It’s okay to have weird patches on the bottoms of your feet
And scars where your toes join your soles.
It’s okay to have thick ankles with grooved ladders up the back and places where the razor nicked or missed.
It’s okay if your stubble never goes away and you have more scarred bug bites than freckles and the “definition” on your legs is all lighting.
It’s okay that your thighs are bumpy and big and squishy and thick and strong.
It’s okay if there’s red grooves where they touch and meet your pelvis and the hair there is coarse and short from attempts to keep it away.
It’s okay that your belly is soft even when you flex and your waist isn’t tiny at all and your hip bones will never poke up at your bikini.
It’s okay if your ribcage is big; that’s what holds your heart.
That’s what holds your lungs when you’re sad and giving up and they push you on anyway.
It’s okay if your boobs are little or big or droopy or flat or perky or wide or thin or not there at all.
It’s okay to have big nipples.
It’s okay to have small nipples.
It’s okay to have hairy nipples.
It’s okay that your skin bunches up at armpits; everyone’s does.
It’s okay that you’re covered in skin and thick flesh, scars and freckles, moles and stretch marks and hair.
It’s okay to sweat and smell and forget to brush your teeth sometimes.
It’s okay if your shoulders are huge and you can’t see your collarbone without shrugging and your arms sag and your cuticles are beyond repair.
It’s okay to have flesh between your chin and your jawline, and have acne there and on your temples, forehead, cheeks, chin, and that space right between your (un)tweezed eyebrows.
Hair is okay. All hair and lack thereof is okay.
All of it is okay.

Things to say to yourself in the bathtub (via freeingeileen)

(Source: weinerchesters)


i haven’t been to subway in 2 years cos the woman went “what bread do you want” and i went “yeah”

(Source: grotbag)


Before you even notice, you will have settled. You will enjoy your Monday morning coffee and think it’s just what you needed to start your day. You will visit the library every Tuesday, hoping to find some new escape in a new book, just to get away from your life. You will eat lunch with your best friend every Wednesday, order the usual at your favorite restaurant, you’re satisfied. On Thursday you go for a walk around your neighborhood to clear your mind, and look forward to tomorrow. On Friday evening you think you’ve made it, so you reward yourself with delivery pizza and an alright movie you’ve seen more than six times. Saturday, there’s still a day separating you from Monday, so you’re fine. Sunday, you dread, dread, until you go to bed. Then it’s the same old routine, slowly getting through life, thinking you enjoy it, when you could easily learn to enjoy something else. How do you know what you need to get through the day is just coffee? Maybe it’s just telling yourself, hey, I can do it, there’s more to look forward to. Instead of living your life through books why don’t you go on an adventure and take a risk like your favorite fictional character? How do you know that meal is really your favorite thing at a restaurant when you’ve never let yourself taste something else? Is looking forward to the end of the week your motivation to actually get through life? If it is, why, when you’re just living the same old shit week to week, nothing will change. You won’t change. You think you’re happy, but couldn’t you be happier?

i.c. // don’t settle (via delicatepoetry)