because y’all being controlled by this supposed inner fat person are ignoring the exact reason why you proclaim such mess:
you know that your size is not congruent with how healthy you are/ are not.
you can be five feet seven inches, weigh 150 lbs, and have hypertension. you can be six feet five inches tall, weigh 300 lbs, and be in the best shape of your life.
and, no matter what, you will be on somebody’s fucking list of undesirables. or on someone else’s list of people who are fuckable.
either way, it matters not.
if you’re ashamed of your food intake, work it out.
if you aren’t ashamed, then rock on witcha bad self. no mystery fatass is responsible for your consumption.
but i keep going back to working on my compassion.
she was dealing with a lot, and this is just how it all ended up.
no need to be unkind or pick on her.
that was just how she was equipped to deal. that’s all.
the girl from richmond i used to talk to.
i was as thoughtful as i knew how to be when i told her i was done. i wasn’t interested in having the codependency conversation with her: “i need to stop talking to you because this is codependent and i’m trying to heal myself of that; kindly oblige me when i tell you to back off.” that was codependent in and of itself, if i’m being honest. i kept trying to let her down easy. i didn’t want her to be hurt … but the band aid had to come off.
i took the opportunity after she blew up at me about something that i to this day believe was some insecure bullshit. i understand now, and understood then, where it all came from. i made her feel exposed, in some regard, despite the fact that i’d never named her directly. my talking about my feelings made her feel a way. even making references to some shit that i said she inspired bothered her. i know that some folks can’t handle that; it makes them feel like they are being blamed. i wasn’t blaming her for shit, and no matter how clearly i communicated it, she wasn’t okay with it. because she was uncomfortable with her own feelings, it seemed.
like some other folks i’ve known. like some folks i’ve loved and since released to the universe.
it saddens me still that she wasn’t in a place to understand where i was coming from. it’s sad, because i know nobody wants to let go of another person. not someone they care for, not someone they value. there’s nothing i can do about it now.
but on the off chance she reads this, i do hope she knows i wish her light on her path.
Their pathologies, their misplaced anger, their mommy/ daddy/ granny/ sibling/ significant other issues. Do not embrace that fucking shit as something for you to turn around, heal, transform, or deliver them from. They might bring it directly to you, wrapped in the prettiest of papers and bows . . . do not accept it. If they throw it through your front window one late night like a brick … walk the fuck away from it. You might panic at first. It may seem like you can’t get away from it. Think again, dearest. It does not belong to you.
Nobody’s saying you can’t help them as they figure it out. It’s not abnormal at all to have someone’s back while they untangle themselves. And there’s nothing wrong with cheering, or even lending a helping hand when you’re able to. Your job, though, is not to do the heavy lifting for that other person.
I know it sounds nice and noble: find this wounded bird, rehab this abandoned dog. They’ll learn what they want to when they are ready. They’ll employ it when they feel like it. That’s not dependent upon you. I promise it isn’t. If your life gets a highlight reel before you die, do you really think doing another grown person’s work for them will be included? If you think so, that’s fine. You can stop reading now, and I’ll let you go on about your fucking life.
But you, you who answered that question “no,” or “I don’t think so?” Think about what you carry that is not yours. Determine whether it can serve you. And act accordingly. There is no great reward for taking on their shit.
i wrote this for all of us.
It gets tiring though, trying to be polite to every man that speaks to you like cool good morning, hello hi how you doing. Its not the good mornings or hellos though, its the extra shit, its the following, the touching, the lewd words and body language, its the tone, the agression. Don’t sit up here and think for one second its about saying hello when you’re taught to be on guard all the time. while still being socialized to be polite. Trivializing people’s experiences with harassment based on throwaway commentary to the contrary is is dishonest & dangerous, its deeper than a hello.
WHERE DID SPRING GO?
A black male could not offer his hand (to shake hands) with a white male because it implied being socially equal. Obviously, a black male could not offer his hand or any other part of his body to a white woman, because he risked being accused of rape.
Blacks and whites were not supposed to eat together. If they did eat together, whites were to be served first, and some sort of partition was to be placed between them.
Under no circumstance was a black male to offer to light the cigarette of a white female — that gesture implied intimacy.
Blacks were not allowed to show public affection toward one another in public, especially kissing, because it offended whites.
Jim Crow etiquette prescribed that blacks were introduced to whites, never whites to blacks. For example: “Mr. Peters (the white person), this is Charlie (the black person), that I spoke to you about.”
Whites did not use courtesy titles of respect when referring to blacks, for example, Mr., Mrs., Miss., Sir, or Ma’am. Instead, blacks were called by their first names. Blacks had to use courtesy titles when referring to whites, and were not allowed to call them by their first names.
If a black person rode in a car driven by a white person, the black person sat in the back seat, or the back of a truck.
White motorists had the right-of-way at all intersections."
My suburban white friends were so confused that my parents introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. and that I always addressed adults that way. They just don’t know. And I don’t know how popular of a trend this was, but some Black folks gave their children honorifics as first names so white people would have no choice but to call them ‘Mister’ or ‘Sir’. Like, I know tangentially of a woman who’s first name is Doctor.
“Blacks were not allowed to show public affection toward one another in public, especially kissing, because it offended whites.”
Can we look at this one right here real close?
POC in intimate relationships showing each other affection *was considered offensive*. I am kinda wondering, given the absence of intra poc relationships in mass media, if it still is considered as such.
PRECISELY WHAT CAUGHT MY EYE. DA FUCK?????????????????
Well looking at this post, yes