Little Pieces of Me

See, we have this concept called “bodily autonomy.” It’s this….cultural notion that a person’s control over their own body is above all important and must not be infringed upon. 

Like, we can’t even take LIFE SAVING organs from CORPSES unless the person whose corpse it is gave consent before their death. Even corpses get bodily autonomy. 

To tell people that they MUST sacrifice their bodily autonomy for 9 months against their will in an incredibly expensive, invasive, difficult process to save what YOU view as another human life (a debatable claim in the early stages of pregnancy when the VAST majority of abortions are performed) is desperately unethical. You can’t even ask people to sacrifice bodily autonomy to give up organs they aren’t using anymore after they have died. 

And here’s another point: When you say that “rape is the exception” you betray something FUNDAMENTALLY BROKEN about your own argument.

Because a fetus produced from sexual assault is biologically NO DIFFERENT than a fetus produced from consensual sex. No difference at all.

If one is alive, so is the other. If one is a person, so is the other. If one has a soul, then so does the other. If one is a little blessing that happened for a reason and must be protected, then so is the other. 

When you say that “Rape is the exception” what you betray is this: It isn’t about a life. This isn’t about the little soul sitting inside some person’s womb, because if it was you wouldn’t care about HOW it got there, only that it is a little life that needs protecting.

When you say “rape is the exception” what you say is this: You are treating pregnancy as a punishment. You are PUNISHING people who have had CONSENSUAL SEX but don’t want to go through a pregnancy. People who DARED to have consensual sex without the goal of procreation in mind, and this is their “consequence.” 

Even if all you can do is put three dishes in the dishwasher, or move the dirty laundry pile to outside the laundry door, or throw out that box of leftovers that have been sitting in the fridge for 2 weeks

It’s not new.

Stop blowing it out of proportion.

Here we are, 2018, and the Republicans control ALL branches of the government. They still failed to compromise and negotiate.

This is the first time the government shutdown under a one-party government. Ever.

Makaronia Tou Fournou As Made By Hannah Simone

Recipe under the cut!

Taken from Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents by Lindsay C. Gibson, Psy.D. A summary of the tips the book hands you on how to recognize emotionally healthy people.

They’re realistic and reliable

They work with reality rather than fighting it. They see problems and try to fix them, instead of overreacting with a fixation on how things should be.

They can feel and think at the same time. The ability to think even when upset makes an emotionally mature person someone you can reason with. They don’t lose their ability to see another perspective just because they aren’t getting what they want.

Their consistency makes them reliable. Because they have an integrated sense of self, they usually won’t surprise you with unexpected inconsistencies.

They don’t take everything personally. They can laugh at themselves and their foibles. They’re realistic enough to not feel unloved just because you made a mistake.

They’re respectful and reciprocal

They respect your boundaries. They’re looking for connection and closeness, not intrusion, control or enmeshment. They respect your individuality and that others have the final say on what their motivations are. They may tell you how they feel about what you did, but they don’t pretend to know you better than you know yourself.

They give back. They don’t like taking advantage of people, nor do they like the feeling of being used.

They are flexible and compromise well. Because collaborative, mature people don’t have an agenda to win at all costs, you won’t feel like you’re being taken advantage of. Compromise doesn’t mean mutual sacrifice; it means a mutual balancing of desires. They care about how you feel and don’t want to leave you feeling unsatisfied.

They’re even-tempered. They don’t sulk or pout for long periods of time or make you walk on eggshells. When angered, they will usually tell you what’s wrong and ask you to do things differently. They’re willing to take the initiative to bring conflict to a close.

They are willing to be influenced. They don’t feel threatened when other people see things differently, nor are they afraid of seeming weak if they don’t know something. They may not agree, but they’ll try to understand your point of view.

They’re truthful. They understand why you’re upset if they lie or give you a false impression.

They apologize and make amends. They want to be responsible for their own behavior and are willing to apologize when needed.

They’re responsive

Their empathy makes you feel safe. Along with self-awareness, empathy is the soul of emotional intelligence.

They make you feel seen and understood. Their behavior reflects their desire to really get to know you, rather than looking for you to mirror them. They aren’t afraid of your emotions and don’t tell you that you should be feeling some other way.

They like to comfort and be comforted. They are sympathetic and know how crucial friendly support can be.

They reflect on their actions and try to change. They clearly understand how people affect each other emotionally. They take you seriously if you tell them about a behavior of theirs that makes you uncomfortable. They’ll remain aware of the issue and demonstrate follow-through in their attempts to change.

They can laugh and be playful. Laughter is a form of egalitarian play between people and reflects an ability to relinquish control and follow someone else’s lead.

They’re enjoyable to be around. They aren’t always happy, but for the most part they seem able to generate their own good feelings and enjoy life.

RING TING TINGLING TOOOOOOOOOOOOO

COME ON IT’S LOVELY WEATHER

FOR A SLEIGH RIDE TOGETHER WITH YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

She plays first person shooter games and is really really good at them. She plays electric guitar and shreds like a beast. She loves death metal music, and even produces her own. She wears Hot Topic T-shirts and jeans. She doesn’t like dresses, but might wear a button-down top every now and then. She loves having the side of her hair buzzed short. She has a half-sleeve tattoo on her bicep that is Lovecraft-inspired. She has stretched earlobes, up to a 00g right now. She LARPs (live-action role plays) and kicks ass. She loves watching horror movies even though they scare her sometimes. She’s into girls and wouldn’t turn one down in bed.

She’s transgender.

Now of course, there are the people who will take what I wrote and say, “Oh, well doesn’t sound like she’s really trans. Sound like she still likes a lot of guyish stuff so, like, is she sure…?”

But wait. If I had said all of these things about a cis girl, she sounds like a guy’s dream girl. How come after I said that she’s trans, suddenly people think there’s no way she could actually be a girl. If cis girls can like those things without their gender being questioned, so can trans girls.

Today she said, very quietly, “Do you think I could be ace, too?”

And I said very carefully “If you think it suits you, I don’t see why not”

And my Mum, my strong, self-confident Mum, who never once  has ever felt uncomfortable in her own skin as far as I know, beamed in relief. Relief. 

 Because she never knew. Because getting married young and bearing children for her husband (meaning sex) was expected of her. Because everyone gave her the feeling as if something would be wrong or broken about her if she didn’t want, didn’t do that.

Because her whole life long, she thought there was something wrong with her.

  She beamed around a mouth-full of toothpaste and said, very proudly and deliberately, “I think I like that, being ace.”

And continued on with her brushing, humming a bit louder.

I want more women to feel empowered to do this.

Scars from breast cancer can be both hard to hide and embarrassing for some women. I wish they weren’t, because scars mean you’re a fighter and a bad ass.

Women have told me after their mastectomy they felt self conscious about someone seeing their chest. My grandmother wore her false breast (she had only one boob removed) around even the house for a long time. (Of course, now when we were taking about the procedure she asked “want to see my boob?” And had to go fetch it from the other room. It was an interesting conversation to say the least.)

Anyway, breast reconstruction can be expensive, and some women either don’t want it or can’t have it done for various reasons.

But you know what, chest tattoos are easily accessible. There are even tattoo shops that give discounts to women covering up breast cancer scars. And women who no longer have a nipple? You can get a bad ass tattoo

Check out

Their site starts like this:

They host pink day:

Check out some of the work on their site:

You can donate to the organization, or if you know a tattoo artist you can let them know they accept volunteers to be a part of their community of artists.

Here is another badass lady and her bad ass tattoo (found on pinterest)

These are cancer survivors reclaiming their bodies.

Banning all “female presenting” nipples ignores a commuity of women who are total bad asses who said “fuck you” to their cancer scars and turned them into art.

Not every image of a female nipple should be sexualized. This is not porn, this is courage and strength.

Are the new regulations going to delete this post. Does a post supporting a cancer survivors violate Tumblr’s community guidelines?

So women reclaiming their bodies after breast cancer is “sensitive content” and should be hidden from minors.

When I was 10, my mom made me wear a bra and it felt like a punishment for being different.

When I was 10, I took the bra off when changing for gymnastics and accidentally dropped it in the school hallway. A teacher picked it up and said, “Oh, this must belong to you” and handed it back to me in front of everyone. I quit gymnastics.

When I was 11, I thought maybe the boobs would be okay so long as they didn’t get any bigger than would fit in my hand, so I kept measuring it, but they did.

When I was 12, I started wearing two or three sports bras to smush them down, until one day a classmate said, “Are you wearing two bras?!” while laughing.

When I was 13, a boy told me he wanted to squeeze my boobs “until they popped.”

When I was 14, I got cast in a play as an older character and a classmate told me I got the role because I had boobs.

When I was 17, my mom told me to return a swimsuit because it would be too distracting for my boyfriend’s father.

When I was 21, I got properly fitted for a bra and everyone felt the need to tell me how much better my boobs looked.

When I was 26, I got pregnant and my immediate fear was that my boobs would get bigger.

When I was 28, I got shamed for trying to feed my screaming baby in public without a cover.

When I was 28, people asked me “why are you bothering to use a breastfeeding cover?”

When I was 30, people gave me weird looks that I wasn’t yelling at my kid for putting their hand on my boob.

When I was 31, I avoided going to the beach or pool because I didn’t want to have to deal with boobs in a swimsuit.

When I was 32, I got asked, again, “why don’t you get a breast reduction?”

When I was 33, I watched a 5yo girl get shamed for running around in sweltering heat without a shirt on and had to reprimand a bunch of tween boys who thought it was okay to shame her for doing something they do all the time.

When I was 34, my kid kept patting my breast and saying “Mommy’s squishy breast!!” They will never see me express any shame about tits, because I want them to have a different mindset than I had. Yes, boobs are nice! They’re squishy! They’re fun! That’s the end of that.

I’m 35 and no longer give a fuck. I don’t care anymore. As a teenager my tits were covered in stretch marks. They’ve been engorged with milk. My nipple changed shape with pregnancy. Give it another couple decades and my breasts will probably be all wrinkly. It’s sexual when I’m using it sexually. I don’t fucking care, and I won’t be ashamed anymore. 

Every time a policy or cultural hangup treats people with breasts differently, it fucks us over. 

Tumblr’s new policy makes an active choice to participate in this culture of shame. By classifying “female-presenting nipples” as explicit material, Tumblr has taken a stance that any chest or breast that differs from a male default is worthy of shame and unavoidably sexual. The idea that breasts are shameful and unavoidably sexual is exactly what fucked me up for so much of my life.