(via coffeeinthemountains)

crushsuggestions:

I want routine with you, I want waking up in a morning to the sun shining or the rain pouring with you, I want home with you, I want late night tv and too much to drink with you, I want slow dancing in our living room, in our house, in our home with you. I want you.

(via fvcked--waves)

janel-moloney:

Darren Criss discusses playing Andrew Cunanan in The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story

(via kissedmequiteinsane)

(via nycoffeeshop)

(Source: enjoy-the-life-baby, via carrrymyheart)

(via thefallseason-deactivated201708)

"

How to talk to your daughter about her body, step one: Don’t talk to your daughter about her body, except to teach her how it works.

Don’t say anything if she’s lost weight. Don’t say anything if she’s gained weight.

If you think your daughter’s body looks amazing, don’t say that. Here are some things you can say instead:

“You look so healthy!” is a great one.

Or how about, “You’re looking so strong.”

“I can see how happy you are – you’re glowing.”

Better yet, compliment her on something that has nothing to do with her body.

Don’t comment on other women’s bodies either. Nope. Not a single comment, not a nice one or a mean one.

Teach her about kindness towards others, but also kindness towards yourself.

Don’t you dare talk about how much you hate your body in front of your daughter, or talk about your new diet. In fact, don’t go on a diet in front of your daughter. Buy healthy food. Cook healthy meals. But don’t say, “I’m not eating carbs right now.” Your daughter should never think that carbs are evil, because shame over what you eat only leads to shame about yourself.

Encourage your daughter to run because it makes her feel less stressed. Encourage your daughter to climb mountains because there is nowhere better to explore your spirituality than the peak of the universe. Encourage your daughter to surf, or rock climb, or mountain bike because it scares her and that’s a good thing sometimes.

Help your daughter love soccer or rowing or hockey because sports make her a better leader and a more confident woman. Explain that no matter how old you get, you’ll never stop needing good teamwork. Never make her play a sport she isn’t absolutely in love with.

Prove to your daughter that women don’t need men to move their furniture.

Teach your daughter how to cook kale.

Teach your daughter how to bake chocolate cake made with six sticks of butter.

Pass on your own mom’s recipe for Christmas morning coffee cake. Pass on your love of being outside.

Maybe you and your daughter both have thick thighs or wide ribcages. It’s easy to hate these non-size zero body parts. Don’t. Tell your daughter that with her legs she can run a marathon if she wants to, and her ribcage is nothing but a carrying case for strong lungs. She can scream and she can sing and she can lift up the world, if she wants.

Remind your daughter that the best thing she can do with her body is to use it to mobilize her beautiful soul.

" 

figblush:

barefoot in the grass, wearing my white cotton sundress, eating fresh strawberries and drinking lemonade.

(via thesun-shone-upon-her)

"

“Are You A Feminist?”

I am five years old. My mother just told me to go fetch a sweater because an adult man would be coming over soon, and I need to cover up.

I am seven years old. A boy wouldn’t stop chasing me on the playground and throwing rocks at me. I’m upset. My best friend says it’s because he likes me and she told me boys are mean to girls they like.

I am ten years old. We just had our first health class in school. The teachers were trying to educate us on sexual assault. After class, my friends told me to scream fire instead of rape if I’m ever being attacked, because no one will come if they hear the word rape being screamed.

I am twelve years old. I just got my first period. A pad fell out of my book bag at school and everyone started laughing. Apparently, periods aren’t normal and they should be hidden at all costs.

I am fifteen years old. I’m in the office crying because a boy I don’t know kept following me down the hallway and grabbing my ass even after I told him to stop. The administrator scolds me.
“maybe you shouldn’t be wearing leggings if you don’t want that kind of attention”
she sends me home with a dress code violation. She marked the “distracting” box.

I am seventeen years old. I’ve just been slapped because a boy got angry with me after I wouldn’t let him put his hands down my pants. Apparently, I led him on by letting him copy my math assignment.

I am twenty-one years old. My best friend has bought me special nail polish to wear to the bar. She says it changes color if it’s dipped in a drink that has a date rape drug in it.

I am twenty-three years old. I’m reading this to the first class I will ever teach. A student raises her hand and says, “no offense, but doesn’t this stuff happen to every girl?”

So yes, I am a feminist. And when you ask me why, I will read this to you. Again, and again, and again.

" 

(Source: kallelundholm.com, via meganann-xo)

animedads:

folks, I’m just gonna say it. I don’t think it rains for long enough periods of time. it rains hard, it sounds good, I’m comfortable inside, but within 5 minutes the jig is up. the dream is over. I think it should rain for longer periods of time than it presently does

(via meganann-xo)

(via uptional)

(Source: weheartit.com, via hailstormsandsunshine-deactivat)

coffee-n-mtns:

Oregon Coast

(via meganann-xo)

birdasaurus:

Nine After Midnight

(via sass-class-cass)