Fruity Summer SorbetsStrawberry Banana1 1/2 cups frozen strawberries 1 1/2 bananas (fresh) 1/4 cup lemon (or lime) juice 1/3 cup maple (or agave) syrupPineapple Banana2 fresh bananas 1 1/2 cups frozen pineapple 1/2 cup coconut milk 1/3 cup maple (or agave) syrupZippy Wild Blueberry1 1/2 cups frozen wild blueberries 1/2 cup lemon (or lime) juice 1/2 cup maple (or agave) syrup 1 fresh banana 1/2 tsp ginger powder or grated fresh gingerSpicy Mango1 1/2 cups frozen mango 1 fresh banana 1/3 cup lemon (or lime) juice 1/2 cup maple (or agave) syrup a few dashes of cayenne powderDirectionsAdd all ingredients of desired sorbet to a high speed blender. Blend until smooth, but keep it as thick and frosty as possible. Pour into freezer-friendly container. (Metal works best, but anything will do.) Chill until firm, scoop, and serve.
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Fruity Summer Sorbets

Strawberry Banana
1 1/2 cups frozen strawberries
1 1/2 bananas (fresh)
1/4 cup lemon (or lime) juice
1/3 cup maple (or agave) syrup

Pineapple Banana
2 fresh bananas
1 1/2 cups frozen pineapple
1/2 cup coconut milk
1/3 cup maple (or agave) syrup

Zippy Wild Blueberry
1 1/2 cups frozen wild blueberries
1/2 cup lemon (or lime) juice
1/2 cup maple (or agave) syrup
1 fresh banana
1/2 tsp ginger powder or grated fresh ginger

Spicy Mango
1 1/2 cups frozen mango
1 fresh banana
1/3 cup lemon (or lime) juice
1/2 cup maple (or agave) syrup
a few dashes of cayenne powder

Directions
Add all ingredients of desired sorbet to a high speed blender. Blend until smooth, but keep it as thick and frosty as possible. Pour into freezer-friendly container. (Metal works best, but anything will do.) Chill until firm, scoop, and serve.

(via fitsam)

Source: tohellwithsalad

shortmom: Oh wow — Lemon rice and fish stew. Husband says: “I feel all healthy inside!” Cook 3/4 c jasmine rice. When it is done, stir in the juice from one lemon. In large skillet, Sauté green garlic and celery in a little butter (you could use leeks or green onions or whatever). Add in 3 cups chicken broth, 3 Tbsp sugars and pinch or two of kosher salt. Simmer a bit, then stir in rice. Sink fish filets into broth and rice mixture. Simmer until cooked through. I used 2 frozen talapia filets, took about 15 min. Serve topped with mint or other fresh herb.
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shortmom:

Oh wow — Lemon rice and fish stew. Husband says: “I feel all healthy inside!”

Cook 3/4 c jasmine rice. When it is done, stir in the juice from one lemon.

In large skillet, Sauté green garlic and celery in a little butter (you could use leeks or green onions or whatever). Add in 3 cups chicken broth, 3 Tbsp sugars and pinch or two of kosher salt. Simmer a bit, then stir in rice.

Sink fish filets into broth and rice mixture. Simmer until cooked through. I used 2 frozen talapia filets, took about 15 min.

Serve topped with mint or other fresh herb.

nutrifitblr:

finish-with-fitness:

pretty much my future son.

omg sooo cute <3 seriously, I will teach my future kids to eat healthy from the start :)

This is adorable but also makes me sad. I had always wanted a little boy with blonde hair with my ex, who was blonde. Possibility there :-/..gone.

(via fitnesshelpsthesoul)

Source: raggedycass

allyfit:

triplefmanic:

HOW MUCH I LOVE BANANAAAS

beautyisachoice:

1) Pick a couple of ripe bananas. They should be sweet and soft but not too mushy.

2) Peel the bananas and cut them into coins

3) Freeze the banana pieces for at least an hour or two.

4) Put the pieces into a food processor or blender.

5) Blend on high. Initially they will look crumbly and piecemeal. The mixture will probably get stuck a lot. Keep scraping down the bowl. Suddenly, as you keep blending, you will see a change.

6) The bananas turn creamy!

7) (Optional) Now is the time to add a scoop of peanut butter, honey, or anything else you care to mix in.

8) The ice cream will be the texture of soft-serve, but if you freeze again in an airtight container, it will get harder and more like regular ice cream.

foreeever

(via fitnesshelpsthesoul)

Source: skinny-nation

healthyfitbabe:

girlstartingnew:

5 Ingredient Peanut Butter Granola Bars

makes 12-16 granola squares

Ingredients:

  • 4 cups rolled oats
  • 2 tablespoons chia seeds (these are optional, I just love the texture they give)
  • 1/2 cup unsalted peanuts, chopped
  • 3/4 cup natural peanut butter, melted
  • 1/2 cup brown rice syrup (honey works too!)
  • add ins: chocolate chips, wheat germ, flaxseed, dried fruit (I made some with cherries!), other nuts, seeds, coconut

Directions:

  • Preheat over to 350.
  • In a large bowl, combine oats, chia seeds and peanuts. Add brown rice syrup (or honey) and mix to combine. Add melted peanut butter and mix until moistened. This works as a perfect, simple granola bar, but you can also throw in any add-ins at this time. Fold them into the dough. You may need to get in there with your hands and work the granola dough! If dough is still too dry (this can depend on your ingredients) add more peanut butter or syrup (or honey) 1 tablespoon at a time until moistened.
  • Press dough in a greased (non-stick spray) 9 x 13 baking dish. Bake for 25 minutes.
  • These would also work as a great no-bake granola bar, but I liked how they came together and the chocolate chips melted as they got warm. If you want to make no-bakes, simply press the dough into the pan and refrigerate for 60 minutes.

Gonna try these :)

(via agustofhealth)

Source: howsweeteats.com

down-sizing: rippedfuel: blood-songs: elphias-doge: dionebacchus: brodingershat: pimperious-condescension: I’m a grade 12 in high school who just happens to wear a K-cup bra. I live a fairly normal high school existence, except for the fact that my bust size often gets me in trouble with teachers, especially female teachers.Now, my school has a uniform that involves a blouse. Being a busty person, I need to undo three buttons in order to have it fit right without it being undone to below my breasts. Even then, it’s a bit of a stretch. There is literally no way to disguise my breasts. Even when I’ve bound them for crossplay, they still look like really large pectoral muscles. I’m also really confident with my body, so I don’t see why I should have to hide what my body looks like at school.So you can imagine how angry it makes me when a teacher pulls me aside and whispers “you need to do your top up,” as if my life depended on it.“You know what? You need to mind your own business,” is what I want to say.Most of my bras don’t push my breasts together that much, anyway, so most of the time, you’ll see my sternum before any cleavage. If you’re so offended by a bone that protects the heart or a whopping whole inch of two bags of fat on either side of it, then I suggest you get a life. The way the neckline of my blouse is cut also covers the centre of my bra (most of the time), and I have to either spread it apart (like in the picture), sit or kneel below someone, or lean forward for anyone to actually see it.Now, notice the little white bow right at the top of the bra’s centre in the picture. Most bras have some little ornamentation there, like a bow or a crystal.I think that’s there in case the bra accidentally peeks out from a shirt or dress; to make it look pretty as opposed to something with a purely industrial purpose. It almost glorifies the sternum and the rest of the bra, which is how I think every inch of someone’s body should be treated.Bras don’t see anything offensive about a bone that shields the heart.Bras are smarter than people. One of my cousins hit puberty in the second grade. She had an hourglass figure by the time she entered middle school.  Her first boyfriend thought she was just a bigger girl until the first time they went swimming together, because she’d gotten into the habit of wearing huge sweaters- even in the middle of summer, which can get hot enough to warrant heatstroke warnings- to try to disguise her chest. This is because everywhere she turned, she was painted as a deviant, sexually promiscuous and attention-seeking youth. She started babysitting for a family friend when she was twelve, and grown women stared in open disapproval when she took the little boy out in his stroller for some fresh air. Men started catcalling at her and approaching her on the street when she was barely thirteen. Teachers looked down on her despite her uniformly excellent grades. Parents of friends immediately pointed to her as a bad influence when things went wrong, despite her immaculate record of just generally being a sensible sort of girl. She had very few female friends, and most of her high school peers assumed that she was sexually involved with most, if not all, of her many male friends. She never was.  This needs to stop. This isn’t a fanservice video game where you get to choose cup size and bounciness before you start a round. This is real life. Unless she resorts to surgery, the amount of tissue a girl carries on her chest is completely outside of her control, and has nothing to do with her personality, abilities, or achievements. Stop demonizing breasts. They’re just breasts. From the barest bump to the cup that runneth over, a breast is a breast, and it should never be an object of shame. She who carries the chest in question wasn’t doing anything shameful. But if you feel the need to shame her, you were. I had the same thing happen to me. I was fully grown in junior high school and right from when I started high school I got comments behind my back. People would assume that I was a slut, even some of my best friends. I dated once in high school and spent the rest of the time acting like a crazy person in drama club and getting good grades. But none of that mattered. I was considered easy and a whore by my friends, just because I had full breasts.  I wasn’t what they thought I was. But it wouldn’t have mattered if I was. Because my body doesn’t determine who I am. My friends don’t decide who I am as well as any other prick who catcalls young women just because they have what they consider sexually attractive.  The only person who decides what kind of person you are is you. You can have as much or as little sex as possible, you can wait until marriage , have sex with your first partner or you can never have sex at all. It’s up to you. Your body and your peers don’t decide what kind of person you are; you do.  I’ve had to wear a bra since I was eight years old. I’m now approximately a double F cup. In middle school, I got in trouble for my clothing, even though I was highly body-conscious and had no interest in wearing anything ‘revealing’; my outfits were nonetheless considered ‘provocative’, because apparently my body is provocative. Even shirts that seem to fit at first will strain by the end of the day. It’s not sexy; it’s annoying, and it makes the fabric and the top look bad. Buttons always strain over my chest. I just take it for granted now. A very specific memory that I have from middle school is of a classmate of mine: same age, but about half a foot taller and weighing ten pounds less than me. Wearing a bra, for her, was a gesture rather than a practicality. She was (comparatively) a late bloomer, so when she wore skimpy tops and short shorts no one ever told her off. No teacher cared that her shorts covered less than my underpants, or that her tank tops were low-cut and often rode up, because her body wasn’t provocative - mine was. Now, I will sometimes deliberately wear revealing clothing, but it’s very rare. Mostly, I just have days where I put on any old thing - or even an outfit that I hoped would be especially concealing - and then I spend all day pinching and wriggling and adjusting and trying to make myself as small as possible, because it’s showing more of my body than I intended, and I don’t want to offend anybody… because that’s what this boils down to. My body is offensive. I’m only a DD-cup, but as a short Chinese in an Asian country that’s practically gargantuan when everyone around you tends to be an A-cup or a very small B. Also disproportionate for my height. Teachers in school and my own mother would comment on how my blouses were too tight for me and that my sleeves were too long. If they were too big (to hide my figure), I was sloppy. If they were just right, to give my body a good fit, I was also pulled aside since I was in an all-girls’ school in an ultra-conservative country and told that I was dressing very inappropriately.   Hell, I had to buy shirts two sizes bigger just to accommodate my bust in the first place, resulting in a too-long blouse and too-long sleeves for my figure. What was I supposed to do, get shirts specifically tailored to my measurements that I couldn’t afford? When I entered college, more conservative lecturers, when giving feedback on my work, had good words for my projects, but would somehow find it necessary to mention how I should dress in looser garments to avoid communicating wrong messages and that my 38-26-36 figure was provocative, because dressing in proper blouses with knee-length skirts and heels aren’t enough if I’m in a buttoned shirt because ‘that’s unprofessional, people will peek at the holes’. I JUST? We were encouraged to wear button-ups for presentations and I bleeding well wore them, but in a country where you can rarely get shirts that fit anyone above a C, I did my best and was still berated for it. It wasn’t just in presentations –– somehow, my normal T-shirt and jeans getup was also offensive because, direct quote from  ”it’s just too obscene”. Chinese relatives are hell, too, because somehow it’s your fault that you have big breasts, and if you have big breasts, you’re fat and you should do something about it. I’ve had ‘well-meaning strangers’ telling me I should consider breast reduction surgery since a very young age, because I would ‘give the wrong impression’, ‘look like a slutty Westerner’ and that it wasn’t very attractive at all if I were to get angle for a future partner, because Chinese girls just aren’t supposed to have big breasts. I was also told it was practically an invitation to sexually harass or rape me, even if I was wearing anything up to a tightly buttoned collar. tl;dr Breasts, something you can’t help about yourself, are apparently offensive and seem to broadcast a certain message about yourself before you even have the chance to let people experience you for you rather than your gazongas.  All of this is why I had a reduction when i was 19. 2.5kg removed from one breast, 3 removed from the other. Harassed from age 12 onwards, thought to be much older then I was an unable to process what people were calling out to me or how I was treated. I was called a slut because I had a large chest I found it hard to be taken seriously. I hid under the largest clothing I could find. I never really got intouch with my body because I was made to see it as something wrong and abnormal. Even by doctors who by the time I was 16 started to talk about a reduction. Some people admired them but I didnt. I wanted them gone. So I did at 19. Best thing I ever did really in the long run. But it didnt cure the detachment with my body or the way I felt about it. Making anyone feel abnormal for something out of their control is spiteful and idiotic. I started puberty right around the time I turned 8.  When I was 13, I had my first boyfriend, and a boy in one of my classes spread a rumor that I had given said boyfriend nude photos of myself and would sell copies for $10.  That started the worst week of my life to that point, as I was constantly harassed by the boys around me for photos that didn’t exist and never would.  When the teachers at my school finally stepped in, all he got was a slap on the wrist - and I got a lecture to be more careful about my body, even though I had done literally nothing wrong.  At the time, I was only a B-C cup, but because I was bigger than all the other girls in my classes, I was apparently calling attention to myself by, you know, having a body. After I stopped seeing that boy - and it was one of those innocent middle school relationships where our moms dropped us off at the movies two or three times and sometimes watched said movies with us and we felt all grown up for holding hands - I didn’t date again for three years.  I alternated between being obsessed with covering my body and wearing too-big clothes, and periods of clarity where I was so angry at myself for internalizing those criticisms from teachers who damn well should have known better.  During those periods of clarity, I would sometimes go overboard in the opposite direction, wearing clothing that intentionally highlighted my breasts, but the reactions I got from the people around me - looks of disdain, leering stares - always cowed me right back very quickly.   I am 24 years old and I haven’t been comfortable in my own skin since I was 8 years old and my mother decided that my early-blooming breast buds were a sign that I was either fat, a slut, or a fat slut.  EIGHT.  I am 24 and I realize, finally, that I have a right to love the body I live in, and every single person who ever made me feel differently was lying to me to cover for their own issues.  No eight year old, or eighteen year old, or eighty year old, should EVER be made to feel less than because of hir body.   I developed really early for a girl in my family. In grade 5 I remember the first time my breasts were ever mentioned and someone said &#8220;you look like you need to lose some weight, you&#8217;re getting fat&#8221; because my breasts were coming in. By grade 7 I was a C cup and I had hardly any friends. When I thought a boy liked me, it turned out to be to a joke and he accused me of teasing me and I got a nickname Krystina &#8220;Boner&#8221;. Yea, classy. No teachers ever did anything. I read books to hide myself away from these people, even when class was in session and teachers would let me for the most part. In high school I grew into a DD cup by grade 11. The guys at my table of friends used to joke that they could get points by throwing things down my shirt. I never wore push up bras, I actually used to wear tank tops underneath the oversized blouses just so I could cover up more. I have boobs and hips. If I tried to be even more conservative with a jumper, teachers said I was too curvy to wear the uniform piece so I was limited to the skirts and blouses most of high school, not to mention, I also had to &#8220;keep the skirt knee length&#8221; which no one else ever listened to but on me it was constantly corrected. I never had sex all through high school but people thought I was a slut or something because of my body. I GREW INTO THIS BODY. it is MINE. What I do or do not do with it is none of your business and it is not your place to judge the type of person I am based on my body type. You do not get to decide what I deserve based on how I dress or my cup size.
Pop-upView Separately

down-sizing:

rippedfuel:

blood-songs:

elphias-doge:

dionebacchus:

brodingershat:

pimperious-condescension:

I’m a grade 12 in high school who just happens to wear a K-cup bra. I live a fairly normal high school existence, except for the fact that my bust size often gets me in trouble with teachers, especially female teachers.

Now, my school has a uniform that involves a blouse. Being a busty person, I need to undo three buttons in order to have it fit right without it being undone to below my breasts. Even then, it’s a bit of a stretch. There is literally no way to disguise my breasts. Even when I’ve bound them for crossplay, they still look like really large pectoral muscles. I’m also really confident with my body, so I don’t see why I should have to hide what my body looks like at school.

So you can imagine how angry it makes me when a teacher pulls me aside and whispers “you need to do your top up,” as if my life depended on it.

“You know what? You need to mind your own business,” is what I want to say.

Most of my bras don’t push my breasts together that much, anyway, so most of the time, you’ll see my sternum before any cleavage. If you’re so offended by a bone that protects the heart or a whopping whole inch of two bags of fat on either side of it, then I suggest you get a life.

The way the neckline of my blouse is cut also covers the centre of my bra (most of the time), and I have to either spread it apart (like in the picture), sit or kneel below someone, or lean forward for anyone to actually see it.

Now, notice the little white bow right at the top of the bra’s centre in the picture. Most bras have some little ornamentation there, like a bow or a crystal.

I think that’s there in case the bra accidentally peeks out from a shirt or dress; to make it look pretty as opposed to something with a purely industrial purpose. It almost glorifies the sternum and the rest of the bra, which is how I think every inch of someone’s body should be treated.

Bras don’t see anything offensive about a bone that shields the heart.

Bras are smarter than people.

One of my cousins hit puberty in the second grade.

She had an hourglass figure by the time she entered middle school. 

Her first boyfriend thought she was just a bigger girl until the first time they went swimming together, because she’d gotten into the habit of wearing huge sweaters- even in the middle of summer, which can get hot enough to warrant heatstroke warnings- to try to disguise her chest.

This is because everywhere she turned, she was painted as a deviant, sexually promiscuous and attention-seeking youth. She started babysitting for a family friend when she was twelve, and grown women stared in open disapproval when she took the little boy out in his stroller for some fresh air. Men started catcalling at her and approaching her on the street when she was barely thirteen. Teachers looked down on her despite her uniformly excellent grades. Parents of friends immediately pointed to her as a bad influence when things went wrong, despite her immaculate record of just generally being a sensible sort of girl. She had very few female friends, and most of her high school peers assumed that she was sexually involved with most, if not all, of her many male friends. She never was. 

This needs to stop.

This isn’t a fanservice video game where you get to choose cup size and bounciness before you start a round. This is real life. Unless she resorts to surgery, the amount of tissue a girl carries on her chest is completely outside of her control, and has nothing to do with her personality, abilities, or achievements.

Stop demonizing breasts. They’re just breasts.

From the barest bump to the cup that runneth over, a breast is a breast, and it should never be an object of shame.

She who carries the chest in question wasn’t doing anything shameful.

But if you feel the need to shame her, you were.

I had the same thing happen to me. I was fully grown in junior high school and right from when I started high school I got comments behind my back. People would assume that I was a slut, even some of my best friends. I dated once in high school and spent the rest of the time acting like a crazy person in drama club and getting good grades. But none of that mattered. I was considered easy and a whore by my friends, just because I had full breasts. 

I wasn’t what they thought I was. But it wouldn’t have mattered if I was. Because my body doesn’t determine who I am. My friends don’t decide who I am as well as any other prick who catcalls young women just because they have what they consider sexually attractive. 

The only person who decides what kind of person you are is you. You can have as much or as little sex as possible, you can wait until marriage , have sex with your first partner or you can never have sex at all. It’s up to you. Your body and your peers don’t decide what kind of person you are; you do. 

I’ve had to wear a bra since I was eight years old. I’m now approximately a double F cup. In middle school, I got in trouble for my clothing, even though I was highly body-conscious and had no interest in wearing anything ‘revealing’; my outfits were nonetheless considered ‘provocative’, because apparently my body is provocative.

Even shirts that seem to fit at first will strain by the end of the day. It’s not sexy; it’s annoying, and it makes the fabric and the top look bad. Buttons always strain over my chest. I just take it for granted now.

A very specific memory that I have from middle school is of a classmate of mine: same age, but about half a foot taller and weighing ten pounds less than me. Wearing a bra, for her, was a gesture rather than a practicality. She was (comparatively) a late bloomer, so when she wore skimpy tops and short shorts no one ever told her off. No teacher cared that her shorts covered less than my underpants, or that her tank tops were low-cut and often rode up, because her body wasn’t provocative - mine was.

Now, I will sometimes deliberately wear revealing clothing, but it’s very rare. Mostly, I just have days where I put on any old thing - or even an outfit that I hoped would be especially concealing - and then I spend all day pinching and wriggling and adjusting and trying to make myself as small as possible, because it’s showing more of my body than I intended, and I don’t want to offend anybody… because that’s what this boils down to. My body is offensive.

I’m only a DD-cup, but as a short Chinese in an Asian country that’s practically gargantuan when everyone around you tends to be an A-cup or a very small B. Also disproportionate for my height.

Teachers in school and my own mother would comment on how my blouses were too tight for me and that my sleeves were too long. If they were too big (to hide my figure), I was sloppy.

If they were just right, to give my body a good fit, I was also pulled aside since I was in an all-girls’ school in an ultra-conservative country and told that I was dressing very inappropriately.  

Hell, I had to buy shirts two sizes bigger just to accommodate my bust in the first place, resulting in a too-long blouse and too-long sleeves for my figure. What was I supposed to do, get shirts specifically tailored to my measurements that I couldn’t afford?

When I entered college, more conservative lecturers, when giving feedback on my work, had good words for my projects, but would somehow find it necessary to mention how I should dress in looser garments to avoid communicating wrong messages and that my 38-26-36 figure was provocative, because dressing in proper blouses with knee-length skirts and heels aren’t enough if I’m in a buttoned shirt because ‘that’s unprofessional, people will peek at the holes’.

I JUST? We were encouraged to wear button-ups for presentations and I bleeding well wore them, but in a country where you can rarely get shirts that fit anyone above a C, I did my best and was still berated for it. It wasn’t just in presentations –– somehow, my normal T-shirt and jeans getup was also offensive because, direct quote from  ”it’s just too obscene”.

Chinese relatives are hell, too, because somehow it’s your fault that you have big breasts, and if you have big breasts, you’re fat and you should do something about it. I’ve had ‘well-meaning strangers’ telling me I should consider breast reduction surgery since a very young age, because I would ‘give the wrong impression’, ‘look like a slutty Westerner’ and that it wasn’t very attractive at all if I were to get angle for a future partner, because Chinese girls just aren’t supposed to have big breasts.

I was also told it was practically an invitation to sexually harass or rape me, even if I was wearing anything up to a tightly buttoned collar.

tl;dr Breasts, something you can’t help about yourself, are apparently offensive and seem to broadcast a certain message about yourself before you even have the chance to let people experience you for you rather than your gazongas. 

All of this is why I had a reduction when i was 19. 2.5kg removed from one breast, 3 removed from the other. Harassed from age 12 onwards, thought to be much older then I was an unable to process what people were calling out to me or how I was treated.

I was called a slut because I had a large chest I found it hard to be taken seriously. I hid under the largest clothing I could find. I never really got intouch with my body because I was made to see it as something wrong and abnormal. Even by doctors who by the time I was 16 started to talk about a reduction. Some people admired them but I didnt. I wanted them gone.

So I did at 19. Best thing I ever did really in the long run. But it didnt cure the detachment with my body or the way I felt about it.

Making anyone feel abnormal for something out of their control is spiteful and idiotic.

I started puberty right around the time I turned 8.  When I was 13, I had my first boyfriend, and a boy in one of my classes spread a rumor that I had given said boyfriend nude photos of myself and would sell copies for $10.  That started the worst week of my life to that point, as I was constantly harassed by the boys around me for photos that didn’t exist and never would.  When the teachers at my school finally stepped in, all he got was a slap on the wrist - and I got a lecture to be more careful about my body, even though I had done literally nothing wrong.  At the time, I was only a B-C cup, but because I was bigger than all the other girls in my classes, I was apparently calling attention to myself by, you know, having a body.

After I stopped seeing that boy - and it was one of those innocent middle school relationships where our moms dropped us off at the movies two or three times and sometimes watched said movies with us and we felt all grown up for holding hands - I didn’t date again for three years.  I alternated between being obsessed with covering my body and wearing too-big clothes, and periods of clarity where I was so angry at myself for internalizing those criticisms from teachers who damn well should have known better.  During those periods of clarity, I would sometimes go overboard in the opposite direction, wearing clothing that intentionally highlighted my breasts, but the reactions I got from the people around me - looks of disdain, leering stares - always cowed me right back very quickly.  

I am 24 years old and I haven’t been comfortable in my own skin since I was 8 years old and my mother decided that my early-blooming breast buds were a sign that I was either fat, a slut, or a fat slut.  EIGHT.  I am 24 and I realize, finally, that I have a right to love the body I live in, and every single person who ever made me feel differently was lying to me to cover for their own issues.  No eight year old, or eighteen year old, or eighty year old, should EVER be made to feel less than because of hir body.  

I developed really early for a girl in my family. In grade 5 I remember the first time my breasts were ever mentioned and someone said “you look like you need to lose some weight, you’re getting fat” because my breasts were coming in. By grade 7 I was a C cup and I had hardly any friends. When I thought a boy liked me, it turned out to be to a joke and he accused me of teasing me and I got a nickname Krystina “Boner”. Yea, classy.
No teachers ever did anything. I read books to hide myself away from these people, even when class was in session and teachers would let me for the most part.

In high school I grew into a DD cup by grade 11. The guys at my table of friends used to joke that they could get points by throwing things down my shirt. I never wore push up bras, I actually used to wear tank tops underneath the oversized blouses just so I could cover up more. I have boobs and hips. If I tried to be even more conservative with a jumper, teachers said I was too curvy to wear the uniform piece so I was limited to the skirts and blouses most of high school, not to mention, I also had to “keep the skirt knee length” which no one else ever listened to but on me it was constantly corrected. I never had sex all through high school but people thought I was a slut or something because of my body.

I GREW INTO THIS BODY. it is MINE. What I do or do not do with it is none of your business and it is not your place to judge the type of person I am based on my body type. You do not get to decide what I deserve based on how I dress or my cup size.

Source: genoflydersyolo

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