@squ1g33
Dhawan can be trained with M&Ms.
That is all I will be saying at this time.
No further questions, please.
This post is sponsered and backed by the 14th doctor
"everybody hates me" factoid actually just a statistical error. The average person doesn't hate you, especially not your friends. You, a person who sits in your room experiencing self loathing every day, are an outlier adn should not have been counted.
oh my fucking god you gay bitch. why are you like this.
This weekend I was told a story which, although I’m kind of ashamed to admit it, because holy shit is it ever obvious, is kind of blowing my mind.
A friend of a friend won a free consultation with Clinton Kelly of What Not To Wear, and she was very excited, because she has a plus-size body, and wanted some tips on how to make the most of her wardrobe in a fashion culture which deliberately puts her body at a disadvantage.
Her first question for him was this: how do celebrities make a plain white t-shirt and a pair of weekend jeans look chic? She always assumed it was because so many celebrities have, by nature or by design, very slender frames, and because they can afford very expensive clothing. But when she watched What Not To Wear, she noticed that women of all sizes ended up in cute clothes that really fit their bodies and looked great. She had tried to apply some guidelines from the show into her own wardrobe, but with only mixed success. So - what gives?
His answer was that everything you will ever see on a celebrity’s body, including their outfits when they’re out and about and they just get caught by a paparazzo, has been tailored, and the same goes for everything on What Not To Wear. Jeans, blazers, dresses - everything right down to plain t-shirts and camisoles. He pointed out that historically, up until the last few generations, the vast majority of people either made their own clothing or had their clothing made by tailors and seamstresses. You had your clothing made to accommodate the measurements of your individual body, and then you moved the fuck on. Nothing on the show or in People magazine is off the rack and unaltered. He said that what they do is ignore the actual size numbers on the tags, find something that fits an individual’s widest place, and then have it completely altered to fit. That’s how celebrities have jeans that magically fit them all over, and the rest of us chumps can’t ever find a pair that doesn’t gape here or ride up or slouch down or have about four yards of extra fabric here and there.
I knew that having dresses and blazers altered was probably something they were doing, but to me, having alterations done generally means having my jeans hemmed and then simply living with the fact that I will always be adjusting my clothing while I’m wearing it because I have curves from here to ya-ya, some things don’t fit right, and the world is just unfair that way. I didn’t think that having everything tailored was something that people did.
It’s so obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t know this. But no one ever told me. I was told about bikini season and dieting and targeting your “problem areas” and avoiding horizontal stripes. No one told me that Jennifer Aniston is out there wearing a bigger size of Ralph Lauren t-shirt and having it altered to fit her.
I sat there after I was told this story, and I really thought about how hard I have worked not to care about the number or the letter on the tag of my clothes, how hard I have tried to just love my body the way it is, and where I’ve succeeded and failed. I thought about all the times I’ve stood in a fitting room and stared up at the lights and bit my lip so hard it bled, just to keep myself from crying about how nothing fits the way it’s supposed to. No one told me that it wasn’t supposed to. I guess I just didn’t know. I was too busy thinking that I was the one that didn’t fit.
I thought about that, and about all the other girls and women out there whose proportions are “wrong,” who can’t find a good pair of work trousers, who can’t fill a sweater, who feel excluded and freakish and sad and frustrated because they have to go up a size, when really the size doesn’t mean anything and it never, ever did, and this is just another bullshit thing thrown in your path to make you feel shitty about yourself.
I thought about all of that, and then I thought that in elementary school, there should be a class for girls where they sit you down and tell you this stuff before you waste years of your life feeling like someone put you together wrong.
So, I have to take that and sit with it for a while. But in the meantime, I thought perhaps I should post this, because maybe my friend, her friend, and I are the only clueless people who did not realise this, but maybe we’re not. Maybe some of you have tried to embrace the arbitrary size you are, but still couldn’t find a cute pair of jeans, and didn’t know why.
Tim and Bruce getting into an argument bcs Tim demands to be independent and NOT get involved in the mess of being a legal part of the Wayne family, and Bruce being final on the fact that Tim is FIFTEEN and needs a legal guardian. out of spite Tim asks the person he thinks Bruce would approve of as a guardian the least to sign some guardian papers.
Tim: you don’t have to do anything parental i just REALLY wanna make Batman mad and i get the sense that our wishes align on that specific aspect so if you could just sign here for shits and giggles-
Red Hood:
Red Hood, rapidly changing his plans on how to deal with getting revenge on Bruce because his replacement is actually kinda hysterical: if we’re doing this we’re fucking doing it right, kid
Bruce shows up to Tim’s next parent teacher conference because hey just because he’s being given the silent treatment over this whole adoption thing doesn’t mean he’s going to slack off on his parental duties, only to freeze in the doorway because Tim Drake-Hood is stood there with his shiny new CRIME LORD LEGAL GUARDIAN giving him the most SHIT EATING GRIN POSSIBLE, and he almost has a panic attack on the spot.
Jason’s really getting into this whole caretaker thing. he’s doing school runs, delivering home cooked meals to Drake manor, helping with homework, this was his fucking CALLING. Tim is having the time of his life because him and Hood actually get along really well, but then he realises two weeks in that it turns out Hood is actually Jason fucking Todd, and he has to deal with the existential crisis of causing the very thing he was trying to stop because he is now technically a legal child of the Wayne family.
out of embarrassment for the fact that he failed and amazement at the fact that he’s bonding so well with Bruce’s dead kid and his own childhood hero (who is now a badass crime lord that lets him call for advice about english assignments while organising drug runs and picks up batburger on his way home from weapon shipments, seriously what more could Tim want in a parent), Tim somehow becomes even more invested in hiding Red Hood’s identity than Jason is.
Bruce has just been in a constant state of panic for the past three months and he doesn’t know what to fucking do. Dick was concerned for Tim up until he demanded to have dinner with him and his new ‘guardian’ to vet the guy and Jason, who stopped caring about his identity when he realised how much being a working dad agrees with his mental health and is only actively keeping his identity from Bruce for Tim’s pride’s sake, takes off his helmet to eat and Dick stares at him frozen for fifteen minutes across the table before finally pointing at the two and saying ‘you know what? he didn’t even tell me Jason was dead until after the funeral. whatever the fuck’s going on here? he has it coming. proceed.’
hey don't know if you knew this but op of that post you just reblogged is actually a kbity cat :/ yeah with paws. and pointy ears yeah
@ kangaroo furries let me in your pouch let me in let me in let me in!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!