I’m a grade 12 in high school who just happens to wear a K-cup bra. I live a fairly normal high school existence, except for the fact that my bust size often gets me in trouble with teachers, especially female teachers.
Now, my school has a uniform that involves a blouse. Being a busty person, I need to undo three buttons in order to have it fit right without it being undone to below my breasts. Even then, it’s a bit of a stretch. There is literally no way to disguise my breasts. Even when I’ve bound them for crossplay, they still look like really large pectoral muscles. I’m also really confident with my body, so I don’t see why I should have to hide what my body looks like at school.
So you can imagine how angry it makes me when a teacher pulls me aside and whispers “you need to do your top up,” as if my life depended on it.
“You know what? You need to mind your own business,” is what I want to say.
Most of my bras don’t push my breasts together that much, anyway, so most of the time, you’ll see my sternum before any cleavage. If you’re so offended by a bone that protects the heart or a whopping whole inch of two bags of fat on either side of it, then I suggest you get a life.
The way the neckline of my blouse is cut also covers the centre of my bra (most of the time), and I have to either spread it apart (like in the picture), sit or kneel below someone, or lean forward for anyone to actually see it.
Now, notice the little white bow right at the top of the bra’s centre in the picture. Most bras have some little ornamentation there, like a bow or a crystal.
I think that’s there in case the bra accidentally peeks out from a shirt or dress; to make it look pretty as opposed to something with a purely industrial purpose. It almost glorifies the sternum and the rest of the bra, which is how I think every inch of someone’s body should be treated.
Bras don’t see anything offensive about a bone that shields the heart.
Bras are smarter than people.
One of my cousins hit puberty in the second grade.
She had an hourglass figure by the time she entered middle school.
Her first boyfriend thought she was just a bigger girl until the first time they went swimming together, because she’d gotten into the habit of wearing huge sweaters- even in the middle of summer, which can get hot enough to warrant heatstroke warnings- to try to disguise her chest.
This is because everywhere she turned, she was painted as a deviant, sexually promiscuous and attention-seeking youth. She started babysitting for a family friend when she was twelve, and grown women stared in open disapproval when she took the little boy out in his stroller for some fresh air. Men started catcalling at her and approaching her on the street when she was barely thirteen. Teachers looked down on her despite her uniformly excellent grades. Parents of friends immediately pointed to her as a bad influence when things went wrong, despite her immaculate record of just generally being a sensible sort of girl. She had very few female friends, and most of her high school peers assumed that she was sexually involved with most, if not all, of her many male friends. She never was.
This needs to stop.
This isn’t a fanservice video game where you get to choose cup size and bounciness before you start a round. This is real life. Unless she resorts to surgery, the amount of tissue a girl carries on her chest is completely outside of her control, and has nothing to do with her personality, abilities, or achievements.
Stop demonizing breasts. They’re just breasts.
From the barest bump to the cup that runneth over, a breast is a breast, and it should never be an object of shame.
She who carries the chest in question wasn’t doing anything shameful.
But if you feel the need to shame her, you were.
This is an audio of every single word that Moriarty says in Sherlock…i find it glorious to listen too but also disturbing because you only hear his side of the conversations and it really shows the madness within!
I love his voice. <3 I always fall in love with the crazy ones.
WIP part two. I wish I’d discovered hard brushes in SAI earlier, I kind of feel like a tool now.
OMG I CAN’T EVEN
OMGOMGOMG LOOK AT HOW SEXY SHE LOOKS DAT FACE DAT HAIR DEM LEGS
UGGGHHH SYTH Y U SO PRETTY
JAIG IS BEST ARTIST LOVE HIM FOREVER
Don’t mind me, just making some photosets of the best wallpapers I have ever seen
Via Tall, Dark and Loathsome
This is officially the best thing I have ever seen on Tumblr.
WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE
AND WHY ARE THEY MAKING SUCH AMAZING COSPLAYS.
Via Here's My Catchy Title
If I was a student at Hogwarts I’d use Howlers to send nice messages to people.
So you’d be sitting there in the Great Hall eating breakfast when an owl drops a Howler in front of you. You, and everyone else on your table, just stares at it as it trembles, explodes open, shrieks I WANT TO TOUCH YOUR SWEET BUTT and then dissolves into flames.
IM SO DONE
I seriously just had to teach my mother some basics of parenting.
Both photos are of my daughter in October, the first in 2011, the second in 2012. I let her pick out her own clothes, shoes, haircuts, hair colors, anything superficial, really. She’s too young to understand the permanence of piercings, so she doesn’t have any. But hair grows, shoes get grown out of, clothes go threadbare. These things don’t really matter—shouldn’t really matter—but anyone raising a gender-variant child knows the world isn’t that kind.
My daughter recently requested a haircut like mine. A long flop on top, pixie-length fade on the back and sides. She’s been bugging me for weeks to color her hair again, I just haven’t had the time. But today she came to me with the same shyness she keeps developing when outside our home; she’s being pressured by peers and family to look “normal,” to grow her hair long and uncolored, to dress a certain way (she hates to match), to indulge in self-consciousness, and alter or not alter her appearance to gain the approval of others, and society at large.
THIS FUCKING INFURIATES ME.
I called my mother tonight, because my daughter had become shy again, and didn’t want to color her hair anymore, and she said it was because of what her Nana had said to her. My mother told me we should get that spray-on Halloween hair colors, so it wouldn’t be so “permanent” and my daughter could be “normal” again to avoid being bullied.
IT IS NOT THE JOB OF THE VICTIM TO STOP BEING BULLIED. IT IS THE BULLY’S JOB TO STOP BULLYING.
I know she gets teased sometimes, and we always talk about it. She stays strong and confident, so long as she has the support of those around her. But what that support falters, or pulls a 180, she’s left to crash.
She also gets teased for liking dinosaurs and not dolls. She gets teased for preferring roughhousing to playing house. She gets teased for liking Lightning McQueen and not Cinderella. Where do we draw the line?
My mother thinks this is a “minor” thing, that it’s better to just blend in. But it would plant the seed of doubt, it forms the foundation for queer kids staying in the closet, for disabled kids to feel worthless, for young girls accepting abusive partners. This is not “minor,” it is fucking MAJOR, because this is my daughter’s foundation, and it will shape her life.
Support your fucking kids. Let them be who they want to be, look how they want to look, and play how they want to play. And make sure they know that you will love them no matter what.