Life is short. Break the rules. Forgive quickly, kiss slowly. Love truly. Laugh uncontrollably and never regret ANYTHING that makes you smile.– Mark Twain (via sunsalabim)
I’ve been a massage therapist for many years, now. I know what people look like. People have been undressing for me for a long time. I know what you look like: a glance at you, and I can picture pretty well what you’d look like on my table.
Let’s start here with what nobody looks like: nobody looks like the people in magazines or movies. Not even models. Nobody. Lean people have a kind of rawboned, unfinished look about them that is very appealing. But they don’t have plump round breasts and plump round asses. You have plump round breasts and a plump round ass, you have a plump round belly and plump round thighs as well. That’s how it works. And that’s very appealing too.
Woman have cellulite. All of them. It’s dimply and cute. It’s not a defect. It’s not a health problem. It’s the natural consequence of not consisting of photoshopped pixels, and not having emerged from an airbrush.
Men have silly buttocks. Well, if most of your clients are women, anyway. You come to male buttocks and you say — what, this is it? They’re kind of scrawny and the tissue is jumpy because it’s unpadded; you have to dial back the pressure, or they’ll yelp.
Adults sag. It doesn’t matter how fit they are. Every decade, an adult sags a little more. All of the tissue hangs a little looser. They wrinkle, too. I don’t know who put about the rumor that just old people wrinkle. You start wrinkling when you start sagging, as soon as you’re all grown up, and the process goes its merry way as long as you live. Which is hopefully a long, long time, right?
Everybody on a massage table is beautiful. There are really no exceptions to this rule. At that first long sigh, at that first thought that “I can stop hanging on now, I’m safe” – a luminosity, a glow, begins. Within a few minutes the whole body is radiant with it. It suffuses the room: it suffuses the massage therapist too. People talk about massage therapists being caretakers, and I suppose we are: we like to look after people, and we’re easily moved to tenderness. But to let you in on a secret: I’m in it for the glow.
I’ll tell you what people look like, really: they look like flames. Or like the stars, on a clear night in the wilderness.–
Think about who you are beneath the skin.
In the most fundamental space you occupy, who are you? Write it down.
We all need to be reminded that who we are is a fluid constancy, divorced from the form we are in.
WowVia Venus Comb
Can we take a moment to notice the horror on everyone’s face when she broke down? Not the horror of seeing her cry but… The horror of not knowing how to stop it. No one really knew Santana was capable to cry till this moment. No one knew she was capable to feel anything besides anger till this moment. Therefore, no one knew how to comfort her. No one.
Shue would try to hug her, as he do with everyone. But Santana isn’t like everyone. And Mike? Well, he was going to try the same thing because he’s a good guy and he always worries with everyone.
All the rest? Just sitting down like statues, looking down, barely breathing? It’s because they don’t know Santana. They never did. Therefore, they had no fucking clue what to do with her. So they would just leave her there, sobbing in the middle of the choir room, till her sobs were bad enough she was going to pass out any moment and someone would have to carry her to the nurse office.
If Brittany was there, this scene would’ve hurt a lot more. Because she would get up, slowly, Santana would scream at her and Britt would probably slap her, then drag her to the bathroom and let her cry.
Because the only way to fight anger is anger. I know this because I deal with grief the same way Santana does. I get angry, I yell, I don’t let anyone come nowhere near me and then I collapse after sobbing for hours. And the only way to stop me, is to make me snap out of it with a slap or something just as hard.
And Brittany is the only one who knew how to really deal with Santana.
Santana doesn’t need a 100% sapphic goddess. Santana doesn’t need a hot NYC girlfriend.
She needs her best friend,
Santana needs Brittany.
The only one who truly understood her. And loved her for who she really is.
Wow how true, she needs her person, Brittany
Via Brittana Fanfiction Den
A person with whom you have an immediate connection the moment you meet — a connection so strong that you are drawn to them in a way you have never experienced before. As this connection develops over time, you experience a love so deep, strong and complex, that you begin to doubt that you have ever truly loved anyone prior. Your soulmate understands and connects with you in every way and on every level, which brings a sense of peace, calmness and happiness when you are around them. And when you are not around them, you are all that much more aware of the harshness of life, and how bonding with another person in this way is the most significant and satisfying thing you will experience in your lifetime. You are also all that much aware of the beauty in life, because you have been given a great gift and will always be thankful.