Beauty Is in the Eye of the Beholder

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This is my main blog it includes a lot of feminism, body confidence, social justice, as well as bad jokes and stupid gifs.

Cis female, white, English, in a relationship with a boy, she/her/they/them pronouns, don't ever call me dude.

preteenager:

Roseanne 1996 // S8: EP 15 //Dan and his buddies talk about race and sexual orientation

(via lgbtlaughs)

— 4 hours ago with 21366 notes
#male privilege  #privilege  #colonialism  #racism 
….as an economics student, I really want to say no. Let me get back to you this time next year?

….as an economics student, I really want to say no. Let me get back to you this time next year?

(Source: officialjeffgoldblum, via ep1thymy)

— 6 hours ago with 51380 notes
this is a masterpiece

this is a masterpiece

(Source: elijahwood, via tom-has-toast)

— 7 hours ago with 171328 notes

prokopetz:

barnabasdeimos:

diglettdevious:

little-kitten-doll:

fast-and-fit:

THIS

To everyone who says it’s too expensive to eat on a budget. 

I love Twizzlers 

Where the fuck are you people buying your food that it costs so little?!

Note that virtually all of these price comparisons are complete horseshit. While it’s true that raw ingredients purchased in bulk can be cheaper than prepared or fast food, a naive price comparison doesn’t take into account a whole constellation of externalities, including:

  • Travel expenses. Grocery chains that sell raw ingredients in bulk often don’t have branches in or near low-income neighbourhoods, so the driving distance to reach one can be significant. If you have a low income, the gas you spend getting to and from the grocery store is a non-trivial component of your food’s total cost - and that’s assuming you own a car at all.
  • Storage expenses. Raw ingredients purchased in bulk need large amounts of storage space, and often that storage space needs to be refrigerated or climate-controlled. Many low-income households do not own large refrigerators or freezers, or cannot afford the electrical bills associated with keeping a large refrigerator or freezer running 24/7.
  • Preparation expenses. Raw ingredients purchased in bulk require appliances and tools to turn into edible food. Many low income households do not own a proper range or full-sized oven. Your food preparation options are sharply limited when all you have to work with is a microwave and a hot-plate - and, again, even if you do have a proper range and oven, actually using them incurs gas and electrical charges, which add to the real cost of your food.
  • Time. Driving to and from a distant grocery store takes time. Preparing food from raw ingredients takes time. This time expenditure can easily amount to hours per week - which is no particular impediment when you’re working a regular nine-to-five, but if you’re a single parent, or holding down multiple minimum-wage jobs with unpredictable schedules in order to make ends meet, that may well be time you don’t have. Plus, even if you can spare it, your time has monetary value (i.e., the time you’re spending purchasing and preparing food is time you’re not spending on any other productive endeavour), which again contributes to the real cost of your food.

Once all of these factors are properly taken into consideration, prepared and packaged food - and yes, sometimes even fast food - is indeed substantially less costly than purchasing raw ingredients in bulk and preparing your own food. Having the time, facilities, and convenience of access to prepare your own food from scratch every day is a luxury - and one that’s increasingly out of reach for many folks.

Also, in what world are cranberries a substitute for twizzlers??

(via mya-metrium)

— 7 hours ago with 107201 notes
#classism  #diet  #privilege  #food  #sizeism  #body policing 

theodd1sout:

I cannot stress this enough, it’s the only requirement to be my friend. 

Full image Facebook Twitter

Isn’t it interesting how the main (“default”) character in this is a white male? Like…errrgg so boring.

(via dumscivisti)

— 18 hours ago with 2258 notes

the-goddamazon:

thempress:

People look down on McDonald’s employees but fail to realize that if all these folks left McDonald’s and pursued “better careers”  your ass wouldn’t be able to get a McDouble with an Oreo McFlurry at 3am. 

You can’t demand a service while simultaneously degrading those who provide it for you. 

Same with any minimum wage service too.

You wanna shit on people who work at Wal-Mart but you wouldn’t be able to summarily buy a vacuum, milk, a Blu-Ray player, a TV, and baby wipes at 2 AM without those employees.

(via hebrideansky)

— 1 day ago with 165829 notes
#classism  #privilege  #capitalism 

nobodylovesanihilist:

yunglapras:

petticoatruler:

Detachment is a privilege held by people who aren’t targets.

"why are you so emotional about this" - unaffected people

read this. write it on your hand. repeat it to yourself.

so you can never ask me that again

(via official-mens-frights-activist)

— 1 day ago with 19691 notes
#privilege  #libertarians  #men  #social justice 
"

I could talk about the PE teacher in my town who was asked to resign due to his harassment of female students, who was then hired as a school bus driver for a rural route with both primary and high school students. I could talk about how, from the age of seven, I refused to wear skirts or dresses, and from the time I entered high school at 10 to when I moved at 16 I always wore bike shorts or CCC shorts under my dress, because he was not particularly subtle about the way he looked at us – and those bus steps are high. I could talk about how this was common knowledge and was never denied by any authority figure we ever raised it with, but rather we were just kind of brushed off. I could talk about how, sometimes, I was the last person on my bus in the afternoon and I was never quite sure if something bad would happen to me, even though for a long time I probably couldn’t have articulated what it was that I feared.

I could talk about how I spent ten years of my childhood believing it was perfectly normal and acceptable for a seven year old child to stop wearing her favourite clothes because a grown man she relies on to get to and from school from a relatively remote location gets a thrill from looking up her skirt.

I could talk about the art teacher at my high school who used to run his hands up and down our backs, right along the spot where your bra sits. Considering most of us were fairly new to wearing bras in the first place, this was a decidedly uncomfortable experience. I could talk about how he used to get just a little too close for comfort in the supply room. Nothing overt, nothing nameable – just enough to make you drag someone else along with you if you needed a fresh piece of paper or you ran out of ink. I could talk about how the odd comment or complaint that was made was completely handwaved, that we were told to be very careful about what we were saying, that we could get someone in a lot of trouble by “starting those kinds of rumours”, and did we really want to be responsible for that?

I could talk about the first time I was made to feel ashamed of my body, at twelve or thirteen, getting into a water fight with my stepfather and uncle in the height of summer. I could talk about my grandmother completely flipping out, talking about how disgusting it was, how grown men should be ashamed of the way they were behaving with a girl. I could talk about how she then spent the next few hours trying to convince me I was being somehow victimised, while I was mostly confused about what had taken place – it took me a long time to work it out. I could talk about the unvoiced but ever-present fear for months afterwards that my grandma would bring it up again, that she would bring it up in the wrong place or to the wrong people and that my uncle, a schoolteacher, would suffer for it.

I could talk about how that destroyed what had been a fantastic relationship with my uncle, and how, ten years later, he still won’t hug me at Christmas.

I could talk about being called a frigid bitch and a slut in the same breath in high school. I could talk about multiple instances of sitting in a big group of friends, hearing someone trying to get into someone else’s pants, starting off sweet enough but quickly descending into emotional manipulation and thinly veiled abuse. I could talk about the time I went off with someone willingly enough and being followed by someone I considered a friend, someone who would not leave no matter how many times I said “no”, who only went away when the person I was with said that he “didn’t feel like sharing”.

I could talk about the family friend who always made me feel a little bit off for no discernible reason. The one who if I was left alone in the room with him, I would always find an excuse to leave. The one time I expressed this, I was told I was being a drama queen, and that I needed to grow up and stop being so precious, that one day I was going to have to deal with people I didn’t like and I might as well get used to it. I could talk about how he never did anything untoward, never gave me any specific reason to feel unsafe – but years after I last saw him, when he was found guilty of four historical sexual assault charges, one of rape and three of indecent assault on girls under twelve, I was, for reasons I still don’t entirely understand, completely unsurprised.

I could talk about my boyfriend justifying his rape of me with “you could have fought me off if you really wanted you, you slut”. I could talk about how, when I tried to tell people, I was told I was being a nasty, spiteful, vindictive bitch. I could talk about how selfish it was of me to say such things, that he’d overcome such a hard life and was going to go on and make something of himself, who the hell was I to try and stand in his way?

I could talk about how my response to being raped was to sleep with anyone and everyone because I rationalised that if I never said no, then no one could force me. I could talk about how I have been told time and time again, by people who should know better, that this is a sign that I wasn’t really raped at all.

I could talk about how, when I finally worked up the courage to make a formal complaint of sexual harassment against my boss, I was asked why I had let it continue for so long, and what I had done to make him think his behaviour would be welcomed.

I could talk about how when a much later boss got me completely wasted at my leaving party, to the point where I couldn’t walk, and fucked me in a back alley, he waited until I was sober the next morning to tell me that he had a pregnant wife, because he heard through the grapevine that I was very strict about not sleeping with married people or straight women, and he thought I should “learn my place” and realise that I’m “not such a high and mighty bitch with a moral high ground after all”.

I could talk about these things, but I very rarely do. Since I was seven years old, I have been told that my body is not my own, that my consent is not my own, that my feelings of discomfort are not my own. I have taught myself to suppress my gut instinct upon meeting people. I have been taught to smile, to be polite, to suck it up if I feel unsafe. When I complain, I have been told I’m being irrational, oversensitive, and selfish. The underlying message is, how dare I try and ascertain any kind of control over my own body?

I should talk about it. But I don’t actually know whether I can.

"
An anonymous guest post on The Lady Garden. This is the reality for so many women. #YesAllWomen (via takealookatyourlife)

(Source: youtastelike-sunlight, via flyntcoal)

— 1 day ago with 19650 notes
#rape culture  #silencing  #victim blaming 

Every time I see this picture I like get taken aback because it literally looks like just a normal party

Every time I see this picture I like get taken aback because it literally looks like just a normal party

(via im-alostcause)

— 1 day ago with 625822 notes
#mean girls 

the-morning-and-the-evening-star:

allsnargents:

"Do you have to be so vulgar about men, like they’re pieces of meat?"

I HAVE WAITED SO LONG FOR THIS GIF SET

(Source: jordansparrish, via dumscivisti)

— 2 days ago with 444911 notes
#gifs  #objectification  #men  #lawrence croft  #feminism  #sexualisation 

I love playing Brienne of Tarth because, when I was growing up, I didn’t really see people on television that I felt that I could identify with. Women all looked kind of a particular way, women characters that were popular, anyway. And when I had the opportunity to play this part, it made me explore the parts of myself I had hidden from. I had very long hair. I wanted to look very feminine, really tall. (x)

(Source: rubyredwisp, via misandry-mermaid)

— 2 days ago with 30918 notes
#inspirational  #like  #personal fitness wise  #gifs  #feminism  #media representation 

hebrideansky:

stubblesmcgee:

badass-bharat-deafmuslim-artista:

beautiesofafrique:

One in three adults wishes Britain still had an empire

Source

What kind of fuckery is this?

Ahhh, white people who love imperialism, colonialism, forcing the Bible and the English language down everyone’s throats! Banning local cultures, traditions, languages, and religious customs. Banning homosexuality and imposing racist, sexist, patriarchal, homophobic Victorian ideals down brown + black people’s throats! Lovely.

Seriously, the whitewashing of history in school is NO joke. No wonder many people are woefully ignorant.

this is why i dont like the british. the british kids i knew when i studied overseas still had plenty of imperial aspirations.

And more topical than otherwise given Commonwealth Games right now…. ugh.

— 2 days ago with 2848 notes
#british  #the ugly side  #colonialism  #racism