what to do with a too big skirt

You know what I hate about myself, that I’m not “fat” but I’m not “skinny” I’m just kind of eh. Like I’m not plus size so I’m not seen has thicc and big girl pretty. But I’m not skinny. So I’m not seen as normal. I’m just eh. And I hate that. Because I’m nothing. Like nothing is there to describe me. I have a muffin top I hide with jeans and leggings. Big boobs where I can only wear shirts that’s help hide my belly and don’t make me look like a tent. I’m short so I don’t look good in skirts. And dresses look horrid on me. And like ugh. Like I don’t have a pretty face. What do I have going for me? I have nothing. It makes sense why no one wants to date me and why no one likes me. Because I’m a bundle of fat with a ugly face, and too big boobs, with a flat ass. And greasy hair. Like WHAT IS THERE TO LOVE ABOUT ME?

I took this Saturday and have been debating whether I want to post it for several days.  Generally more skin than I’m comfortable with sharing, but what the heck.  I’m pretty happy with how I look nowadays, and plus I get to show off my tattoo which I don’t get to do often.  Maybe someday (maybe soon) I’ll post pics with my swim skirt and other bikini top too.  :3

As usual I do not consent to my photos reblogged on porn/fetish blogs.

(Also don’t tell my roommate I snuck into her room to take a pic with her big mirror :x (Sorry Emily))

i mean, something something about your job defining who you are in a capitalist society, something something about trying to figure out the kind of person i will become temporarily while i am waiting to monetize my true self. sloppy bun, big sweater, hands moving too fast, coffee shop near campus, red pen scratching out needless words.  neat updo, collared shirt, good posture, air-conditioned front office, elegant five-sentence-emails. hair down, heeled shoes, skirt swish, hanger clicks, cash register sounds. what can i do? who will it make me? i’ve been floured hands and soapy ones, industrial-grade rubber gloves and a plastic apron, a laminated nametag and one strong arm under a platter of hors d'oeuvres. i’ve sat at conference tables. i’ve sat at microphones. i’ve worn polo shirts and tuxedo shirts and tshirts that i never would have picked out myself. i’ve scrubbed toilets and chemical mixing drums. i’ve taken calls live on air. i scraped plates, i poured coffee, i sent letters. i say “i” but really i was sitting in the back of my head, creating a character who moved her body and stepped light and smiled when she handed you your change. i have been hunched in darkness the whole time, thinking of the right words, and i’m getting tired. 

4

merry christmas eve to all who celebrate (and a very happy thursday to those who do not)! today i bring to you part seven of eight of the in your atmosphere holiday drabble series. part eight will be up sometime before the new year, but this is the last holiday related drabble for heva for 2015. i mean it when i say that you’re all the most fabulous humans out there. thank you, thank you, thank you. 

red tulle skirts - december 2024

“Niall, what are you doing to my daughter?” Eva asked, propping her hand on her hip as she watched Niall flip Madeleine, her giggles filling the room.

“I’m flipping her,” he replied, taking his attention away from the little girl for a few seconds too long. Madeleine whined, pinching her fingers in the air to try to get his attention once again. “She loves it. Right Maddie? Do you love when Uncle Niall flips you?”

She nodded feverishly, looking up at him with her big green eyes and a small pout. Eva sighed, leaning against the arm of the couch as Niall continued, Madeleine’s laughter returning to brighten up the room.

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