no, but really, we need to talk about the casual objectification that has become the fallback discourse of the internet: if you're pretty and dressed nicely, you're a slut. and if you're even vaguely outside of their body standard, you're fucking disgusting.
too-frequently, people position sex workers as being "the problem". they sneer you're addicted to pornography, you don't know what a real woman looks like. but real women are in pornography. the real bodies on display are not the issue here: the issue is that other people feel extremely confident when commenting on someone's physique.
2000's super-thin is slowly worming its way back into the public ideal. recently i saw someone get told to "go for a run", despite the fact she was on the thinner side of average. not that it would ever be appropriate to say that: but it's kind of like sticker shock when you see it. people think that is fat? holy shit. do they just have no idea about things?
but what are you going to do about it? that's the problem, right. because chances are - you're a normal person. we can say normalize carrying fat on your body, but we are not the billion-dollar diet industry. we are not the billion-dollar fashion industry. we are just, like. people. who are trying to make content on the internet, without being treated shittily.
as someone who has been on both sides of things: you are treated better when you are thin and pretty. this is statistically correct. i am not saying that you cannot be bullied for being thin; i'm saying there are objective institutional biases against certain bodytypes. there are videos of men and women who lost weight all saying: i now know for a fact exactly how much worse you're treated. in the comments, some asshole inevitably says something akin to you deserved to be dehumanized when you were fat.
which means that ... the easiest thing to do is be pretty and thin. it is the path of least resistance, because of course it is, because any time you post a picture of yourself without a thigh gap, someone immediately comments something like you need to try a diet.
the other half is also dehumanizing though, huh, just in a different way. when i put on makeup and nice clothes, i am told i slept my way to the top as a professional. do you know how many women in STEM have told me they purposefully dress to "unimpress" because they already struggle to be taken seriously and if they're ever considered pretty - it for some reason takes away from their authority.
so they make it seem like it's your fault. you, existing in a body - it's your fault! if you didn't want shitty comments, don't have a body. they position us against each other like chess pieces; vying for male attention we don't even need.
and i can be an authority on this unless you think i'm fat and unattractive. when i am pretty and thin, i'm an activist. when i am just a normal person who makes a good point: i am immediately dismissed. nobody fucking believes you if you're not seen as attractive. you literally lose value. you cease to exist.
but the whole time, it feels like - is anyone actually grounded the fuck in reality? the line of "pretty and thin" keeps shifting. nobody seems to understand what "a normal weight" even looks like, because it's not something that exists - you cannot tell a person's health by looking at their body. even if you think you could tell that, even if you're sure a person is dangerously overweight - people are not your dolls. they do not need to be dressed up or displayed properly to soothe your aesthetics. you aren't concerned for them, you're stealing their agency. you don't get to say if they're "allowed" to take pictures and post them on the internet - you don't get to tell them how to exist.
people hide behind "the obesity epidemic" without any actual qualifications. they crow things about "normalizing unhealthiness".
but it's bullshit. i have visible abs. there is a pair of parallel lines on my body, even when i'm relaxed; where my obliques meet my abdominal wall. i am proud of this because it means i'm strong, because i overcame an eating disorder only to be ripped as fuck. it is genetic and physical luck that i even get any definition, i'm pleased as punch.
but it does mean that my abdominal wall sticks out a little bit. the other day i posted a video of myself dancing, and, for a moment, my shirt slipped. you could see a little bit of my stomach. i was cartwheeling to the floor. moments before this, i'd had my foot over my head.
a guy slid into my DMs. a row of vomiting emojis prefaced: you should really lose some weight before you think about dancing.
i stared at it for a long time. there was a time when i would have been triggered by this, where it would have encouraged me to starve myself. i would have ignored the fact i'm flexible, agile, good at jumping: i would have lost the weight for a stranger's passing comment. i would have found myself and my body fucking disgusting.
and for what? to please what? because why? so that he can exist in this world without an unchallenged eyeball? what would my self-hatred even accomplish? usually i write paragraphs. obviously. on this particular occasion, in this body i've been at war with for ages: i just felt exhausted.
it shouldn't be even worth saying. it shouldn't be hard to explain. all of this emotional turmoil when he cannot even comprehend the most basic truth: i am not an object on display for him.
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The FNAF series is American Gothic
Like:
-draws on the shared childhood fear of Chuck E Cheese
-story of the missing children and William Afton draws on stories of American serial killers
-draws on the “stranger danger” fear
-Sister Location and Pizzeria Simulator poke fun at American corporate phoniness and American business culture
-takes place in Utah
-features the destruction of the “American Dream”
-the horror of having to work a shitty minimum wage job that actively puts you in danger
-general themes of madness and terror
-lots and lots of ghosts
-a single haunted house
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dropping some treats from this au onto the dash Very Carefully. enjoy!!!
“Pierre just started work at Esteban’s firm, you know,” George says, setting his beer down on a coaster. A signal, that his monthly update on their friends (and enemies, after a few drinks) has begun.
“Got him the job, or failed at keeping him from getting it?” Lando asks.
It’s all public on LinkedIn, he’d even dropped a like on Pierre’s post last week, scrolled the comments for Esteban’s name, but it’s more fun, letting George put on his show. Playing up his reactions, setting George up for the reveals. Alex never checks LinkedIn, anyways.
Alex elbows Lando lightly, drink swishing dangerously close to the edges of his glass.
“Hey, maybe they’ve changed, you never know. Three years, that’s a long time.”
Lando’s face scrunches up in disbelief without his permission.
“To go from screaming at each other on the quad to pleasant coworkers? Think they need more than three years, mate.”
Alex laughs.
George knocks his knuckles against the table, drawing his audience back in.
“And they’re in the same department. Bridge design, or something.”
“Guess I won’t be driving over the river any time soon,” Alex says. “Anything else? Still no news from Logan?”
“No, he’s still offshore somewhere. Pretty sure he’s back in the land of the living next month, though.”
“And, uh,” Alex pauses, eyes darting towards Lando.
Lando’s good at this bit. Ignoring the awkward pauses in George’s monthly updates on their friends (and, after a few drinks, enemies) from school. He tips his chin down, junk email from Adobe suddenly riveting.
The silence stretches, longer than normal. Lando is learning quite a bit about the webinars Adobe offers. They’re going all-in on generative AI from the looks of it, the morons. Weekly fifteen minute conversations on how they’re using it and everything.
There’s quite a lot of cut-off motion in his peripheral. George’s face is going to get stuck like that if he doesn’t stop.
Lando puts down his phone.
“And Osc-ar is moving back to start his masters in CS. Same program as me. I check my email too, you know.” Lando clears his throat, ignoring the way he’d stumbled over his name. “Drinks, anyone?”
He doesn’t wait for a response, standing and walking to the bar. Lando could rattle their drink orders off half asleep anyways. Doesn’t need to sit around while they frantically communicate with their eyes, trying and failing to act normal. They can whisper-scream at each other when he’s not at the table. His gift to them. Drinks on him, and a few minutes to pull it together.
Lando closes his eyes as the bartender pours their drinks. He can act normally about this. He’s going to have to act normally about this, if he wants to survive it.
God. Back to school with Oscar Piastri.
Like being nineteen and fucking stupid again. Or twenty-two and even fucking stupider.
The sound of their drinks hitting the bar top shakes him from his thoughts.
“-eaves the room whenever he’s even mentioned, and now they’re gonna be in the same-“ Alex cuts himself off as Lando returns.
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Hello Folks, I am happy to announce that this blog has surpassed 68 followers, which is larger than the smallest incorporated town in NH, Hart's Location.
Hart's location, located in Carrol county, is a small strip of land surrounding a portion of Craford Notch Road in northern NH.
Founded in 1772 as a gift to General John Hart of Portsmouth, Hart's location today contains several scenic hiking trails, an inn, and a few houses scattered around. One notable landmark is the Old Willey House, home of a notable 1826 disaster.
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