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The Facts Were These
Hi! I'm Shelby, i'm a nineteen year old illustration student. my hobbies include watching tv, reading and also crying about comics, movies, baking and sleeping in. my best friend is a big fat white cat named sugar who likes to cover everything with hair and invade my space. I also co-run storysettings, autumnnightswinterplights, and floriographing.

home ask rss Story - Settings Florio graphing Autumn Nights About Me Art Blog My Face
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always ask a snail where they are going and if they need help getting there

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ina garten knows exactly how to kill us all


ina garten knows exactly how to kill us all

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"w is not a vowel"
— every message in my inbox for the next 16 years (via corporateaccount)

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iowa is the only state that consists entirely of vowels

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if I ever fall into a coma someone please come secretly tweeze my eyebrows so I can make all the nurses hella jealous of my unconscious eyebrow game. 

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if skinny people get this mad over one lyric in a song imagine how they would feel if they had to face the constant reminders that there is something fundamentally flawed and disgusting about your body and that it’s all your fault and that it would be better if you just didn’t exist (and this was evidenced, upheld and justified by popular culture, media, medical journals, clothing stores, family, friends, total strangers etc.)

y’all couldn’t do it. y’all wouldn’t last a day. 

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being called annoying is literally the worst thing ever because then you’re scared to ever say or do anything again and you end up isolating yourself because you think everyone hates you and you feel insecure about everything. long story short pls dont call people annoying

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I know my crappy pics don’t fully illustrate my point
I’m just sick of going to movies or reading comics and out of the infinite possibilities out there for aliens, male aliens are the only ones who ever have any sort of variety

breathtaking and timeless

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as you can see, this is where the party is at

as you can see, this is where the party is at

tags: #my face #sugar

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ah yes, a good bedtime story *pulls up hardcore 18+ fanfic*

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i guess i recorded an ice bucket challenge today after i got my wisdom teeth out ??

"I’M BLEEDING….. that’s okay i can still do it"


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is eight years old, she’s got pink cheeks that her grandmother calls chubby. She wants a second cookie but her aunt says “you’ll get huge if you keep eating.” She wants a dress and the woman in the changing room says “she’ll probably need a large in that.” She wants to have dessert and her waiter says “After all that dinner you just had? You must be really hungry!” and her parents laugh.

is eleven and she is picked second-to-last in gym class. She watches a cartoon and sees that everyone who is annoying is drawn with a big wide body, all sweaty and panting. At night she dreams she is swelling like the ocean over seabeds. When she wakes up, she skips school.

is thirteen and her friends are stick-thin ballerinas with valleys between their hipbones. She is instead developing the wide curves of her mother. She says she is thick but her friends argue that she’s “muscular” and for some reason this hurts worse than just admitting that she jiggles when she walks and she’ll never be a dancer. Eating seconds of anything feels like she’s breaking some unspoken rule. The word “indulgent” starts to go along with “food.”

is fourteen and she has stopped drinking soda and juice because they bloat you. She always takes the stairs. She fidgets when she has to sit still. Whenever she goes out for ice cream, she leaves half at the bottom - but someone else always leaves more and she feels like she’s falling. She pretends to like salad more than she does. She feels eyes burrowing through her body while she eats lunch. Kate Moss tells her nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, but she just feels like she is wilting.

is fifteen the first time her father says “you’re getting gaunt.” She rolls her eyes. She eats one meal a day but thinks she stays the same size. Every time she picks up a brownie she thinks of the people she sees on t.v. and every time she has cake, she thinks of the one million magazine articles on restricting calories. She used to have no idea a flat stomach was supposed to be beautiful until she saw advice on how to achieve it. She cuts back on everything. She controls. They tell her she’s getting too thin but she doesn’t believe it.

is sixteen and tearing herself into shreds in order for a thigh gap big enough to hush the screams in her head. She doesn’t “indulge,” ever. She can’t go out with friends, they expect her to eat. She damns her sweet tooth directly to hell. It’s coffee for breakfast and tea for lunch and if there’s dance that evening, two cups of water and then maybe an apple. She lies all the time until she thinks the words will rot her teeth. She dreams about food when she sleeps. Her aunt begs her to eat anything, even just a small cookie. They say, “One bite won’t make you fat, will it, darling?”

is seventeen and too sick to go to prom because she can’t stand up for very long. She thinks she wouldn’t look good in a dress anyway. Her nails are blue and not because they are painted. Her hair is too thin to do anything with. She’s tired all the time and always distracted. She once absently mentions the caloric value of grapes to the boy she is with and he looks at her like she’s gone insane and in that moment she realizes most people don’t have numbers constantly scrolling in their heads. She swallows hard and tries to figure out where it all went wrong, why more than a granola bar for a meal makes her feel sick, why she tastes disease and courts with death. She misses sleep. She misses being able to dream. She misses being herself instead of just being empty.

is twenty and writes poetry and is a healthy weight and still fights down the voices every single day. She puts food in her mouth and sometimes cries about it but more and more often feels good, feels balanced. Her cheeks are pink and they are chubby and soft and no longer growing slight fur. Her hair is long and it is beautiful. She still picks herself apart in the mirror, but she’s starting to get better about it. She wears the dress she likes even if it only fits her in a large and she doesn’t feel like a failure for it. She is falling in love with the fat on her hips.

She is eating out with friends and not worrying about finding the lowest calorie item on the menu when she hears a mother tell her four year old daughter “You can’t have ice cream, we just had dinner.
You don’t want to end up as a fat little girl.”

Why do we constantly do this to our children? /// r.i.d  (via hi-im-eating)

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“man i am so tired” stays up for 3 more hours doing absolutely nothing

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