blessedharlot

2,109 notes

We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.
Anais Nin (via cabaretfurs)

(Source: balidomalido, via flanneryogonner)

217 notes

vegan-nature:

Question: How many vegans does it take to change a light bulb? 
Answer: It takes two. One to change the light bulb, and the other to explain to onlookers where we get our protein.

(via malakhgabriel)

2 notes

LS update

It was a week ago that I had my most recent doctor’s appointment. This is the second time a doctor has treated my LS and said not to come see them for several months, and this time I have a LOT more confidence than the last. I’ve slept on my side for some portion of every night for a week, and haven’t incurred the wrath of the LS (this hasn’t been possible for even a single night in a year). I’ve also not done an Epsom salt bath or iced. And things are still going well. Which is so very bizarre that I have to write about it to process it! I’ve had a very good week before, but that was with full meds, full home treatments, and about a 1000% more babying of my crotch and bending my whole rest of my body to take the brunt of life, movement and sitting. Now, I’m returning to kinder overall body mechanics.

One of the options for stopping the clobetasol was to stop cold. I was using it 3x a week, and I guess a step-down isn’t strictly required for that. I intended to step down at least a little, but never felt bad enough to remember to put it on! And now it’s been a week with even less irritation than I had before. So there doesn’t seem much point in using it again until I’m having a flare-up.

I also used no petrolatum today at all, which is seriously weird to wrap my head around. For a full six months I couldn’t get out of bed unless I frosted my cunt like a cupcake with Vaseline icing. Since November or so, the frosting was overkill, and I started a thin coating I had to reapply every time it got messed with. Now, that’s needed less and less. I still have a dose of petrolatum-based med morning and night. But even that coating doesn’t seem super necessary to keep friction from getting overwhelming.

The next step is to continue the Protopic/tacrolimus 2x a day for 3 more weeks, then start stepping down slowly.

I realized today that the birthday trip I want in New Orleans seems infinitely easier to manage than before. NOLA is a walk-intensive town, and it was hard to decide exactly how to plan around that. But I might not have to now.

I was worried what hotter temps would be like, since dryness is key. But so far it’s going just fine, even with a couple days of yardwork. And I have contingency plans for keeping my crotch colder than usual, if I need them.

(I’ve tried to keep track of what’s going on with my LS over these months. The pain started May of 2013, diagnosis in July, and major milestones in Nov 2013 and this month (Apr 2014). If you’re interested, you can find specific stuff under the tags #lichen sclerosus and #lichen sclerosis both, and broader stuff under #chronic illness and sometimes #chronic pain.)

Filed under lichen sclerosus lichen sclerosis chronic illness mention of genitalia

5,978 notes

nataliemeansnice:

my name is natalie and i’m fat. i’ve been more fat than i am now. i have been less fat. i’ve been the same fat. i’m fat from the side, fat from the front, fat from the back…you get the point.
fat girls have been lied to over and over in many ways our whole fat existences - told that we are restricted to certain styles/trends of clothing because anything too tight/short/revealing isn’t ‘flattering’. told that we should be glad to be hit on/cat-called by creepy men because hey, at least it’s something, right?! told that the world isn’t open to us and that we can’t be incredible creatures because we’re fat. told that we’re ugly/undesirable/weak/stupid/disgusting. told that we don’t deserve to be loved…or even to live.
it’s not true. none of it is true.
people ask me often - “i hate myself. how do you do it?” it’s simple.
one day, i decided that i was worth greatness, whatever size i was or wasn’t.
i wish i could go back to awkward, shy 13 year old me, look her dead in the eye and tell her that she. is. perfect. tell her that she can go anywhere, be anyone, wear anything and that she will always be important and will never, ever, ever be merely ‘the fat girl’.
i won’t drown in sweat in texas summers to cover my fat arms in sweaters or shield my thunder thighs from the spring breeze just because you don’t want to see them. my fat arms and thunder thighs have always been here for me when much of the world wasn’t. i won’t be beat down by people who do not care if i cry myself to sleep at night.
my mom has always told me that i am my biggest fan and ya know what?
she’s right.
you’re allowed to feel good. don’t let anyone take that away from you.

nataliemeansnice:

my name is natalie and i’m fat. i’ve been more fat than i am now. i have been less fat. i’ve been the same fat. i’m fat from the side, fat from the front, fat from the back…you get the point.

fat girls have been lied to over and over in many ways our whole fat existences - told that we are restricted to certain styles/trends of clothing because anything too tight/short/revealing isn’t ‘flattering’. told that we should be glad to be hit on/cat-called by creepy men because hey, at least it’s something, right?! told that the world isn’t open to us and that we can’t be incredible creatures because we’re fat. told that we’re ugly/undesirable/weak/stupid/disgusting. told that we don’t deserve to be loved…or even to live.

it’s not true. none of it is true.

people ask me often - “i hate myself. how do you do it?” it’s simple.

one day, i decided that i was worth greatness, whatever size i was or wasn’t.

i wish i could go back to awkward, shy 13 year old me, look her dead in the eye and tell her that she. is. perfect. tell her that she can go anywhere, be anyone, wear anything and that she will always be important and will never, ever, ever be merely ‘the fat girl’.

i won’t drown in sweat in texas summers to cover my fat arms in sweaters or shield my thunder thighs from the spring breeze just because you don’t want to see them. my fat arms and thunder thighs have always been here for me when much of the world wasn’t. i won’t be beat down by people who do not care if i cry myself to sleep at night.

my mom has always told me that i am my biggest fan and ya know what?

she’s right.

you’re allowed to feel good. don’t let anyone take that away from you.

(via ragdollmink)

22,984 notes

xekstrin:


A new religious statue in the town of Davidson, N.C., is unlike anything you might see in church.
The statue depicts Jesus as a vagrant sleeping on a park bench. St. Alban’s Episcopal Church installed the homeless Jesus statue on its property in the middle of an upscale neighborhood filled with well-kept townhomes.
Jesus is huddled under a blanket with his face and hands obscured; only the crucifixion wounds on his uncovered feet give him away.
The reaction was immediate. Some loved it; some didn’t.
"One woman from the neighborhood actually called police the first time she drove by," says David Boraks, editor of DavidsonNews.net. "She thought it was an actual homeless person."
That’s right. Somebody called the cops on Jesus.

And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Since you have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me.


I still love this statue.

xekstrin:

A new religious statue in the town of Davidson, N.C., is unlike anything you might see in church.

The statue depicts Jesus as a vagrant sleeping on a park bench. St. Alban’s Episcopal Church installed the homeless Jesus statue on its property in the middle of an upscale neighborhood filled with well-kept townhomes.

Jesus is huddled under a blanket with his face and hands obscured; only the crucifixion wounds on his uncovered feet give him away.

The reaction was immediate. Some loved it; some didn’t.

"One woman from the neighborhood actually called police the first time she drove by," says David Boraks, editor of DavidsonNews.net. "She thought it was an actual homeless person."

That’s right. Somebody called the cops on Jesus.

And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Since you have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me.

I still love this statue.

(Source: circuitfry, via princehal9000)

24 notes

..the credit system, which in its first stages furtively creeps in as the humble assistant of accumulation,… soon becomes a new and terrible weapon in the battle of competition and is finally transformed into an enormous social mechanism for the centralisation of capitals.
Karl Marx - Capital Vol 1 1867 (via dailymarx)

(via companion-to-owls)