This is the ideal male body type. You may not like it, but this is what peak performance looks like.
A perfect man.
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@barbievspredator
This is the ideal male body type. You may not like it, but this is what peak performance looks like.
A perfect man.

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Absolutely speechless
Cr.Alamy (there was no photographer name), edited by me
if i was in an alien movie i'd be luring the xenomorph into a hot wok and adding chili, garlic, ginger, shaoxin wine, scallions, white pepper and sesame oil
You are telling me that alien fried this rice?
Sweetgrass Basket Artist Mary Jackson
“My inspiration comes from what was done before and evolves from old forms, like the traditional rice basket, which is a wide plate with a raised edge,” says Jackson, now 74. The Mount Pleasant native grew up in the Seven Mile area, where she learned basket-making from her mother, Evelyina Foreman, and both grandmothers, Irene Foreman and Estelle Rouse.
When you open your eyes to how much the media reinforces hairlessness as a standard for women, you can never shut them again. And whilst there is a level of empowerment to realising it’s all a load of bullshit and your body hair is actively protecting and defending, it’s also incredibly lonely, frustrating, and demoralising.

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Because I continue to overestimate my llamas' respect for informal agreements, I opened the pasture gate to let everyone graze a bit around the neighbour's barn. This area has a fence that can be jumped over pretty easily, but I was going to be sitting there watching them the whole time—well, watching them intermittently while reading a book, but if I glance up every 2 minutes, realistically how could four slow herbivores
😔
If you would like to join me on this long and patient llama hunt, I have prepared a crude map of the terrain so you can get your bearings. We are starting on the road right next to the neighbour's barn.
My first instinct was to resolve the situation through diplomacy. If the animals wanted to slightly broaden the grazing perimeter, well, okay; I could let them eat on the side of the road. Unfortunately, only Pirlouit supported this plan.
He kept trying to stop and eat, while the llamas had places to go.
So I followed them along the road for quite a while, patiently waiting to reach the wider stretch where I knew I could sprint ahead, overtake everyone and force them to turn around. Not yet a full victory but at least I'd feel like I was regaining some influence over events.
But Pampérigouste is familiar with my manoeuvres, and she turned around of her own initiative before we reached this spot, left the road, and led everyone into the woods for a bit (and almost managed to shake me off as I kept getting slowed down by brambles, being the only person in this situation who was wearing clothes); then she re-emerged on the road near the barn, and went into the neighbour's pasture. Which is quite vast, and goes all the way down to the torrent.
So naturally, Pampe went all the way down to the torrent—following a route of astonishingly unnecessary complexity and glancing back now and then to check that her followers had not lost faith.
The other animals clearly felt that once you've reached a vast and lush pasture, the logical next step is to stay and eat (while Pampe sees it as evidence that vaster and lusher pastures remain to be discovered.)
... that is, until we reached the torrent and I finally managed to turn everyone around, back in the direction of their pasture. At that exact moment, Pampe realised grazing was an urgent priority.
Once we finally reached the road, with Pampe bringing up the rear at an aggressively leisurely pace, I figured that if I got the rest of the herd back in their pasture, she would grudgingly follow.
I was wrong.
The other animals briefly hesitated (it was getting late; their pasture was right there; they don't like spending the night in unfamiliar places) before recommitting to Pampe.
We could have actually followed the road in this direction all the way back to my house, and therefore the other, upper gate to their pasture, bringing this expedition to a neat and peaceful conclusion. Pampe solved this problem by throwing herself into the woods.
At this stage I feel that my updated map will be more informative than human language.
(I made an attempt to restore coherence to our journey through the use of directional arrows.)
When we somehow ended up back in the neighbour's pasture after an exciting (not for me) chase through the woods, I admitted defeat, and texted my neighbour to let him know my animals would be spending the night in his pasture due to circumstances not meaningfully under my control, but I would be back on the case in the morning to get them home. Having met Pampe, he didn't ask any further questions.
I didn't really believe that the animals might magically return on their own during the night, but still I left the pasture gate open—but only the one near my house; the other gate by the neighbour's pasture remained closed because I just couldn't face the slope again.
And somehow, the next morning, when I opened my window, everyone was here.
I should add that my neighbour later found several tufts of llama wool caught on his fence in various places, allowing us to partially reconstruct the llamas' return journey (that's me in the background attempting to get a statement from his cow.)
I have therefore updated my map once more to illustrate (in green) the final stage of this expedition, based on physical evidence and on my partial understanding of Pampe's worldview.
But really the moral of this story is that giving up and going to bed works. Always give up!
(nods sagely) (nods basily) (nods rosemarily) (nods saltly) (nods star anisely)
The worst types of cookbook:
The Ottolenghi - it is vital that you use 1g of this very expensive ingredient. It comes from a 500g bag with a one-week shelf life.
The time machine - 15-minute recipe! First, leave to marinate overnight...
The dishwasher - one-pot recipe! Now decant your ingredients and wipe out your pot. And again. And again. And again.
The optimist - cook the onions until caramelised (2 minutes).
The kindergarten teacher - get one nommable little tree of broccoli and bosh that into boiling water. Delish!
The brand names only - ingredients: Ritz crackers, Philadelphia cheese, Cool Whip, orange Jell-o...
The 1950s palate - use one (1) clove of garlic and a small pinch of chili flakes (omit if preferred).
The why bother with a cookbook - to make beans on toast, gently heat a tin of beans and put on top of freshly buttered toast.
#the overachiever: make this very time consuming ingredient from scratch even though it'll end up tasting worse than store bought
Amen to this @akasanata. "Now make your puff pastry from scratch". How about no❤️
Vive la Belgique!
Overturn this
I'd take victory but humiliation of the US after all they did is even better. I also love how the Belgian team wore trans flag colours for the game.
My dad, just like the king, was watching the game at 2 AM, I decided to sleep but judging by his cheering I could tell Belgium is doing alright 😂🍫🇧🇪🧇🍟.
“Men designate women as the sole caretakers of life; they must walk miles each day across scorched terrain to find clean water. This concept is written directly onto the woman’s body—found in the permanent ache of her spine from carrying fifty-pound jerrycans under a blistering sun, the dust that coats her throat, and the raw blisters that score the soles of her feet. They must perform impossible domestic acrobatics to stretch diminishing food supplies to feed their children, often starving themselves so that others can eat. A woman’s stomach remains empty so that the patriarchal family unit can survive another day in the ruins. They care for the sick, the elderly, and the dying as climate-driven diseases spread and public infrastructure rots. As imperialist capital bleeds nature dry, the physical energy and labor required to sustain human life expands exponentially. The more the planet burns, the harder women must work just to keep their families from sliding into the grave. Yet, the male ruling class hoards and violently tightens their grip over wealth and resources through their domination of capital accumulation. Female labor performs the work that keeps the species alive, while men monopolize the authority that dictates the conditions of that survival. They have made women the shock absorbers of a burning world while they sit safely atop the wreckage.” Read “Climate Collapse and the Capitalist Mutilation of the Displaced Female Body" by Fatima Amir in Total Woman Victory: Our Earth, Ourselves at http://totalwomanvictory.com and on Substack at https://totalwomanvictory.substack.com/p/climate-collapse-and-the-capitalist!

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1. your suffering can’t end until you stop identifying with it. if your sense of self is tied up in your suffering, anyone or anything that attempts to separate you from it will become the enemy because, whether consciously or subconsciously, you will on some level believe they are trying to take away a part of who you are.
2. read the above again.
my mum has severe knee problems and needs a replacement. Today she was told she's too fat to be operated on and the knee specialist suggested she gets a gastric band - which also involves surgery. So my mum was like first of all you didn't read my file because it explains that I'm not fat because I eat too much second of all you said it's impossible for me to get surgery and then suggested I get a surgery about it? He then asked her her weight and height, didn't believe her answer, and made her prove it to him because she "looks fatter than that". So she was like so you also just entirely based this on looks instead of actual numbers?
My mom went through something similar. She needed a knee replacement and her doctor wouldn’t okay it until she lost weight, which was difficult given the whole knee problem preventing her from walking thing. He told her she was too dangerous to operate on and that there were just too many risks.
My mom tried to lose weight in vain for months before she finally gave into my begging her to get a second opinion. The first doctor she saw next scheduled her for surgery the same day she met him. When my mom asked about the risk of operating on her he told her that there was some minor risks for complication and that all she would need to do to alleviate the risk was spend an extra night in the hospital so that they could keep a look out for any complications.
There were zero. There were also zero complications when she had her other knee done, her hip replaced and her gallbladder removed.
Almost like the first doctor was entirely full of shit and just trying to coerce his patient to lose weight by scaring her for fucking nothing, even when she was living day to day in excruciating pain and desperately needed a surgery.
The more I read about situations like this, the more I think doctors are just trying to block women from getting medical treatment to save resources for "real patients", that is men.
‘bread is bad for you’ ‘rice is bad for you’ sorry im not subscribing to the idea that staple grains that have been integral to cultures for centuries are evil. i love you carbs
ban men's sports i have seen enough

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Cabbage Timbale (Vegan)
Konjac jelly is such a fun snack.