#lizzo has done so much for my body positivity

[idkwhatimdoingbutpersonal]

My unwanted opinions on Lizzo, Doja Cat and Ariana Grande.

Celebrity culture will be the death of me, truly, but the way some of y’all talk about these HUMAN BEINGS is making my brain melt just a little bit.

Lizzo ⏬️

Stop using this situation as an excuse to say that body positivity and anti-racism is bad. What the hell are you going on about? It’s getting embarrassing + takes credit away from people who are genuinely saying sensical things about the suit and allegations.

This suit is not as serious as others, but her actions still need to be addressed. You’re allowed to not like Lizzo, but if your reasoning is ‘she’s fat’ then you need to leave. At the end of the day, we weren’t there to witness any of these allegations take place, so we’ll never know, but that doesn’t mean that I think she’s innocent.

To my knowledge (correct wherever I am wrong), the fat shaming was implied and not directly stated and may or may not have been about weight gain affecting performances which can be incredibly uncomfortable to experience and have these things said by an employer. The sexual harassment was awful and Lizzo has forgotten boundaries. And the Christian shaming… yeah that lady (the choreographer who was pressuring people into following her person beliefs) should’ve been fired faster. There are choreographers everywhere. Also it has been said (I think) that this suit was made because Lizzo fired these women who made the allegations without reasoning.

I don’t wanna say this suit is unserious, but it could have been solved with a conversation (which is MUCH easier said than done considering power imbalances). I’m sure they tried a conversation and it didn’t work, so here we are.

We can only watch and see what happens. But stop using this as an excuse to hate people for things they can’t control. This is ridiculous and some people are incredibly immature. Fun fact: Fat people and Black people can be bad. Cuz they’re like… humans. Don’t act like this is proof that all fat people and all Black people are evil. So………… do with that what you will.

Either way, this woman needs to be held accountable, learn boundaries and have some respect for herself and the people around her and so does everyone else cuz this is an industry thing that needs to be addressed. Give everyone, especially these dang employees, a BREAK!

Doja ⏬️

This woman is so obviously going through it. Doja Cat has consistently shown how much she dislikes herself (sorry to come off blunt but 🤷🏾‍♀️).

Idk what everyone’s goal is with Doja Cat. She’s allowed to not like her art, it happens.

I think all of this attack on Doja stems from toxic celebrity culture and forgetting that musical artists are ARTISTS FIRST AND FOREMOST.

As an artist, there are times where you hate your art. Where you question why anyone else liked it. It happens. She doesn’t seem like someone who wanted to be a celebrity, she wanted to be successful in doing what she loves. I think it’s unfair to say you have to give up your humanity to follow your calling.

Everyone’s a mental health advocate and wants mercy whenever they start to act out because you’re struggling, but so many aren’t willing to give that mercy out.

She is obviously online way too much.

Plus, with the tiny chat things and this hating her art thing, how are y’all gonna hate her for hating herself? What’s the goal here? Doja needs a support system and therapy. All this is not helping. She’s not our responsibility, understandably, but some people are making it their goal to antagonize her. She needs to get off of Twitter and so do you.

You’re allowed to say ‘welp, don’t like her or her actions so I won’t engage’. Entirely your prerogative and you’re decision but this is getting blown out of proportion.

I don’t wanna touch on that satanic panic stuff, it’s weird. Just stop pretending like all bald women have the devil in them.

ONTO THE MORE IMPORTANT STUFF THATS SIMPLY NOT GETTING AS MUCH COVERAGE AS THE OTHER LITTLE THINGS: her working with dr luke and her (alleged) rapist boyfriend. Talk about this one more. This is an issue.

Ariana ⏬️

This whole situation is literally no one’s business. She’s a cheater and the other woman. Nothing new. It’s bad, obviously, and incredibly hurtful, but this has nothing to do with us and everything to do with Ariana and her partner(s).

I think some just want an excuse to attack someone. Ariana needs to figure this out, we shouldn’t even know about any of this or try getting involved. This is all her and very personal. She’s unfaithful and has hurt peoples feelings… what does that have to do with us?

It’s your decision whether or not you wanna support her, but is it that serious? None of us should know any of this info. Stop trying to be so involved in other peoples’ lives that you hardly know.

I’m not going to minimize her unfaithfulness, but dang how is this any of our business? Personal issue she needs to deal with.

Overall? Stop idolizing people, be kinder and get offline for your sake ❤️ (this isn’t supposed to be like sarcastic or mean sorry if it comes off that way lol).

EDIT: Tee Noir made a great video on the Lizzo situation. Better than I could so -> https://youtu.be/QDqBB8GxvcE

#ariana grande #doja cat #lizzo #lizzo lawsuit #shlayed fr #yeah um anyway

[fmhiphop]

A Fed Up Lizzo: Restricts Her Twitter Account and Threatens To Quit Music

Being in the spotlight isn’t easy; it comes with extreme highs and lows, as mega performer Lizzo recently exhibited. Merely a day ago, a frustrated and enraged Lizzo restricted her Twitter account and expressed the possibility of quitting music altogether. What was the reason behind it all? A very old ugly issue that continues to rear its nasty head.   The Source of Lizzo’s Frustration A very insensitive tweet sent the “Special" artist into a tailspin. According to a recent article, Lizzo was extremely irritated after an insensitive tweeter had something to say about her weight. The poster inquired why the artist remained overweight despite her vigorous onstage activity. https://twitter.com/LayahHeilpern/status/1663204629230895106?s=20 While Lizzo has waded through a barrage of hateful comments in the past, this one was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. The source notes the artist’s response, read as thus: “I’m tired of explaining myself all the time, and I just wanna get on this app w/out seeing my name in some b#######.” The entire comment section was relentless, with no let-up. And respectfully, Lizzo was done. Given the timbre of the message and the lack of civility in how the public addresses Lizzo, no one can blame her for the outrage. The Same Old Song This is not the first time Lizzo has had to go toe to toe with negative nellies. Repeatedly, she has expressed her discontent with how people approach her. This time Lizzo did not leave it at an address to the initial commenter. She went even further to express her deepest sentiments for those who believe her weight is a promotional gimmick. Lizzo let the waiting public have it. In her words, “BEING FAT ISNT MY ‘BRAND’; BEING FAT IS WHAT MY BODY LOOKS THAT. THATS IT. THATS ALL. My ‘brand’ is FEEL GOOD MUSIC, It is CHAMPIONING ALL PEOPLE. My ‘brand’ is BLACK GIRL LIBERATION. https://twitter.com/Esther_Knowles_/status/1663977910900801543?s=20   The fact any logical individual would think this wasn't the case is ludicrous. Lizzo, Please Don’t Go Lizzo has been an inspiration to many. Her talent is astounding, and she exhibits a confidence that many young girls only wish they could have. The singer's success is refreshing in an industry where image appears to be everything. It is increasingly sad how the public cannot move past its fixation on external things as opposed to the gifts these courageous people bring to the world. While Lizzo has presented with thick skin, it’s not hard to see how ignoring personal attacks takes a toll. And this time, it took her to another place. The insults even led to the mention of the possibility of leaving the thing she loves, music. As the “Good as Hell” artist went on to say, I HATE IT HERE. The Love definitely does not outweigh the Hate on social media… all because I’m fat????” she stated. “Y’all don’t know how close I be to giving up on everyone and quitting and enjoying my money and my man on a F###### FARM. In Finality Life is hard. And it's undeniable the world would be much better if those who had nothing nice to say would simply say nothing. But unfortunately, that is not the way people move. And negativity is predominantly the choice selection of the day. So here is to hoping Lizzo can tune out the negative noise and target the positive. Her gift is much too brilliant to be shelved because of the uncivilized way people offer their unsolicited opinions. Lizzo is an inspiration, and at the end of the day, the package is inconsequential compared to all the beauty exuded from the inside. Lizzo is truly "Special" https://youtu.be/0ujjiNBQnmI Written By: Renae Richardson Read the full article

[influencermagazineuk]

Kylie Jenner's Concerns about Beauty Standards and Her Own Choices and Effects on Daughter

Kylie Jenner, the reality TV star and makeup mogul, recently spoke out about her concerns over the beauty standards set by her family. In a new episode of 'The Kardashians', the 25-year-old expressed her desire for a bigger conversation around these standards and admitted that she doesn't want her daughter to follow in her footsteps. "I don't want my daughter to do the things I did," said Kylie, who has two children, Stormi and Aire, with rapper Travis Scott. Although she didn't go into detail about her own beauty choices, she recently opened up about having lip fillers in the past. In an interview with HommeGirls, Kylie explained that despite feeling insecure about her lips, she doesn't regret getting fillers. "I had my one lip insecurity thing, so I got lip filler, and it was the best thing I've ever done. I don't regret it," she said. However, Kylie also emphasized that she was always confident growing up and that a big misconception about her is that she had a lot of surgery on her face. "I think a big misconception about me is that I've had so much surgery on my face and that I was some insecure person, and I really wasn't! Yeah, I love full lips and wanted full lips, but growing up I was always the most confident person in the room. I was the girl performing for everyone," she shared. Despite the criticism she's received over the years for her appearance, Kylie sees makeup as a form of self-expression. In a recent interview with People, she said, "I really see makeup as a form of self-expression." She also credited her success with her Kylie Cosmetics brand to her passion for makeup and her desire to help people express themselves through it. Kylie's comments about beauty standards come at a time when there's increasing pressure on women to look a certain way, especially on social media. She's not the only celebrity to speak out about this issue; stars like Lizzo, Jameela Jamil, and Chrissy Teigen have also been vocal about the importance of body positivity and self-love. In the end, Kylie's message is clear: it's important to have open and honest conversations about beauty standards and the choices we make regarding our appearance. While she may have made certain choices in the past, she's using her platform to encourage others to think critically about their own decisions and the impact they have on their self-esteem. Kylie Jenner's concerns about beauty standards and her own choices are important topics of conversation, especially in a world where social media can often promote unrealistic expectations. By speaking out about her own experiences, Kylie is using her platform to encourage others to love themselves just the way they are. Read the full article

[onceuponanaromantic]

I have rewatched the anti-hero video so many times istg to try and situate my discussion of the fatphobia more accurately within a) the music video b) midnights and the TS evolution and c) within the larger context of pop culture. And actually I realise that actually the cultural response and backlash and the backlash to that backlash can be tied to like how we talk about bodies + body policing, feminism in the pop culture (and music) scene, and like the cultural reception of TS and fatphobia as a systemic issue.

(syl’s nerd stuff under the cut)

Ok so actually it required a lot of breaking down fiske’s theories of domination and the celebratory effects of pop culture, and like how pop culture is mobilised to circulate dominant ideologies. (And I was trying to apply the dialectic approach to intercultural communication but it didn’t work because actually the cultural-individual dialectic and the contextual-individual dialectic don’t really work even though I was trying very hard to make it work HAHAHA.) But yeah, I think a big part of the problem is specifically TS’ situation on the pop culture and music scene and like the ‘renaissance’ through both the Taylor’s version series and as an artist through folklore, evermore and now midnights. I think esp because midnights comes and is marketed as a discussion of her insecurities and a response to self-loathing (which is never fun! Even if it can be cathartic!) that added layer of vulnerability invokes the strong parasocial r/s that TS is very very good at playing on and is very creative in, esp in social media. And that heightens the sensation that any criticism, even sensitive and gentle criticism, is going to come as an attack.

the next thing that stands out to me is the way the word ‘fat’ specifically is used and why it holds such tension. I argued that it’s really the polysemic nature that leads to a lot of the conflict around it, precisely because body policing and its ties to specifically femininity but also other gender presentation is so fraught. And that’s a very understated way of putting it, but the issue is that a lot of people’s personal discomforts with body policing and dysphoria and body shaming in general are tied to the perception of being fat, and the link of being fat with fearing the loss of desire and the loss of safety (of many forms) that’s tied to that. At the same time though, actual fat people and activists are naming these specific harms they experience because of systemic fatphobia and the very real harms and violence they experience by being fat (through food policing, denial of medical care, dehumanisation, higher rates of abuse, etc). And they are specifically identifying that the perception of being fat and fearing the loss of that safety as a thin person is vastly different from the actual stigma and harm that fat people experience, and the use of the word in the way that TS did contributes to the stigma. And they’re right to do so, because TS has a massive platform and so any harm she does will be amplified by that. And TS is def not the only pop culture artist who has been criticised right (see also: Lizzo being criticised for the word ‘spaz’ being ableist in her song) but because of TS’ position contextually, people are very sensitive to any criticism of her and anything that might even be perceived as an attempt to damage her reputation. And because culturally, TS has built herself up as a feminist (or at least feminist in her authorship) and a source of resistance against sexism, and the way she interacts is very much to build a sense of investment in her writing (paratextual strategies yay), this does amplify the magnitude and intensity of the harassment directed at anyone who speaks up about the harm TS has done/is doing.

yeah so in conclusion, stan culture is a logically extension of the media environment and like, current PR strategies of engagement, and also very specifically in this case, TS’ persona and the way ppl engage with it.

#syl’s ramblings #I’m really less concerned with whether tying specific choices in her songwriting that suck #to her as an artist whose persona and platform has amplified specific harm she does #than looking at the cultural landscape and looking at the effects and resistance people are putting up #like whether I like her songs or not is secondary #to looking at her overall as an artist and as a big cultural figure #and the impacts stuff has #why am I doing this? #because there are no practice papers and I desperately need to practice application questions for my comms final next week

[sheerfreesia007]

Hi Siren! Glad to hear you are feeling much better. How are you feeling with the injections? Are you nervous about doing them? Sparkles has told us all about this new job at your work and we are all behind you. You’ll be great and you won’t have to work with Moaning Myrtle any more! YAY! Did you hear that Lizzo is thinking of ditching us for Dubai? Bitch! Love you lots like jelly tots 🍾❤️

Hi Bubbles! How are you? I hope you’re doing well! The injections I was a little apprehensive at first before my first one but I it went alright, there wasn’t any pain or any side affects thankfully. I wasn’t sure if I did it right at first but I had a little flushed skin at the injection site so I knew it worked. I have my second one on Sunday and then the week after that the dosage has to be increased. It is what it is, I’ve gotta do it to lower my A1C so it’s just gotta be done. I’m just hoping that with the higher dosage I won’t have any side effects. I had a rough time with side effects from my first medication before my body got used to it so I’m just worried about that.

Oh yes! I am very excited for it and keeping my fingers crossed for it. It’s the position I want to end up in in the agency so if I can get into it now I’ll be set. Plus I could always move onto different units like SWAT eventually! Yes and the main reason I’m trying to get out of my current position is because of Moaning Myrtle, ugh that woman. I swear she creates her own problems and then wonders why her life is like that. She’s started moving stuff around on my desk again so now I’ve just started removing my things from my desk. And she’s finally realizing now that if I get this position she’ll have to deal with all of my tasks now and she’s been saying that I can’t leave. Hahahahaha. I ain’t looking back when I eventually do leave.

The Instructors at my job have all told me that I’d be a great asset for the new position and that they’d be stupid not to choose me. One of the former instructors who got promoted even sent me an email cheering me on for the new position because we had talked about it when he came to the Range to help us. It was just really sweet and makes me feel good about my work. I’m just trying not to get my hopes up too high, the let downs always set me in a bad mood for awhile and I’m just trying not to go there.

I did hear she’s trying to go to Dubai. Hahaha, I hope she gets it even though that means she’d be leaving you guys. It sounds very exciting to go work in Dubai. Plus you guys would have someone there to go visit and tell you all the good spots in Dubai! I find it exotic and so different than what I’m used to.

#Sheer answers

[just-a-queer-crow]

I’m so tired of my dad implying that me eating a little too much, whether it’s cause I’m really depressed or I haven’t eaten all day (which is what I do a lot), is making me fat

Like:

Me: *is a lil chubby* *tries not to hate my body*

My dad: *is fat* (not to be rude or anything, it’s just true)

Me: *has a little too much to eat* *likes ice cream a lot* *just likes food in general*

My dad: *makes thinly veiled comments abt how I shouldn’t be eating that much cause I’ll get fat*

#shitty parents #parents #dad #body posititivity #body image #lizzo has done so much for my body positivity #like Tempo and Juice make me so happy

[kkulmoon]

I KNEAD YOU | jhs ✦ m

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You have had your mind filled with indecent thoughts of your spin class trainer, Hoseok, ever since you started taking his classes. However discreet you thought your antics had been, Hoseok had somehow found out and was more than willing to fulfil your fantasies.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Hoseok x Reader(f) | 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, pwp? | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ | 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.3k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cunnilingus, fingering?, slight praising, ass play, he has his hand around her neck, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys~), slight edging, groping, biting, spanking, bathroom sex.

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐲: my muse and soulmate @inkedxclouds​ as well as the amazing @meowxyoong​ (thank u loves <3333)

𝐚/𝐧: nothing to say other than I seem to like butts more than I thought,,,,, also victoria monét’s “ass like that” was the very inspo for this au, cause that song is a bop and for some reason it gave me hobi vibes + “juice” by lizzo (though I doubt the fic gives off that type of vibe but oh well) enjoy 🥺

Three months down the line and you’d think you would have developed somewhat of a sweat resistance by habitually working out. No, not at all. Still as sweaty as ever, but maybe now it was less about hard work, and more about hard want. You relax onto the closed toilet seat sighing deeply at your unfortunate situation. The changing room wasn’t safe and neither was the shared portion of the washroom.

At every and any small intermission you were offered during the heated class, you dashed towards the toilets letting your sweaty fingers hectically slip against the cold metal of the tap handles. The cold water slipping past your fingers as you tapped its remains on your skin, hoping to cool down or at least seem cool enough. But there’s only so much a little bit of cold water could do for your overheated body. As aware as you were about this, you made it a habit, involuntary of course, to let some of that desire out in the confinements of one of the bathroom stalls.

Today is no exception. You rush to the toilet, rugged breaths filling the air as you snap the flimsy lock shut, bending over to roll off your snug cycling shorts. You think back to Hoseok’s instructions : “You should always keep an eye on your breathing while doing vigorous exercise, you want to avoid back pain and strain on your blood vessels.” Back in class you almost let your thoughts tumble through your heaving mouth. “I don’t think exercise is the one doing that”.

As obedient as you are, you let deep puffs reverberate through your chest before diving in. Your hands, tired from clenching hard against the handle of the cycle to stay on it, tremble their way down your folds swinging with the same dynamic present in Hoseok’s glistening legs while he pedals. Your eyes flutter, blinding you from your surroundings, mind tumbling through all the imprinted images of your instructor you have stored in your mind.

That’s all you need. For now.

While you suck at cycling and picking up speed in that circumstance, the image of Hoseok’s huffing mouth, stable legs, and bouncing brown locks, drenched with his hard work, sticking to him the way you wanted him to stick to you, was more than enough for the tentative deep plunge of your fingers to rival the set speed record for your spin class.

Remember: deep breaths Y/N. You slow down, finger languidly straining against your walls. You hit a particular spot, staggering on the one leg touching the ground as your other hand anchors your edged form onto the whimsy bathroom stall walls.

The slow pace allows you to revel in the imagery of Hoseok’s long fingers pointed high in the air to countdown to your thirty second long spinning sprint, imagining those long digits plunged into the same heat your fingers are scissoring. He would know exactly what to do, ordering consecutive gushes of arousal out of you, the same way his fingers point towards your direction when he sees your energy falter.

With Hoseok, nothing but one hundred percent was acceptable. While you couldn’t always keep the promise of giving him just that in all of his classes, if he were to ask you, whether it be after class or somewhere in the lobby of the gym building, you would say yes to showing him where you excelled without fail.

Heart beating a firing rhythm you would snatch his trained fingers to some designated corner of the building, ready to get on your knees and stay there to take it all, the one posture you knew you could manage to keep without fail. Anything for Hoseok really.

Dripping fingers, drying cycling shorts clinging to your heated flesh, you croak out a moan, doing your best to quiet it down in the sleeve of your gym top. “Shit—” your hips buck into your erratic palm as you knead the sensitive flesh of your bud, hissing through clenched teeth.

“What the fuck are you doing to me, Hoseok,” the whispered whine travels to the small cracks of the bathroom stall, the sloppy sounds of your continued assault on your wetness bounce against the walls to fall upon the ears of the figure entering the toilet room.

“Hmmmm, fuck Hoseo—”

Your anticipated wave of pleasure catches your breath, stuttering breaths colouring the air with its warm essence. “Ahhhh,” you sigh into the sensation rippling through your bones, fisted hand sprawling itself across the cool wood of the bathroom stall door. A particular touch of your knuckles against your clit has your nails scratch against the material.

In the heat of the moment, eyelids heavy and ears focused on recalling the authority of Hoseok’s voice, you fail to register the footsteps that sound in the room. Footsteps that stall themselves during your explosive demonstration of your instructor’s effect on your body only to leave the toilet room after you’ve calmed down and said in a condescending yet satisfied tone, “How pathetic, masturbating to your instructor in the bathroom like some teenager. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Puffing out what’s left of your pent up air, you drag your fingers from your settling walls, staring longingly at the wetness and wishing you could be looking at another pair of fingers glazed with your cum.

Hand hanging lazily by your side you do your best to lift your shorts back up to a correct position using your only available hand. You fiddle with the lock, slowly opening the door. You peek to see if there’s anyone there to whom you might reveal your latest conquest  and only probe your head out of the stall when the coast feels clear.

As weak as legs might feel, you do your best to hurry up with the cleaning, washing the product of your forbidden fantasy down the drain just like the possibility of ever actually having the honour to let yourself be used by him in any way he sees fit.

Commanding words and strokes telling you exactly what he wants you to do for him, to give to him and you doing your absolute best to abide with clenched fists and a gagging mouth. You feel yourself fall down the rabbit hole, again, but you bring yourself back with a good shake of your head. You do not have another ten minutes to calm yourself down by attempting to fulfill your own lust.

You take one last look at the mirror to check that you do not look abnormally flustered before you leave to head back into the spinning room, face sweet and innocent, unlike the thoughts trying to invade your mind the moment your eyes focus on their inevitable target.

The hypnotising movement of his lips. Inviting and pink and shimmering from the quick swipe of his pointed lip against the surface. You sigh, in desperation, wishing for the presence of that muscle somewhere else. How pathetic of you, you think, almost releasing a single sobbing sound out of frustration. If only he knew.

You heave yourself into the cycle, fitting your tensed feet into the small caged armor of the pedal, unaware that Hoseok indeed knew and was very much ready to act on it.

His sudden constant and deliberate churning of your increasingly hot figure has you agitated, gaze meeting the floor. It is unusual for Hoseok to get off of his spin bike and personally assist you with your posture. Rather, he settled for quick commanding reminders that were shouted as enthusiastically as possible despite the sternness of his sweating face.

Yet for some reason, unbeknownst to you, he stops spinning and drags his taut slim legs all the way to where you like to stay at the back of the class, to personally adjust your swaying pelvis. “Engage your core. Squeeze your glutes.” He says, the order somehow managing to sound even louder than the blasting music. This is the first time he has touched you. You immediately stop spinning, hips swaying even more than before, chasing the inviting and rough heat of his short finger glove covered hands.

Your heart should have calmed down by the time he got back on his bike, but it doesn’t. You fail to admit to yourself that the coincidental eye contact you had with Hoseok in his classes, was more than enough to throw off your already fumbling posture.

If his wandering eyes are enough for you to follow their movement, accentuating each part that they laid on, his hands on your straining body is all you need to alleviate the ache of your muscles. You turn into a puddle, something that manifests itself right between your legs even before your body comes in contact with his.

“Okay guys, we have another half hour before we are done, so stay with me and there will be a sweet treat at the end,” Hoseok shouts out to the class, bursting your little thought bubble. Your eyes close as you nod, encouraging yourself to pull through, not for the sweet treat but for you. It’s the least you can do given how much you pay for these classes. But what a shame that your eyes are closed, unable to register the hungry and curious gaze Hoseok throws your way.

Twenty minutes have gone by, or maybe just ten? You feel so hot and disoriented from all the effort you’re putting in. Yawning, and trying your best to rid yourself of the final remains of sleep, you had theorised in your car that your goal for this class was to beat your old record, the one you had back when you came to class for the right reasons. Before the thought of riding Hoseok overtook your ambition to get fitter.

Calves burning, every muscle pushing itself to the verge of exhaustion, you think back to your breathing. Your mouth opens and closes as if you are giving birth, trying its best to collect all of the sweat ridden air needed to keep you going.

“Five minutes left. Keep going, you’re almost there!”

Your hanging head, that was focused on counting the sweat droplets falling from your face onto the shiny floor, shoots up to look at your instructor. It must be because of his job as a trainer and a coach that Hoseok flashes you his dashing smile the minute your eyes, gleaming with hope at the prospect of the class soon coming to an end, meets his own soft gaze.

Not wanting to seem rude or like a total nutjob, you tame your panting mouth into a simple smile, no teeth so as to not come across as too excited about something as infantile as eye contact. He winks in response and you swear you almost twist your ankle leaning forward to check if your eyes aren’t deceiving you.

Hoseok’s good at his job. He manages to keep your mind away from the propagating ache in your body as your legs chase time, looking to leave the room with your own small victory. He keeps you rooted and gives you the last bit of energy you need to make it. The timer beeps, startling you. You shake in your seat, breaking your contact with his warm brown eyes. If this is the power of his eyes, what the heck does his body have in store?

As much as you would want to let your mind wander to give you a probable hypothesis to the complicated case that is Hoseok, you’re too far gone to think that deep. Drained and sweaty, your arms dangle on your sides as you let your head lifelessly fall onto the bar of the spin bike. Too weak to push yourself back up but still wanting to know how far you cycled, you roll your drenched head onto the speed counter and stare down at it. At the sight of the double digit number, larger than the previous feat you had achieved, you sigh, a light laugh slipping past your dry lips. Finally some good news. As a way of congratulating yourself, you pat your thighs with the little force you have spared.

The surrounding claps invade your wandering ears, as people shout out, patting themselves in the back and congratulating others for pulling through. Nobody congratulates you but it’s nothing you haven’t had to handle before. Content with your progress, you step off the cycle.

You gather your items, hurrying as you feel the effects of gorging on too much liquid during class. With a drenched towel hanging of your forearm and an empty water bottle in your other hand you speed to the unisex toilet.  

As you set your belongings on the sink countertop, someone enters. You don’t bother to spare them a glance, something you regret the minute Hoseok’s familiar tight fitting cycling top is reflected on the wide mirror. Your head instinctively looks his way to admire the soft slope of his nose and the harsh lines of his profile. He knows you’re looking to which he smirks softly. Your body shifts more to your right, afraid of what other things, sinful things,  you might feel compelled to do if you stay so close to him.

You aggressively pump some soap into your palm, anything to remove the silence etched in the surrounding air. Hoseok does the same, except he does it graciously like everything else he’s ever done.

“Y/N, right?” He inquires, letting a steady stream of water wet his hands as he lathers them.

Your mind tells you he’s simply asking for formality’s sake. Did he plan to keep a conversation with you in the bathroom? How much could you possibly fit into the time it takes to wash your hands? Unless he plans on drawing it out and drying out his skin? Many more questions run through my mind as you bite your lips, eyes staring at the floor until they inevitably wander up his legs.

This is your verbal first interaction with him that doesn’t seem to hint at any subject related to your given roles in the establishment, a trainer and his trainee. No, he’s asking as Hoseok, curious to know about a certain regular Y/N who spends her free time thinking indecent thoughts about his body.

Realising that you’re taking too long to answer to your own name, you blurt out, “YES!” before clearing your throat in hopes to compose yourself. Swallowing thickly, you have another go at it, “I mean, yes, that’s my name. Y/N is me.”

While your ears warm up at your embarrassing behaviour, Hoseok’s soft chuckle manages to overpower the loud hand dryer. Usually, once someone’s done cleaning their hands they leave the bathroom and that’s exactly what you see Hoseok do. You watch him walk up to the toilet room door only to turn back around to face the mirror, doing your best not to let the dejected feeling in you overtake your features.

You breathe in, trying your best to catch your sanity. He was just being nice and trying to  break the tension, one you seem to believe could only be perceived from your side. With eyes closed, you let the cool rush of the water provide some sort of relaxation and solution to your heated body. Your dripping hands reach towards the hand dryer on your side only to reach back when you think about the hot air, you don't need to get fired up again, so you decide to pat yourself dry with paper towels.

Ready to leave, you look up into the mirror to take one last inspection at your face.

Oh.

Hoseok’s eyes catch your own. He’s leaning against the toilet’s room door frame, head slightly hanging to his side and tongue dancing calmly in the small intrusion between his lips. You thought he left?

You want to look away, but you can’t. Not only because of the demanding energy coating his eyes, but also because of the entrancing way he runs a hand past his hair, heel kicking against the door as he pushes himself off of it.

He darts towards you. Or at least that’s what it feels like to you. An overwhelming wave of desire coats your senses forcing your legs to stagger backwards as your butt comes in contact with the hard and cold edge of the sink counter.

Those hands, those fingers, the ones you’ve fantasied about having buried inside of you or stuffed in your mouth, find their way on each side of you anchoring themselves on the hard surface as Hoseok corners.

He’s close. Close enough to hear your shallow breathing, to notice your confused yet intrigued eyes and to smell the fertilised desperation in your body. Head somewhat leaned down so as to reach your gaze, he lets his eyes take their own free tour around your face, mouth slightly parted.

“I don’t think it’s pathetic at all,” he breathes out, sloping down to bathe your hot ears in his warm breath, “it’s cute, actually.” The sweet tone is almost enough to deceive you of his intentions but the prominent scraping of his teeth against your earlobe makes it clear.

Your chest curls into itself at the action, slipping down, out of reach from his inviting mouth. You want to think it’s a coincidence that Hoseok references your words from earlier but to simply think isn’t enough, you need to confirm it. “Uhmm… I don’t kn–ow what you’re referring to.” It comes out more jagged than you intended to as he steps closer, so as to almost graze your heaving chest.

A pout on his lips, his gaze zig zags across your features, “See, cute.”

You feel like you’re melting. Your face finds refuge in the minor protection of your shoulder as you squeeze your eyes shut. This is all you had thought about. To have Hoseok look at you as if he already knew what is obscured from his sigh, for now, a sight he couldn’t wait to explore. To let his eyes, hands and mouth colour his imagination into reality.

“I mean that it would be nice if I could show you what I can actually do to you.” If you were properly breathing before you sure you aren’t anymore. His voice is covered with sweetness and curiosity. It acts as both a gentle threat and a request. He could and would show you.

The rub of your knee against his thinly clothed thigh says yes before you manage to catch enough air to utter an eager “please”, eyes opening to stare at his chest. “Go ahead,” at the sight of your yearning eyes he encourages you. The thin elastic material did little to protect your sanity from the hardness of his body.

Had your eyes been closed, you could have been fooled into believing that you were touching his naked chest. You pinch the material, tugging it off his skin only to let it slap back down. Something that brings a soft smile to Hoseok’s shifting lips. Hoping that he understands your wordless request, you repeat the action a couple more times.

He dodges your eyes more than once, letting his playful side show, before he leans into you. Your lips collide, strong enough to have your head inclined against the mirror, your body moving upwards at every hungry push of his determined body. You latch onto him, hands lacing themselves around his straining biceps as you match the feverish dance of his tongue.

If your moaning wasn’t already evidence enough of your state, Hoseok’s willingness to offer more encourages him to run a slow swipe of his delicate hands up your thigh and dangerously close to where you’ve imagined him placing every class that you’ve attended. The touch is prominent enough to have you squirming, letting whiny moans spill into his smirking lips as your legs bring him closer.

But Hoseok’s gentle yet clear tapping of your thighs tells you he has something else in mind. “Stand back up.” The order is clear yet in your current hazy state, you slide off the counter anticipating your weak landing, something Hoseok takes care of by pushing you flush against him.

Following through, he presses his long fingers in the soft flesh of your ass, spreading your cycling shorts covered cheeks all while pushing you closer to his straining cock. Spread out, head shying away from looking at his face, he leans in with a soft whisper, “Now tell me, kitty, how did you get an ass like this?”

Timid hands roam across his hard frame as your intended whisper becomes a rushing gasp, pulled out from you by Hoseok’s prominent kneading of your ass, “You.”

“What did you say, sweetheart?”

Hesitant, and quite frankly too hot to think straight, you let it all spill out.

“It’s because of you. You gave me an ass like this.”

“Huh, you think so?” His stretched palm travels up and down your clothed cheeks. You don’t respond letting the steady stream of strained moans be an answer in itself. “So you’re saying, my classes gave you this juicy ass,” He hisses out, firmly squeezing the jiggly flesh.

You nod your head against his shoulder, humming in agreement, the cadence at which the soft moans escape intensifying. Moans that you attempt disguise by biting into his cycling jersey.

“Don’t you think I should get to enjoy what I created?” The implications of his question makes your breath hitch.

What is he thinking of doing. Anal? Eating your ass? Spanking? Your mind is in haywire but you know what you think.

“You can do anything you want.”

“Anything?”

You nod once again, hardened buds tickling his covered chest. All Hoseok does is smirk at your eagerness.

“Not today, kitty,” he pushes lightly against your breasts, making your shiver at the friction, turning you around with a swift hand as he shakes his head, “I like it from the back.”

You’re now facing the mirror, able to notice the distraught state of your body as your desperation creeps further into your limbs. Hoseok finds himself caging you in again, but while you could have hid your warming face in his chest before, now you’re completely exposed.It’s something that brings a playful expression to his features.

As if he wasn’t already close enough to you, Hoseok drives his eager hips into the heated plumpness of your butt and your fingers tense further around the edge of the countertop. Every hitching breath of yours is complemented with his groans.

“What a beautiful ass I’ve made,” he says, pride in his voice as he crouches down behind you to give each cheek its own shameless squeeze. “Don’t you agree?”

“Hmm,” you hum breathlessly before a pointed strike to your cheek makes it clear that that’s not how he wants you to respond. Nodding, head straining backwards to catch Hoseok’s dark gaze, your knees buckle driving your ass closer to his face while you whine out a stuttering yes.

Hoseok’s your trainer. He knows how breathing works during physical activities and makes it known that, whether or not you’re in class, he rules still apply. It’s soft, yet commanding whispers to not forget to breathe or he will stop, tingling confessions that let his appetite for your body infest your nerves as you delve deeper into despair. You want his cock inside of you and, unlike your willingness to wait, his patience is much greater.  

The continuous sway of hips quickens his breaths, and they land on your shoulder where they leave shivers that travel down your spine forcing you to shimmy your ass into his crotch even harder. “Come on, kitty, patience.” He breathes out, biting your scalding shoulder.

“Nghh, but plea—,” the hard slap that lands on your misbehaving cheeks has you stiffening, hands slipping against the glass. At this point you’re sure you’re not going to sit down on your train ride back home. Hoseok seems to want to leave you sore and marked.

“I said patience. I will give you what you need when I want to.” You nod lazily, not that your mind registers the sentence, but the alarming tone has you on your best behaviour.

Your compliant action earns you a few sloppy kisses along your covered shoulders, his hands snaking upwards to catch the zipper and let it slide down as you bend, body yearning for his touch until his determined hands engulf your freed and neglected mounds.

“Hmmm, just as soft and juicy as your ass.” He moans loud and clear and you fear someone outside might hear. Yet it still makes you melt onto his hard body. “Hose—yes, like that, ahhhh.”

Hoseok, given his position, does like orders, something he lets you know by running his fingers around your perked buds and squeezing them so hard you screech and bend even deeper. Fuck. As much as it hurts it also feels so good; your watering folds are proof enough.

“I don’t like to repeat myself, Y/N. Misbehave and I’ll keep drawing this out, leaving you wet and begging for me.” His tone is calculated and laced with a certain layer of pity that has you whining as you place one hand on his forearms to turn around and meet his eyes.

You witness the slowed blinking of his eyelids and hope that he can decipher your distressed eyes that ask for more. While Hoseok cares for his trainees, he likes to push them to see how far they can go. That’s what the smirk creeping up on his lips tells you.

“All in due time, kitty. First, let me taste something that I want to make mine.” One confident hand pats your dripping pussy to further awaken your sensitive nerve endings. Your thighs instinctively snap shut capturing his hand. Hoseok catches your eyes in the mirror, shaking his head before delivering another strike to your ass.

“Ahhh, shit,” you bite your quivering lips and let your hesitant thighs part to welcome the sweet slide of Hoseok’s fingers past your clothed folds as he hums in approval at the present wetness. “Just how I like it.” The praise compels a soft smile on your end.

You can’t hide the confusion that coats your features when he suddenly extracts his hand, something that has him snickering to himself. He enjoys torturing you and you want to complain but you don’t think your ass could handle anymore pain so you suck up your remarks along with some air.

Your head dances around, left to right and back again trying to figure out what exactly he plans to do as he crouches back down to face your butt. Before you can enquire in order to save yourself from any surprise attacks, he dives his head into the expanse of your globes shaking it as you squeal trying your best not to lose your stance.

He hums deeply, breathing in your scent and you whimper once his wet tongue pokes out to slide along your pussy lips, his saliva mixing in with your oozing arousal. His arms snake around your thighs, fingers digging into the flesh to push you further against his face. “Fuck, your kitty is dripping for me.” You manage to hear the muffled sound above the blend of his groans and your stumbling moans. But for once Hoseok doesn’t abide by his own rules as his hands rush to the hem of your cycling shorts, wanting nothing more than to rip them apart, to have you bare as to allow him to witness your clenching pussy– soon to be his pussy.

Exposed and wet, ready for him since the day you laid eyes on him, you stare down at his soft brown locks, where your hands will find refuge in shortly, and try your best to examine his eager expression through hooded eyes. He has your right leg up on his shoulder and you let the rhythm of his stroking hand guide your breaths. “So fucking pretty,” his other hand travels up your other thigh, “and wet,” he bites his lips leaning into your drenched center, “and mine.”

It’s only one lick but you already feel like falling apart, hands squeaking against the mirror. “Ahhh shit,” your hips move on their own accord, meeting his hot appendage and coating it with your increasing neediness. Either Hoseok doesn’t mind or your eagerness, looking to satisfy your own urge, doesn’t register in his mind as all that’s there is the goal to have you trembling and gushing all over his hungry mouth.

For each lap at your folds, he takes a breath away. Your fingers find the courage to place themselves on his head, soft hair left to be scrunched in your clenched fist. His head moves vigorously up and down, drinking up your juices under feverish groans and needy hands that latch on the cheeks of your ass to keep you from staggering away.

His tongue drives your pants, saturating your cunt with pointed licks coupled with soft nibbles at your throbbing clit, an action that has you quivering in surprise. “So fucking sweet,” he drags out the suckling of your vulva as he hums, satisfaction clear on his face as his tongue slides across his bottom lips. You mewl, hips bucking into the empty air. He plants a soft kiss on your heat, “Just for me. How cute.”

“Hoseok, please,” your strained plea runs from your lips without much thought to meet his mocking pout. You’re so close, you just need him to keep lapping at your soaked entrance, feasting on your juices and you would come undone before you know it.

However Hoseok seems to have other plans in mind as he stands back up, the straining in his pants all the more noticeable in his tight shorts. He leans in to kiss your neck, holding your behind flush against his cock. “Unfortunately, I can’t eat you out until you fall apart. We wouldn’t want anyone to come open the door, now would we?”

Your want has made you forget your predicament. You’re in the bathroom of your gym, ready to have the trainer you’ve been daydreaming about rail your neediness away. He made sure to lock the door but someone could soon start asking questions, looking for staff to complain to. Staff who would surely hurry to unlock the door, after all client satisfaction is important. Something that Hoseok is very aware of.

You shake your head as his husk approval meets your slick ear, “Good kitty.” He bites the shell of your ear, scraping against the heating flesh, “Now spread your legs for me.” You shuffle your feet side to side following his orders, legs too heavy to lift. “You’re doing so good for me,” he says, hoping to reassure you as his hands leave your body and you watch him, in the mirror, slide his pants down to expose his erect and flushed cock.

You almost turn around on instinct, one based on your countless dreams of having him in your mouth, weighing down your tongue. But you stay put, resorting to ogling his long and pretty dick. Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind as his hand goes to stroke lazily at the throbbing length while continuing to keep his distance from you.

His eyes lock with yours and you whimper because you know exactly what you could do to that dick of his if he’d just let you. However, he’s adamant on having his way with you. Maybe another time? Maybe. You close your eyes to let the sour thought of this being a one time occasion wash away and let Hoseok’s touch bring you back to the moment at hand.

His hand digs into the flesh of your hips and your needy heat clenches around empty air at the sweet and slow slide of the fleshy and precum glazed tip of his cock. Hoseok’s likes to drink up your reactions, staring into the mirror to admire your furrowed brows, your open mouth and your squeezed eyelids as he continues to run his pulsating member up and down your slit. He slips up, his enthusiasm getting the best of him as the tip grazes your clit and you bite into your clenched fist, your moan still managing to seep through.

Hoseok’s chest leans into your back as he places one of his hands above yours. He orders your gaze to meet his, the other hand hiding between your bodies to position himself at your entrance.

“This is gonna be just like our sprints in class. Are you ready, kitty?”

You munch on your wet lip, and repeat, through your panting mess, the only the only two words that seem to be in your mind, “Hoseok plea—ahhh”

His hard cock eases into your needy walls, slowly filling you up as his other hand moves back to restrain your only free hand. Chest against back, hands weighing on yours, and forehead bent down against your shoulder, he bottoms out and you release a combined sigh. You shut eyes spring open to stare at the delightful connection between your edged bodies. You can’t comprehend the situation, nor do you try to. This is really happening, huh?

It feels too good. Too good to be true and too good for your practically spasming pussy. Hoseok’s calm approach is short-lived, his second thrust as frantic as your breaths. The force at which he moves inside your slick walls, force strong enough to have the edge of the sink countertop dig against your stomach.

Your hand reaches back to hold onto his shoulder, trying your best to stay stable as each continuous attack of his hips sounds against your tender ass. Hoseok drags his dick out, making you moan and pant so much you’re clouding the mirror. He eagerly snaps back against your straining tightness, bottoming out as he puffs out laboured breaths and you gasp into your trembling shoulder. “Yes, yes, right there,” you sigh in between ragged breaths

He delivers another pointed thrust, pumping himself deeper into your warmth, “Here?” He breathes out and you nod hastily.

You can feel the short yet intense slap of his balls against your ass, the thrill of it all making you bend to spread your legs even further apart. Your face only centimeters away from the cold, metal tap, you shriek feeling the weight of Hoseok’s imprints on the small of your back as he pounds your sopping pussy. “Shit, all of this for me?” He pants, delivering his beloved strikes on the ass he’s made.

With your current limited vocabulary all you can do is nod, head bracing itself in the crook of your arm. Chasing your own pleasure, all while melting on the wonder that’s Hoseok’s cock, you move your hips to meet the now frantic pummelling of his straining dick.

One of his hands migrates to surround the soft and tender flesh of your neck as he pulls you up to reveal your fucked out gaze. “So fucking pretty.” He suckles the skin of your neck, biting into it to suppress his own moans. You wrap your hand around his forearm, chanting your go-to high-pitched request once again, this time managing to add one more word, “Hoseok, please, harder.”

Your heart is about to leap out of your chest at sight of the soft gaze he throws under heavy eyelids. “Anything for you, kitty.” And he gives you just that. He pumps in and out, hard, hand still around your neck, more so as a sweet gesture to help your head stay put as he admires his work. His other arm pushing you flush against his body, mushing your ass cheeks against his crotch. A feeling he welcomes with a low hiss.

Hoseok’s dick pulsates against your walls, as they suck him deeper, his length allowing him to graze spots in you nobody has touched before. The quick and pointed hammering makes your breath stutter. You’re so close, you think, but fail to communicate, mouth unable to form any coherent sounds apart from heavy moans and whines.

You spare a glance in Hoseok’s direction, to see his head nested in the crook of your neck, eyes shut and his cheeks puff out for every passionate thrust he delivers. Warmth, not the kind that comes from your current vigorous activity, but the one that’s born out of hope for more, overtakes you only this time you have no wish to dispel it.

Your free hand meets your sensitive bud, rubbing circles as his cock continues to make a mess of you. He must have felt the soft graze of your fingertips against his hot girth as his hands move to meet yours. He slides his fingers past your slick coating fingers that are soon placed back on your clit. Digits dancing around each other, your chest stutters into the bliss, back morphing into the bend of his chest. “Oh,Hos– ahhh, I’m clo–se.”

Hoseok finds the sounds that leave you endearing, a smile stretching along his lips. “Go on kitty, let my pussy cum all over me.” You shut your eyes, lips pressed against each other, glutes clenched to Hoseok’s striking approval, letting your pent up and often castoff desire for a certain man with a blinding smile, and inspiring ethic rush over your limbs, choked moans leaving your once sealed lips.

He thrusts on every breath intake, adamant on literally taking your breath away as his own unraveling follows shortly. Even in this state of frenzy, he manages, ever the professional and hard worker, to land his last thrusts just where he wants them. Deep within you, before he snatches his hypnotising member away from your ever yearning heat to decorate your back with a fat load, as he grunts out, “Ugh, hmph–mine.”

Strikes of white cum hit you as you sigh, trying your best to regulate your breathing all while hitting your face to convince yourself of the reality of the situation. You just fucked your trainer. The one you’ve been fantasising about for the past three months. You try to find some sort of guilt, looking to appease your mind and assure yourself that nothing bad will come out of this.

You’ll still be able to attend your lessons each week, sitting down at your same spot, staring ahead at him indifferently as he manages to not even break a sweat during his excruciating classes. You tell yourself that you’re sure everything will go back to normal once the two of you step outside the sex stenched toilet room. Everything will be just fine. You almost believe it, until you’re brought back to the present moment, as he swipes a cool water drenched paper towel against your ruined slit. Yeah, this is bad.

Mixing fantasies, longing stares and care can only lead to one possible thing. A bus you doubt he would jump on if it were to show up at his door steps. You scramble to retrieve the towel and proceed to clean yourself. Hoseok jumps at your less than gentle action, but decides not to give it much thought, unlike you.

“Thanks,” you attempt to lessen your rude behaviour. He gives you a lopsided smile, winking away your weakly established reassurance that you’ll manage not to think about this encounter from a point of view that’s filled with craving feelings and expectations.

“That was nice.”

You fail to suppress the laughter that’s screaming to be released, to see him flustered has you smiling, nodding reassuringly at his statement.

“Very nice, indeed,” you respond, throwing away the towel as you join Hoseok in putting your cycling shorts back on and closing the zipper of your cycling jersey.

Your eyes travel across the room to make sure that nothing is terribly out of place or different before your hands stroke down your front while you stare at the now silent man. You wait, expecting him to say something, wanting him to. When he doesn’t seem to have it in his plans to speak again, you turn around to walk towards the key he left in the lockset of the door.

A loud cough sounds behind you and you snap around, eyes eagerly staring at him to notice the full blown smile on his glowing face, making your heart skip.

His fingers gestures towards his back and once he notices your confused expression, he articulates his concern with a small laugh and scratch to his neck, “Uhm, you kinda forgot the back, my…. yeah, is still there”

“Oh,” you turn around to look at your back through the mirror. The sight alone of his cum has your mouth watering and legs clenching, something that doesn’t go unnoticed to Hoseok’s focused eyes. Just the reassurance he needed to feel like you weren’t completely regretting what just happened. “Right.” You sidestep him to reach for some more paper towels, hands trying their best to clean it up only to end up smearing it even more.

Hoseok’s hand reaches out. “May I?” Sighing you nod, discarding the ruined towels in the bin.

On second thought, you should have said no and struggled through the clean up on your own. The soft press of his digits against your back ignites your skin and pulls you back to the not so distant events in your mind. Your sharp breath intakes at each touch from his body further aids Hoseok in building back his confidence.

You definitely liked him, or at least your body did. He thinks and he would definitely not mind a repeat, preferably somewhere where he did not need to worry about time or intruders and where he could knead your ass to his heart’s content.

Once done, you step away, this time thoroughly cleaned and ready to leave. You turn back to follow your previous path, hand clenched around the key refusing to unlock the door as you await another interjection from his part. To unlock the door means this is finally over and as much as you might not believe this to be your best decision, you still want to bask in the awkward sweetness of the aftermath, just for a few more seconds. But Hoseok stays silent this time.

Your hand weights down on the handle, pushing it towards you. Sighing, you are brought back to reality as you stare at the bypassers outside of the toilet room. Your hand releases the handle, walking out and heading towards the changing rooms.

Your steps are slow, ready to halt upon his request. Yet, all your ears can hear is the shuffling of hurried feet and the sound of other classes taking place. Soon enough, you’re walking slow out of dejection rather than apprehension.

“Hey! Y/N!” Your skin shivers at the timbre of the familiar voice and you walk faster to stop a bit further away. You don’t want him to think that you were waiting for him.

Your body whips around, using the little resolve you have left to mask your delight at the sight of him.

“I’ll see you next week,” it comes out as a blend between a question and an affirmation and you can see in his eyes that he needs you to clarify the nature of his statement for him. To let him know there could in fact be more than today.

“I’ll see you next week, Hoseok.” You smile sheepishly as you turn around to scurry towards your intended destination, squealing into the palms of your hands. Hands that had touched him and had been caressed by him. Ultimately, hands that couldn’t wait to knead him the way he kneaded you.

Posted: July 16 2020

a/n: feel free to share any feedback, it’s always deeply appreciated 🥺

#bangtanfairygarden #vhopenet #bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #houseofddaeng #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #btsgoldnet #cypherwritersnet #btswriterscollective #btsbookclub #btspocnet #heartsforbts #myfictrail #jung hoseok #hoseok smut #bts fancfic #bts smut #bts fanfiction #hoseok fanfic #hoseok x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios

[arse-crack-thistle]

quality time

rwrb and the five love languages | part four

in which bea nearly crashes from the stress of party-planning (aroace rep)

Princess Beatrice buzzes around The Masquerade, double-checking place cards, straightening table settings, and pulling dried rose petals from the centerpieces. She rented the concert venue for the night to throw a modern Valentine’s gala to benefit Henry’s queer youth center in London. He and Alex are around here somewhere, probably hooking up in a broom cupboard and definitely not nitpicking every detail like Bea is. Her assistant follows her with a clipboard and updates her on the schedule: t-minus three hours until guests arrive and, in the meantime, she needs to give final approval, soundcheck with the band, and get dressed up. Jeans and a blazer, while royal casual, are not party-appropriate, and tonight needs to be perfect.

She usually hates royal events like galas, but this one is special. Not because it’s Valentine’s Day—Bea could not give two fucks about the holiday—but because ever since coming out as asexual around Christmas, she’s been looking for an opportunity to help other queer people, or at least give them a public figure they could point to and say, “See Mum and Dad, she’s like me.” Henry and Alex got their chance, and now this time, it’s hers.

The stage lights up with pink and red; it’s cheesy, but Bea digs it. The concert was the one thing she would not budge on with her royal event planner. Did she want to reach into wealthy pockets? Yes. Did she still want to have a good time? Hell yes. And the band she’s joining for one night only happens to be just as queer as the charity they’re supporting.

Permanent Record, local to London, tune their instruments on stage. Bea has met them dozens of times over the last month and vibed with them instantly. Margot, the too-cool lead singer always decked out in a leather jacket and Docs, is ace like her, and as much as Bea has wanted to get to know them, there’s been no time. Turns out, party-planning and party-executing steals the host away from all meaningful human connection. She’s only been able to keep up with Henry because he’s partly responsible for this event.

The pit, full of tables covered in pink and gold, finally looks perfect enough for Bea to hand-off any other minute fixes to the planner and finally have her soundcheck with the band. But then, a large crash comes from the back of the venue, and she hears a loud shriek coming from a familiar voice, the one that’s been shrill and disapproving for the last month. When Bea runs up, she sees hundreds of shattered champaign flutes and her planner on the floor, blood oozing from her hands.

This cannot be happening. The only reason Bea kept this woman around was to take most of the day-of duties off her plate. But she’s in the back of an ambulance now, and Henry is nowhere to be found. Bea’s stress levels go from tolerable to unbearable as she orders her assistant to track down replacement flutes. The staff are quick to fill her other requests: a couple of people start sweeping, someone runs off to find her co-host, another tells the band Bea’s soundcheck will be postponed, and a brave soul steps up as a temporary assistant and follows her around the back tables to check for broken glass. Bea knows she doesn’t have to be the one to do this, but it seems like the success of this event lies solely one her shoulders. If something goes wrongs, it’s her face—not Henry’s—in the papers the next day. Powder Princess Crashes and Burns at Gay Ball. Christ.

After an hour, everything is sorted. There’s no glass. The planner is getting stiches. Permanent Record has started their soundcheck and sound amazing. But even their chill indie tunes can’t calm the princess. She needs to get on stage, but her stylist specifically requested she have at least two hours to work his magic, which is not going to happen.

Bea tells her assistant to get her stylist and his team to the venue, because she won’t be able to leave, and warn him he’ll only have an hour at best. Henry and Alex have already taken off to get ready, and she has to remind herself to smack them later for abandoning her.

She tugs off her blazer, drapes it over a chair, and rolls up her sleeves. If she does get her hands on a guitar, she’ll explode. It’s all she can think of to stop her from raiding the bar at the back.

“Better late than never, eh, Princess?” Margot says as she huffs on stage.

One of the stagehands gives Bea her beautiful sleek, black Fender Stratocaster, and her anxiety reduces itself to a hum. Music can’t cure all, but it certainly keeps her from wrecking every good thing in her life.

“Let’s just play,” she says.

But it’s anything but perfect. Whatever chemistry she had with Permanent Record somehow jumped into the Thames between their last rehearsal and now because this is an absolute travesty and she’s only playing two songs with them tonight. She’s forgotten measures of one song and can’t find the chords fast enough in her solo of the other. Utter shit.

Why does she even fucking bother?

She always fucks everything up. Always. Why did she think she could put this on? Sure, she’s chaired these events before, but not ones she actually cares about, not ones she’s actually put her heart into. Christ, no wonder. She should’ve known it would turn out like this. She’s the anti-Midas; everything she touches turns to shit.

No kid will ever see her as a queer role model. She’s the girl they point to and say, “See Mum and Dad, what a waste.”

She needs a hit so fucking bad.

Which is why she has to get out of here ASAP. Before she does anything she’ll regret. She won’t slip again, and she won’t be the reason this gala fails. Henry can handle it without her.

So when Margot calls for a five-minute break, Bea excuses herself and hands off her guitar. On her way out the door, she tells the stagehand to find her assistant and tell her to have Henry take over. The hard part is over thanks to the planner actually being brilliant at her job, even if she and Bea would never get along.

No doubt, cameras are already lined up outside, so she hides in one of the green rooms and locks the door behind her. If she just takes a deep breath and calms down, she can bring herself back from the edge.

Five things she can see: The 1975, Arctic Monkeys, Oasis, Solange, and Fiona Apple’s signatures on the artist wall.

Four things she can feel: the worn leather on a crusty couch, the chipped-paint walls, her toes in her shoes, and her fingers through her light brown hair.

Three things she can hear: the ticking from the clock, the click of her heels as she paces, and a knock at the door.

Two things she can smell: decades-old musk from artists past—no doubt coming from the couch—and her light perfume on her wrist.

One thing she can taste: a hint of coffee from earlier.

She breathes in and out, and the knock on the door continues.

“Bea, are you in there? Could you let me in?” Margot. Essentially a stranger. She supposes it’s better than facing a disappointed Henry, so she opens the door and promptly relocks it as soon as they’re inside.

“Christ, this place is legendary, isn’t it? Everyone’s played here—is that Bob Dylan? Fucking nuts,” Margot says, pointing to the wall.

“I’ve seen loads of people here. Always wanted to play here myself,” Bea tells them. She traces Lizzo’s signature. That was a fun night; Nora and June flew out for a girls’ night, which was ultimately crashed by Pez.

“Me too, and the rest of band as well, I suppose.” Margot looks at Bea and smiles. They’re brown eyes crinkle in the corner, and it reminds her of Alex. “And now we get to, eh, Princess? Couldn’t’ve gotten here without you. The whole world knows Permanent Record now.”

“You could’ve done it without me,” she says. “You will tonight anyway.”

“Hey.” They reach for Bea’s hand. “Everyone has some hiccups before a big gig. It’ll be grand, but only if you’re there. This is your night as much as it is ours or the youth center’s. You have no idea how important it is for your lot to shine a light on causes people shy away from.”

That makes Bea smile. For so long she wanted to hide from her position. She wanted freedom to do whatever she pleased, but now she understands the power she has, even if people still see her as “The Powder Princess.” No matter what she wears, millions of fashion influencers share links to her clothes. If she walks into a restaurant, their yearly profits skyrocket. When she told the world she was ace, thousands of people messaged her and said the same. One of them was Margot, telling her about their undiscovered band from South London.

She tells Margot how that was one of the first times she really felt like herself. Completely at peace with who she is. How that peace got away from her and turned this gala into a near-panic-attack-inducing event, she doesn’t know.

“Have you let on how stressed you’ve been to anyone?” Margot asks. The two sit together on the couch after Margot bravely plopped themself down on the dirty, old thing.

“Hadn’t the time,” she says. Truthfully, Bea doesn’t think she’s had a genuine conversation with anyone since the gala’s conception.

Margot throws their hands in the air. “Well, there you go then! You’ve got to take the time! To take care of yourself. To hang out with your mates. Just to have some goddamn fun, Bea! Come on! You think I’d be a functioning human if I didn’t let loose with my mates every now and then? This—” They gesture to their body, covered in tattoos and tattered black clothing. “Doesn’t happen on its own.”

Bea laughs. It’s been so long since she’s laughed from anything other than stress. “Right, so how does this all happen then?” She swirls her hand in Margot’s direction.

As they chat, Bea relaxes. They talk about their families and uni and music and coming out. Bea tells Margot about the time she and the gang went to the karaoke bar where Henry got wasted and sang Queen horrifically. Margot tells her about the time in year twelve when they got dared to try out for the school play and ended up playing an old man in the most unbelievable bald cap.

Eventually, the two of them pull out their phones and play a few games of Among Us until Bea’s desperate assistant finds her and pleads for her to get ready though the door. They only have an hour before guests arrive.

“You all right?” Margot asks. “Want to go out there and try again?”

Funny how it doesn’t seem so scary anymore. How it only took a short break, a nice chat, and a little pink astronaut to put Bea at ease. She smiles. The notes come back to her fingertips.

check out the rest of my rwrb and the five love languages series: part one, part two, part three, and part five. (links to come as they’re released)

listen, my permanent headcanon is aroace bea and you will never convince me otherwise and i will never write her as anything else bc i love her so much!! (that being said, if you ship her with anyone, i totally understand). also, i reference a fic of mine i wrote for winterfest so if you want to check out my version of bea’s coming out, you can do that here! and finally, i know this wasn’t a romantic fic for romance week but like i said in part one, valentine’s day is different for everyone. <3

rwrb romance week | @rwrb-fests

#rwrb #princess bea #beatrice fox mountchristen windsor #my writing #rwrbromanceweek #rwrb fest #rwrb fanfic #fanfic #red white and royal blue #casey mcquiston #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #nora holleran #june claremont diaz #stick up his arse philip #president claremont #oscar diaz #rafael luna #zahra bankston #queer lit #queer books #queer authors #aroace #nonbinary #ace rep #nonbinary rep #love languages #quality time #valentines #valentines day

[feministmanifest0]

Why Lizzo is Breaking Down Walls of Socially Constructed Beauty Standards

In Andrea Shaw's reading "The Other Side of the Looking Glass: The Marginalization of Fatness and Blackness in the Construction of Gender Identity", she discusses the idea of societal beauty standards being Eurocentric. For women who don't fit into this very narrow group, they can't help but feel unrepresented. Beauty pageants play a big role in shaping what is perceived as beauty in a country and typically only one my white or white-passing women who are black. The idea that in order to win a beauty pageant, you must have the idealistic features of light skin and a skinny body. This is due to socially constructed beauty standards and racialized hierarchies.

A person in mainstream media who fights this stigma is female rapper, singer-songwriter Lizzo. Melissa Viviane Jefferson, formally known as Lizzo, is from Minneapolis, MN and has had an active career in music since 2010. Lizzo is a plus-sized African American woman, which by societal standards is not the norm. She's become and advocate for body positivity and being confident in your own skin, no matter what you look like. She has very recently been quoted saying in a Vogue interview "I think it’s lazy for me to just say I’m body positive at this point,” "It’s easy. I would like to be body-normative. I want to normalize my body." This is part of trying to switch the narrative society has created and let women know that their bodies, no matter the size, are normal bodies. Normalizing bodies just doesn't pertain to the size of a women's body, it can belong to whatever an individual claims it to be. According to Lizzo, "But my movement is my movement. ... And if that’s body positive to you, amen. That’s feminist to you, amen. If that’s pro-black to you, amen. Because ma’am, I’m all of those things."

Beauty standards we have socially constructed are really being challenged in the year 2020 and it's beautiful to see. There is still so much work to be done to change the how the world perceives one another, but the baby steps being made give me hope for the future. As a woman who by societies standards can only check a few of these "normal" boxes and is very comfortable in my own skin, it makes me believe that one day my children won't have the pressures my generation and the ones before me have faced.

#lizzo #body normativity

[mrsreinhart]

The Women of “Hustlers” on Making “A Female ‘Goodfellas’”

Constance Wu, Keke Palmer and Lili Reinhart discuss playing exotic dancers and getting rid of the “chick flick” label

Lorene Scafaria’s Hustlers fictionalizes the true story of a group of exotic dancers who lured wealthy Wall Street men into unknowingly spending hundreds of thousands of dollars at their strip club. The film, based on journalist Jessica Pressler’s 2015 investigative New York magazine piece, “The Hustlers at Scores,” stars Constance Wu as Destiny, a new dancer struggling to pay rent for the apartment where she cares for her grandmother—until she meets Ramona, played by Jennifer Lopez. Ramona is a single mom and the most successful dancer at the club—but this changes with the market crash of 2008. When the recession hits, Ramona enlists fellow down-and-out dancers Destiny, Mercedes (Keke Palmer) and Annabelle (Lili Reinhart) to help her swindle men into spending big on a night out, with the men forgetting most of the previous night’s transactions come morning because their drinks were laced with ketamine and MDMA. The film’s cast is rounded out by Cardi B, Lizzo and Julia Stiles, who plays a reporter modeled after Pressler.

While some opening weekend attendees might be in it for the salaciousness that a “stripper movie” promises (it certainly does deliver on that front), the heart of Hustlers isn’t so different from any other gang film. The women at the center of the film are bound together by the need for something greater than what they had to begin with, and the wish to make their dreams for themselves and their families a reality by any means necessary. WSJ. spoke with Wu, Palmer and Reinhart at the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills to talk about working on their own version of Goodfellas, and what men really want from movies.

Hollywood depictions of sex workers don’t generally give women much agency. Was it important to you that Hustlers empowered them?

Keke Palmer: I liked that it was balanced because it either goes one of two ways. Either it’s like super, super sad, sad, sad or overly glamorized. When I read this, I felt like it was a balance of both. You had those moments where you thought it might be glamorous and you had those moments like, “Damn, this sh*t is tough.” And so whenever I’m looking at a character or a movie—no matter what the job, no matter who these people are—I want to see balance. This movie gave me that.

Constance Wu: Usually we see one archetype of a woman who is a sex worker or a stripper. And yes, we have racial diversity, but we had diversity in so many other ways—the way you look, the backgrounds of these women and also the different ways that they decided to pursue this job, to make their ends meet.

Lili Reinhart: We all came from such different backgrounds and we all ended up in the same job. So it’s not just this archetype —“Oh, trashy girl from a broken home ends up being a stripper.” That’s such a stereotype. That’s not the case. Women are supporting their children, or supporting themselves or their families, or their families kicked them out. I think strippers will hopefully enjoy our film.

CW: I hope so. Because we tried to humanize them as people. Other movies don’t—they try to portray them as objects or people to move the plot along for the story. We treated all of our characters like humans who have a similar job. That’s only one part of you, your job.

How did the all-female ensemble cast change the vibe on set?

CW: I think it was really freeing. Because it’s different if there’s only one spot for a woman. And then you think, “Oh no—what if I get kicked off?” But when it’s all women, I didn’t have to try to be sexy for guys. I didn’t have to try to pretend like, “Oh I’m one of the guys, I’m cool.” I just got to be myself. And [Jennifer Lopez] set the tone for that pretty well, too, because she’s just so cool.

LR: I’m so happy that this is a movie about women told by a woman, because nothing disturbs me more than a woman’s story told by a man, because it’s through the filter of a man. And so the fact that this was a women’s story told, written and seen through the lens of a woman was powerful.

KP: One of the first things that [Constance] said was, “It’s like a female Goodfellas,” and I’m like “damn right!” Lorene was really serious with the DP on getting those specific shots, those specific angles that you only see men have. It was just like, “Man, girl, thank you for those details. Not only does the script have heart and soul, but visually you’re going for this, you’re giving us a cinematic look. You’re making these women look cool!” That was all specific to show us in powerful positions.

LR: Not even sexy, but powerful. It’s not a slow-motion strut starting from the heels going up, showing the body. It’s the women themselves.

KP: It’s how they would usually do the Wall Street guys. It’s power.

CW: Like sometimes people say “Oh, it’s a woman’s film,” they’ll think that it’s less-than. But I think Lorene did a really good job of choosing a crew who treated the film with the respect of something they were really passionate about, not as like—

KP: “Girl movie.”

CW: Yeah, I mean there’s that term that people like to say: “Chick flick.” And I’m like, “Oh, does that mean every other movie in the world is a d*ck flick?” But that’s just a word used—chick flick—to demean a movie that is about women, and then d*ck flicks are just “flicks.”

LR: Just movies in general.

How is a story where you’re playing out, essentially, a love story with another woman different from one with a man?

KP: It hurt my feelings more when all that stuff went down with Constance’s character and Jennifer’s character.

LR: It’s more devastating.

KP: Way more devastating. I feel like people aren’t going to be pleasantly surprised to see the depth and dynamic of these characters and [that] this story is not just something eye-catching for you like, “Stripping! Fun!” It’s like, “Oh wow, these characters, I care about them. I care about this story.”

CW: It almost hurts more than a romantic thing because it almost feels more pure of a love, because there’s not the transaction of sex. The feeling of being forgiven—it’s a good feeling because it’s accepting that we all mess up, and that we’re still people who are worthy of love. And Jen—I couldn’t have done any of this without [her]. That was really just a two-way street; just the fact that she was so open and caring.

Was there anything challenging for you to do in the film?

KP: I think every girl secretly in their mind is ready to get on stage and see if they’ve got what it takes. I think most people would expect [dancing] to be the most challenging. But I think even the shyest person, if they had the opportunity to play a role like this or be in a situation like this—it’s like “Hell, if I’m going to do it somewhere, I might as well do it in a huge film.” I think those parts were exciting. It could be seen as challenging, but what I was excited about was to sit in this sexy place that I’ve never really sat in before. I don’t really think of myself as a sexy type of chick. And so it was cool to play with what that would look like for the camera.

LR: I feel like deep inside, every woman feels the need to get on a pole at least once. I think you grow up and you’re like “Oh, that’s what sexy is.” And you just want to try it. And truly, [to Constance] I’m sure you took probably more pole dancing lessons than I did, but it was just fun. And you’re like, “Damn, I look good!”

CW: I was just thinking when you said like every woman wants to get on the pole—at first I was like, “No, I don’t think so.” But then I was like thinking about it, and why that might be true. And if you think about it, these women are owning their sexuality, which is something we are shamed for, starting at puberty, we’re supposed to make ourselves—you either have to be the Madonna or the whore, and you can’t win either way. You’re not sexy enough; you’re too sexy. And I think when you’re on a stage and you’re dancing and you’re just owning your sexiness in the way that you want to do it, I think that is a thing that inside probably every woman—person—wants to do.

Do you think anyone who goes to see the film solely for the “stripper movie!” factor will be disappointed?

KP: Look, Jennifer gave you the show that you’re looking for right in the beginning. She gives you what we never thought we’d see. She gave us the most spectacular performance that I have ever seen a stripper do. I’ve gone to a lot of strip clubs.

CW: Me too. And I’m going to say something real cheesy right now, but I do believe it’s true: People might say they’re looking for t*ts, but I think they’re looking for heart. And they’re just saying tits because it’s a less vulnerable thing to need, to say. It’s cooler and more macho to objectify women. But at the end of the day, all humans want—

LR: They relate to stories about love.

CW: —is connection.

KP: Without a doubt. Every guy that I’ve watched The Notebook with has loved it.

#lili reinhart #keke palmer #constance wu #hustlers #hustlers movie #wall streeet journal

[taracottta]

Reversing 29 years of self-perception

About a year and a half ago I decided to start my active journey of self-love, acceptance, and perception.  I was tired of getting down on myself, putting myself down, letting my self-esteem hold me back from living my life, and attaining a self-image that really isn't realistic for me.  The first thing I wanted to tackle was my health. I started lifting weights at the gym with my friend.  It was really mild, we didn't do much, but just the act of going to the gym with my friend was a start. We all have to start somewhere!

As I started to become more active, I started to take friends up on their offers to go hiking (something I didn't want to do prior due to thinking I was too fat and out of shape, and lazy).  One day my friend asked if I wanted to try Orange Theory. At first I was SO hesitant. I looked it up and saw that part of the circuit is to run on the treadmill. HELL NO. I still had PTSD from when I went running crazy and would run for two hours a day on the treadmill when I was in high school.  After that I just told myself, running isn't for me and thats that.  I decided to step out of my comfort zone and agreed to go.  I know this sounds dramatic...but that day changed. my. life. I remember some of their beginning questions.   “Do you work out often now?” Maybe 3 times a week. Hows that working out? At this point I looked at the guy thinking fuuuuck youuu what kind of question is that.  But I was just being defensive because...It wasn't working out. I was at the heaviest I have been.  Ever.  I mean I felt better for going to the gym, but I wasn't getting the results I wanted.  Then he asked me, “What are your health goals? Do you want to loose weight?”  & part of my self love journey was to change the way I thought about loosing weight.  I made a conscious decision to not aim for “loosing weight”  I understood that being healthy was a lifestyle change.  To have a goal to loose weight is not having a goal to change my life style.  So my goal became making myself feel strong and healthy.  And that has been my goal ever since, and still is.  I hated EVERY minute on the treadmill when I took my first class. For all 30 min, I flooded my brain with negative thoughts and feeling angry that I agreed to come to this stupid class.  When the class was done, I immediately signed up for an unlimited membership. I felt a high I haven't felt since high school.  I felt positive, I felt optimistic, and I thought HELL YEAH, I can come here three + times a week!  The negative thoughts and feelings that I experienced was the result of me being pushed out of my comfort zone. I resisted it mentally but decided that since I was already there, I might as well kindaaa try.  But the endorphin high I received after quickly help me realize that I DID IT, and I can do it again!  Lizzo also became a huge influence when she started rising in fame.  I didn’t know about her before. I’m one of those mainstream junkies. Anyway.  I read an interview where she explained the origin of “Truth Hurts” the break up song of the year. She explained that she wrote that song by going to her producer and venting about a recently failed relationship.  He put her rant with a beat and there it came.  She said it was a dark time for her, filled with self-doubt and depression, and yet she came up with an empowering song that helped millions of women lift their spirits when they did doubt themselves because of a failed relationship.  I read that interview in awe thinking how crazy it is that someone can be at the darkest point in their life and produce the most empowering and inspiring songs.  When she would speak at her concerts (I’m going to be dramatic again but its true), I would literally listen to her speeches and cry tears of happiness and love because of what she was saying. It really touched me  so deep down into my soul and I want to say that has been a HUGE reason why I have been able to come so far in my self-love journey.  I saw her, a big, beautiful woman.  I didn't think she was fat, I didn't think she was unhealthy, I saw a beautiful woman full of confidence and purpose and I wanted to exude that same energy.  That is when I truly started to look at my body and accept it for what it is.   Before this, I have always wanted to get back to how I looked when I was 16.  I finally realized, that is an unattainable goal, and thats okay.  I was so unhealthy during that time.  I counted my calories, I exercised every day with no break.  There was a point that I was so obsessed, I would only eat 3 100 calorie yoplait yogurts a day and drink 3 5 oz wanters a day in attempts to not put on water weight.  If I wanted to eat unhealthy food, I would chew the food, and spit it out without digesting it.  THAT IS CRAZY.  I was starving myself of food AND water. I never want to get back to that. That realization helped me with my relationship with food.  I want to eat food that is helps build my body, is tasty, and I enjoy eating.  I want to enjoy my food and I also want to eat food that helps me feel strong.  So I do that.  I eat healthy food. But if I want a fried chicken sandwich, I’m going to get it. And because I won't go on a strict diet my body will not be what it can be, and I’m okay with it.  I like the body the way it is now, and am fine with sacrificing a banging bod, for being able to enjoy food when I feel like it.  This is my life and these are my priorities.  A year and a half later, I feel I have come so far.  Yes I’ve lost weight.  Don't ask me how much, because I don't know.  I don't want to live my life by the scale like I did at the peak of my eating disorder. But you know what I have noticed? I feel stronger, I can do more things without struggling or getting out of breath, I can push myself further.  When I run on the treadmill in OTF and I am able to bump up my speed or bump up my incline without taking a walking break I feel STRONG, and I feel ABLE.  One of our coaches likes to say “Your body is capable of SO MUCH” and it “it is a privilege to move!” and, it is! Some people are not able to do everything that most of us are able to do, and I shouldn't take that for granted.  I shouldn't dread getting out of bed in the morning to go exercise.  I should be eternally grateful that I get to move.  Some people don’t have that luxury, and sometime in the future, I will be able to less than I can now. I shouldn't waste my time now, while im healthy and able. I am so happy at where I am now.  I feel solid, I feel strong, and I feel like I can do more.  Even though we are on our second shut down, and our state has robbed me of not only my physical escape, but my mental and emotional escape, I will push myself to exercise, I will continue to keep going and do more.  I have come to terms with what my body looks like and I am starting to not just, be okay with my body, but to love my body.  I have come so far but have so far more to go.  Loving yourself is a life long journey and I hope you all are on your way to the top.

[fmhiphop]

A Fed Up Lizzo: Restricts Her Twitter Account and Threatens To Quit Music

Being in the spotlight isn’t easy; it comes with extreme highs and lows, as mega performer Lizzo recently exhibited. Merely a day ago, a frustrated and enraged Lizzo restricted her Twitter account and expressed the possibility of quitting music altogether. What was the reason behind it all? A very old ugly issue that continues to rear its nasty head.   The Source of Lizzo’s Frustration A very insensitive tweet sent the “Special" artist into a tailspin. According to a recent article, Lizzo was extremely irritated after an insensitive tweeter had something to say about her weight. The poster inquired why the artist remained overweight despite her vigorous onstage activity. https://twitter.com/LayahHeilpern/status/1663204629230895106?s=20 While Lizzo has waded through a barrage of hateful comments in the past, this one was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. The source notes the artist’s response, read as thus: “I’m tired of explaining myself all the time, and I just wanna get on this app w/out seeing my name in some b#######.” The entire comment section was relentless, with no let-up. And respectfully, Lizzo was done. Given the timbre of the message and the lack of civility in how the public addresses Lizzo, no one can blame her for the outrage. The Same Old Song This is not the first time Lizzo has had to go toe to toe with negative nellies. Repeatedly, she has expressed her discontent with how people approach her. This time Lizzo did not leave it at an address to the initial commenter. She went even further to express her deepest sentiments for those who believe her weight is a promotional gimmick. Lizzo let the waiting public have it. In her words, “BEING FAT ISNT MY ‘BRAND’; BEING FAT IS WHAT MY BODY LOOKS THAT. THATS IT. THATS ALL. My ‘brand’ is FEEL GOOD MUSIC, It is CHAMPIONING ALL PEOPLE. My ‘brand’ is BLACK GIRL LIBERATION. https://twitter.com/Esther_Knowles_/status/1663977910900801543?s=20   The fact any logical individual would think this wasn't the case is ludicrous. Lizzo, Please Don’t Go Lizzo has been an inspiration to many. Her talent is astounding, and she exhibits a confidence that many young girls only wish they could have. The singer's success is refreshing in an industry where image appears to be everything. It is increasingly sad how the public cannot move past its fixation on external things as opposed to the gifts these courageous people bring to the world. While Lizzo has presented with thick skin, it’s not hard to see how ignoring personal attacks takes a toll. And this time, it took her to another place. The insults even led to the mention of the possibility of leaving the thing she loves, music. As the “Good as Hell” artist went on to say, I HATE IT HERE. The Love definitely does not outweigh the Hate on social media… all because I’m fat????” she stated. “Y’all don’t know how close I be to giving up on everyone and quitting and enjoying my money and my man on a F###### FARM. In Finality Life is hard. And it's undeniable the world would be much better if those who had nothing nice to say would simply say nothing. But unfortunately, that is not the way people move. And negativity is predominantly the choice selection of the day. So here is to hoping Lizzo can tune out the negative noise and target the positive. Her gift is much too brilliant to be shelved because of the uncivilized way people offer their unsolicited opinions. Lizzo is an inspiration, and at the end of the day, the package is inconsequential compared to all the beauty exuded from the inside. Lizzo is truly "Special" https://youtu.be/0ujjiNBQnmI Written By: Renae Richardson Read the full article

[tbsongs]

chapter 18 preview

Harry had two playlists set for the party to celebrate the first weekend where all his friends were back in town – the way, he decided, to kick their spring semester off right.

The main playlist was for the kick back, expertly crafted to slowly build with the level of alcohol in body until Party in the USA could come on and everyone would drunkenly sway with red cups in the air and belt it out at the top of their lungs. Songs For The Best Night it was aptly named.

And there was his personal playlist, the one with all his favorite upbeat songs. Harry often didn’t listen to music through a Bluetooth speaker – usually preferring headphones or his record player. But these songs were made for that – as if there were any other way to listen to Crazy In Love. He’d be mixing cake and icing for his cake pops and drop his spatula to hold his fist up in the air and grind his hips in the air to the uh, oh, uh, oh, uh oh – oh na na.

This playlist was made for him to let the music flow, tilt his head back and belt lyrics – to dance like nobody was watching.

And usually there wasn’t.

But Louis, bless his soul, was trying to help Harry set up for his kick back.

Louis stepped back into Harry’s living room from the back porch, finished setting up the cheap metal firepit and all the chairs he could around it. He took off his coat, tossing it over the back of the couch, as the heat from Harry’s place warmed him. He pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his fingers. “Haz, I’ve finished up in the back,” he called.

But Louis didn’t think that Harry could hear him. Because Lizzo was absolutely blasting over the speaker.

He stepped into the kitchen to find Harry with a pale blue bumblebee apron wrapped around his body, his back towards Louis. He was bare foot with his head tilted back, curls cascading down his back. He punched the air as trumpets pounded and swelled aggressively. The music started to rise with the chorus I’m cryin’ cuz I love you. Harry belted out a rift along with Lizzo, turning his body and finally, he came face to face with Louis.

He stopped in his tracks for a moment, eyes wide and chest huffing. His cheeks were flushed and his hair wild. Lizzo kept singing on behind him, leaving just the two of them paused, frozen.

Harry’s eyes raked up and down Louis’ body and a smile easily fell over their lips.

Harry picked up a frilly white apron, placed it over Louis’ head, and used it to drag Louis closer when the music picked back up again. Louis laughed, loud and with his entire body jostling with it. Harry tied the apron for him quickly then put both of his clutched both of his fists in the air to make a complete show of singing the end of the song.

Louis leaned over, kissed his cheek, when the music slowed down. “How’s your buffalo dip coming?”

Harry gave it one last mix before he nodded. “All done,” he said, taking off his apron. He hung in on the hook near the door. “I’m gonna go get changed. Let people in for me, yeah?”

“’Course, babe.” Louis said, taking the apron off that Harry put on him, silently chuckling at how ridiculous he figured he looked in it. But perhaps, he thought, it wouldn’t look so ridiculous if Harry wore that for him with nothing on underneath.

He’d have to admit that he would like that.

Before he could get too distracted by those thoughts, a quick knock came from the door.

He soothed a hand down his hoodie when he pulled it open, Niall loudly spilling through with two other guys trailing behind him – Aaron and Nick.

“Lou, mate!” Niall called, eagerly. He wrapped an arm loosely around his shoulders and pulled him close, he was deceptively strong. “Good to see you. Your break was good, yeah?” Niall was already walking towards the kitchen – being the first person Harry made friends with at Kentwood, Niall had no issues making himself at home. They used to room together, when Harry stayed on campus. He pulled open the fridge, grabbing a handful of beers.

“Yeah, my break was good, man. Yours?”

“Can’t complain, man. I know you know Aaron,” Niall said, making quick work of popping the tops of the beers. “You met Nick Grimshaw?”

“Can’t say I have,” Louis said extending his hand towards Nick. “I’m Louis, do you work at the station?”

Nick’s eyes looked up, his perfectly quaffed hair bouncing with every movement his head made. “Yeah, I’ve got the morning show.”

“Nick’s a great host, real funny. He gets a lot of guests in for the station.” Aaron reached for the beer extended towards him from Niall, downing a quarter of it. Niall complained angrily behind him that he didn’t cheers first while another knock came from the door.

“I better go get that. Harry should be out soon,” Louis said, shuffling towards the door.

He heard Niall call “Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” behind him and figured Harry was now in the kitchen. Louis pulled open the door, finding Liam and Zayn excitedly talking to two girls. One, Louis recognized as Madison, another radio show host he had met once or twice. Judging by the low position of her hand on the other girl’s hip, he be willing to guess that it was the girlfriend he heard so much about.

Jess, Louis found out, was her name. She introduced herself just as Harry snuck up behind Louis to invite everyone in. Harry pressed his chest to Louis’ back as he opened the door wider to usher everyone in. Harry had a fajita bar set out on the table, strips of chicken, steak, and veggies in separate bowls on warming plates and toppings scattered around.

Everyone built their own plates, squeezing together in Harry’s living room, sitting on the couch, arms of chairs, floor cushions. Everyone chatted happily through the food, jovial laughter spilling through the air.

“H, did you set the firepit out?” Liam asked, finishing the last of his beer and gathering a few plates.

“Lou set it all up. Everyone want to go out there?”

With collective nods of agreement, everyone shrugged back on their heavy coats or bundled up in blankets to go huddle around the firepit on the porch. “I’ll get everyone a fresh round before I head out,” Harry as the party started to spill outside to the sounds of S.O.B by Nathaniel Rateliff and The Night Sweats fittingly played over his speaker.

“Baby, what’ll you have?” Harry called to Louis, clapping along to the song.

“Whatever ya pour me, gorgeous.” Louis called, stepping outside with the lighter to shivering voices, urging him to hurry up. “Alright, alright. Calm it you lot,” Harry heard him say as he slid the door closed.

Harry bounced around to the song, mixing a vodka soda for Jess, a couple of rum and cokes for Liam and Zayn. He grabbed a few beers and a bottle before heading out. After he passed the drinks around, he took his saved seat next to Louis, huddling under the blanket he had set over his shoulders.

Louis sniffed the cup before he brought it to his lips. “What is it?”

“Mixed that guava mango juice you like with some fruity vodka.”

“The juice in the glass bottle?”

“The very one,” Harry said with a smile, pressing his cup to Louis’ for a quick cheers.

“I’ve never been to a party before,” Jess spoke to no one in particular, face flush and a soft look on her face. She hiccupped around her cup, nursing her drink slowly.

“Not even in high school, babes?” Niall asked, turning towards her.

“Nah, never. Home schooled. Didn’t even have my first sip of alcohol til Mads gave me some wine.”

Madison shivered beside her, but not from the cold. The alcohol warmed their bodies, made them feel impervious to the cold – young and free from even nature’s elements. “That wasn’t a great night,” she chuckled.

“What were the parties like?” Jess mumbled, casting glances around to the group.

“Lots of kids acting way too mature for their age and too loud music.” Zayn responded.

“And games, like weird sorts of games.” Liam said, rubbing a hand through his hair.

“This is pretty tame, if I’m honest, as far as parties go.” Niall added.

“Hey,” Harry drawled slowly. “I throw a good party.” He spoke defensively.

“Want something to liven it up?” Zayn asked, with a smirk. He reached into his pocket, pulling open a metal case. He popped it open, holding a few rolled joints to the group. He took one out, placing it behind his ear, before passing the case around to the group. “Lou, hand me that lighter, will ya?”

Jess passed the case to Niall without so much as a second glance. “What kind of games?” She asked Liam.

“Like spin the bottle, never have I ever kind of games.”

Niall took a joint, waiting for the lighter to follow the metal case. He passed it to Nick, who let it go straight to Louis. “None for you, Nick?”

“No, if I smoke while I drink, I get really nauseous for some reason.” He said with a shrug. “I always have to stick to one or the other.”

“Ah, that’s fair, mate. Tough luck, though.”

“What’s never have I ever?” Jess asked. The fire picked up as Liam sat another log into the flames. It licked up, casting a glow against his face while he answered her question – like he was telling some scary ghost campfire story.

“You basically go around the circle, say something you haven’t done. If someone in the group has done it, they drink. And you just keep going around.”

“Let’s play! Can we play?” Jess asked excitedly. Louis picked up the metal case as it came to him.

“Share one with me, love? Don’t feel like going in on one by myself.” Louis whispered over to Harry.

“Sure thing.”

“Let’s play, eh lads? Like we are proper teenagers again?” Niall asked the group, not willing to let the excited look fall from Jess’ face. After getting what seemed to be an affirmative answer from the group, although most of them admittedly were paying more attention to lighting their joints, Niall said, “I’ll start.”

Niall mulled it over on his inhale, holding the smoke in his lungs. On his exhale he hummed. “Never have I ever seen a Star Wars movie.”

Everyone took a sip of their drink. “How have you made it twenty years and have never seen a Star Wars movie?” Louis asked. While Liam said he knew what they’d be playing for the next movie night.

Nick was next. “Never have I ever had sex with a girl.”

“Never, mate?” Niall asked, wrapping his lips around his beer and taking a sip. Nick just shrugged. It was Liam’s turn.

“Never have I ever broken up with someone over text.” Liam said. Niall drank. “Niall! What happened?”

Niall started to giggle, taking another drag from the joint. “In my defense, yeah. I didn’t think we were together. We had one date in high school, and she told everyone she was my girlfriend – like everyone. The date didn’t even go well. She only talked about herself and dug her nails into my thigh the whole time.” Niall shrugged through everyone’s apologies.

Harry took his turn after he pulled the smoke into his lungs and exhaled. “Never have I ever had a one night stand.” He raised a nonjudgmental eyebrow and smirked as he watched Louis take a sip.

“Never have I ever gone skinny dipping.” Louis said, laughing. He knew that Harry, the first time he ever got drunk, threw his swim shorts off and jumped in the pool with his friends. He saw the blush creep over his cheeks as he drank.

Zayn held his drink up before he drank. Then it was his turn. “Never have I ever been spanked, sexually.” He threw a pointed look at Liam. Liam blanched at Zayn, scarlet shading his face. Louis heard dark expletives come out of Liam’s mouth as he threw back the rest of his drink.

“You did that on purpose, mate!” Liam said, shoving a hand onto Zayn’s chest. Zayn and Louis both fell over, clutching their stomachs and laughing.

“Wait, wait. Payno. Please tell us what happened?”

“Only if you want to,” Harry clarified.

“Okay, okay. There was this girl I was dating freshman year. She was just really into trying new things. She wanted to try everything,” Liam said, shrugging. When Niall tried to press for more information, like what exactly she wanted to try, Liam dared him to try and find out.

On Madison’s turn, she said, “Never have I ever tried bondage.” Liam drank.

“Never have I ever been a Dominant.” Liam drank.

“A submissive?” Liam drank again.

“Never have I ever had sex outside of a home,” Jess said.

Harry mulled over drinking. Technically, it was just oral sex that time in the studio. Did that count? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Louis watching him. He raised his cup to his lips; Louis perfectly mimicked his motion. Harry wondered if they were thinking the same thing.

“Let’s head inside,” Nick called, watching the fire die out. “It’s getting fucking cold.”

Harry stood, felt his head sway and giggles start to erupt out of his mouth. When he got his blood flowing, tried to use what fine motor skills he had, his vision felt like he went into the settings on an old DVD and set it to widescreen. He smiled and held onto Louis’ hand. He saw the same thing wash over everyone else’s faces as they stood and walked inside too.

They all sauntered inside to Wannabe by the Spice Girls.

“Oi, let’s play the other game you mentioned, Li. Spin the bottle!” Niall called.

“I’ve actually never played.” Zayn reflected, plopping down on the floor. Liam worked with Harry in the kitchen, making everyone fresh drinks. Really, he just put the most effort into making his own mojito and left everyone else’s drink to Harry. He did help carry them though.

[bodypositivitybiiiiiitch]

An Actual Solution, Minus the Rant

So, point I was getting to was I took some weird action that was very contrary to my belief system about what I needed to feel okay about myself. Not good, just OKAY.

1. Look up some quotes about body positivity - which I then altered to fit what I wanted. Because I wasn’t just looking to accept my body. I wanted to LOVE my body. I wanted to stop the self-hatred and pain.

2. Take pictures of my body being awesome. So this means I have a freakish amount of pictures of myself, which was never my forte just appreciating different things. Like the way the shadow is created on my shoulder at the right time of the morning. Or the direct image of my body straight on where I can see the curves I like. THIS IS FOR ME. I DO IT FOR ME. Sometimes I forget that I’m rockin’ af externally - as well as internally.

3. DO THINGS THAT MAKE MY BODY FEEL GOOD. Like eat food, walk (this is a novel idea due to my recent surgery), go in the sunnnnn and just lay there and be warrrrmmmmmm.

4. Make a muthafuckin’ list of dope shit about myself internally, externally, and write a list of dope shit my body does/has done/lived through/carried me through, etc. Because let me tell ya, I have not been nice to this body of mine.

That’s shit that makes me feel good and makes me feel good about my body. So, here’s some weird quotes I butchered the fuck out of:

“My body was never ‘the problem’ or broken, or too much... My body has always been (more than) good enough (& always has been).”

“MY BODY - MY RULES - Lose me with that toxic shit.” (Referring to dieting)

“ME FIRST” - in my bathroom is: “LOVE ME FIRST”

“‘She’s a lot’ TOO MUCH - TOO MUCH FOR YOU.” (this is a reference to my ex-husband. I can assure you, I was WAAAYYYY too much for him.)

“When you discover your self-worth, you will lose interest in anyone who doesn’t see it.”

#love me first #radical body love #radish body love #radbody

[thesinglesjukebox]

LIZZO FT. MISSY ELLIOTT - TEMPO

[6.75]

I suppose this would be an Allegretto...

Alex Clifton: This is a dream combination -- not sure how these two hadn't worked together before. I now judge high-energy songs on whether or not they'd be good to run to (weird metric but it's been working so far) and the beat on "Tempo" is a winner -- easy to keep pace to, easy to dance to, easy to get stuck in your head. I'm also delighted that we have a song with the lyric "thick thighs save lives." I'm not as in love with this as I was with "Juice," but Lizzo continues to sound good as hell. [7]

Stephen Eisermann: At this point, I'm starting to wonder if Lizzo will ever release an objectively bad song; her track record is pretty flawless. I first heard "Tempo" in the car while dancing at my sister's wedding reception this past weekend. My sister has always been curvier, and it was a big concern for her on her wedding day, but she seemed as confident as I'd ever seen her Saturday -- that is, until this song came on. Gone was the quiet confidence of my sister dancing politely to "Suavemente," "El Sinaloense" and "La Negra Tiene Tumbao" and instead out came a whole new Liz, one who was twerking in the center of her dance floor while all of my Mexican Catholic family watched, shook, wondering what happened to the self-conscious girl of before. But that's what Lizzo does, constantly. She takes a hot beat and empowers you, either with some feel-good rap or, as is the case here, some good provocation. Even if Missy's verse feels incomplete, it doesn't matter, because Lizzo came to play and it's hard to hate on confidence that sounds, feels, and looks this good. [8]

Katherine St Asaph: I don't dance, and any confidence boost the lyrics might provide slams fatally against the fact that the external world views my body as a collection of misshapen, unsightly, useless parts, an awareness I can't just turn off. (Which is the case for every song like this.) This song isn't for me. It doesn't help that the "When Doves Cry" guitar squall and Missy's verse, where she turns into Chingy, completely overpower Lizzo's subdued verses, which isn't supposed to happen at all. [3]

David Moore: The way Missy Elliott finds a little flicker of an idea and kindles it into a blaze of inspired silliness is always a thrill, but here it serves the counter-productive purpose of revealing the weakness of the rest of the track -- Lizzo's enthusiasm and ebullience can't hold a candle to Missy's lark. [6]

Alfred Soto: It's not twenty seconds old before "Tempo" blasts us with a distorted funk riff and the too long gone Missy Elliott. Nothing's changed -- "twerk skills are legendary" you knew. The chorus flickers, disappears. Chorus? Who needs one when Lizzo and Missy compete for sound effect attention? [7]

Tobi Tella: This collaboration feels epic in the same way Christina Aguilera and Demi did, a symbolic torch passing from old-school to new-school from two similar artists. Lizzo has Missy's classic swagger and flair, and the fact that she hasn't lost any of her uniqueness as she becomes more and more mainstream is truly something to be commended. This bangs as hard as anything she's ever released, and hopefully it becomes our generation's body positivity anthem over some more questionable songs... [8]

Katie Gill: I am always here for a bonafide ass shaking song, especially when it starts off with such an amazingly fun guitar riff like this one. The song is a beautiful cacophony and plays with sound in such a fun way, shifting from that minimalist beat to air horns & sirens, only to almost IMMEDIATELY drop back to the beat. And it's clear that Missy is having a blast, making the most out of every 'r' she gets to roll. This song is pure unadulterated fun, an ass shaking song that knows exactly what it is and spends the right amount of time crafting everything to near perfection. [8]

Iris Xie: Never thought I'd be so happy to hear "Truffle Butter" again, but I like "Tempo" and its version of that pinging synth more. "Tempo" takes that initial synth and layers it underneath with a heavy bass and a stop-start militaristic rhythm that makes the atmosphere simultaneously warm and domineering, and Lizzo's command is ice cold, casual, and driven. She's absolutely done with anyone telling her she can't command the dance floor, and whoops, she now is! The verse that starts with "pitty-pat" and ends with "cat" winds up your dance moves and is pretty much twerk material. But Missy, that sweet deliverer of unflinching vision, sonically grabs the theme of the song and busts out all the 'rrrs~'. But then she becomes very rude in the best way, and creates her own equivalent of a feature stage at 2:05 by changing it to a melted stadium band that sounds like the equivalent of lightning charging, with a brief drum clatter solo that sits with you long after it comes back to Lizzo dictating you to fuck it up to the tempo. But most importantly? The entire sentiment of the song is for any big girls (and anyone who identifies with those sentiments) who have ever felt really bad about moving on the dance floor -- it was never your problem, it was always the boring-ass "slow songs." And if that's really not one of the best ways I've ever heard about taking up space in clubs that can be hostile to those who don't have normative bodies, I don't know what else is. [9]

Jonathan Bradley: Eight bars of Missy rhyming tongue trills is worth the admission, but this beat isn't fucking anything up: the bass knocks but it doesn't move. A modulating arpeggio sounds like a placeholder waiting for the finished edit. Lizzo matches the effort; her last appearance round here underserved her personality, but here it's like she's waiting for a reason to show up. What she does offer are some very rote verses and a chorus that isn't sure it's not a verse. It's quite demure, even if you don't start to think on how unrestrained Missy could be in her heyday. [5]

Joshua Copperman: You know that old friend you had in high school that was into the same kind of music you were into? You said you'd stay in touch but grew apart from them because they were in a different, faster crowd than you? That's Lizzo. Her BJ Burton "artsy-fartsy phase" spawned some stellar, aggressive music, but her major-label music is more fun and positive to somewhat mixed results. Oak (of "Pop &" fame) made a manic beat more reminiscent of those early days, but the actual content is light enough to make room for cat puns including "prrr me a glass." It's a shame she won't go back to that earlier, more raw music when rappers like Cupcakke balance the high-concept antics with brutal honesty, but it's clear that's not what Lizzo feels like doing. That artsy phase increasingly feels like something she overcame than something she plans on revisiting. You occasionally hear back from that high school friend, but it's clear that they were never going to be the person you wanted them to be. But it's better to accept that because they're happier and freer the way they are now. They should really put away the guitar, though. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Two overrated artists release a song that sounds exactly like you'd expect? I find the fireworks and beat switch fake-outs more exciting than the vocals. When the song ends, I'm left with... nothing, really. Lizzo's recent singles have all been ordinary crowd pleasers, the sort of standard we should have for solid stock music. "Juice" felt like Facetuned Prince. "Tempo" is similarly watered down. [3]

Nortey Dowuona: *incoherent babbling* Lizzo going in *MORE INCOHERENT SHRIEKING* Missy going in *GLEEFUL HOWLS OF TORMENT AND JOY* A small Afro was found on top of the MSNBC offices yesterday. *sounds of confusion and slight annoyance* [10]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#Lizzo #Missy Elliott #rap #hip hop #pop #music #music review #writing

[easyhairstylesbest]

Body Positivity Isn’t Happening For Me. I’m Aiming for Body Neutrality Instead.

The Instagram video that broke me featured a pretty blonde in a pink crop top. She was caressing her stomach and smiling blandly while swaying in front of the camera. “Life’s too short not to love every inch of yourself!” the caption read.

I don’t know why, but that video did it. I’d seen those types of videos before, with a woman half-dancing around, urging me to embrace my soft curves or love my cellulite or whatever. But this one was the last straw. Believe me when I say I threw my phone down on the couch and took an angry lap around my living room. That moment was when I realized that the body positivity movement—the love every inch movement—was just too far out of reach for me.

Surely there had to be something in between loving myself unconditionally, and how I currently felt, which ranged from benign hostility toward my body, to “meh.” Enter: body neutrality. Instead of the constant stream of negative thoughts that runs through my mind 24/7 (just me?) I want…nothing. I don’t need to replace all those messages with body positive self love—I just want a break from the negative.

The author at a foggy Grand Canyon. By this point it should be obvious that I’m not sure what to do with my hands in photos.

Courtesy

It’s not that I haven’t tried to be positive. I talk to my therapist. I try to practice intuitive eating. I switched up my Instagram follows so my feed is full of people of all sizes revelling in their gorgeous bodies. But it turns out those Instagram videos aren’t helping. Instead, they’re a reminder of yet another way I’m failing my body. Now, not only am I worried that I’m the wrong size and shape, I also feel badly about not loving myself enough just the way I am.

In this picture, I was trying to remember how celebrities pose with one leg behind the other to make my legs look slimmer.

Courtesy

It would be nice to love my body. Think of the brain space that I could free up! The hours I could devote to reading, cooking, or using my scrolling-through-Instagram time to focus on celebrities on yachts or judging their fancy kitchens (two of my favorite types of posts). But despite how much I would love to follow my patron saint, Lizzo, to the altar of body positivity, it’s just not happening.

So, before I can truly love my body, I just want to turn down the volume on all the messages that are blaring inside my head. I needed to start by cutting the background noise. For help, I turned to Jessi Kneeland, a body image coach. According to Kneeland, body neutrality is actually kinda boring. “Neutrality is just the truth. You look in the mirror and go, ‘This is a body,’” Kneeland says. So I don’t have to revel in my shape and adore every pimple? As it turns out, nope!

“We’ve all been taught that it’s super important that we have an opinion on how we look. One of the first tenets of neutrality is maybe that’s not true,” Kneeland says. “But that’s a pretty rebellious stance to take in a culture that, especially for women, is constantly reinforcing the idea that how we look is not only one of the most interesting and valuable things about us, but also that it’s a way in which we’re constantly failing, and we should constantly be trying to improve.”

The good (and bad) news is that I’m certainly not alone. Kneeland has worked with hundreds of clients trying to break through the fog of mixed-messages about their bodies. Originally she focused on helping clients via self love and body positivity. But she noticed for many of her clients, the messages weren’t clicking. “Positivity is just one more unrealistic standard to reach,” she says. “And I think it makes people feel worse; it makes them harder on themselves and beat themselves up more, which is exactly the opposite of what we’re going for.”

Ah yes, the old “I’m not loving myself enough” blues. I’ve sung that song a few (hundred) times before. But I want to be done with that, I really do. And so I asked Dr. Elizabeth Wassenaar, a psychiatrist, and the medical director at the Eating Recovery Center in Denver, for advice on how to start working towards body neutrality. “The first thing is to allow yourself to be open to the idea that your relationship with your body could be different than it is,” Wassenaar says, which is exactly the kind of low-stakes starting point I was hoping for.

Or at least, it seemed low stakes until I implemented Wassenaar’s other piece of advice, which is to recognize all the negative things I say about myself internally. The first time I tried to list them, I lost count of all the mean thoughts swirling around my brain. I hated my thighs for fusing together, causing painful chafing. I hated my rosacea for making my face flush when it seemed like everyone and their sister was posting no-makeup selfies. I could barely walk past a mirror without cringing at my rounded cheeks and jaw in profile. I didn’t even realize the full weight of the emotional burden I’d been carrying around each day, and it shocked me. But Wassenaar says it’s normal to feel overwhelmed.

“It’s okay to have a feeling or a thought about your body that isn’t positive,” Wassenaar says. “And that doesn’t change the fact that you can have goals for your body to help you live your life.” The goals should not be about appearance, Wassenaar says; instead, focus on function—a cornerstone of body neutrality. Like, for example, taking a minute to acknowledge that my legs and lungs worked together to carry me up a steep hill. “Messages of appreciation and gratitude for your body, these neutral messages, can start to reframe your experience of being in your body,” she adds.

A winter selfie, with my rosacea poking through.

Courtesy

So that’s what I’m starting with. Now, when I look in the mirror, I don’t try to force any positive messages, and I definitely don’t caress my tummy with a vacant grin. I just think, that’s a stomach. As much as any single stomach can exist in the world, well, mine does. Is this where I’d like to eventually end up? No. One day I hope I can truly love every inch. Until then, I just want to look at celebrities on yachts in peace.

Emily Baron Cadloff Emily Baron Cadloff is a freelance culture writer with a passion for health and wellness.

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Body Positivity Isn’t Happening For Me. I’m Aiming for Body Neutrality Instead.