Reblogged from housewifeswag
yes.
Except the ones where the woman is unhealthily overweight. I understand a positive attitude and to be comfortable in your own body. But praising women when they are dangerously overweight is the wrong thing to do.
false. all women should be loved and praised. however promoting an unhealthy lifestyle and telling women who are unhealthy that they shouldn’t be concerned about their health? that is the wrong thing to do.
People don’t really care about a random stranger’s health. That’s bullshit. It’s a strawman that they create in order to get their fat-hate on without sounding like a horrible, hateful person. Think about it. I mean really, really think about it. You wouldn’t stop a middle-aged guy on the street to ask him if he’s gotten his prostate checked, would you? But some people are quick to look all sideways at an overweight woman, and in a consequence-free environment like Tumblr, they’ll say bullshit like this.
“It’s irresponsible to be fat, to love fat people, to let them be fat without hating them.” I’m sure they must be models of perfect health, then? They surely don’t make any unhealthy choices over the course of a day, right? Otherwise they’d be hypocrites. And that would make it obvious just what a load of bullshit this whole “health” angle really is.
(Source: journellelingerie)
Reblogged from sensualstarlightdesires
Second thoughts always come too late.
They wrap around your gut like a tumour, stealing space and squeezing, until you try to pull away, back out and retreat. Fear wears you like a glove, works your mouth and makes you plead. Anxiety becomes you. But it’s too late for second thoughts. It was always too late, the instant you had the first.
It’s your uncertainty that drives it, the fact that you’re unsure about all of this. It’s uncharted territory, and you’re missing dry land, but we’re not here because we wanted to be safe. We’re here because you want to be here, just as much as you don’t. Your first thought was the right one, and any you have thereafter are just your body scared of what you might do to it. What I might do to it.
We’re going to explore, you and I. We’re going to write some maps, and define some new territory. I’m going to flood your mind with thoughts, good ones, bad ones, desperate ones, and the kind that you wouldn’t even tell me if I asked you especially nicely. So let’s not worry about your anxiety. Forget about your uncertainty.
Embrace the unknown, and come over here.
Reblogged from rolledtrousers
He’d stepped away the moment after he’d tied the blindfold, and from that moment to this, she’d felt as if the room was rigged with razorwire, each one pinned to her body in some way. Any movement sent a shiver down each one, an electric thrill that made her squirm and gasp. He was there, somewhere, and she could feel him.
It kept her still. The temptation was to move her head around, angle her ears as if to catch any indicator of him, that it would ricochet off the walls and spin down her ears, a bullet with a message, that he was still there, that he was still waiting. That she would be waited on, and then acted upon, when the time came. That she should wait, until he was ready. Until he deemed her ready.
But instead she just knelt there, feet in the air, swaying ever so slightly, and hands pressed flat against the mattress. She looked ready to flee. She could hear him smile. It made her throb.
“Don’t move, pretty dove.” Treacle in her ears. He was to her left.
“I want to see how long you last. How wet you get.” The tone curled, undulating with just the right frequency to hit her in her most tender spot. It was infuriating, how much power he could have over her. Worse was how much she let him have. She could move if she wanted, but here she was, immobile.
Moments passed, freezing into minutes, before she heard him move, vibrations through the room disturbing the tentative peace that had been shouting at her through the silence.
His hand between her legs, against her, feeling her, her slickness. The tut thrown from his lips, an admonishment. It only made things worse. And then that smile again, the slightest hint of wetness as his lips peeled back against his teeth. That made her problem coalesce.
Then stroking fingers became plunging fingers, and she lost herself to him.
(Source: simply-black-and-white)
