Sami: 20, Female, Fangirl, and Hopelessly Confused About My Life

kawaiiusgai:

Manga vs. Anime Comparisons. 

Act 5- Makoto- Sailor Jupiter

(via lillian-raven)

Notes
243
Posted
23 hours ago
Wakes up:drAGON AGE
Checks tumblr:dragonagecregonagedragonage
Goes to school:DraGoN A ge !
Bookstore:dRagON AG E?!?
Showering:*sings* DRAgoN AGE
Breathes in:Dragon
Breathes out:Age
Sleeps:Ah yes, drAGo n A geeEg
Notes
2713
Posted
23 hours ago

marauders4evr:

If Toph doesn’t greet Korra by saying, “Long time no see.”, thereby acknowledging her friendship with Aang while also making the best pun in the world then what is the point!?

(via kitcassie)

Notes
289
Posted
1 day ago

theladylavellan:

Dragon Age Inquisiton - Companions

(via aeducanswag)

Notes
1646
Posted
1 day ago

Why do we constantly do this to our children? /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

(via arcanehex)

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is eight years old, she’s got pink cheeks that her grandmother calls chubby. She wants a second cookie but her aunt says “you’ll get huge if you keep eating.” She wants a dress and the woman in the changing room says “she’ll probably need a large in that.” She wants to have dessert and her waiter says “After all that dinner you just had? You must be really hungry!” and her parents laugh.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is eleven and she is picked second-to-last in gym class. She watches a cartoon and sees that everyone who is annoying is drawn with a big wide body, all sweaty and panting. At night she dreams she is swelling like the ocean over seabeds. When she wakes up, she skips school.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is thirteen and her friends are stick-thin ballerinas with valleys between their hipbones. She is instead developing the wide curves of her mother. She says she is thick but her friends argue that she’s “muscular” and for some reason this hurts worse than just admitting that she jiggles when she walks and she’ll never be a dancer. Eating seconds of anything feels like she’s breaking some unspoken rule. The word “indulgent” starts to go along with “food.”

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is fourteen and she has stopped drinking soda and juice because they bloat you. She always takes the stairs. She fidgets when she has to sit still. Whenever she goes out for ice cream, she leaves half at the bottom - but someone else always leaves more and she feels like she’s falling. She pretends to like salad more than she does. She feels eyes burrowing through her body while she eats lunch. Kate Moss tells her nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, but she just feels like she is wilting.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is fifteen the first time her father says “you’re getting gaunt.” She rolls her eyes. She eats one meal a day but thinks she stays the same size. Every time she picks up a brownie she thinks of the people she sees on t.v. and every time she has cake, she thinks of the one million magazine articles on restricting calories. She used to have no idea a flat stomach was supposed to be beautiful until she saw advice on how to achieve it. She cuts back on everything. She controls. They tell her she’s getting too thin but she doesn’t believe it.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is sixteen and tearing herself into shreds in order for a thigh gap big enough to hush the screams in her head. She doesn’t “indulge,” ever. She can’t go out with friends, they expect her to eat. She damns her sweet tooth directly to hell. It’s coffee for breakfast and tea for lunch and if there’s dance that evening, two cups of water and then maybe an apple. She lies all the time until she thinks the words will rot her teeth. She dreams about food when she sleeps. Her aunt begs her to eat anything, even just a small cookie. They say, “One bite won’t make you fat, will it, darling?”

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is seventeen and too sick to go to prom because she can’t stand up for very long. She thinks she wouldn’t look good in a dress anyway. Her nails are blue and not because they are painted. Her hair is too thin to do anything with. She’s tired all the time and always distracted. She once absently mentions the caloric value of grapes to the boy she is with and he looks at her like she’s gone insane and in that moment she realizes most people don’t have numbers constantly scrolling in their heads. She swallows hard and tries to figure out where it all went wrong, why more than a granola bar for a meal makes her feel sick, why she tastes disease and courts with death. She misses sleep. She misses being able to dream. She misses being herself instead of just being empty.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is twenty and writes poetry and is a healthy weight and still fights down the voices every single day. She puts food in her mouth and sometimes cries about it but more and more often feels good, feels balanced. Her cheeks are pink and they are chubby and soft and no longer growing slight fur. Her hair is long and it is beautiful. She still picks herself apart in the mirror, but she’s starting to get better about it. She wears the dress she likes even if it only fits her in a large and she doesn’t feel like a failure for it. She is falling in love with the fat on her hips.

She is eating out with friends and not worrying about finding the lowest calorie item on the menu when she hears a mother tell her four year old daughter “You can’t have ice cream, we just had dinner.
You don’t want to end up as a fat little girl.”

Notes
312133
Posted
1 day ago
clgdoublelifts asked: hey molly i'm having a slow day and i was wondering if you were in the mood to tell another story because literally i have not laughed as hard at anybody else's anecdotes on this entire goddamn site and it would be pretty rad


Answer:

ofgeography:

when i lived in spain, i worked as a “bartender” in madrid. i put “bartender” in quotation marks because my boss fernando trusted me with literally nothing but cleaning glasses and occasionally a CLOSELY SUPERVISED mojito. the bar was called “la chocita sueca,” which basically means “the swedish hut,” but can also, as far as i can tell, mean something VERY DIFFERENT and vERY RUDE.

  • this led to a lot of general confusion from the patrons, who were always wondering whether i (the only super, super white person) was The Swede. 
  • "THIS BAR IS NOT NAMED AFTER ME," i would shout, trying to be heard above the music and the huge portrait of elvis that hung behind the bar. "I AM LITERALLY JUST HERE TO WASH DISHES AND MAKE TERRIBLE MOJITOS."
  • "OK BUT ARE YOU SWEDISH?" they would ask me. "LIKE ARE YOU SWEDISH, THOUGH?"
  • "nO."
  • "ARE YOU SURE?"
  • "VERY SURE."
  • "YOU LOOK SWEDISH."
  • "I UNDERSTAND, BUT I AM NOT SWEDISH."
  • "NOT EVEN A LITTLE SWEDISH?"
  • "NOT EVEN A LITTLE SWEDISH. AS I HAVE SAID."
  • BUT YOUR EYES ARE VERY BLUE?”
  • "I AM NOT FUCKING SWEDISH!!!!!!!!" 
  • at which point fernando would sweep in and say soothingly, “shhh, it’s okay. why don’t you go wipe down the vomit on the bar??”
  • rinse. rather. repeat.

anyway, on weeknights when the bar wasn’t busy, fernando always let me come in and talk to him and learn how to make drinks. as someone who hates hard liquor, i was very bad at it. my entire repertoire is a mimosa and a tequila sunrise. in my defense, fernando was aware of this going in. the entire hiring process went:

ME: can i work here?
FERNANDO: do you know how to make alcoholic beverages in exchange for money?
ME: no.
FERNANDO: come on wednesday.

so one day, my roommate bryan takes me out for a delicious fancy dinner, along with his little brother and his little brothers three friends, who were all visiting and sleeping on our floor. on the walk home i noticed that we were going to pass by la chocita (which was about a 5 minute walk from my house). so i separated from bryan and the boys to drop in and say hello to my old friend fernando. 

it’s a tuesday at 9:30p.m. so the bar was naturally empty, and fernando was just chillin’ with the elvis picture and the human-sized statue of liberty replica. 

"maya!!" he said. he called me maya, as did most of my friends in madrid, because it was easier and because i hate the way "molly" sounds when it is breaking up a spanish sentence. "molly" in any language that isn’t english literally sounds like a fart on a first date.

  • "molly" when said in an english sentence: what a cute, rosy-cheeked young lady, probably looking to cuddle a dog and have a good laugh!!
  • "molly" when said in literally any other language: WHAT IS THIS GROSS PIECE OF WOOD IN MY MOUTH?? IT TASTES OF TODDLERS AND THE ASHES OF YOUTHFUL DREAMS.

so in i pop, and there is fernando, who immediately sets to telling me all about his son and how handsome he is and how he’s about my age and fernando’s not saying anything but he’s JUST SAYING—

"here, have some of this," fernando said, and handed me a glass of kalimotxo.

  • WHAT IS KALIMOTXO, you ask? PRETTY EASY:
  • 1. get some cheap-ass wine, like hella cheap, like the CHEAPEST WINE YOU CAN FIND, PROBABLY IN A BOX, PROBABLY CALLED “CHEAP CHEAP CHEAP WINE FOR POOR COLLEGE STUDENTS.”
  • 2. get some diet coke.
  • 3. get some ice
  • 4. combine.
  • 5. “WHAT IS HAPPENING????” - your body, horrified and delighted.

"idk, fernando," i said. "it’s a tuesday? i have class tomorrow?"

"WHO EVER GOT DRUNK ON A LITTLE KALIMOXTO," fernando said.

i took the drink.

  • "WHAT IS HAPPENING????" - my body, horrified and delighted.

"try this, too," fernando told me after a moment, pushing a bright green glass in my direction. "it’s new. i’m trying it out."

"idk, fernando," i said. "it’s a tuesday? i have class tomorrow?"

"WHO EVER GOT DRUNK ON A LITTLE BRIGHT GREEN BOOZE?" fernando said.

i took the drink.

  • "THIS IS DANCING A SAMBA IN MY MOUTH!!" - my actual words to my actual boss.

"wait wait, try this one," fernando added, now pushing a tiny shot glass toward me with gold-colored liquid and sugar at the bottom.

"idk, fernando," i said. "it’s a tuesday? my lips are tingly?"

"WHO EVER GOT TINGLY LIPS FROM A LITTLE GOLD-COLORED LIQUID WITH SUGAR AT THE BOTTOM?" fernando said.

i took the drink.

  • "it tastes like i already regret it!!!" - me, giving the statue of liberty replica a kiss.

"I FUCKING LOVE YOUR BAR NUTS," i said. "THEY’RE THE BEST BAR NUTS I HAVE EVER HAD. CAN I HAVE A POUND OF THEM?"

"okay," fernando said, and handed me a bag of bar nuts as big as my torso. it was very heavy. it was a tuesday at about 11p.m. and i opened the bag, dipped my hand in, and shoved a whole handful into my mouth.

  • IN MY DEFENSE: these were the best bar nuts in the world.
  • i stand by that.

"you should go home," fernando told me, looking suddenly doubtful. "you have class on wednesday."

"WHO EVER HEARD OF CLASS ON A WEDNESDAY?" i said. "GIVE ME SOME MORE OF THE TINGLY LIPS STUFF." it was probably hard to hear me around the bar nuts.

fernando, now very alarmed, called me a taxi. i should remind you that my apartment was a five minute walk from the bar, but with my hands full of a full 3-lb bag of bar nuts that i refused to give back and a my fist closed tightly around the neck of a bottle of tinto de verano, there was really no way i was going to make it that far.

"where to?" the taxista asked. i gave him my address. he blinked at me. "that’s… right there," he said, and pointed.

"yes," i agreed, taking another mouthful of bar nuts.

"we can see it," the taxista said.

"yes," i agreed again. "would you like some bar nuts?"

"….no," the taxista said, and pulled forward toward my apartment, glancing nervously back at the chipmonked motherfucker doublefisting bar nuts and dessert wine in the back of his cab on a tuesday.

"DID YOU KNOW," i said, "I AM NOT AT ALL SWEDISH?"

"okay," the taxista said. "we’re here."

i don’t remember what happened after that, but in the morning i woke up to the following three surprises:

  1. the tinto de verano was nowhere to be found. nowhere. did i give it to the taxista???? did i leave it on the stairs???? HAD THERE EVER BEEN A BOTTLE AT ALL???? WHO PUT SEVEN LEMONS IN MY FRIDGE?
  2. i was wearing socks on my hands.
  3. i woke up to bryan’s brother and his three friends asking loudly, “why the hell are there nuts everywhere?”

"NO REASON," i said.

Notes
3936
Posted
1 day ago
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