This is a place of encouragement, a place to discuss body image, insecurities, self-esteem, and everything under the umbrella of fighting self-hate and finding self-love.

No matter what you look like, what color, what gender, sexual orientation, what size or however many "flaws", healthy, not healthy, working on it, abled, disabled, we are all human, we all deserve to be happy, we all deserve to love ourselves. With this blog you will see all kinds of REAL bodies, REAL people, REAL stories.

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-BE AWARE some posts may be triggering depending on submissions, check for trigger warnings and tags. Also any harassment will be met with blocking and a report to Tumblr Support

 

militantwocs:

“Paracetamol legends I knowFor rising fevers, as pain-relievers—
Of my people—father’s father’s mother’sMother, dark lush hair caressing her anklesSometimes, sweeping earth, deep-honey skin,Amber eyes—not beauty alone they say—sheMarried a man who murdered thirteen men and oneLonely summer afternoon her rice-white teeth toreThrough layers of khaki, and golden white skin to spillThe bloodied guts of a British soldier who tried to colonize her…
Of my land—uniform blue open skies,Mad-artist palettes of green lands and lily-filled lakes thatMirror all—not peace or tranquil alone, he shudders—someYoung woman near my father’s home, with a drunken husbandWho never changed; she bore his beatings everyday until on oneStormy night, in fury, she killed him by stomping his seedbags…
We: their daughters.We: the daughters of their soil.
We, mostly, write.”
- Their daughters by Meena Kandasamy

militantwocs:

“Paracetamol legends I know
For rising fevers, as pain-relievers—

Of my people—father’s father’s mother’s
Mother, dark lush hair caressing her ankles
Sometimes, sweeping earth, deep-honey skin,
Amber eyes—not beauty alone they say—she
Married a man who murdered thirteen men and one
Lonely summer afternoon her rice-white teeth tore
Through layers of khaki, and golden white skin to spill
The bloodied guts of a British soldier who tried to colonize her…

Of my land—uniform blue open skies,
Mad-artist palettes of green lands and lily-filled lakes that
Mirror all—not peace or tranquil alone, he shudders—some
Young woman near my father’s home, with a drunken husband
Who never changed; she bore his beatings everyday until on one
Stormy night, in fury, she killed him by stomping his seedbags…

We: their daughters.
We: the daughters of their soil.

We, mostly, write.”

- Their daughters by Meena Kandasamy

becomingamermaid:

I’ve got a body

And you have one too

But please dear person

DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO

-

I can be thin

Loving  flab is fine

My piercings are expressions

I HAVE A BODY AND IT’S ALL MINE

-

This body may have hair

Or be bald and hair free

It’s simply not your concern

I HAVE THE RIGHT TO BE ME

-

You may have a fancy badge

Or perhaps a big long degree

That doesn’t give you the right

TO POLICE  ARREST OR JUDGE ME

-

You love your body,

And I’ll do the same

For all bodies are beautiful

AND MINE IS FOR ME ALONE TO CLAIM


written by becomingamermaid.tumblr.com

yokoandjohn:

“your body is a whole entire beautiful magical universe

of its own, exactly right and perfect.
i know that this is not what you have been taught, but it is The Truth.
how could anything so incredible ever be denigrated,
scoffed at, invaded, discounted, spat on, violated, ridiculed?
your body is magic.

what you are thinking now is:
why was i told to look at charts, diagrams, scales
and teen magazines to tell me what is wrong with me?
why wasn’t i told to trust myself?
why did they make me feel like a horrifying ugly
pathetic puking loathsome monster,
if the truth is that i am magic?”

By: Nomy Lamm

an ode to stretch marks (and other alien life forms)


like rivers running down the
banks of my breasts
the intimate corners of my thighs
like the zebra’s stripes I so
ardently admired in my youth
each one signifying one more
moment one more breath one more
evidence of puberty’s biting wit
in making me a Woman before I ever
saw one in myself
(before others saw within
me the Woman I would
grow to be)
which leads me to my current incarnation
these rivers carved within my tissue
run deep and ragged and long,
some faint streams others oceans in themselves
each one ushering in a new me
as I learned what a Woman was
Supposed to be—
quiet demure a thing of beauty
an Object to cherish while it retains its luster
oiled and
plucked and
inherently somehow bettered
no longer a body but a showcase
a trophy for its owner and her owner—and a
woman is nothing but an
advertisement for some skin care line
minivan shopping mall plastic surgeon
white bread peanut butter
all-american
lifestyle
what they sell you in a woman is a lifestyle
values traits and physicality hand
picked for your enjoyment
never challenging you
sharpening you
only agreeing with you
until you lose your essence too
that’s what they sell you in a woman—
which leads me to my current incarnation
these rivers carved within my tissue
carve within my heart a new
yearning a new
lust for learning
a new
way of life to combat that
which seeks to make
my sex into profit
my sex into a commodity
bought and sold for pennies
those who seek to tell me
my stretch marks
aren’t a think of beauty
they are in fact a problem
here, you poor young thing
here, let me fix that for you
and fifteen serums
seven diets
four permanents
two layers of nail lacquer
and one eternity later
I am no longer a Woman
only a Doll
some window display for the
faint of heart whose conditioning means they
cannot understand or
maybe just cannot handle
what it means to love
a Woman and I
I am all
Woman
in this body I breathe deeply
I feel deeply
I am, deeply
passionately, unequivocally, unrestrainedly, unabashedly
Woman
I am
without apology or philosophy or
theology or prophecy defining me,
without chronology or history or
any other -ology interrupting the flow of
me, a girl of nearly eighteen
darked eyed and beautiful in all my
stretched and marked
glory, in all my purple-red
magnificence
purple is the color of royalty, you know
and I am the Queen of
my soul and my body—
heart and flesh and sinew—
ever follicle freckle scar
every cell
and its infinite capacity for
warmth richness vibrancy
all twisted into a cacophonous symphony
of all that comprises the
Woman
in me

Written by the wonderful and talented Katherine L. (acting-appalled)!!