(Source: nuditea)

tastefullyoffensive:

Grown-ups are weird. [via]

tastefullyoffensive:

Grown-ups are weird. [via]

kimbotherapy:

ablogforemily:

shamelesslyunladylike:

the-hairy-heterophobe:

if anybody asks me why i hate men, i’m just gonna redirect them to this post.
it’s pretty fucking obvious that men only want to invest in breast cancer research to further degrade, objectify, and jerk off to body parts they already feel 100% entitled to. that’s what is at stake for them. 
what about the women whose “tatas” weren’t saved? how must they feel being surrounded by awareness ads that focus more on keeping women’s sexy-sexy-titties-to-continue-titillating-the-males than saving real life human beings and helping survivors? 

If anyone’s wondering, those posts came from here. It’s a forum for breast cancer support. Give it a read, and you’ll see how many women are outright abandoned by their husbands, sometimes after being married for decades, because their “tatas” couldn’t be saved.

This culture of “save the tatas” even goes as far as the doctor’s offices themselves. Most doctors request that the husband be present during surgical consultations, as though he has an equal say in the patient-professional discussion.
If the woman is single, as was my case, doctors have actually recommended postponing surgery until she finds a relationship, because “it could be nearly impossible to find someone who accepts it [your unnatural tatas] in years to come”. 
I’m 15 months post-mastectomy, and the date I had this past week was the first time since then that a guy hadn’t reacted negatively to my scars. The relief was so overwhelming that I was fighting back tears. When I told him —essentially warning him that my body wasn’t what he must be expecting — I felt so guilty; it seemed to have the same weight and shame as telling someone I had some sort of an incurable STI or a felony record.
I shouldn’t have felt that way. I should not be ashamed of choosing to live. 

That is so fucked up that doctors do that shit. If my surgeon had said anything like that to me I would have found a different one.
This is still a fear I have. I haven’t had sex with anyone since right after I was diagnosed which was two years ago. Ultimately I know if a guy is weird about my scars or weird boobs then I don’t want to be with him anyway, but it’s the process of weeding out the dumb guys who can’t handle me not having nipples that freaks me out. It’s exhausting to think about.
kimbotherapy:

ablogforemily:

shamelesslyunladylike:

the-hairy-heterophobe:

if anybody asks me why i hate men, i’m just gonna redirect them to this post.
it’s pretty fucking obvious that men only want to invest in breast cancer research to further degrade, objectify, and jerk off to body parts they already feel 100% entitled to. that’s what is at stake for them. 
what about the women whose “tatas” weren’t saved? how must they feel being surrounded by awareness ads that focus more on keeping women’s sexy-sexy-titties-to-continue-titillating-the-males than saving real life human beings and helping survivors? 

If anyone’s wondering, those posts came from here. It’s a forum for breast cancer support. Give it a read, and you’ll see how many women are outright abandoned by their husbands, sometimes after being married for decades, because their “tatas” couldn’t be saved.

This culture of “save the tatas” even goes as far as the doctor’s offices themselves. Most doctors request that the husband be present during surgical consultations, as though he has an equal say in the patient-professional discussion.
If the woman is single, as was my case, doctors have actually recommended postponing surgery until she finds a relationship, because “it could be nearly impossible to find someone who accepts it [your unnatural tatas] in years to come”. 
I’m 15 months post-mastectomy, and the date I had this past week was the first time since then that a guy hadn’t reacted negatively to my scars. The relief was so overwhelming that I was fighting back tears. When I told him —essentially warning him that my body wasn’t what he must be expecting — I felt so guilty; it seemed to have the same weight and shame as telling someone I had some sort of an incurable STI or a felony record.
I shouldn’t have felt that way. I should not be ashamed of choosing to live. 

That is so fucked up that doctors do that shit. If my surgeon had said anything like that to me I would have found a different one.
This is still a fear I have. I haven’t had sex with anyone since right after I was diagnosed which was two years ago. Ultimately I know if a guy is weird about my scars or weird boobs then I don’t want to be with him anyway, but it’s the process of weeding out the dumb guys who can’t handle me not having nipples that freaks me out. It’s exhausting to think about.
kimbotherapy:

ablogforemily:

shamelesslyunladylike:

the-hairy-heterophobe:

if anybody asks me why i hate men, i’m just gonna redirect them to this post.
it’s pretty fucking obvious that men only want to invest in breast cancer research to further degrade, objectify, and jerk off to body parts they already feel 100% entitled to. that’s what is at stake for them. 
what about the women whose “tatas” weren’t saved? how must they feel being surrounded by awareness ads that focus more on keeping women’s sexy-sexy-titties-to-continue-titillating-the-males than saving real life human beings and helping survivors? 

If anyone’s wondering, those posts came from here. It’s a forum for breast cancer support. Give it a read, and you’ll see how many women are outright abandoned by their husbands, sometimes after being married for decades, because their “tatas” couldn’t be saved.

This culture of “save the tatas” even goes as far as the doctor’s offices themselves. Most doctors request that the husband be present during surgical consultations, as though he has an equal say in the patient-professional discussion.
If the woman is single, as was my case, doctors have actually recommended postponing surgery until she finds a relationship, because “it could be nearly impossible to find someone who accepts it [your unnatural tatas] in years to come”. 
I’m 15 months post-mastectomy, and the date I had this past week was the first time since then that a guy hadn’t reacted negatively to my scars. The relief was so overwhelming that I was fighting back tears. When I told him —essentially warning him that my body wasn’t what he must be expecting — I felt so guilty; it seemed to have the same weight and shame as telling someone I had some sort of an incurable STI or a felony record.
I shouldn’t have felt that way. I should not be ashamed of choosing to live. 

That is so fucked up that doctors do that shit. If my surgeon had said anything like that to me I would have found a different one.
This is still a fear I have. I haven’t had sex with anyone since right after I was diagnosed which was two years ago. Ultimately I know if a guy is weird about my scars or weird boobs then I don’t want to be with him anyway, but it’s the process of weeding out the dumb guys who can’t handle me not having nipples that freaks me out. It’s exhausting to think about.
kimbotherapy:

ablogforemily:

shamelesslyunladylike:

the-hairy-heterophobe:

if anybody asks me why i hate men, i’m just gonna redirect them to this post.
it’s pretty fucking obvious that men only want to invest in breast cancer research to further degrade, objectify, and jerk off to body parts they already feel 100% entitled to. that’s what is at stake for them. 
what about the women whose “tatas” weren’t saved? how must they feel being surrounded by awareness ads that focus more on keeping women’s sexy-sexy-titties-to-continue-titillating-the-males than saving real life human beings and helping survivors? 

If anyone’s wondering, those posts came from here. It’s a forum for breast cancer support. Give it a read, and you’ll see how many women are outright abandoned by their husbands, sometimes after being married for decades, because their “tatas” couldn’t be saved.

This culture of “save the tatas” even goes as far as the doctor’s offices themselves. Most doctors request that the husband be present during surgical consultations, as though he has an equal say in the patient-professional discussion.
If the woman is single, as was my case, doctors have actually recommended postponing surgery until she finds a relationship, because “it could be nearly impossible to find someone who accepts it [your unnatural tatas] in years to come”. 
I’m 15 months post-mastectomy, and the date I had this past week was the first time since then that a guy hadn’t reacted negatively to my scars. The relief was so overwhelming that I was fighting back tears. When I told him —essentially warning him that my body wasn’t what he must be expecting — I felt so guilty; it seemed to have the same weight and shame as telling someone I had some sort of an incurable STI or a felony record.
I shouldn’t have felt that way. I should not be ashamed of choosing to live. 

That is so fucked up that doctors do that shit. If my surgeon had said anything like that to me I would have found a different one.
This is still a fear I have. I haven’t had sex with anyone since right after I was diagnosed which was two years ago. Ultimately I know if a guy is weird about my scars or weird boobs then I don’t want to be with him anyway, but it’s the process of weeding out the dumb guys who can’t handle me not having nipples that freaks me out. It’s exhausting to think about.

kimbotherapy:

ablogforemily:

shamelesslyunladylike:

the-hairy-heterophobe:

if anybody asks me why i hate men, i’m just gonna redirect them to this post.

it’s pretty fucking obvious that men only want to invest in breast cancer research to further degrade, objectify, and jerk off to body parts they already feel 100% entitled to. that’s what is at stake for them. 

what about the women whose “tatas” weren’t saved? how must they feel being surrounded by awareness ads that focus more on keeping women’s sexy-sexy-titties-to-continue-titillating-the-males than saving real life human beings and helping survivors? 

If anyone’s wondering, those posts came from here. It’s a forum for breast cancer support. Give it a read, and you’ll see how many women are outright abandoned by their husbands, sometimes after being married for decades, because their “tatas” couldn’t be saved.

This culture of “save the tatas” even goes as far as the doctor’s offices themselves. Most doctors request that the husband be present during surgical consultations, as though he has an equal say in the patient-professional discussion.

If the woman is single, as was my case, doctors have actually recommended postponing surgery until she finds a relationship, because “it could be nearly impossible to find someone who accepts it [your unnatural tatas] in years to come”. 

I’m 15 months post-mastectomy, and the date I had this past week was the first time since then that a guy hadn’t reacted negatively to my scars. The relief was so overwhelming that I was fighting back tears. When I told him —essentially warning him that my body wasn’t what he must be expecting — I felt so guilty; it seemed to have the same weight and shame as telling someone I had some sort of an incurable STI or a felony record.

I shouldn’t have felt that way. I should not be ashamed of choosing to live. 

That is so fucked up that doctors do that shit. If my surgeon had said anything like that to me I would have found a different one.

This is still a fear I have. I haven’t had sex with anyone since right after I was diagnosed which was two years ago. Ultimately I know if a guy is weird about my scars or weird boobs then I don’t want to be with him anyway, but it’s the process of weeding out the dumb guys who can’t handle me not having nipples that freaks me out. It’s exhausting to think about.

larstheyeti:

tastes like $@&% to me

http://theawkwardyeti.com

"If this song sounds bitter, it’s because it is and I am."
— Maynard James Keenan; “3 Libras” (via darklyandlovely)

(Source: psliterary)

Every time I glance up I look out the window and a stray cat darts across the front lawn. Then the dog barks. What the hell, man. Pet sitting issues.