:) too adorable to pass up
GPOY. Joe is the left owl.
:) too adorable to pass up
GPOY. Joe is the left owl.
How could you eat anything this adorable and innocent?! God, pigs are perfect.
Gah! He’s so fucking happy, especially in that last shot.
I wish self-esteem campaigns would focus less on “everyone is beautiful” and more on “who the fuck cares if you are beautiful or not”
you ever thought that maybe the reason girls say they’re fine when they’re not, or they’re not mad when they are, is because the second they show any semblance of emotion they’re written off as hysterical bitches that are probably on their period?
THE FUCKING DA VINCI CODE HAS BEEN CRACKED
So it’s the dawn of my book release and I am feeling many things. Nerves. Excitement. A stomachache because I decided to get a Dunkin Donuts breakfast wrap this morning. An ungodly Monday decision.
[Note: Wanna buy a book early? Links are on the side of the page. Read the post below and learn how to be involved in a pre-order giveaway, which ends tonight!]
I was going to write a post, something along the lines of “ten things I learned when writing a book,” because I learned a lot of things. The short list: don’t let Red Bull get warm, nobody is entitled to success, wash your pajamas. The longer list: the worst part of writing and life are the times you have to delete/let go of a part you really love, but oftentimes this process makes you stronger and better. And seriously, just because they are pajamas doesn’t mean you should let them get SO DIRTY.
However, on the dawn of my book release, I realize that I’m feeling VERY On Golden Pond nostalgic, so I decided the thing I really wanted to say.
I came to the Frenemy three years ago without any real mission. Correction. Three years ago, I had no real mission or purpose or cause in general/in life. I was the kind of floating algae at the top of the pond, slapping down margaritas and trying to become obsessed with a new television show and working so I could buy new shoes I could scuff in like a week. So I sort of bought into a lot of things. I believed my self-worth was in my stomach abs. I believed that beautiful women were the ones who looked strong but “were broken inside,” whatever the fuck that means. I believed that I was one of the guys. And when I started The Frenemy, that was generally how I felt.
Three fucking years later, and I have my mission. Maybe I am calling it a mission because I am reading The Hunger Games right now and it makes real life seem pretty banal. But if I had one thing that I wanted to teach one person before I die, it is this:
“Girls should not be taught to break. We are not a sea of broken women, who read into things like “inside I am crying and fragile and ripped” and believe that there is beauty in that, that there is nobility in being hurt by a man or by life and letting it destroy us a little. Girls should want love but not be defined by it. The heart is a muscle. It is meant to grow stronger as it gets used. The heart is a metaphor. We are blood and bone and the strengths of our mind. We are strong.
Girls should be taught that they are born in bodies that aren’t defined by imperfections. Stretch marks do not make our bodies less useful. Bigger noses or thighs or butts are marks of our individuality and they do not make our bodies any less useful. The lie that you are not beautiful is the biggest lie you’ll ever be told, and you’ll be told it every day till you die. You do not have to believe this lie. Treat the body like a tool and a temple. Take care of it and make it smell nice and work it and refuse to submit to the idea of somebody else’s perfect architecture for it.
Girls should be taught to be allies. Little boys are put on sports teams and are told to work together, give each other high-fives and pats on the back, grow older to call each other Eskimo brothers and drinking buddies. Women go into bars and stare at each other like “hey, I’m pretty too, bitch.” We are small islands, put together in packs of 1 or 2 or 5, clinging to the idea of “my girlfriends are the greatest” and “the rest of them are the enemy.” We fight over nothing bullshit like tall men and tall shoes and whose nonfat latte is more nonfat. Weak is in lack of numbers. There is strength in sisterhood, in learning who somebody is before dismissing them, in starting off with a white flag, a handshake, a surrender to the feelings that women are our sole competition. Girls should realize there is a world out there built on letting us down, and that this is not the world we will choose to live in.
Girls should embrace their decisions. Girls should be proud of what they wear, of their choice to have sex or abstain from it, of their choice to be a girl or to not be a girl, of their choice to marry or not to marry. Girls should learn from their mistakes of eating pizza at 2am or not taking that job. Girls should choose who and how many people they sleep with. Whatever their decision is, girls should embrace it. They should embrace and celebrate their choices, their free choices. May they no longer be chained and condemned to what they SHOULD do. May they only feel the freedom of seeing how their choices shape what they COULD do.
Girls should be taught that being a girl means being however they choose to define what being a girl means, because we are smart and strong and together.”