A Clitoris is actually an undeveloped penis; since we all, at some point, are both male and female in the uterus, before the dominate gene takes over, the penis on a female and a male is actually the same. And once the dominate gene takes over for a male, the clit actually develops into a penis, so technically, when a girl says: suck my dick… I guess it’s kinda politically correct…
I was talking to a guy I used to work with at Disneyland about how he was promoted to head costume designer and he was freaking out about his first assignment
Him:it has to be perfect
Him:they'll kill me if I screw up this dress
Me:no they won't it's just a dress
Him:yes they will I'm going to waste their money then Mickey Mouse is going to have me dropped on a deserted island far away where I'll die alone
Me:it can't be that big a deal, are you making a parade character's dress or something?
Him:they gave me so much money, I'm going to fuck it up. She'll look hideous
Me:it'll be okay if you make a mistake, who's dress are you making?
Me:isn't Elsa already in the park with a complete costume?
Me:then how are you doing her dress if it's done already?
Him:her park dress is done. But she has her official, internationally televised and watched by millions coronation into the Disney royal family as a queen coming up and all the other members of the royal family will be there even the queens and all the princes and they've already booked the castle and they gave me one million dollars to design the perfect dress for Elsa as my first assignment.
If you love someone with borderline personality disorder, it’s worth doing your own research so you can understand where your borderline is coming from, especially when they act out or pull away.
Here are some traits of Borderline Personality Disorder:
Traits involving emotions:
Quite frequently people with Borderline Personality Disorder have a very hard time controlling their emotions. They may feel ruled by them. One researcher (Marsha Linehan) said, “People with Borderline Personality Disorder are like people with third degree burns over 90% of their bodies. Lacking emotional skin, they feel agony at the slightest touch or movement.”
1. Shifts in mood lasting only a few hours.
2. Anger that is inappropriate, intense or uncontrollable.
Traits involving behavior:
3. Self-destructive acts, such as self-mutilation or suicidal threats and gestures that happen more than once
4. Two potentially self-damaging impulsive behaviors. These could include alcohol and other drug abuse, compulsive spending, gambling, eating disorders, shoplifting, reckless driving, compulsive sexual behavior.
Traits involving identity
5. Marked, persistent identity disturbance shown by uncertainty in at least two areas. These areas can include self-image, sexual orientation, career choice or other long-term goals, friendships, values. People with Borderline Personality Disorder may not feel like they know who they are, or what they think, or what their opinions are, or what religion they should be. Instead, they may try to be what they think other people want them to be. Someone with Borderline Personality Disorder said, “I have a hard time figuring out my personality. I tend to be whomever I’m with.”
6. Chronic feelings of emptiness or boredom. Someone with Borderline Personality Disorder said, “I remember describing the feeling of having a deep hole in my stomach. An emptiness that I didn’t know how to fill. My therapist told me that was from almost a “lack of a life”. The more things you get into your life, the more relationships you get involved in, all of that fills that hole. As a borderline, I had no life. There were times when I couldn’t stay in the same room with other people. It almost felt like what I think a panic attack would feel like.”
Traits involving relationships
7. Unstable, chaotic intense relationships characterized by splitting (see below).
Whenever someone refers to the gay community as “queer folk” I imagine us all like woodland sprites, we are the queer folk community, we are born of flowers and fairy dust, we are destroying the sanctity of marriages and corrupting children
“Sexuality, too, is fluid, and many people seem to struggle with this, to the point of being actively repulsed and confused by the idea that sexual orientation does not necessarily remain consistent throughout someone’s life. This attitude is harmful for those who do experience shifts in their sexual orientations, but it also stifles conversation and exploration, as people who may be confused about their sexuality who receive this kind of messaging may experience harm that takes years to undo—and in some cases, they may never recover, because they are never given an opportunity to learn who they are and be themselves.
Take, for example, the heterosexual woman who later develops an attraction to women, and begins to identify as bisexual or lesbian. She may have experienced this attraction throughout her life and not picked up on it—perhaps she didn’t meet the right woman, or she was living in a repressive environment where homosexuality was not accepted. Or maybe her sexual orientation actively shifted. The attitudes of those around her will be dismissive and unpleasant, as people attempt to erase both her past as a heterosexual and her present as a gay or bi woman.
Though her sexuality has shifted, she remains fundamentally the same woman. Her past history doesn’t magically vanish, and she may even look back on it with fondness or gratitude for the relationships she had. Likewise, people may move through other sexual orientations depending on circumstances, their current stage of life, and other factors; the asexual who later realizes he’s gay, the lesbian woman who develops a bisexual attraction.”—Yes, Sexuality Changes, and Yes, That Is Okay | this ain’t livin’ (via brutereason)
Rape culture is when I was six, and
my brother punched my two front teeth out.
Instead of reprimanding him, my mother
said “Stefanie, what did you do to provoke him?”
When my only defense was my
mother whispering in my ear, “Honey, ignore him.
Don’t rile him up. He just wants a reaction.”
As if it was my sole purpose, the reason
six-year-old me existed,
was to not rile up my brother.
It’s starts when we’re six, and ends
when we grow up assuming the natural state of a man
is a predator, and I must walk on eggshells, as to
not “rile him up.” Right, mom?
Rape culture is when through casual dinner conversation,
my father says that women who get raped are asking for it.
He says, “I see them on the streets of New York City,
with their short skirts and heavy makeup. Asking for it.”
When I used to be my father’s hero but
will he think I was asking for it? (will he think)
Will he think I deserved it?
Will he hold me accountable or will he hold me,
even though the touch of a man - especially my father’s -
burns as if I were holding the sun in the palm of my hand.
Rape culture is you were so ashamed, you thought it would
be easier for your parents to find you dead,
than to say, “Hey mom and dad,”
It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for it.
I never asked for this attention, I never asked
to be a target, to be weak because I was born with
two X chromosomes, to walk in fear, to always look behind me,
in front of me, next to me, I never asked to be the prey.
I never wanted to spend my life being something
someone feasts upon, a meal for the eternally starved.
I do not want to hear about the way I taste anymore.
I will not let you eat me alive.
Rape culture is I shouldn’t defend my friend when
an overaggressive frat boy has his hand on her ass,
because standing up for her body “makes me a target.”
Women are afraid to speak up, because
they fear their own lives - but I’d rather take the hit
than live in a culture of silence.
I am told that I will always be the victim, pre-determined
by the DNA in my weaker, softer body.
I have birthing hips, not a fighter’s stance.
I am genetically pre-dispositioned to lose every time.
Rape culture is he was probably abused as a child.
When he even has some form of a justification
and all I have are the things that provoked him,
and the scars from his touch are woven of the darkest
and toughest strings, underneath the layer of my skin.
Rape culture leaves me finding pieces of him left inside of me.
A bone of his elbow. The cap of his knee.
There is something so daunting in the way that I know it will take
me years to methodically extract him from my body.
And that twinge I will get sometimes in my arm fifteen years later?
Proof of the past.
Like a tattoo I didn’t ask for.
Somehow I am permanently inked.
Rape culture is you can’t wear that outfit anymore
without feeling dirty, without feeling like
you somehow earned it.
You will feel like you are walking on knives,
every time you wear the shoes
you smashed his nose in with.
Imaginary blood on the bottom of your heels,
thinking, maybe this will heal me.
Those shoes are your freedom,
But the remains of a life long fight.
You will always carry your heart,
your passion, your absolute will to live,
but also the shame and the guilt and the pain.
I saved myself but I still feel like I’m walking on knives.
Rape culture is “Stefanie, you weren’t really raped, you were
one of the lucky ones.”
Because my body wasn’t penetrated by a penis,
but fingers instead, that I should feel lucky.
I should get on my hands and knees and say, thank you.
Thank you for being so kind.
Rape culture is “things could have been worse.”
“It’s been a month, Stefanie. Get out of bed.”
“You’ll have to get over this eventually.”
“Don’t let it ruin your life.”
Rape culture is he told you that after he touched you,
no one would ever want you again.
And you believed him.
Rape culture is telling your daughters not to get raped,
instead of teaching your sons how to treat all women.
That sex is not a right. You are not entitled to this.
The worst possible thing you can call a woman is a
slut, a whore, a bitch.
The worst possible thing you can call a man is a
bitch, a pussy, a girl.
The worst thing you can call a girl is a girl.
The worst thing you can call a guy is a girl.
Being a woman is the ultimate rejection,
the ultimate dismissal of strength and power, the
When I have a daughter,
I will tell her that she is not
When I have a daughter, she will know how to fight.
I will look at her like the sun when she comes home
with anger in her fists.
Because we are human beings and we do not
always have to take what we are given.
They all tell her not to fight fire with fire,
but that is only because they are afraid of her flames.
I will teach her the value of the word “no” so that
when she hears it, she will not question it.
Don’t you dare apologize for the fierce love
you have for yourself
and the lengths you go to preserve it.
I am alive because of the fierce love I have
for myself, and because my father taught me
to protect that.
He taught me that sometimes, I have to do
my own bit of saving, pick myself off the
ground and wipe the dirt off my face,
because at the end of the day,
there is only me.
I am alive because my mother taught me
to love myself.
She taught me that I am an enigma - a
mystery, a paradox, an unfinished masterpiece and
I must love myself enough to see how I turn out.
I am alive because even beaten, voiceless, and back
against the wall, I knew there was an ounce of me
worth fighting for.
And for that, I thank my parents.
Instead of teaching my daughter to cover herself up,
I will show her how to be exposed.
Because no is not “convince me”.
No is not “I want it”.
You call me,
“Little lady, pretty girl, beautiful woman.”
But I am not any of these things for you.
I am exploding light,
my daughter will be exploding light,
better cover your eyes.