My Chaotic Daze

coreyhayesphoto:

Gina

reversecentaur:

kitsunebellproductions:

bakeanddestroy:

alwaysbleeding:

Not unless one guy’s got the other in an upside-down bear hug, sweetie. Otherwise you have to stop walking to blow each other.

It’s definitely going to be weird watching all the gay people literally fucking in the streets. Just scissoring and buttfucking right there on the sidewalk, giving all that oral sex to each other up against lampposts and stuff.

Because that’s what marriage is all about. I know because I am privileged to have had the option for heterosexual unions my entire life, and that’s one of the coolest parts. The first thing I did when I put the ring on Natalie’s finger was to take her out in the middle of Cherry street and just bury my face in her knickers. It was a little weird because some other people had just gotten married and they were already fucking on top of someone’s car, and another couple from a nearby church were doing some shit with rubber toys I still don’t fully understand, but we tried our best to ignore them and focus on the very public, totally legal sex we were about to have.

The cool thing about America is that when you get married here it supersedes all indecent exposure and lewd conduct laws, and you can basically just walk into a preschool and start sucking on your husband’s dick or ejaculating all over your wife’s hair right in front of the kids, or go down on each other in the toothpaste aisle at Target.

It’s awesome, and I’m extremely happy to share that awesomeness with many fine, gay Americans thanks to the progressive attitudes of people in several key states.

See you on the sidewalks, gays! And you’d better not have any clothes on, you married sons of bitches! Live nude totally public fucking! Wooooooo!

Giggling.

*HYSTERICAL LAUGHTER*

*wicked tittering*

thebodyloveblog:

WARNING: Picture might be considered obscene because subject is not thin. And we all know that only skinny people can show their stomachs and celebrate themselves. Well I’m not going to stand for that. This is my body. Not yours. MINE. Meaning the choices I make about it, are none of your fucking business. Meaning my size, IS NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS.

If my big belly and fat arms and stretch marks and thick thighs offend you, then that’s okay. I’m not going to hide my body and my being to benefit your delicate sensitivities.

This picture is for the strange man at my nanny’s church who told me my belly was too big when I was five.

This picture is for my horseback riding trainer telling me I was too fat when I was nine.

This picture is for the girl from summer camp who told me I’d be really pretty if I just lost a few pounds

This picture is for all the fucking stupid advertising agents who are selling us cream to get rid of our stretch marks, a perfectly normal thing most people have (I got mine during puberty)

This picture is for the boy at the party who told me I looked like a beached whale.

This picture is for Emily from middle school, who bullied me incessantly, made mocking videos about me, sent me nasty emails, and called me “lard”. She made me feel like I didn’t deserve to exist. Just because I happened to be bigger than her. I was 12. And she continued to bully me via social media into high school.

MOST OF ALL, this picture is for me. For the girl who hated her body so much she took extreme measures to try to change it. Who cried for hours over the fact she would never be thin. Who was teased and tormented and hurt just for being who she was.

I’m so over that.

THIS IS MY BODY, DEAL WITH IT.

and FUCK YOU ALL who tried to degrade my being and sense of self with your hurtful comments and actions.

GUESS WHAT IT DIDN’T WORK HAHAHAHAH

xoxoxoxoxoox