tumblr dot com
oozey mess
Janaina Medeiros
@theartofmadeline
Sweet Seals For You, Always
No title available
pixel skylines
Jules of Nature
styofa doing anything
noise dept.
h
we're not kids anymore.
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Cosimo Galluzzi
One Nice Bug Per Day
dirt enthusiast
Game of Thrones Daily
Origami Around
tannertan36
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Sweden
seen from Iraq
seen from Belarus
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Belarus
seen from Germany
@lazy-and-optimistic
me at home: i've been wearing the same sweat pants and band shirt for the last three weeks but it still smells alright so i'll keep wearing it
me going away: I NEED ONE SHIRT FOR EACH DAY AND EXTRA IN CASE IT GETS DIRTY AND THE SAME AMOUNT OF JEANS AND SOCKS ACTUALLY NO I'LL NEED EXTRA SOCKS IN CASE IT FLOODS AND DOUBLE THE UNDERWEAR IN CASE OF DISASTER AND ONE NICE OUTFIT IN CASE I GET INVITED TO TEA WITH THE QUEEN
lemme see if it was any good
no delete it i look dumb
Having tattoos and piercings is not unprofessional. What’s unprofessional is turning down an aspiring employee due to superficial reasons and not their skill level or experience.
one of the most accurate posts I’ve ever read.
Photographer and artist John Poppleton specializes in creating fantastical works of art painted directly on the human body. His Black Light Bodyscapes consist of gorgeous nature scenes painted with fluorescent pigments on the backs of female models, who are then photographed under black light to produce these extraordinary images.
This is so cool!!!
You can’t convince me this raccoon isn’t elegantly playing the deepest sonata you’ll ever hear on a avant garde harp
Welcome to my home turned 5 today! Yaaaay!!! :D
I showed this post to my boyfriend and he tried to take his shirt off like a girl and
uh
yeah
Out of the 82k notes my post got this is by far the best comment holy shit thank u for being u
So i tried it both ways and uh
i mean how do you do the first one without pulling out all your hair?
this made me laugh really hard….
and it made me realize that girls and boys pull their shirt off differently. /amazed
but seriously I think girls just do the cross arm thing because of HAIR like demonstrated
So one year, one URL change, and a hair cut later, I decide to try again… FOR SCIENCE!
Its not science unless you write it down so
First method:
Well done, i guess…
Second:
I fucked up
Girls… how?
I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW WE CAN HAVE SUCH DIFFERENT WAYS OF TAKING OFF SHIRTS AND SO MUCH DIFFICULTY DOING IT THE OTHER WAY
I FIGURED IT OUT!!!!!
It’s all in the way that girl/boys shirts are made.
Girls shirts have less armpit room then boy’s do and are generally shorter so pulling it off over your head is more practical because by lifting your arms all the way up you make enough room for the sleeves to just slip off.
Boys shirts have more room and are generally longer so it is easy to slip them off over your head.
but if you take a girls shirt off like a boys shirt you will get your arms caught because there isn’t much armpit space.
and if you take a boys shirt off like a girls shit you will still have your head in it when you’ve lifted your arms all the way up because of the shirt’s length.
It has nothing to do with us. It is entirely to do with how our shirts are made. I figured it out for you. YOU’RE WELCOME!
bless you
look what is back on my dash. Jesus.
This came back but with ACTUAL SCIENCE you are the saviour of our generation
Hazte un tumblr decían, no es adictivo decían.
‘Cause people seem to only post the 20-something Audrey Hepburn.
Audrey Hepburn was the granddaughter of a baron, the daughter of a nazi sympathizer, spent her teens doing ballet to secretly raise money for the dutch resistance against the nazis, and spent her post-film career as a goodwill ambassador of UNICEF, winning the presidential medal of freedom for her efforts.
…and history remembers her as pretty.
AND HISTORY REMEMBERS HER AS PRETTY
note
this is the first time I have ever seen a picture of her older than 20 and I think that’s scary
Still beautiful at every age
Harry Potter as a teen comedy…
Seriously, I will reblog everytime. Whoever did this, I have eternal love for you.
Sexism 60’s
What the fuck was wrong with men in the 60’s?
advertising is important as it’s the historian’s best resource for identifying the values of an era. but yeah, these were fucked. the 60s was generally as fucked as the 50s. people forget that.
It literally says ‘men are better than women’ in bold type, what the fuck. I knew this was a thing, but that is a lack of subtlety I couldn’t have written into a spoof…
This is the generation that spawned most of our parents… People our parents’ age run Washington. Starting to make sense? When you look to the past, the struggles of the present become a great deal more clear.
Hey Everyone, just an FYI…. This is not over. This is not exclusive to “our parents generation”
Oh hey look, a Hardee’s ad
These advertisements had to go through layers of people. Someone said, “this is my idea” to a room of people and then sold the idea for money.
Reblogging with the updated commentary
How come every other organ in your body can get sick and you get sympathy, except your brain?
Ruby Wax
Reblogging the SHIT out of this.
(via livelifebyliving)
It’s so rewarding to see teachers acting fake when the principal comes in the classroom
When I was 5, I sat on the edge of my chair with my legs spread. I felt an itch between them, so I reached down to scratch, but my grandma grabbed my wrist to stop me and hissed: “Girls don’t do that!” I asked her why, because I had seen my father doing it, I had seen all the boys in primary school doing it, too. And it itched and I wanted to scratch it. Her answer was: “It’s just how it is. Girls don’t do that. Also, don’t sit there with your legs spread like that. Girls don’t do that, either.” When I was 6, I spent a day on the beach with my family. I was excited about the new bikini my mum got me, but confused as to why she asked me to keep the top on when I went for a swim. She hadn’t made me wear it the years before, but suddenly, she was very fussy about it. “Look, I’ve got one on, too.”, she said to me. And I thought I understood: Women had to cover their breasts, because they were bigger than mens’. But I wasn’t a woman. I was a child. Later, I overheard a talk she had with my dad. “I don’t want old men to stare at her.”, she whispered. I interrupted them and asked her why she thought old men would look at me. Her answer was: “It’s just how it is. It’s because you’re a girl. And men do that.” When I was 9, I got in a fight with my best friend. I went home and complained about it to my grandma, who lived with us. She told me I should have seen it coming. “That’s how girls are.”, she said. “A friendship between girls is always also a competition. Girls are jealous, manipulative and backstabbing. You can’t trust them.” But I had never fought with my best friend before and I knew we’d forgive and forget the next day, anyway. So, I asked my grandma why, and her answer was: “It’s just how it is. Catfights will happen. It’s normal. That’s how girls are.” When I was 13, I fell in love with a boy from the neighbourhood. I couldn’t hide my excitement. He was on my mind all the time and I caught myself wishing we were together, so I could hold his hand and kiss him, too. I wanted to meet him, get to know him better, and I told my dad about my plan of asking him out. “Don’t do that.”, my dad said. “It’s not appropriate for a girl to ask a boy out.” Though I partly agreed, since I had never seen a woman proposing to the man in a movie, or read about a girl kissing her crush first, I still didn’t understand what would be so bad about being an exception, so I asked my dad why I had to wait for a boy to show interest in me in order to be allowed to openly requite it. His answer was: “It’s just how it is, darling. The man makes the first move. It’s always been this way. Boys like to conquer, and girls love being chased.” When I was 17, I was part of a large group of friends. There was a boy who fancied me. I didn’t like him back, but I wasn’t used to anyone crushing on me, so I enjoyed the attention. He’d always tell me I was special. One of a kind. Different. “You’re not like other girls.”, he said. “You’re not a bitch. You’re funny, laid back, intelligent. You don’t just care about your nails or your hair. You get my sense of humour. You’re not like most girls. You’re my best guy friend. But with tits.” I was flattered in the beginning, but soon, I started to wonder if his compliments were any at all. I began to feel disgusted with him. I didn’t want to be his best guy friend with tits. So I asked him what’s so good about a girl like me, a girl unlike what he called a typical one, and his answer was: “That’s easy to explain. A pretty model type of girl is good enough to jack off to, but in the end, a guy wants some drama free pussy. You’re an exception. The majority of girls is superficial and slutty. The kind of girl you fuck, but dump when you’re ready to settle down. Or they’re just plain boring and prude. This sounds harsh, but it’s just how it is.” When I was 19, there was a boy I regularly had sex with. It was nice. Not the breathtaking kind of passionate, ecstatic fucking I had dreamed of; maybe we lacked chemistry, maybe it would have been nicer if we had been in love; but I was alright with it. I adapted, obeyed and swallowed. Of course I did. In the beginning, he really put an effort in giving me what I gave him. He really tried. But his attempts at putting his tongue to good work quickly faded into halfheartedly rubbing me dry and at some point, he said: “I’m giving up.” I asked him why. His answer was: “It’s so hard to get a girl off. You women need ages to cum. It’s so exhausting.” I laughed and told him I needed about two minutes when I did it on my own. “Then stick to that.”, he said. “I’ve got a cramp in my wrist. Women are so complicated. It’s just how it is. I’m sorry.” I am 20 now, and I’ve come to realize that my female identity has been shaped by a biased, hypocritical excuse based on ridiculous gender roles: “It’s just how it is.” All my life, I have asked them why, and all they said was “It’s just how it is.” And it didn’t matter whether I’ve asked men or women. Internalized misogyny is just as harmful. There were as many women as men who said: “It’s just how it is.” But that is not the answer I wanted. Not the answer I needed. These few words don’t fucking answer the countless questions concerning my gender identity. Why can’t I sit with my legs spread? What’s so shameful about what I keep between them? Why must I cover my breasts? Why am I being sexualized long before I’m even told when sex is? Why am I being taught to mistrust other girls? Why do I have to compete with other girls? Why am I only a good girl when I’m not like most girls? Why do I have to keep quiet about the way I feel? Why am I not allowed to show affection like men do? Can’t I conquer a boy’s heart, too? Why must love be about conquering, anyway? What if I don’t like being chased? What if it scares me? Why do boys scare me, anyway? Why do you make me feel inferior to them? And why do I have to like a boy in order to be liked? Why am I being shamed for being a “slut”, them shamed for being “prude”? Why am I expected to adapt, obey and swallow without praise when boys who return the favour are considered grateful, dedicated lovers, heroes, almost ,because to the majority of them, it’s not fucking understood that if I make them cum, they should make me cum, too? Why am I exhausting to be with? Why am I complicated? Is it because I’m a bitch? Because I’m an oversensitive little baby? Is it because I’m a slut? A prude virgin? Is it because I’m on my period? Cause women are just crazy? Cause I am jealous, manipulative, backstabbing, competitive or any of the other countless negative traits that are immediately connected with the female identity? All summed up, is it because I’m a girl? I’ve asked them. And they said yes. And when I asked “But why?”, they said it again: “It’s just how it is.” "It" is that context, is a never ending circle of resigning acceptance of the circumstance that girls are being raised to disrespect their own gender from their childhood on. I was, and am, expected to accept the fact that being female automatically makes me inferior, and that I should be thankful for being treated equally, because that’s not the standard. I was, and am, expected to appreciate and take it as a compliment when people tell me that I’m not like other women. Because I was, and am, expected to look down on women even though I am a woman myself. But I refuse. I refuse to adapt, obey and swallow. I refuse to accept that "it’s just how it is". I refuse to take this as an answer, and I will not stop asking why. I won’t ever stop asking why. Not because I want people to give me a proper response, but because I want them to question themselves, too. I want them to start wondering. Want them to start doubting the concept of the role I’ve learned to stick to before I knew how to spell my "typically female" name. I want them to think about it, lose their sleep about it, until they ask, too: "Why?" In order to eliminate misogynic stereotypes, we must unlearn to understand them. We must refuse to accept “It’s just how it is” as an answer, until we forget what “it” stands for. Keep asking why, until nobody knows an answer anymore. “It’s just how it is” is not an answer. Neither is “It’s cause you’re a girl”. Or “That’s how girls are”. Because girls can be everything and anything they want to be. That’s how it really is.
I REFUSE!, a rant on how my female identity has been shaped by excuses and lies (via fawnbabe)
