More Recipes HERE

🌼Goals to reach -for me- to be perfect: (To reach before school starts)

Of course reach my goal weight :(which is 43 kg/95 lbs or less)

Have a consistent skincare and nice skin for once (I've always had acne and skin problems)

Have nice nails (better if a bit longer)

Learn at least a new language, two would be awesome but one is okay too

Cut my hair and dye it (It's important that I take care of it and buy masks and treatments)

Have a new piercing!

Buy new clothes

Get better at dancing ughh

Tidy my room and KEEP it that way

Exercise with math since I almost failed class this year (next year I want to have really high grades)

Be nicer and meet new people, that would be awesome since right now I've had a lot of issues with my friends and lost them I guess

Work on projects!!!

Be happy, please

Might add something new~ And if you relate you can add yours too! I really like to see people goals🌼

We stan the school's bathroom graffiti *the side says "not all women have periods"* let's see how long it takes for the school to paint over it.

Ethereal

creative writing/journal

“soft like you” (for my sister)

i strived for nearly a decade to be your specific kind of fragile. sparrow shoulders, matchstick fingers. soft hands and quiet lungs. you never could appreciate what it was to be admired.

i had always been jealous of you. for your softness and your smallness. i wanted to make myself small too. i have always taken up too much space and been far too loud for my own good. i wish i’d realized how lost you were. when you stripped yourself of your skin and tried to make yourself something sharp, i should not have felt so much contempt. i have always felt too sharp. like people cut themselves on my edges. and you were all the things i wished i had been, so when you gave that up i thought you were ungrateful. it was selfish of me and i’m sorry. and i’m sorry i felt you didn’t deserve this illness i know we both have. you do not know that i know, but i do. how you wrote it all down in a tiny notebook like i did. and i know it was awful for my goal to be becoming smaller than you. i didn’t know you were suffering too because you were already beautiful.

don't romanticize

Bulimia isn't a long haired pretty girl bending over a toilet with a tragically beautiful face on. It's a puffed miserable face with vomit dripping from its chin and a fucking nose bleed. Anorexia isn't a slim figure shyly refusing a cupcake. It's hair growing all over your freezing malnourished body. Depression isn't a model with running muscara staring into the sunset. It's staring at the ceiling at 4 in the morning with burning eyes because you can't even find the motivation to close them. Self harm isn't lovely boys kissing your arms and telling you that you're still beautiful. It's nasty scars that will be there forever and showers that sting. Panics attacks are not burying your face into your lover's chest and having them to tell you that everything will be okay.It's feeling out of control and like oxygen has suddenly been taken from you. *Mental illnesses aren't beautiful* They don't make you special and don't make people suddenly care about you.

They are monsters that destroys life.

So stop taking them lightly and promoting them to impressionable teenagers on the goddamn Internet.

Imagine thinspo for myself, 14.2.20

it’s 9:00 and you don’t want to go to work.

you roll over in bed and reach for your phone, slender fingers quickly turning off your alarm. you sigh, stare at the ceiling, and wonder if there’s any way you could get out of it. until that time, though, you lazily sit up and put on your slippers. on the way to the bathroom, you pull your short hair back into a ponytail and yawn.

when you turn and look at yourself in the mirror, you feel confused for a moment... is that you? you see the girl in the mirror knit her brows together in confusion as she reaches a hand to touch her sharp jawline. her hand travels down her neck as she watches. moments later, she pulls the hair tie from her hair and watches her short, curly blonde hair fall in a chin-length bob, framing her slender cheeks wonderfully, accenting her brown doe eyes.

it’s you. truly, you have a hard time believing it. for months you lost yourself to the fact that you were to remain forever a chubby glutton, every time you looked in the mirror you saw the girl you were when ana came to you. now, for whatever reason, today you see who you became with her. a slender fae of a girl, sloping collarbones, petite build, big eyes and high cheekbones. you smile a little, a tiny sliver of white teeth peeking through your pink lips.

“hey,” you say quietly.

you think you can make it to work after all.

It's for me 💋

Honestly, I love feeling confidently sexual. I want people to see me, hear the clack of my heeled boots, and think "damn, that's a slut". I want sugar free lollies to turn men on as I obliviously suck them. I want that attention. To get dress coded. To look fun. I want to feel powerful.

Not have these jiggly thighs and flabby tummy. I don't want my thigh high stockings to spill over like muffins. Leg flab to buldge from my fishnets. I want my collarbones to peak over my shoulder cut tops, and chokers to accentuate my jugular. I want to have long fingers perfect to touch you with, and cheekbones that stick out whenever you put anything in my mouth. I want my skin to finally be smooth, and clear. Shoulders too bony to support my lingerie straps letting them entice you as you imagine stripping me down. I want to be confident in the treasures you'll find underneath. My eyes to look big. My hipbones to be an arrow pointing to where I want you.

I want it all. I want it, I want it so bad. Perhaps I'm a sadomasochist torturing myself. Edging myself to that body, and then, then... then... ruining it. I scream and cry begging master to let me have it, but the mirror has no reply.

You want it bitch? Work for it.