Bashny.Net
I – not my W*, or Let's stop this dismemberment!
Bashny.Net
I didn't recognize the woman in the mirror in the photo. This Scarecrow. I was beginning to think I have a mental disorder, once the person seems a stranger to me. Then I decided that at the age of: wrinkles, changing the jawline, +10 pounds, pigmented spot on the forehead...
Finally, it dawned on me — I just haven't seen this person for over twenty years. Only the individual parts. The first time I noticed his adult entirely. There is something to be afraid of — we with this stranger I had never met. We broke up when we were only 12 and we started to turn from girl to woman.
Then, on my face there was a smudge. No, The Stain. You know what it's like to have a big red scaly spot around the nose when you are 12? A stain that does not respond to medication and grows from a Foundation, like a hideous tropical butterfly? Dermatologists talked about me in third person as a complex case. Prescribed ointments, hormones and "mash". Nothing helped. And I had no more face, just a stain.
The author of the photographs: Asya Nurullin
All efforts went to every day to go to the evil peers and to take a punch. A couple of years people start to wonder not only stain but formed Breasts, ass, legs. I was no longer intact. Only a set of spare parts. Some parts (chest) was considered a virtue and needed to be emphasized. Other (feet) needed to adjust the color of the tights and heels.
Magazines for girls and girls, girlfriends, relatives — all had the opinion that you need to drape and what to flaunt. Life became a daily struggle to underline advantages and disadvantages of leveling. It was especially difficult when the advisers began to contradict each other.
This dismemberment and contradictory evaluation of each part — for me, an inevitable part of being a modern woman. At first I dismembered to pieces by others. Then I got used to it and started doing it myself. Since then, I never saw his face in the mirror. Only spot, eyebrows, lips, forehead...
Know where the ambush? Man is little more than the simple sum of some terms. It is impossible to perceive yourself as a holistic being, if some part of the body is supposed to throw out on display like fresh meat on display. And some should be hidden so as not to offend the eyes of connoisseurs of beauty. It is impossible to be at peace with yourself, if you care about the aesthetic sense of strangers.
It is impossible to broadcast to the world common, coherent message, if you perceive yourself as a set of usable and not. There is a deep crack on the inside, to the heart. It's about the fact that I'm not all right. I really do not fit. I need improvements, fixes and continuous correction. I was not created in the image and likeness of the Creator. I'm just a layout man, Pinocchio, which if desired, a plane and a file to modify to a tolerable level. He is still a wooden man, but splinters hanging around will not.
The way in which appearance is important, a way to divide yourself in parts of the body — a dead end. Once a woman puts looks first in the list of priorities, she lost. The Breasts will inevitably enter into a relationship with gravity and the skin will lose the glow of youth. The face will change. And most importantly — rival at some point it will age to fit in daughter. They did not back pain, they can drink all night and look adorable in the morning. They have nothing to fear because their lives have not beat strongly enough. They decided that they would live forever, and while they are all fine.
To compete with them, properly feeding yourself, like a Mature cheese on a platter? Thank you, no. The shape of the breast cannot and will not define who I am. I — not my ass.
I'm getting pretty good, and it's my superpower. At some point I allowed myself not to look again for fans to dissect, weigh, measure, and evaluate the woman and to recognize her (not)fit. I learned the freedom to wear the orange tights on the curves of the feet, the freedom to throw away high heel shoes. The freedom to remove hair from the face and to choose the stupid nail Polish.
The author of the photographs: Asya Nurullin
Only allowing myself this, I realized that before allowed to steer even this choice is not insignificant itself. Decided neighbors and strangers, magazines and websites, the self-proclaimed experts and experienced Amateurs. Each of them knew something about a couple of my parts. And nobody could say how to be with everything else.
Do not wear CLOSE to you people
If you don't want to go somewhere — don'T GO!
Then I saw in the mirror a stranger and afraid that I'm going crazy. I have identity issues or something like that. And suddenly it dawned on me — I had no more problems. It's just me — entirely. After all these years.
Well, Hello...posted
Author: Maria Skatova
Source: po-drugomu.co/ya-ne-moya-zhopa-or-davajte-prekratim-etu-raschlenenku/
Finally, it dawned on me — I just haven't seen this person for over twenty years. Only the individual parts. The first time I noticed his adult entirely. There is something to be afraid of — we with this stranger I had never met. We broke up when we were only 12 and we started to turn from girl to woman.
Then, on my face there was a smudge. No, The Stain. You know what it's like to have a big red scaly spot around the nose when you are 12? A stain that does not respond to medication and grows from a Foundation, like a hideous tropical butterfly? Dermatologists talked about me in third person as a complex case. Prescribed ointments, hormones and "mash". Nothing helped. And I had no more face, just a stain.
The author of the photographs: Asya Nurullin
All efforts went to every day to go to the evil peers and to take a punch. A couple of years people start to wonder not only stain but formed Breasts, ass, legs. I was no longer intact. Only a set of spare parts. Some parts (chest) was considered a virtue and needed to be emphasized. Other (feet) needed to adjust the color of the tights and heels.
Magazines for girls and girls, girlfriends, relatives — all had the opinion that you need to drape and what to flaunt. Life became a daily struggle to underline advantages and disadvantages of leveling. It was especially difficult when the advisers began to contradict each other.
This dismemberment and contradictory evaluation of each part — for me, an inevitable part of being a modern woman. At first I dismembered to pieces by others. Then I got used to it and started doing it myself. Since then, I never saw his face in the mirror. Only spot, eyebrows, lips, forehead...
Know where the ambush? Man is little more than the simple sum of some terms. It is impossible to perceive yourself as a holistic being, if some part of the body is supposed to throw out on display like fresh meat on display. And some should be hidden so as not to offend the eyes of connoisseurs of beauty. It is impossible to be at peace with yourself, if you care about the aesthetic sense of strangers.
It is impossible to broadcast to the world common, coherent message, if you perceive yourself as a set of usable and not. There is a deep crack on the inside, to the heart. It's about the fact that I'm not all right. I really do not fit. I need improvements, fixes and continuous correction. I was not created in the image and likeness of the Creator. I'm just a layout man, Pinocchio, which if desired, a plane and a file to modify to a tolerable level. He is still a wooden man, but splinters hanging around will not.
The way in which appearance is important, a way to divide yourself in parts of the body — a dead end. Once a woman puts looks first in the list of priorities, she lost. The Breasts will inevitably enter into a relationship with gravity and the skin will lose the glow of youth. The face will change. And most importantly — rival at some point it will age to fit in daughter. They did not back pain, they can drink all night and look adorable in the morning. They have nothing to fear because their lives have not beat strongly enough. They decided that they would live forever, and while they are all fine.
To compete with them, properly feeding yourself, like a Mature cheese on a platter? Thank you, no. The shape of the breast cannot and will not define who I am. I — not my ass.
I'm getting pretty good, and it's my superpower. At some point I allowed myself not to look again for fans to dissect, weigh, measure, and evaluate the woman and to recognize her (not)fit. I learned the freedom to wear the orange tights on the curves of the feet, the freedom to throw away high heel shoes. The freedom to remove hair from the face and to choose the stupid nail Polish.
The author of the photographs: Asya Nurullin
Only allowing myself this, I realized that before allowed to steer even this choice is not insignificant itself. Decided neighbors and strangers, magazines and websites, the self-proclaimed experts and experienced Amateurs. Each of them knew something about a couple of my parts. And nobody could say how to be with everything else.
Do not wear CLOSE to you people
If you don't want to go somewhere — don'T GO!
Then I saw in the mirror a stranger and afraid that I'm going crazy. I have identity issues or something like that. And suddenly it dawned on me — I had no more problems. It's just me — entirely. After all these years.
Well, Hello...posted
Author: Maria Skatova
Source: po-drugomu.co/ya-ne-moya-zhopa-or-davajte-prekratim-etu-raschlenenku/
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