that one place where stuff happens

yknow that froggit in the ruins who tells you about yellow names

heres what happens if u tell them that “it’s bad”

and they do

as you can see, happy migosp, no yellow name

obviously, this makes things quite a bit less convenient, not being able to tell when an enemy can be spared. so waht happens if we go back to the froggit?

and they do

okay

today i wore a v-neck to school, something that is totally normal for 99% of the girls there, one of the girls in my french class was wearing one similar to mine in fact.

but my french teacher came up to me and told me that i was out of dress code and that i was asking for something to happen to me.

and all day long i had to slap guys who found it perfectly okay to grab them.

im a 32DDD, 5’1, and 115 pounds. due to this im known around the school as the walking boobs, the girl who grew in other places, and BITS. I constantly get called a whore and a tease. 

Girls are always accusing their boyfriends of sleeping with me.

and there have been times when i have had to tell teachers that my eyes are up here.

i grew boobs in the eighth grade, i was a DD then, and i cant tell you how many fights i got into with guys who thought it was alright to stick their faces in them. 

the point of all of this is that its bullshit. 

Also, I’d say screw slut-shaming, but this isn’t even a matter of dressing how one wants, but a matter of a woman’s natural state being the reason that men think it’s okay to sexual harass or assault her.

Large breasts are not an invitation.

Large breasts are not an invitation.

LARGE BREASTS ARE NOT AN INVITATION.

Are we clear?

Moreover, men literally have no clue how much they talk. When Spencer asked students to evaluate their perception of who talked more in a given discussion, women were pretty accurate; but men perceived the discussion as being “equal” when women talked only 15% of the time, and the discussion as being dominated by women if they talked only 30% of the time.

Spencer’s conclusion, if I may parahprase: you only think we talk too much because you’d rather we were silent.