Mmmmm, salty salty salty…

I might also need THIS shirt, but it’ll be my little secret that “it” = “anxiety and half an eating disorder.”


You can just fuck right the hell off, actually.

This was Facebook’s suggested post for me today, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m-a go find me a window to jump out of. Not because I’m dying alone, I’m fine with that, but because this bullshit exists.


I would not be permitted to get in Formation.

Tonight I went to a BeyoncĂ©-themed “Frisky Friday” striptease dance class at Philly Dance Fitness, and the 7 months’ pregnant instructor wore kitten heels and twerked circles around my tragic ass.

It was awesomely mortifying and I highly recommend it.