170 pounds

Veteran Matt Martin ambles by scrawny 19-year-old Mitch Marner in the Maple Leafs dressing room and playfully shoves him aside. Marner pokes his nose into Tyler Bozak’s business a little while later and is told cheerfully to scram.

“Beat it there, bud,” Bozak, almost 11 years Marner’s senior, says with a big grin.

With his diminutive 170-pound frame, Marner might look like the little brother on the Leafs, but that hasn’t stopped him from making a big early impression in the NHL.

He’s quickly erased antiquated doubts that size — or lack thereof — might stunt his NHL ascent.

Out of his equipment, Marner looks a lot smaller than the official listing — six feet and 170 pounds — and lacks the chiseled physique of many NHLers. He hasn’t gotten much bigger over time either; three years ago, when he first checked into the OHL, Marner was listed at 160 pounds.

Size was no barrier over three wicked seasons with the London Knights, though, and thus far with the Leafs, it looks to be a dead issue once more.

“It’s never been a big deal to me,” said Marner, one of only 11 NHL players currently listed at 170 pounds or less. “I’ve grown up with everyone always saying I’m too small and stuff like that.”

anonymous asked:

Please grace us with more PR Band AU thoughts

I actually have already written little drabbles for bribery purposes, so here you go, anon. It should be noted that karatam’s tags on the original band au post were v. inspirational, especially in terms of who would play what instrument and also everything because they were perfect tags. 

On the naming of the band:

“Zack and the Zords.”

“No.”

“Zack and the Screw-Ups.”

“No.”

“Zack and the Zuper Heroes.”

This, apparently, is the final straw; three drumsticks, a handful of gummy bears, a crumpled ball of sheet music, and a single sneaker all land on on his stomach in quick succession. He grunts and halfheartedly pushes most of it off – aside from the gummy bears , which he eats, somehow managing to make the action look smug (popping each one into his mouth with a little toss).

Keep reading

“Forget your goals and get a counselor.”

That is what my doctor told me when I came to her at 18 years old because I could not lose any weight despite my best efforts before she slammed the door in my face and left me crying in the room. 

I was 18 years old, approximately 170 pounds when I am only 5′5. My goals that she told me to forget? I wanted to be 150 pounds. I wanted to know why I wasn’t able to lose any weight after being on a certain medication. I was doing cardio. I was beginning to lift. I was eating the right amount…yet nothing worked. 

She did not offer any advise. She did not recommend going to see a nutritionist. She did not give me handouts on healthy living. She did not offer to check my thyroid or what was going on with my insulin levels. She told me to forget my goals and get a counselor. 

What kind of professional treats a person like this? After I switched doctors I found out that I was a pre-diabetic and my IBS-C was causing a lot of water retention due to my diet and I was eating foods that cause constipation. I had plateaued from doing the same exercises daily. There were a lot of reasons I was struggling to lose weight.

I’m now 143 pounds. So yeah, fuck you.

3

Hey just a quick PSA! This dudes name is Jeremy Swinney. He used to go to the local shows in Bend Oregon but he got arrested in September on 50 counts of possession of child pornography and 1 count of encouraging child sex abuse. I have no idea when he is going to get out or if he already has, but I know that he’s not going to stay in Bend because everybody knows about it. If you see him around, just know he is a pedophile. He’s 5'8, 170 pounds and also goes by Sik Fuk. Stay Safe!

Haven’t done a before & after in a while 😬

• 170 - 129

• 41 pounds lost!

• Size 10/12 to size 2/4

• 2013 - 2016 (though I lost the weight in only 3 months!

• Pre-diabetic to healthy

Sometimes you have to drown to learn how to swim… I was a self-loathing sad-sack, knew nothing about health and nutrition, and now I’ve settled into a rewarding career of body composition and metabolic testing, helping others achieve the health and happiness that I fought for years to find…

Life is good :)

July 11, 1962, Telstar 1 is launched aboard a Thor-Delta rocket at Cape Canaveral. The first live television broadcasts, faxes, and phone calls were delivered through this satellite, ushering in an era of instantaneous data transmissions from all over the world. 

Telstar 1 and it’s nearly identical twin, Telstar 2, were developed in a multinational partnership between NASA, Bell, AT&T, National PTT and GPO (of France and the UK respectively). Telstar weighed 170 pounds, with a diameter of 35 inches, and was covered in solar panels to provide electricity. The size and design of the satellite was limited by the capabilities of the Thor-Delta. The instrumentation carried were simple transponders, requiring massive earth-based receivers to transmit the signals relayed by the satellites.

Telstar 1 would successfully prove telecommunications through satellites before experiencing failure in February 1963, due to increased radiation exposure caused by Cold War nuclear tests at high-altitudes, causing damage to the delicate transistors aboard the craft. Telstar 2 would launch in May of 1963. Subsequent Telstars would be launched in the 1980s and 90s, with the latest, Telstar 19V, scheduled to launch in 2018 on a SpaceX Falcon 9. These newer Telstar satellites are similar to the twins Telstar 1 and 2 in name only.

While not as sexy as the Mercury 7, or as memorable as Sputnik, Telstar 1 and 2 are seminal to the history of modern telecommunications, proving the concept of the communications satellites, without which, life as we are accustomed would not be possible. While non-functioning, both Telstar 1 and 2 continue to orbit the earth. A backup craft to Telstar 1 and 2 is on display at the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum in Washington DC. 

Also in 1962, The Tornados release an instrumental song that becomes the first UK single to reach #1 on the charts in the US. 

Frank the Tank

A/N: An anon request for a comfort fic where the reader comes home and Spencer can tell by her face that she’s had a bad day. Comfort/fluff @coveofmemories

Warnings: Losing a Pet

                                                              —–

You loved your job as a vet tech. You really did. There was almost nothing better than going to work, playing with, feeding and taking care of cute puppies, and then coming home to your boyfriend of two years. But with all the good, came those days where you had to be in the room when someone was losing a member of their family. Today had been a day - three senior dogs needed to be transported over the rainbow bridge, and you were in the room every time, sobbing right alongside the family members. When it came to putting dogs down, you always felt the need to stay in the room with the family; let them know they weren’t alone. But it definitely took a lot out of you. Taking a deep breath, you walked up to the door and slowly turned the knob, the energy completely drained out of you.

“Oh, you had a bad day, didn’t you?” Spencer asked the second you opened the door. He was sitting on the couch reading a book after getting home at around 5 o’clock. Just as he was driving home, you had to go out for an emergency at the office, so at 7 o’clock you were finally able to return home. “What happened?” he asked.

“I had to let three dogs go today,” you sniffled, your eyes filling with emotion as you remembered the babies you’d been with today - a german shepherd, a K9 officer with the FBI as a matter of fact, a poodle, belonging to an elderly couple, and a bulldog, whose owner was a big, burly man you’d never expect to see crying - but he had sobbed as he let go of his best friend - probably the worst out of anyone. Spencer just listened as you recounted your day, gently rubbing your back as you teared up again. “It’s just days like today that make me hate what I do.”

Reaching over, he grabbed your legs and pulled you into his lap, allowing you to  rest your head on his chest. You always found it calming to listen to his heartbeat. “I’m so sorry,” he said, smoothing your hair down while you closed your eyes. “But you do something that takes a lot of compassion to do. You make sure they aren’t in pain anymore and more importantly you make the families feel like they aren’t alone.” 

He always knew just the right thing to say. While these kinds of days came around fairly often unfortunately, you did feel better about helping people through such a difficult time. Plus, this sadness rarely outweighed the good days - the playful pounces on your chest as they came in for the first time, the excitement for treats, the learning commands - it filled your heart with joy. Days like these were just a payment for the rest of it - the universe’s subtle way of balancing things out. “I know,” you sighed. “Thank you. It just all happened at once today.”

Spencer had asked you out two years ago. Within the year, he’d asked you to move in with him. And recently, you’d been talking about getting a dog. “You want to maybe look at dogs?” he asked with a smile. “We’ve been talking about getting one and looking at dogs always makes you happy.”

That made you smile. “Yesssss,” you said. “We’re still thinking of a pittie right?” For the longest time, you’d wanted a pitbull. A friend of yours had one when you were growing up and she was the sweetest dog in existence. Since then, you knew you wanted one of your own eventually, and Spencer seemed to really like the idea of a pitbull. 

“Definitely,” he said, reaching over to the side table to grab his laptop and turn it on. “I really like the gray ones.” You did too, but you tended to have to buy those and you really wanted to adopt. There were so many puppies that were between the ages of 1 and 2 that got thrown to the side for even younger dogs, so the thought of buying a puppy when there were other dogs that needed a home didn’t sit well with you. “If we find one of those that needs adopting, I’m probably going to fall in love with it, but I know you want to adopt.”

As you scrolled through the myriad of pitbull rescues in the area, your sadness from the day’s events slowly slipped away. How could you be sad when you were looking at the adorable faces of so many pitties that needed a home. “Oh my god,” you said, pointing towards a gray one named Lira, “what about her? Click on her.”

Excitedly, Spencer clicked on the picture of the six-year-old female pit. She was beautiful, but when you looked at the bio on her, it said that she wasn’t good with kids and both of you agreed that you’d be getting married and starting a family soon, so whatever dog you did adopt needed to be good with children. A little disappointed, Spencer clicked back and continued to scroll down the page until you found a the cutest mug ever. You clapped and pointed while Spencer clicked on the picture. “Do you realize how big this dog is?” he asked in amazement. Despite the question, you could see on his face that he liked him as much as you did. “His name is Frank.”

“Please tell me that’s short for Frank the Tank,” you laughed. At over 110 pounds, Frank was enormous. He’d been used as a bait dog as a puppy, but had been rescued in a bust. While other puppies from that raid had been adopted out already, Frank was consistently left behind because he was so big.  He was one of the the biggest pitbulls in the state apparently. “It says he’s great with kids. It’s just that parents are scared of him. But he’s mushy. And he thinks he’s a lap dog, and he likes this purple donut toy. He’s only 4. Spence, can we go look at him this weekend? Please!?” you begged, kicking your feet around like a two-year-old. “I wanna go meet Frank.”

He seemed a little hesitant, but the look on your face must’ve changed his mind; you were definitely pouting. “Sure,” he drew out, “We can go meet him this weekend, but we really have to make sure that he’s actually good with kids of all ages before we do anything, because if he’s not good with babies…”

“Then obviously we can’t,” you finished. “I agree. But look, he’s so cute!”

“He really is,” he said, scrolling through the various pictures of Frank with his favorite purple donut toy. “I can’t believe how enormous he is.”

You’d seen an even bigger one on the news. “Have you heard of Hulk?”

“As in the fictional superhero created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, who first appeared in the debut issue of the comic book The Incredible Hulk in May 1962 published by Marvel Comics?” he laughed.

He probably memorized that from somewhere - your big-brained dork. “No, dork. I mean, the over 170-pound pitbull, the largest ever on record.” His mouth dropped open, immediately looking up a picture of one of the largest pitbulls ever recorded. “Apparently he’s one of the sweetest dogs in the world and he’s great with the couple’s young son, so maybe that will mean good things for Frank the Tank.”

“What if his name isn’t Frank the Tank?” he laughed, already liking the moniker you’d given to the dog you didn’t have yet. “You still going to use the full name?” 

“Yes,” you said straight-faced. “He’s 110 pounds. His name is Frank. He’s a tank. He’s Frank the Tank.”

anonymous asked:

It's Valentine's Day so give me all your spideytorch Valentine/mushy/romantic headcannons

Happy Valentine’s Day,  anon!

  • Johnny’s not really expecting much because Peter’s concept of what day it is depends solely on whether he’s got a day job he actually has to show up for and therefore doesn’t tend to extend past “Tues…day?” and “glorious, glorious weekend”
  • Which is fine, it’s whatever, Johnny’s typically a hearts and roses guy, but it’s not a big deal. He’s got a television thing in the morning where he gets to be coy about the new love in his life, and there’s a bottle of expensive champagne in the fridge if Peter miraculously manages to get home before dawn.
  • Which is why he’s surprised when #weboflove starts trending in the evening
  • What says romance better than webbing up the entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel with BE MINE? except the dot in the question mark is three gunmen
  • Possibly getting hit with and swung up by 170 pounds of amorous Spider-Man as soon as he steps out of the building
  • Johnny hasn’t quite mastered the art of rolling Peter’s mask up over his mouth while swinging down 8th Ave, but he does alright
  • There were flowers, but they got a little crushed. Peter doesn’t entirely think things through. Points for style, though.
  • The Statue of Liberty is an appropriate romantic spot for all holidays
  • “How could you think I didn’t know what day it is? Even I can’t outswing that kind of a rampant consumerism. Did you like your present, by the way? You know, most guys only get their date one criminal, but me, I’ve got class.” “And you got me my favorite: a hashtag.” “Never say I don’t know you.”
  • Who needs fireworks when you have flame hearts?
My relationship with food.

Hang tight. I’m bout to get a little personal with y'all.

I have always had an unhealthy relationship with food. I still do. I’m getting better. I’ve always eaten too little. I was 9 the first time I was called fat. It was the first time I was aware of my weight. I was bloated though. From all the predizone and steroids pumped into my body for asthma. My body physically could not eat much because of how full I felt. I was bullied about being overweight for years. Middle school and high school.

My ex hated that I wanted to lose weight. He said I was trying to leave him. He fed me McDonalds. Taco Bell. Fast food. I was unhealthy. I slept 8 hours a day. Then napped after school for 2 hours. Then went back to bed. I grew to 170 pounds. I hated my body. I hated myself. I decided to do P90X. About a month in, my ex became my ex. I was thrusted into the worse break up of my life. I was so depressed. I only drank water and cried and ate crackers. I lost over 20 pounds. I was down to my weight in freshman year. 145. I was so proud.

That started my yo-yo diets and my restricting. I gained some weight back. I thought if I restricted enough I would lose it all. I hated food. I counted my calories. I didn’t eat for days at a time. Couldn’t lose the weight. That grew my hatred for my body. Myself. And most importantly, food.

Fast forward to last year. My boss had a stroke. My healthy, thin, fit, part time military boss stroked out. From that point on, I knew I needed to change. I was not healthy anymore. I ate one meal a day. Filled up on energy drinks and soda. Smoked cigarettes. I asked myself, “when are you gonna stroke out? You’re not even as healthy as him.” My boss is fine now. He’s retiring from the military and he’s eased back on his busy life style. But I started P90. And I decided that food was fuel. Not the enemy. I started vaping instead of smoking. I quit energy drinks. I ate 3 meals a day. I drank my water. I worked out.

My results? I didn’t lose the weight but that didn’t matter anymore. I saw my body transform. I could walk 3 flights of stairs. I could do push-ups. The inches melted away. I could see shoulder muscles. Leg muscles. Back muscles.

I may have fallen off of it for a while. And that’s ok. But I’m back. And guess what? I eat. 3 meals a day. I take my vitamins. I eat my snacks. I work out. I love my body. I love that I can do as many push ups as my fiancé who is a military mp. I love that I can see my biceps and triceps in my pretty dresses I wear to work. I have learned to love myself.

Food is not the enemy. Your body is not the enemy. Food is what makes your body go. Food is what makes you think clearly. For the love of God, please don’t restrict yourself. I have given up the calorie counters. The things I ultimately failed. I have learned that I’m in love with how my body works.

companion appearance headcanon

so, i saw one of these the other day and i thought it was a great idea for reference and all, so i decided i’d make my own. (i didn’t do codsworth but, if someone asks i will add him)

cait: 5'7 or 5'8. scary af. looks like she could literally fight a deathclaw with her bare fists. probably has never washed her hair nor shaved, couldn’t care less about her appearance. covered in freckles from head to toe. (especially on her back) and has extremely rough skin, plus plenty of scars from her past. weighs a steady 140-150 and is hella muscular. 

curie: 5'2 or 5'3. small woman with little dimples in her cheeks. very petite, but one hell of a fighter. her hair always looks freshly washed and she is always fully groomed. cares a whole lot about her appearance. she keeps her hair short for her own protection. literally has perfect skin. smooth milky white with a few freckles around her chest and always has silky smooth hands. everyone thinks she has a secret lotion stash. around 105-110 pounds, once again, small af. 

danse: 6'2 or 6'3. tall and thicc af. probably has the nicest ass out there (you can’t disagree). surprisingly barely any blemishes, but is littered in battle scars all over his body. shaves on a daily basis, or he’d look like more of a bear than he already does. has extremely rough hands and a few burns from laser weapon malfunctions. has some hella cute back dimples. perfect for big hugs. covered in body hair that requires a ton of effort to keep short. around 180-190 pounds. mostly muscle. hot damn.

deacon: 5'9 or 5'10. tries to keep himself as unnoticeable as possible. a natural ginger, but shaves his head and wears a black wig to blend in better. there’s no dye in the commonwealth, so his eyebrows remain ginger. has some rough skin, probably from all the surgeries. tries to keep himself cleanly shaved, not only for the obvious reasons, but also because he enjoys personal hygiene. weighs around 140-150 pounds. bases his whole diet around staying in an average shape. has absolutely no ass, once so ever and has a really adorable chin dimple. never takes off those goddamn sunglasses. not now, not ever. 

dogmeat: 3'2 or 3'3 on all fours. covered with the softest and cleanest fur ever, and is completely untouched by radiation (surprisingly). has a scar on his leg from before he met sole and is always well fed. weighs 75-80 pounds. also has a super wet nose the he’ll nudge into anyone who is up for cuddles

hancock: 5′7 or 5′8. tiny af, just like maccready. has absolutely no curve. his skin is really cratered and rough. eyes are completely jet black along with his skin. can’t really tell if he has scars or not because or his irradiated skin. he doesn’t have to shave anywhere around his body for obvious reason. he weighs around 125 pounds, mostly because he’s all skin and bones. but, he is filled personality. looks aren’t everything folks. 

maccready: also 5′7 or 5′8. probably has the worst teeth you will ever see in the commonwealth. (besides anything with no teeth.) he has extremely calloused hands, along with a reoccering bruise on his right shoulder because of his work as a sniper. plenty of scars scattered across his body after his work as a merc. weighs around 135 pounds (a bit more than hancock since he’s not irradiated and all). has a super cute chin dimple. super dirty hair and rarely shaves.

nick valentine: 5′11 or 6′0. for some reason all gen.2 synths are pretty tall. lanky but looks like he could take on a fight. dull grayish skin that feels like leather. exposed robotic parts in all different places. glowing yellow “eyes” and wrinkles around his eyes. weighs around 165-170 pound (with a little added weight since ya know, he’s made of metal. 

piper: 5′7 or 5′8. A tall and curvy woman with long black hair. Freckles litter her face and has an almost perfect hourglass figure. has some pretty thick thighs and has gained some muscle after being out with sole for so long. weighs around 150-155 pounds. her skin is mostly clear despite a few wrinkles. tries to keep herself as clean shaven as she can but, when she is out with sole for a long time she starts to grow some hair. 

preston: around 6′0. broad shoulders and a generally large body. super smooth skin with freckles that litter his shoulders and the top of his back. has a general baby face and has little blemishes or wrinkles. has some muscle from his work with the minutemen, and has started gaining some healthy fat from finally having a abundant food supply at sanctuary. weighs about 160-165 pounds. pretty healthy as his time with the new minutemen continues.

strong: 6′8 or 6′9. a tower of foul smelling green skin. extremely rough skin because of the FEV exposure. not too much to say about him besides big and green. weighs about 250-255 pounds.

X6-88: 6′0-6′1. super tall and built like a goddamn brick wall. not a single scar nor blemish because of the institute’s programming. has very light body hair, so he doesn’t have to shave very often. great for piggy back rides (if he allows(which is never)). weighs around 175-180 pounds. built like a fuckin’ brick wall.

this literally took me a month to write. i’m pretty happy with it though, and i think you can guess who my favorite is.

some people have been messaging me about “health” so i’m gonna say this:

1. every single person deserves to have confidence and do/wear what they want without worrying about what they look like. your weight is literally the least important thing about you and there are a million more important things you should dedicate your energy towards.

2. ppl who are naturally thin they have this idea that being chubby/thick/fat is unhealthy because for THEM to get to this weight it would be unhealthy, like if you’ve been a size 4 your whole life w/o ever having to think about it, to get to a size 10/14/18 w.e. you would prob have to eat a lot of shit and give up exercise. HOWEVER, that is NOT TRUE FOR EVERYONE. i have literally been a size 10+ since grade 8 and from 2012-2015 i ran 5k every second day for three years and ate super healthy etc etc and I WAS STILL A SIZE 10 and weighed 170 pounds.

3. these messages that we’re unhealthy are so much more harmful than any possible “health issues”. hating yourself is NOT HEALTHY. story time i have literally been on a diet since grade 3, and w/o this messaging of me needing to lose weight i would be at a healthier weight right now and definitely wouldn’t have put my body through all this unhealthy shit. i started making myself throw up in grade 5, in grade 7 i starved myself to weigh 120 pounds (20 pound weight loss from previous year), in grade 8 i stopped starving and went up to 160, grade 9 went up to 195, university went down to 170, now i’m up to 210. if it hadn’t been for allllllll of this i-need-to-lose-weight-im-so-fat-no-actually-im-good-no-actually-i-need-to-lose-weight-this-is-pointless-i-hate-myself-no-point-in-dieting-OMGIMSOFATINEEDTODIETNOW-etc-etc-etc i’m sure i would be healthier right now.

also if i had dedicated all the energy i’ve dedicated to weight loss to something else instead i’m pretty sure i could’ve literally cured cancer by now soooo stop wasting our time with this stupidness ok we have better things to do!!!

so there’s this guy in three of my dance classes

and first off, I’m 5'7, 5'11 in dance shoes, 170 pounds, broad shoulders and big hips and not small in any dimension. For a ballroom dancer, this means a lot of time spent learning the men’s parts. Especially in lifts.

I’ve had years now of guys kinda just going “lol heck naw” when told to lift me. I don’t admit this part much, but it makes me want to sink into the ground and die when every other girl can be lifted, but I’m just too big.

So this guy, smaller than me and really cute, shows up at auditions and I see this girl across the room getting tossed about like the beautiful pixie she is, and apparently I looked a little wistful because this boy asked me if I liked lifts.

“Oh. I… Uh… I’ve never really done the girls part. I’m a little big, haha…” (laugh it off, as usual.)

He looked me dead in the eye and then picked me up like a movie princess, bounced me in the air a few times, and set me down effortlessly while telling me whoever refused to lift me before was just being a lazy wimp.

I seriously doubt this boy will ever really get how much that meant to me. But, holy cow. Some faith in humanity just got restored.

heart attack summed up
  • magnus: oh hey there im magnus. im 420 friendly. must love dogs. if you're looking for a dual-classer for you i could be the one
  • merle: oh hey im merle im kind of a...bad boy im 6 foot 8, 170 pounds
  • magnus: wrong and wrong
  • merle: and i love the three b's -- books, bongs, and......billabongs. if ur looking for a cleric call my stone frequency at the bottom of the screen
  • magnus: SHIT i forgot my frequency here it is...............................alright
  • taako: oh hey whats up? sorry i didnt see ya. listen i could waste ur time w a lot of BULLSHIT about my different interests but thats not what u come here for *pretends to deepthroat the umbra staff* there u have it. whatever u want swallowed im ur man
  • merle: I THOUGHT OF A THIRD B. boogieboards. books, bongs, and boogieboards
  • magnus: I THOUGHT OF A NEW NAME im not magnus anymore now im...jizzblaster dan
  • merle: i wanna change mine too, mine now is baxter bulldong
99 Pounds

Hey Guys.
I am back again.
I was offline for a long time to recover.
Anyway I am at my lowest weight.

I am 5'5 (170) and 99 pounds (45kg).

I don’t understand why I am so thin.
I tried to be for a long time.
Ate nothing and my weight was higher.
Now I eat 2000 kcal.
However my weight is so low.

Am I happy now?
Not really.

anonymous asked:

Weight loss anon here: I'm 5' 4" with a start weight of 170 pounds, current weight 107 pounds (yup, switched those numbers right up!). It took about 20 pounds to start noticing weight loss up top, and 45 pounds to start noticing a big change in my lower body, so about ~20 pounds between the two. However, I do have naturally wide hips, so my thigh gap came a bit prematurely. But I'm sure you're already beautiful! Don't worry about it ❤️

well, that means i will probably need to get used to it 😂
my hips are narrow af (not really but i really dig the wide hips look) so maybe a lil bit of volume can help my body look more like i want it. your weightloss tho…is impressive

It's Hard...

To be a black girl with no ass…

Hear me out. All over the place, we’re seeing the media finally jump on to the “big booties are good” bandwagon; something that many cultures (namely black and Latino) have embraced for years. There has never been a time in history that a black woman has been praised for having a flat butt. Often times, when it comes to a discussion of embracing black features, “our natural curves and voluptuousness” is one of the first things mentioned.

Enter the apple shaped black girl.

We are never referred to as “thick” when we pack on some extra pounds, oh no. We’re fat. The 5'7 170 pound apple shaped black girl will be laughed at for her asymmetry while the pear shaped 5'7 170 lb black girl will be praised for hers. Apple shaped girls, with our big bellies and lack of derrières become the butt (no pun intended) of most jokes about body shape.

Pear shaped women may also have their insecurities… Most women do… But at this period in time having a small waist and wide hips is a GIFT.

This may be a rant or a complaint or whatever, but the honest truth is that it’s easier to be a pear shape or even a thin ruler than to be an apple shape in the black community… Hell, in general. And don’t even get me started on the apple subset I belong to: the inverted triangle.

No matter how much weight I lose, I will never have the body shape that is praised by society. I’m just gonna have to praise it my damn self. And shit, my man thinks I’m sexy… so I guess everything is fine.