#today I taught myself how to use lip liner after years of not getting it

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Someone Special - Harry Styles Christmas Series (Part 11)

Part 10

The Week Before Christmas

You were currently back in London with Harry and you couldn’t be happier. You two decided on a night in. Christmas music was blaring through his speakers while the two of you were in the kitchen. This was one of your favorite traditions from back home, so you thought it would be fun to share with Harry.

“This is your Mum’s recipe?” He asked.

“Actually, it’s a recipe that was passed down to my mother from several generations,” you said. “I’m not sure how many, but it’s been in our family for ages.”

“Well, then they must be delicious,” he smiled.

“They are,” you nodded. “And they’re the perfect Christmas Cookies.”

“I can’t wait to try these,” he groaned.

You laughed putting all the ingredients onto the counter. “Oh! I almost forgot,” you said going over and pulling two very Christmassy aprons from the bag. “If we’re going to bake, we have to look the part.”

“Speaking of baking,” he said. “You know I used to be a baker.”

You laughed, “Working in a bakery and being an actual baker are two different things,” you joked.

“Well, isn’t someone being a little shit,” he mumbled.

“Good thing you already love me,” you smirked.

“That I do,” he smiled kissing your head.

You smiled ending him the other apron while you put yours on tying it around your waist. You tied your hair up into a bun and started measuring everything out.

“Wait, where’s the recipe?” He asked. “How do you know what you’re doing?”

“Part of the reason the recipe is so special is because it’s never been written down,” you said. “Everyone has only been taught it through memorization and practice.”

“And you make this every Christmas?” He asked.

You nodded, “I usually make them with my mother on Christmas Eve, but I thought I could get in a little extra practice and share them with you.”

“Does this mean you’re going to teach me the recipe?” He smirked.

“Maybe one day,” you smirked.

“Looking forward to it,” he smiled.

“Me too,” you smiled. “Okay, let’s get started.”

About an hour later, you taking the final cookie sheet of cookies out of the oven. You forgot just how many cookies the recipe made and now the entire kitchen was filled with your families famous Christmas Cookies.

“Um, Y/N,” Harry laughed. “I love sweets just as much as the next person, but how in the fuck do you think I’m going to eat all of these?”

“Well, I’m here,” you said. “And I can easily eat an entire pan myself.”

“There’s like six pans here,” he laughed.

“Yeah, sorry,” you winced. “I forgot I needed to half the recipe.”

“I’ll just take some to my Mum’s this weekend,” he said. “Tell her I baked them myself.”

“Yeeeah, you tell her that,” you smirked.

“Hey! I helped out!” He said. “I poured in the flour and uh added the spices oh and put then into the oven!”

“And you did a wonderful job,” you giggled wrapping your arms around his shoulder.

He smiled placing his hands on your hips, “You know you look really hot right now,” he smirked.

“Oh really?” You smirked. “I’m sure my hair is a mess and I’m currently wearing an apron with a huge snowman on it.”

“Hm, you’re right,” he said. “My mistake, you’re missing a little something to really put you over the top.”

You looked at him confused and the next thing you know he took leftover flour and patted it onto your cheek.

“There!” He smirked. “Now, you’re perfect.”

“Oh, you did not just do that,” you gasped.

“Oh, but I did,” he smirked.

“Well, two can play at that game,” you smirked taking a handful of flour and dropping it onto his head.

“Oh, it’s so fucking on,” he said grabbing whatever was left on the counter and throwing it at you.

You let out a scream before running out of the kitchen, grabbing your own weapon of baking destruction. You turned around throwing a mix of flour and powdered sugar at him, while he was throwing brown sugar and flour at you. It didn’t take long before he caught up with you, grabbing your waist and pulling you to him. You giggled trying to get out of his grasp, but you two ended up falling down to the ground.

“Is having a mini food fight part of the recipe?” he laughed hovering over you.

“Yeah, that’s a new one,” you giggled.

He smirked shaking his hair causing flour to fall everywhere including on you.

“Stop it!” you laughed pushing him off of you.

He rolled over onto the floor pulling you with him. You giggled looking down at him, when you noticed him smiling up at you.

“What?” You asked.

“Nothing,” he whispered.

“Oh, come on,” you said. “Tell me.”

He sighed pushing hair out of your face, “It’s just, I remember when we first met, you didn’t smile very much. And when you did, it seemed forced, but these last few days your smile has become my favorite thing to see.”

Blushing with a smile, you looked down, “Well, you have a lot to do with that,” you whispered.

“I know,” he smirked. “That’s why it’s my favorite thing.”

You rolled your eyes,” You would.”

He laughed running his hand up and down your back.

“We should probably clean up,” you whispered.

“Later,” he whispered. “I’ve got other plans for us.”

“Oh, and what might that be?” you raised an eyebrow.

He smiled leaning up to kiss you. Smiling into the kiss, he placed his hand on your cheek before rolling you onto your back. Your fingers found their way into his hair as the kiss deepened, which was a mistake with all the flour still embedded in it.

You giggled pulling away from him, “You do realize we’re making out covered in flour, powdered sugar, and brown sugar.”

“I do,” he laughed. “How about we take this to the shower and clean ourselves up.”

“I like the way you think,” you smirked.

**

It was the morning Harry was scheduled to go into the BBC studios for his Live Lounge Performance. You were in the bathroom doing your makeup when Harry walked in wrapping his arms around your waist and putting his chin on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror.

“Can I help you?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t I just hold my beautiful, amazing, and gorgeous girlfriend in my arms?” He asked kissing your cheeks.

“Yes,” you smiled. “Just don’t move or I’ll poke an eye out.”

You applied your eye liner and mascara before applying your favorite holiday red lipstick and popping everything back into your bag. You turned around in his arms so you were facing him.

“In case I haven’t told you yet, I’m really happy you were able to come here this week,” he whispered. “Having you by my side through all of this as been all I could have asked for.”

“And I’m happy that you’re happy I’m here because there’s no place I’d rather be than here for you,” you smiled. “Now, will you tell me what you’re performing today?”

“Not a chance,” he smirked pecking your lips and walking out of the bathroom.

Shortly after, you two arrived at the studio there were a few fans hanging around outside, so Harry waved at them. As soon as he turned around, helping you out of the car, they all screamed even louder. You gave a smile and a wave before taking Harry’s hand walking inside of the studio. You knew pictures of the two of you would be posted soon if they weren’t already.

Neither of you really had that talk on “hiding” your relationship, but it was too late now. Having already had speculation stemming around the two of you since the SNL afterparty, and this appearance would only had fuel to the fire. But you didn’t care. You weren’t about to go on a social media spree posting pictures or posts about your relationship, but you didn’t care about being seen out together.

In your previous relationships, you always did everything you could keeping them and your relationship out of the press or from people knowing, but being with Harry, being with him was worth the possibility of getting photographed together or having people talk about your love life.

Walking into the studio, Harry shook everyone’s hand and chatting up conversation like he’s known everyone for years. Now, he probably knew of them from previous interviews, but you loved how he treated everyone like someone he’s close to. You definitely noticed some looks your way and the want to ask questions, but everyone was very professional and respectful.

You took a seat on the other side of the glass while Harry went into the recording room with his band, but not before he gave you a quick kiss.

“For luck,” he smirked.

“Anytime,” you smiled.

While you waited for him to start, you looked at your phone, to pass the time. You also snapped a few photos. When it was time for the short little interview and his performance, you watched it contently. You danced a bit in your chair and took some pictures and videos with your phone, especially when he sang Juice by Lizzo.

The very song you two had danced to that night at the SNL afterparty, when you almost shared your first kiss. Now, he could have simply just chosen the song because he enjoys, but you liked to think it was more than that. When he was finished, he chatted with his bandmates for a bit before saying goodbye and walking over to you.

“You did great,” you smiled wrapping your arms around him.

“Thank you,” he smiled looking down at you. “So, I take it you liked my song choices?”

“Yep,” you smirked. “Very much so. Let’s just say it’s something I never knew I needed, but so fucking happy that I got it.”

He laughed kissing your head, “I was thinking about stopping the Pop Up Shop and then we can grab some lunch and head to the hospital?”

“Sounds perfect,” you smiled.

Later that day, after visiting the pop-up shop and eating some lunch at a nearby restaurant, you and Harry loaded up his car with all the presents you two had purchased and wrapped to take to the Children’s hospital. 

“Wait!” You said. “Before we leave, I’ve got something for us.” 

“Um, okay,” Harry said. 

You smirked pulling out a Santa Clause Sweater and a matching Mrs. Clause sweater with hats. 

“You didn’t,” he said. 

“Oh, but I did,” you smirked. 

“Y/N, come on, no,” he whined. 

“Yes! We’re delivering presents and you know who else delivers presents? Santa Clause!” You said. 

He groaned shaking his head, “I’ll wear the hat.” 

“No, you have to wear the whole thing,” you said. “I could have gotten an actual suit, but I thought that was a little much. And you know I’ve seen your sweater collection and this is nowhere near as bad as some of those.” 

“I take offense to that,” he pointed at you. 

You shrugged, “Just put it on! You never know, you might look really fucking hot in and I’ll want to rip it right off of you when we get back. Plus, the kids will love it.” 

He rolled his eyes, “Ugh, fine, I’ll wear it,” he said taking it from you. 

You smirked pulling on your own sweater and hat. You looked over at Harry once he had his on and you smiled, “See! Not so bad.” 

“Yeah, yeah, come on,” he said. 

“Not without a picture!” You smiled holding your phone towards the two of you. “Okay, now we can go.” 

When you arrived at the hospital, you were beyond excited, but you also knew this trip would bring on a lot of emotions. Harry carried the bag of presents while you carried a stack that didn’t fit. You both visited multiple floors of the hospital, surprising the kids in the playrooms. They all smiled loving their new toys and other gifts. You each took photos with everyone and chatted with some of the families. 

After visiting them, you two headed to see some of the patients who couldn’t leave their rooms. It amazed you how in good spirits the kids were for being in the hospital. You held back your tears, not wanting to upset the kids or their families, especially when they were all so happy. However, when you and Harry got into the elevator to leave, you couldn’t hold them back any longer. 

Harry wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly, as he rubbed your back. He kissed your head before wiping away your tears from your face.

“Sorry,” you sniffled. “I just couldn’t hold it back anymore.” 

“Hey, don’t apologize,” he whispered. “It’s a sad thing a very sad thing. I fucking hate seeing those kids in there, but we made them so happy, baby. There was not one single face that didn’t have a smile on it.” 

“I know,” you nodded. “Thank you.” 

He smiled kissing you quickly before lacing his hands with yours as you two headed back to the car. 

**

Once you two had gotten back to Harry’s house, you both sat down to eat some pizza for dinner, while watching A Christmas Story, cuddled up on the floor in front of the fire. Harry smiled watching you quote most the entire thing and as soon as it was over, he turned off the tv. 

“Hey! I thought we were going to watch Elf next,” you said. 

“Don’t worry we’ll watch Elf, eventually,” he said. “But I’ve got another idea first.” 

“Ooh, like what?” You asked stuffing another one of your famous Christmas cookies in your mouth. 

Harry smirked getting up to clear off the blanket you two were on, taking it into the kitchen. He turned off the lights leaving only the shine of the Christmas lights and the firelight illuminating the room. You watched him as he turned on some music to play softly, almost like a whisper to play in the background. 

A few moments later, Harry joined you back on the blanket, holding a small box with a bow on it. 

“Um, what’s this?” You asked. 

“An early Christmas present,” he smiled. “One of them at least.” 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” you said. 

“I wanted to,” he smiled. “Now, open it up.” 

“Okay, okay,” you laughed pushing hair behind you ear. 

You opened up the box to reveal a bundle of mistletoe. You took it out of the box and looked at him, “Um, mistletoe?” 

“Exactly,” he smirked. “Everyone know it’s tradition for two people to kiss whenever they find themselves under mistletoe.” 

“Yes, I’m quite familiar with that,” you laughed. “But I guess I don’t understand the gift part.” 

“Well, it’s simple really,” he smirked moving closer to you. “Wherever you hold the mistletoe, I’ll place a kiss.” 

He took it from you for a minute to demonstrate,”For example, if you held it above your head, I’d kiss your lips,” he whispered pecking your lips gently. “And then you moved it over above your neck, then I’d leave a trail of kisses along your neck.” 

His lips against your neck caused you tilt your head to the side. “Wanna try?” He smirked. 

“I think I got it,” you smirked taking it back and holding it over your head. 

He took your face in his hands as he pressed his lips against yours, deepening the kiss right away. You spent the next half hour holding the mistletoe in various places, which didn’t take very long for there to be a removal of all clothing. You didn’t think it was possible, but you were sure that his lips had touch every inch of your skin and now you were currently working on doing the same to him. 

He rolled you onto your back after he slipped on a condom. Pressing his lips against yours, he gently pushed himself inside of you. You gasped into the kiss as he moved slowly against you. He pushed your arms back by your head and laced his fingers with yours. You brought your hips up to meet his as you both moved at slow, loving place. 

The room was filled with the sounds of the crackling fire and the heavy breathing of the two of you. It seemed like hours later by the time you felt the wave of pleasure hit your body. He held you close him as he watched you above him. The sight of which caused him to follow you soon after. 

The two of you laid there underneath the blanket as the fire began to dim. You both were sweating and trying to calm your breathing as you laid your head next to his. Your fingers traced the tattoos upon his chest as he ran his fingers played with a strand of your hair. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you, too,” you smiled looking up at him. “And I know we still have a few more days left together before I have to head back for Christmas, but I want you to know something.” 

“What’s that?” He asked. 

“When we first met, I told you I made a list of everything I wanted to do this Christmas, so that it would better than last year. But the truth is, none of those things made this the best Christmas I’ve ever had. Falling in love with you is what made this my favorite Christmas. I could have done all the same things on my own, but i wouldn’t have made me feel the same way as I did doing them with you,” you whispered. 

Tears filled his eyes as he ran his thumb over your cheek. 

“So, thank you,” you whispered. 

“You don’t have to thank me for loving you,” he whispered. 

You laughed kissing his cheek, “You remember when I told you I wanted to live my life like I was in one of those cheesy Christmas movies?” 

“And I asked you about falling in love?” He raised an eyebrow. 

You nodded, “Well, in a way, I did star in my own Christmas movie because I fell in love with someone when I least expected it,” you giggled. 

Harry smiled pressing his lips against yours, “And I guess I did, too. I’ve always wanted to be in a Rom-Com,” he joked. 

You giggled, “Merry Christmas, my love,” you whispered looking down at him. 

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he smiled pressing his lips against one more time before the two of you laid in each other’s arms before falling asleep. 

**

ONE MORE! Now, should I write about them spending New Year’s Eve together? OR Should I Write about them having  a Christmas in the future? LET ME KNOW ASAP! :) 

#One Direction Imagines #Harry Styles Imagines #Someone Special #12 Days of Christmas - Harry

[officialjameelajamil]

I weigh

Today is my 32nd birthday.

This is the best birthday I’ve ever had because I’ve woken up to thousands of women sending me pictures and messages about the things they love about their lives, and the things they have done that they are most proud of. This has been going on for days now.

I was scrolling through “explore” on Instagram (always a certified mine field for one’s self esteem) and came across this disastrously damaging picture.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A group shot of grown women with their respective weights posted across each of their bodies, and the post asking what we think of their weights and then asking its followers, “What do you weigh?”

WHO CARES? What kind of crazed toxic nonsense is this? What is this post trying to achieve other than to induce anxiety into young women about something so entirely irrelevant? What are we teaching women about our value? Can it be measured using a metric system? Why do so many posts like this exist on social media? How is anyone supposed to get through the fucking day happy with themselves when we are given such unreasonable and shallow goals to achieve, falling short of which, no matter who we are, what we do, how many lives we save, how many children we raise, how many people’s lives we touch, we are not worth anything.

I snapped. I am just done. I’m so done with seeing this and letting it pass me by. It’s so dangerous and disgusting. It’s so belittling and abusive. We are subliminally bullied all day by the magazines, the side bar of shame, social media, and by each other. The onslaught is so aggressive that we are going to have to retaliate with 10 times the strength to undo all of the damage to the global psyche of women. So I posted this:

A small ode to the brilliant life that I am so lucky to live, that I built by myself from scratch, to the friends I am so lucky to have and to my self worth. This is how I measure myself. What I did, how I made people feel and how much I have enjoyed myself. It has taken me 10 years to get to the realisation that I am worth more than the digits on a measuring tape. And more importantly, the push back against body shaming shouldn’t just be about how much we love our flaws, it should be about something that isn’t really about the body at all. Self acceptance is important. But we deserve more than acceptance. Let’s step as far away from the conversation about our bodies as possible and make acclaim, integrity, achievement, contribution to society and kindness: Values worth shouting about again.

I posted it on twitter, and within an hour women started sending me their own ones. There were too many to keep track of. It happened so fast. The pictures were amazing. None of them were posed and filtered, nobody was contoured to within an inch of their life, or sucking anything in. It was women living their lives, writing down all of the things they were grateful for and proud of. All of the degrees they have, the babies they made, the cancer they beat or are fighting, their families they love, the disabilities they live with or help with, the relationships they have built, the companies they started. Just women waking up and remembering that they are valuable, and they do important, difficult, incredible things. Things that are more than just achieving the perfect lip liner, losing baby weight quickly or being able to EAT PIZZA WHILST AT A LINGERIE PHOTOSHOOT!!! (WOWWEE!)

Here are some of my favourites:

Women of every size and shape and age and background sent me their declarations of self love and clapped back at the shame they have been drenched in their whole lives. We are attacked by this beast our WHOLE DAMN LIVES. Bemused parents are writing to me that social media has their 8 year olds talking about diets and what they dislike about their tiny growing bodies. We are facing an epidemic of self hatred. Instagram while sometimes an amazing way for us to share, is in many ways, hurtling us at light speed towards the demise of what the suffragettes were building.

We lack focus because we are concentrating on the wrong things. Most of the women I know wake up much earlier than men to get ready, and spend much of their time and money on complete nonsense like manicures and pedicures, hair treatments, and waxing. Women bleach their bumholes. THEY BLEACH THEIR BUMHOLES. This is how far we have gone with our pursuit of perfection, that we are no longer satisfied with the natural colour of an area almost nobody in the world will ever see. We have to be thin, but with big breasts and bottoms, gravity free, spotless, hairless, ageless, light skinned but always with a year round sun kissed glow; we must be fun and eat pizza and drink beer but also completely cellulite free and we must all have tiny noses and enormous eyes and lips but with skinny faces, but our skinny faces must never look gaunt and old.

And after all this, and after all the work we do, that we do as much of as men, ON SUBSTANTIALLY fewer calories than we probably need, we get judged more and paid less anyway.

NO. I’m sorry but at some point something has to give. We have to object. We have to do it together. Rather than just complaining about it, lets fill the void of sense with some perspective and some regard for the lives we are so lucky to live. An education is a luxury and a beautiful thing, not afforded to millions of women in the world. Bringing children into the world and raising them to be happy and healthy and kind is a great achievement, that literally builds the world. Surviving illness and war and trials of mental health makes a warrior out of you. Fighting for the rights of those who have no voice is heroic and important. Reading and writing and filling yourself with knowledge makes you so much more fun to spend the day with. Travelling and being independent and supporting yourself is the sign of a woman in control of her life.

We spend our lives in pursuit of the approval of others when we don’t yet even really approve of ourselves. My opinion of me is now (and only very recently) the one that matters.

I remember being 15, miserable and so relentlessly disappointed in myself, thinking it didn’t matter that I had a full academic scholarship and that I had a job and good grades, a Grade 8 in piano and I was a good kid, because my hip bones didn’t jut out, I had a round face and my thighs were forever touching. I was taught nothing else mattered. And that my fat covered up my achievements. I am so, so aware of the damage the media does to a vulnerable mind, it ruined the first 20 years of my life.

I found this really sad old drawing I did of myself when I 16, with what I felt I had to look like in order to be accepted by girls at school, and society in general.

I can’t sit by and read the messages of self hatred that teenage girls send me, about how they hate themselves for not looking like Victoria’s Secret models. I can’t watch what happened to me, happen to them.

I hereby call out every newspaper run by a man that shames women about their appearance.

I hereby call out journalists who write passive-aggressive shaming articles about weight gain and congratulatory ones about women who lose weight.

I hereby MASSIVELY call out celebrities who don’t document what it takes for them to look the way they do. If you have had surgery, say something. If you have a strict diet and workout regime, say something. It is UNFEMINIST to push an image that was created in the fantasy lab of the patriarchy, essentially that of a sex doll, to other women, and pretend that it comes naturally to you, and that junk food and lying down in expensive hotel suites is what keeps you beautiful. You have a platform and have to use it responsibly.

I hereby call out the fashion industry for STILL after 10 years of being called out, perpetuating the idea that expensive clothing only looks good on stick thin, barely pubescent girls. (None of whom can afford your bloody clothes)

I hereby call out the women who troll other women online about their appearances.

I hereby call out the trolls that live in our own heads and eradicate all of our achievements and shower us in self-doubt and loathing.

In this uprising of female power we must realise we are being set absurd extra goals, thick and fast. The further we come as a gender, the more ridiculous the ideals we have to fulfil become. We are being distracted and exhausted and our eyes are being taken off the ball. Every minute you spend thinking about how thin or gorgeous you aren't, is a minute you aren’t spending on growing your business or your life.

I’m not saying it’s not important to watch out for your health. I’m not saying your BMI isn’t something to pay attention to. I do think it’s important to try to be active and put good food into your engine. But I also think the shame and feeling of failure is what drives us to the unhealthy eating habits we acquire to “comfort” us when we feel inferior and depressed. It’s a catch 22.

And by all means take pride in your appearance. Enjoy your looks, and your clothes and your sex appeal, but don’t make it your number one concern and selling point. It can be in your top ten, but it should never, ever define you. It isn’t important. We aren’t supposed to all look the same. And nothing good ever comes of self hatred. It will never further you. It will always hold you back.

Please think of the things in your life that you are proud of, that fulfil you, that make you happy and write them down somewhere, and look at that list every time you feel that you are failing, or that your jeans are tight, or you have a chubby arm in a group photo of a night out, or when you watch a video of a Hadid eating pasta.

Please remember you have every right to be here, and your life is important and it is precious, and on your death bed you aren’t going to be thinking about your love handles.

I love women and we deserve so much more than this. We can do better. We have to.

We can win the revolution against shame.

#blog