don’t feel that same pressure.

You have to be somewhat fit or whatever, but your worth isn’t based on your looks.

Now, why isn’t this what girls are taught??

Why?

All I’m saying is… how ’bout we just stop giving a fuck.

I like what I like, but that’s not the ideal guy for everyone.

My friend would rather have a skinnier girlfriend, but my boyfriend wants a thicker girlfriend.

I want people to realize that not one person is the ideal “beauty”.

That’s up to the individual.

…Damn it.

Hey guys…

HEY GUYS… GUYS…

I have written a new page.

It’s called …

*drum roll*

I have feelings ok…

I will be adding to it.. my crappy, in-the-moment short stories and poems there so..

Enjoy!

The Ladies in the House of Samuel Hammond

Reblogged from A Small Circle of Friends:

Two apparitions float and dance in front of him. One wears a crimson red dress, tight about her body in several locations. She smiles and purses her lips enticingly, teasing him with her elegant figure, pulling him closer with her index finger. He leans into her, to which she responds by pulling away again. She spins playfully, causing him to do all but squirm in the chair, while the woman maintains her seductive smile, her lips bright as fresh blood.

Read more… 759 more words

Wonderful writing

Ballerina

I can’t dance.

I see those pointed, ribbon- laced feet,

and I feel like a penguin among Swans.

Unable to leap, fly, or

soar.

I’m grounded.

I look on in envy at those snug tu-tu’s around those tiny waists.

Strong stomach moving and stretching.

I’m a penguin just waddling.

Could never compare.

I want to soar.

As effortless as a Ballerina.

And then…

A touch.

A kiss.

Lips lingering by my cheek.

I’ve been without him for too long.

Now, he’s too close.

Not here yet..

But thinking about him..

His eyes,

lips,

kiss,

arms,

and hugs.

Makes me feel as if I could almost be a ballerina.

Almost.

But then I remember…

He loves a penguin.

Not a ballerina.

Never

Never

I will never have that love.

A love that is selfless…

Beautiful…

Free…

The love that brings no worry.

No fear.

No want.

Where words fall as beautiful crystals into my hands,

And forgiveness is rampant.

Where every color seems brighter as fingers interlace with mine..

Every line sharper..

The air crisper..

Where the slightest bump,

brings forth soft lips to kiss away the pain.

I will never have that love.

“What can I get from her in return” is always dominant.

When I think of us, I only see darkness.

Restraints are made dictating when to show affection.

I have the love that brings worry of having another girl step in..

Brings fear that I will never be good enough despite my struggles..

Leaves me wanting more as you hesitate to unlock the treasures of your heart.

Words fall as calculated measurements with the dullness of a crusted penny.

Forgiveness given as a privilege not a right.

The colors seem darker…

The lines faded…

The air a cage.

Even when there is a gash in my soul,

not a bump,

bruise,

or the slightest scrape..

You’re never there.

Even when you are.

The Thoughts of the Rare One

So, I’m friends with this really intelligent and thought-provoking (not to mention proud) black woman. Let’s just call her the “Rare One”.

She just popped out these two poems…in less than 24 hours.

What she produced weren’t childish poems.

Nor were they about something shallow.

Well… they speak for themselves.

******************************************************************************************

Licking My Wounds

It’s like knowing

that you’re going to get an A on that test

but instead you get a C.

It’s like waiting

for your mom to say,” Yes, you can go.”                                                      

but instead she says, “No, you can’t.”

It’s like wanting

to buy that one thing you’ve saved up

for but instead something comes up.

It’s like holding

your breath and waiting to be swept

off your feet but instead you’re

punched in the stomach and pushed to the ground.

That’s what being with you was like.

You filled me with such anticipations, enthusiasm, and hope but then you stopped.

You began to fill me with

disappointment, worry, and grief.

I won’t lie.

I still miss you.

I still care for you.

My wounds are still fresh                                                                                    

and like an injured puppy, I’m still licking my wounds.

You still cross my mind

and I wonder if I cross yours.

I wish nothing bad on you.

In fact, I hope you have a good life.

I’m just saying that I’m not completely over you.

As time passes, I’ll get over you but until then…

I’ll continue to lick my wounds.

Rare, Special Woman

Someone once said to me

“It’s hard to find a girl with common sense and book sense.”

For a moment,

I sat there and thought about what he said.

Then, I made a list

of all the females I know that have common sense and book sense.

I looked at him

and I became angry.

My mind said:

“Well, maybe if you stopped looking for a girl and starting looking for a woman, you would have better results.

Maybe if you stopped hollering at the first girl that will drop her drawers for you and started talking to a woman that will make you wait.

Maybe if you stopped trying to be a player and stopped trying to impress your boys and started genuinely caring about a woman’s feelings.

Maybe if you stopped looking on the ground for whatever you can get and started looking up for a goddess of intelligence and ambition then you will find a woman with book sense and common sense.”

Instead of giving my spill

to a boy that could not begin to comprehend the words I spoke about women like me,

I simply smiled and said:

“I guess that’s why we are a rare, special kind.”

****************************************************************************************

From a special friend from the 614.

Have a Happy Sunday.

HoHum

Today, I have been officially anointed as a fluff.

Phone call.

Me: Hello?

Stranger: Hello, is this Amanda Gurglesnap?

Me: Yes, this is she.

Yes…yes I come in assorted colors.

Yeah, that was weird.

ANYWAY…

Guys..I’m sore from ping pong.

PING.

PONG.

That’s how you know I’m out of shape.

But hey… at least, we are doing exercise.

Is ping pong considered exercise?

I say yes.

With the way I play.

I hit that poor ball so hard it bounces everywhere before settling SMACK DAB UNDER A FREAKING CHAIR!!

That I have to Army crawl to get.

-_-

That should be Eric’s job..

Even though he’s in the Air Force…

Not Army…

GO AIRFORCE!

…

In other news..

I’m growing bean plants.

My class for Biology Lab were doing experiments on plant growth and germination and all that jazz. After we were done, I saw a lot of people throwing the poor plants away, and I was like

NOOOOO!!!

I WILL SAVE YOU MY BEAN PLANTS!!!

So, after my prof was like…

You gotta take these out of the class

I was like FINE

Now, I have bean plants growing to my right.

I’m trying to huff more so they can get more carbon dioxide.

I don’t know how much longer they’ll last though without the sunlight they need

MY ROOM DOESN’T GET DIRECT SUNLIGHT DAMN IT!!

*sobs hysterically*

I’m in a weird mood today.

Have a Happy Saturday!