I like it.
Pregnancy Tests

Come wrapped in clear cellophane in the exact way marshmallow Peeps are.

How do I explain this to my doctor?

This is the moment when I realized my sex life is reversing the chiropractic work I’m having done.

18-15n-77-30w:

soulandtell:

I really can’t even handle how much I love this picture.

http://18-15n-77-30w.tumblr.com/

18-15n-77-30w:

soulandtell:

I really can’t even handle how much I love this picture.

http://18-15n-77-30w.tumblr.com/
toofattobehipster:

fuckyeahfeministartandliterature:

Clarity Haynes, Breast Portrait Installation, 2011.

Ooooh cool! Look what I found!

toofattobehipster:

fuckyeahfeministartandliterature:

Clarity Haynes, Breast Portrait Installation, 2011.

Ooooh cool! Look what I found!

Now I know that I’m not all that you got I guess that I… I just thought maybe we could find new ways to fall apart.

I went back to school because I didn’t know what to do with my sadness. 

Freaking adults date like idiots. Cardboard idiots.

I’m still learning how to date as an adult. When I was younger I would meet someone and just throw myself into it. It didn’t matter if I was tired because I didnt sleep the night before, or had a homework assignment or had to work. I made time and lots of it, and I didn’t care if I was sick or had a headache, I acted like I didn’t and hung out anyways. Now there’s work and people are busy and tired and get sick and they don’t go out those days. Its too enthusiastic to do that as an adult. People don’t text back and forth all day every day and its weird if they’re all you think about on any given day just because you’re excited. Freaking adults date like idiots. Cardboard idiots. So I have no idea.

You’re sad because you’re sad.
It’s psychic. It’s the age. It’s chemical.
Go see a shrink or take a pill,
or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll
you need to sleep.

Well, all children are sad
but some get over it.
Count your blessings. Better than that,
buy a hat. Buy a coat or pet.
Take up dancing to forget.

Forget what?
Your sadness, your shadow,
whatever it was that was done to you …

from A Sad Child by Margaret Atwood (via growing-orbits)