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$20 used to mean something

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I'm only a human because God knew I couldn't be trusted with a tail. I'd be wagging so hard all the time I'd knock everything over.

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you have to gently kiss that trans girl on the forehead

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Cute girls operating heavy machinery really appeals to me for some unknown reason

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Went for a walk in 90° weather in gray shirt and shorts. Made it to the gas station. Discovered in the bathroom mirror that my entire back and ass are just a swamp of extremely visible sweat. I have another 2.5 miles to go home. Someone kill me please.

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good god.

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I get how the whole "listening to music as a dick-measuring contest for who can listen to the most obscure band" thing can get grating sometimes but I don't think people realize just how vital that phenomenon is for new up and coming bands to get a foot in the door. it's understandable to be annoyed by hipsterism but unless you want all music to be industry plants and former child stars you're just going to have to accept it as part of the social ecosystem.

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Today we're undoing a recent sewing project!

I salvaged an adorable hoodie two years ago. It sat in a Lost & Found for 2 months, so I took it home with me, washed the stains out, and now it's mine.

Problem: Short sleeves. My arms always get cold before my torso, so this was only wearable on days around 60°F when I didn't go outside. AKA less than 10 wears per year.

I have scads of teal suiting material. (You might recognize the split skirt I made from it!) It's not stretchy, so I made big sleeves with elastic hems that could roll up to my forearms. And I sewed them on at the ends of the hoodie sleeves.

Dear reader, I hate it. The seam is so stiff that it feels like I have a hoopskirt around my bicep. The forearm is so puffy that it drags in anything I'm doing. Also, the poly suiting texture next to the poly hoodie texture drives my brain absolutely berserk.

So today, I'm Putting That Thing Back Where It Came From. I'm unpicking the sleeve extensions, storing them with their fabric family, and returning the hoodie to its original state.

Much like the crochet-trimmed shorts in my last post, I don't know exactly what I'm doing with this. I'm not going to buy new fabric. I also know from experience that I can't wear it much. In the short term, I have one black base layer shirt, so I'll try layering with it.

In the long term, I'll keep an eye out and ask around for coordinating turquoise or white jersey. If I find that, I might make proper basic stretchy sleeves and sew them onto the shoulder seams instead.

Anyway, here's your reminder that not every DIY will be perfect, and that's ok!

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Shortening a Shirt With a Lace Hem

Hello all! It's summer, and it's hot. I've had top surgery and I'm getting comfortable with my body again, so my style is pivoting hard into tiny tank tops under button-down shirts.

My torso is nice and short. Now that my chesr is flat, my shirts hang down even farther, and the hip-clinginess is more annoying. So I'm going on a shirt-cropping spree! Let's get into it.

I started by trying on this tank top and seeing where I wanted the trim to sit. I marked the desired length, then went around and pinned the tops of the lace to that line. I had to stretch it a little bc the waist was smaller than the hips, but it's jersey. It'll be fine.

Step 2 was sewing a line right along that fabric fold and catching the tops of the lace trim as I went. If it were form fitting, I'd want a stretchy stitch; it's loose, so I did a straight stitch and stretched the fabric just a little as I went.

If the visible seam bothered me, I could unpick the lace, shorten the shirt, and re-sew the lace to hide it. It doesn't bother me.

Then I used my beloved ancient machine's weird zigzag stitch to crop out all the excess fabric I just omitted from the shirt.

Final hem result! I'll run it through the next load of laundry to help it relax. I love the finished product (and how it fits me now), and nobody's going to notice or care that I cropped it myself.

Happy making!

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Moving out has taught me to worship leisure. Becoming self sufficient and learning to manage my energy level to properly love myself and enjoy my time on this earth amidst all the work and dishes and laundry and cleaning of my abode has taught me to treasure and worship every moment I get to be human. Every moment I get to be nothing and every moment I get to play. Beauty is nothing compared to being loved and accepted. I physically cannot imagine being a “clean girl” or “beige” or a “tradwife”. That shit is demonic. Anathema to the human condition. Give me wrinkles, give me scars, give me greys, I will die one day and those who see me will know I was kissed by the sun. Let me worship the night and the rest I chase through the hours I lay awake. Let me be vibrant and beautiful and happy, what the FUCK is “beige aesthetic”, so perfect on the outside but it’s ROTTED, THROUGH AND THROUGH. I’m supposed to fill my home with a homogeneous depressed brown? You are nothing, you look like nothing, you will be remembered for nothing.

I refuse to see stretch marks as anything but proof of being loved by Thor’s thunderous touch, the god of lightning who loves all things in excess. Rot, damn you. Rot and let you see how one of you was loved by a god and you, the other, filled your home with beige as a monument to meaninglessness. Even a pacifist has more moral ground to pat themselves on the back for doing something they stood for compared to you, a person who never lived, a person who laboured for insecurity instead of passion. A person who feared the light and feared the love. And don’t even get me started on how it reeks of white beauty standards.

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Discovered I can jog for about a minute now! 🥹

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btw the vast majority of trans women love trans men and vice versa so when you shit talk either group to their counterpart you actually just make that person extremely uncomfortable and upset!

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It's POURING rain outside and there's an ongoing rolling thunderstorm. 🥰😁🥱💯💙💙💙💥💫👌💦🌩⚡️☁️😄😏💘🫶

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so having ADHD means you live in a world of hoping you charged your vibrator (and being wrong)

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Went for a walk thru the local playground and had to stomp out a swastika someone drew in the sandbox.

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not sexual I just think a sturdy pane of glass would be very cool and smooth and comforting. impacting it hard would also squish my face up against it real funny

getting slammed against a window would fix me I think