Look At Him Go!!!

GO CHECK OUT MY WONDERFUL AMAZING AWESONR GIRLFRIEND'S WRITING OR ELSE

It's so well written istg, I think basically anyone benefits from reading it in some way

Hello! So I’m pretty nervous about posting this, but my partner has encouraged me so here it is. This is a project I wrote for my GSWS class, it’s a story based on real events from my childhood. It deals with my experience and outlook as a young girl navigating the constraints and expectations set onto women, and how to explore your gender expression as an individual person. I hope you enjoy it!

The Fruit of Life - by Heaven

I’ve never been a huge fan of Christmas. I enjoy the festive decorations and family get-togethers with delicious food. Yet, while most other kids found the presents to be the best part of the holiday, I, however, had very…mixed feelings. It’s Christmas morning as I watch Mom, clad in a red Christmas sweater, climb over me and my siblings to start handing out our stockings. My older sister goes first and cheers in delight after taking out a three pack of red lipstick, makeup wipes, a bunch of other small junk and some kind of eyeshadow kit? I’ve never heard of the brand before but apparently it’s ’super popular and expensive’ by the way my sister is gushing over it. I don’t really get the hype but I’m glad she’s happy. Next up is my older brother who practically tears through his stocking with hot wheels, batman figurines, and- woah is that a pikachu figure? I want one! He gets a few other small things but my eyes stay glued to the adorable pikachu toy as I bounce in excitement.

My other sister, only younger by one year, whines to open hers next so I wait a bit longer. She hurries to pull out a bunch of mario dolls, squishing a princess peach doll to her chest with a squeal. Next she takes out an amy rose figurine, which hopefully means I’ll get a sonic one, then dumps out the rest which are just a collection of littlest pet shop toys. Finally it’s my turn and although I’m hesitant, I let myself feel a wave of hope that I’ll like all my presents this year. I carefully take out my first present and…it’s a container of- peanuts? That’s…odd, and I don’t really like peanuts but at least they’re salted. Setting them aside I quickly pull out my next gift only to falter when it turns out to be chapstick. Normally I’d enjoy chapstick but this one is a bright pink and sparkly that makes it look tacky. I try to shrug off the feeling of creeping disappointment but the next gift I get is a monster high makeup kit. I never even wear makeup, and I stopped liking monster high a while ago. My body feels sort of numb when I see the rest is nothing that I like either.

Mom asks how I like the gifts and I do my best to give her a smile, albeit strained. She takes it and moves on to hand out gifts. Right, our bigger presents! I feel myself letting back in a sliver of hope that maybe one of these will be something I like. Only, barely any of them turn out to be. I really, really do try to be grateful but most of it is stuff I’ve either outgrown or have never mentioned liking at all. Some of it is make up and frilly clothes that would better suit my older sister who actually likes this kind of stuff. The one thing I find myself really liking is a little sonic plushie. His hands are a little wonky and the fabric is clearly cheap. He’s absolutely perfect. My mom turns to me with a short laugh as she raises an eyebrow, “You’re happy over that little thing? I thought you’d adore the makeup set, I mean you love monster high.” I try to gently tell her that I don’t like monster high anymore but I’ve really liked sonic for a long time; that Pokémon or that new game five nights at Freddy’s also would’ve been cool.

Mom scoffs and rolls her eyes at me, saying that I should be more grateful for what I have. She says that I’m always so hard to please and that my likes are always changing. Shame creeps up on me and I suddenly feel like a bad person. I stay quiet and don’t remind her that I’ve tried telling her about my interests many times. I sit there silently as my siblings play happily with their gifts, holding tightly onto my little sonic doll. I’m very grateful for him, I am, but I also can’t help feeling hurt. Why was it so easy for her to remember my siblings interests but not mine?

- - - - - - - - - -

Christmas with my Dad barely goes any better. My younger sister, my full blood sibling, gets to open her presents first. Again. Though, I’m not as worried about opening presents from my Dad than with my Mom. He tries to listen when I rant about my interests and get me gifts from that. I snap back to attention as my sister opens one of her gifts to find Pokémon X. Dread pools in my gut as I stare at the game. My sister turns to Dad in confusion saying that she already has the game. Dad’s eyebrows furrow, “You do? I could’ve sworn you had asked for it.” I pause for a moment before softly speaking up. “I asked for that game this year…”, I shuffle in place as I try not to sound accusatory despite my frustration. “Aw shit, I’m sorry sweetie. You can take the game then so you’ll both have one.” With a plastered smile I take the game and gently run my thumb over its cover, my hands twitching to crush it in my fists. I don’t know why I’m so angry. Well I did ask for the game last year…and for my birthday…and twice this year for Christmas. I let out a breath and try to shove down the bubbling frustration.

We head over to Grandma’s house and it’s much worse. I know I’m supposed to be grateful, I know I should smile and say thank you, but this? I open my gift to find a tinkerbell doll while my sister happily opens a mario card game. I glare down at the stupid plastic thing, its cheery lifeless face staring back at me. My Grandma, sitting in her large maroon chair, looks heavily displeased at my ‘ungratefulness’. My Dad angrily taps me on the shoulder with a word to ‘be grateful and say thank you’. My teeth grit as I feel myself boil with heat. Why should I be grateful? I never asked for this! I never spoke any interest in tinkerbell or dolls at all, and yet I get this while my sister gets something she likes?! It’s not fair and I hushedly say as much to my Dad, avoiding his eyes as I stare at his orange shirt. He only huffs and says that since my sister has a mental disability that means she’s going to have more odd interests…I don’t see how that makes any sense. We both like sonic and Pokémon, and other ‘boyish’ things. They aren’t odd. Why does she get to enjoy them when I’m expected to grow out of it? She’s a person with strengths, and flaws- we’re both just people. I want to scream and cry and stomp that it isn’t fair. Instead, I swallow back my building tears and mumble a thank you to my Grandma.

- - - - - - - - - -

I grimace as I chew on the apple slices my mom packed me for school. I hate the rough way they crunch, and they’re always too tart! The only way I can stand them is with peanut butter or cinnamon sugar, maybe plain if they’re pealed. However, Mom always forgets to do any of those. At another table I overhear a group of girls happily chatting about their gifts from Christmas with talk of their new clothes and Ardene gift cards and makeup. The chapstick sounds cool, but I quickly get bored and tune into the boys who are excitedly talking about their gifts too. The dinky cars and nerf guns fly by me but the sudden topic of Pokémon cards peak my interest. Lucky…all my cards are hand-me-downs from my brother. I pick at the apples a bit more before shoving them back into my lunch box.

I try to join the boys for recess but all they wanna do is play some dinosaur game. I wouldn’t have minded wolves, or maybe aliens, but I’ve never been huge on dinosaurs. Plus, though I didn’t want to admit it, the boys are always a bit too rowdy and rough. The girls turn out to be even more boring as they sit in a circle talking about their Christmas break with chat of sleepovers and other friend group drama. I sit on the outside of the circle, close enough to chime in here and there. My voice silences when I realize none of them are really paying attention to anything I say. Looking down to the ground I tug at the blades of grass as I absentmindedly listen in on the rest of their conversation. I only notice the bell ringing when the other girls abruptly stand to leave, hurriedly stumbling to catch up with them.

- - - - - - - - -

Growing up, I’ve always been compared to my mom. In looks, in personality, as her ‘mini me’. At first, I found joy and pride in this. She was my mother and I loved her greatly, of course I wanted to be like her. Then as the years drew on, I became annoyed at it, then deeply frustrated. What was once a nice compliment now has other meaning to me. It now held other implications. I watch as Mom stands at the mirror in the bathroom, her lips pursed as she gently tugs at her face. “Jesus,” she hisses, “my face has gotten so wrinkly. I look like I’m 70 at only 40 years old!”. She turns to me with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hun, come here. Do you think I look old?” I know there’s no right answer, yet I try anyway. “I don’t think so. And wrinkles aren’t that bad.” With an annoyed sigh her eyes flick back to the mirror. She harshly grips at her stomach and jiggles it. “No, they aren’t. And look at this! I really need to start going for more walks. You should come with me, we can be walking buddies.” Her smile seems genuine and I don’t think she meant it as an insult, but the words still hurt. I look at her face. I look at her body. She has wrinkles and stretch marks, fat under her arms and on her stomach. As I look to her, my mother, I think of how beautiful she is and I wish I could give her my eyes to see that.

- - - - - - - - -

My older sister and I, despite our different interests, are very close. She’s always been a kind person and had never judged me for liking ‘boyish’ stuff, just said that I was a ‘tomboy’. I never really understood that term - I mean I wasn’t a boy so why call it that? And who’s Tom? Anyway, sometimes for special occasions I’d let her do my makeup. She was the only one I really trusted to do that without clamming up in embarrassment. My sister feels so warm to be around - a comforting, strong embrace that made me feel secure. Even better, she could make an amazing apple crumble! Paired with whip cream or vanilla ice cream, I could eat a whole tray of it.

I loved my sister so much that it felt like a gaping wound whenever she cried. I was heading to my room when I heard shouting in my sister's room. I carefully peeked behind the crack in the door to see my sister sobbing as Mom screamed at her. Apparently Mom heavily disapproved of the dress my sister wanted to wear to her high school prom. I listened as Mom called her a tramp, trashy, a whore. I didn’t fully understand what those meant at the time, but I knew they were bad things to be called. I stepped to the side as my mom stormed out. Silently I stepped into the room and sat in the bed with my sister. Her dress was a bright green with sparkles, the top being low cut and strapless while the bottom was mid thigh. I think Mom thought it was too showy, but I was reminded of tinkerbell. My strong big sister looked over to me with her sorrowful eyes, the rims red and mascara splotching with her tears. I looked at her as she was, human, and in that moment, I thought she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.

- - - - - - - - - -

At first, I was actually kinda excited for my 8th grade graduation. An event celebrating changing from a kid in middle school to a teenager in high school. Personally I just saw it as a fun party, but to my mom it was a peak milestone in my life. Which is why I was currently arguing with her over clothes of all things since she wanted me to wear a dress while I adamantly refused. I didn’t mind dresses or skirts when I was little, but after years of being forced to wear frilly dresses I was sick of them. I wanted to wear something more comfortable, something that felt more like me. Yet, Mom didn’t let up as she said for the millionth time that since it’s a ‘special day’ I must wear a dress or I’ll look back and regret it. But wouldn’t wearing something I hate and being miserable make me regret it much more? Without much of a say, I ended up picking a red dress to appease her.

The graduation is going…fine, I guess. I wore my sparkly red dress and my older sister did my full face of makeup. The group photos went fine I suppose. My arms looked super fat though, and I looked so over-the-top compared to the other girls. Our class dance turned out fine; I remembered all the moves and everyone cheered when we finished. I hate these stupid sandals, the tiny heel keeps clomping on the floor and I almost slipped during the performance. Everything is fine. My body feels numb as I, once again, check my makeup in the mirror. For the fourth time that night I reapply my bright red lipstick. It smudges, but I hurriedly wipe that flaw away. I stare deeply at the reflection in the mirror- not mine, no, she’s not me. I don’t look like that. My throat bobs as I gaze at a plastic doll. I slowly turn away from the mirror and head back to the graduation dinner.

- - - - - - - - - -

Starting in high school, me and my younger sister are mostly living with Dad. It’s been a harsh shift but after a while I’ve felt more…myself? There’s no overarching pressure to never mess up, no judgement for anything I express interest in, no demanding chores and tense fights. Despite the peace, I still feel myself on guard like if I make one bad mistake I’ll be labeled a terrible kid. But, my dad listens to me when I tell him I don’t really like apples and instead he buys me oranges. They’re annoying to peel and the juice sticks to my hand, but they’re also sweeter. The taste can be a little strong at times but I feel touched that he really tried to get something I’d like. He tries to get invested in stuff that I like by trying out shows I’m into - but he always ends up on his phone…or asleep. Despite that, I’m grateful he tries. He listens and puts in effort. I can appreciate that.

Visiting with my mom wasn’t as pleasant. Often we’d argue over small things and every step around her felt like walking on eggshells. Whenever I expressed an opinion she didn’t agree with, it was either met with mockery or anger. Consistently I'd be teased to get a boyfriend, or that not wanting children in the future was a silly idea that I'd grow out of. My body was critiqued, my personality, my hobbies. I never felt safe to share parts of myself with her. Though from her fake smiles, the way she devalues herself, and her hesitancy to form hobbies - I think she hides her true self away too.

- - - - - - - - - -

It was at an lgbtq+ support group that I met them. I made friends with a person in art class who invited me to an lgbtq+ group they went to. I wasn’t very close with that person, but since I’m part of the community I figured I could go meet and become friends with some people. There, I met a person who introduced me to the meaning of ‘non-binary’. I had heard the word before, but I never had a full concept of it until meeting them. They had poofy purple hair, a tall stature, and a bright smile. At a glance I, frankly, couldn’t tell what gender they were. So, I nervously asked for their pronouns to which they proudly said ‘they/them’. I was in awe - not because the idea of being gender neutral was that peculiar, but because of how proud and confident they were in their identity. I saw this creative, smart, funny, kind, beautiful person and just knew I had to get to know them more.

We began to chat more and I found out they were going to my high school. We began eating lunch together and shared so much of ourselves with stories and jokes and understanding. In only a couple of months, we had become closer than I’ve ever felt with anyone in my life. They listened, put in effort, and understood me for who I was, even if I didn’t fully know who I was. We were together at lunch when they pulled out a pomegranate. I looked at it oddly since I had never seen a pomegranate up close before. My family had never bought them. They said it was one of their favourite fruits and offered me some. Hesitantly, I took a bite and although there was sweetness, it was a bit sour and had a bitterness to it. I didn’t like how the seeds got stuck in my teeth. They only laughed at my reaction and said that pomegranate isn’t for everyone. They continued to eat as I quietly gazed at their soft face, my affection for them warming at my inner being. The purple of the pomegranate perfectly matched their hair - both so eccentric, yet lovely.

- - - - - - - - - - -

My Dad comes home one day with a basket of pears. Turns out the store was out of oranges so he figured I could try out pears for my lunch instead. I vaguely remember liking pears as a kid so I decided to give them a try, just to see if they tasted any good. Besides, he got them specially for me - I didn’t want to waste that thoughtful gesture. I snag one and Head upstairs to my room, turning on the anime I’ve been binging for the past week. With my mom I’d always been too embarrassed to watch anime due to how she’d mock it, but I feel much more at ease living with my Dad. The show began to play and I got lost in the love for it. The art was so pretty, and I preferred this type of story telling compared to the live action shows I had tried in the past. Not that there was anything wrong with them, everybody has their own tastes. Abruptly, I remembered the pear I was going to try. Reaching over to my bedside table, I grab the pear and turn it over in my hand. The light green colour is nice. I take a bite, and I’m shocked by how delicious it is. It’s very sweet, juicy, and the perfect amount of soft to chew. I smile and quickly take another bite, and another. Doing something I love with a good snack, in the comfort of my room, I feel weightless. At this moment, I feel content.

- - - - - - - - -

My highschool prom has truly been amazing. My mom had no say in what I wore or how I looked - I was no longer a child, I was a person with my own decisions. In a pleasant surprise, she respected this and didn’t try to have control. That meant a lot to me. The theme of the prom was starry night, so I wore a cute black top with black tights and a gorgeous skirt that had a starry night sky on it and black lace on the edge. I paired my outfit with black, fingerless lace gloves, a black lace choker, and a silver headband with tiny stars. My makeup for the night, done by my older sister, was a natural look with soft black eyeshadow. I turn to my partner for the prom, their purple hair and bright smile welcoming my gaze. After a few years of knowing each other, we started dating and I had gained such a wonderful, loving person by my side. They wore a matching outfit to mine; a black suit and pants with a starry night sky on their tie. We were connected as one, yet I felt more like an individual than I ever had before. I kissed their cheek before moving towards the bathroom.

After washing my hands my eyes trail upwards. As I had done once before, I stare into the reflection of the mirror. There is no wave of revulsion. There is no dread in my stomach, nor do I feel like I’m looking at an imposter. The body in the mirror is made of flesh. She is flawed, a person, so beautiful. And she is me. This is who I am. I smile at her, at myself, then turn and leave. My partner glances up at my arrival and smiles at me with so much affection. I snuggle into the crook of their shoulder and release a content sigh as they rest an arm over me. After a few hours we both decide to leave - it has gotten far too loud for both of us, not to mention boring. We went to a café where we talked each other's ears off and played board games, laughing with warm smiles. Once the night was finally late, we went to their home for a sleepover. They went to grab us a late snack, and I was surprised to see they had gotten pears just for me - because they knew I liked them. I took the fruit with a soft word of thanks, though my eyes expressed just how grateful I felt to them, for them.

I bit into the pear and felt the sweetness. It was the perfect fruit for me.

Just realized I never posted about this but IM GETTING A 2005 BABY FROM MY PARENTS LETS GOOOOOO

Sold for a super good price too!

I humbly request you draw my beautiful son Rotisserie at your earliest convenience

Pretty please 👀

free furby portraits

hey furblr does anyone want free drawings of there furbs?

I would simply concede at that point

I was doing karaoke with Phillipa Soo.

I used to use bandanas to veil but apparently they're against my school's dress code (even though people wear them all the time) so I'm trying to figure out other ways to veil since my haircut is very particular for hair pieces

I'm thinking maybe thick headbands but idk if that might look stupid, I'll probably do some experimenting to see what works

I need you all to know I will be becoming a boopong fiend, I apologize for the monster I will become now

Me having to wake up at 6am for school

*feeble crunchy wheeze*

I need the world to know that compression gloves are MAGIC (for me)

Like I've had joint pain mostly in my legs for like 3-4 years now and it started in my hands which is TERRIFYING but compression gloves make it almost completely go away!!!

Also they look cool which is a bonus (holy shit my skin is paler than I thought-)

I hate walking past the cooking class because it always makes me hungry :,)

I really need to get into Starkid musicals

Progress on the Wiggly Furby!

All that's left is to seal the paint in and he will be done :)