breesays

Hearts to break, naps to take.

#tbt i had a lip ring. It didnt work out, it impeded my smile! 2008. 😁

I promise my next instagram will be of food or something. Consecutive selfies can be a bit much but I cant wear this #occmakeup lip tar very often cuz it gets on everything! #makeup

alwayssummerblog:

The only thing we could possibly love more than a great pop star is their cat! Which star belongs to which cat? It’s the million dollar question…

Except we don’t have any monetary compensation for you if you take this quiz. There ARE however, awesome cat memes you can share in celebration of your success (or failure). Take it MEOW!

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P.S. Don’t worry dog lovers, you will get your quiz soon.

iamuhnet:

I almost forgot that @breesays made us #EmpireRecords name tags! Glad someone at @cinespia captured that. (at Cinespia @ Hollywood Forever Cemetery)

No one watches my videos or sees my instagrams or reads my blog and thinks “ohmygod, she is so skinny, I wanna be like her”… and thank god, or internet filters, or common sense.

But I have to remind myself constantly.

I dyed my hair blue because I felt blue.

I’m hosting a web series at in my near-mid-thirties when I would’ve thrown myself over hot coals to do so in my mid-twenties. I was trying so hard. And now, I just want to establish the voice that’ll echo beyond that day, that week, that month. I really don’t care if I’m the face of it, whatever IT is.

I was padding around barefoot Saturday, as not to Doc-stomp on anyone’s hands. I whined a little come the concrete path and then boyfriend said: Hop on!

I got a piggyback ride to the bathrooms and then he gave me his shoes. Twice.

He also gave me like 17 neck massages and by some ninja lurker move, met my coworker ex.

Listen: You do not get to be my friend. Or his friend, or his acquaintance. That’s a privilege that’s been taken away from you. You do not get the satisfaction of positive interactions. You are on the outside now. Stay out. Keep out. Get out.

Bikinis weren’t just a functionally attractive item you could slap on and go to the beach in, you had to be bikini ready for them. Essentially, this meant you had to look like a swimsuit model, all flat stomach and no body hair, but do you know how hard that is for an average thin-curvy-sometimes-chubbyish person like me? Do you know how many women and people in general fluctuate on the body spectrum and consistently look far from “perfect?” Do you know how hard it is to feel good about yourself when so many people tell you how far you are from that perfection? Do you know how hard it is for a normal human being, such as myself, to look fine in a bathing suit? I’m not talking like “whoa, she fine,” I’m talking “completely passable in a retro tankini.” I’ll tell you: it’s hard. I have cellulite. I have that little bit of fat that bulges out between my breasts and my armpits. There are things on my body that you can’t just photoshop out. It’s not even like I am sitting on the couch like a giant slug, refusing to move until somebody pours salt on me (although momma told me there would be days like this). I MOVE. I RUN. I am a living, breathing person who puts vegetables into herself, and guess what? She likes going to the beach. So what does she wear? A bathing suit. Fuck it. I might look my best in dark lips, a day old top knot, and a sexy gigantic t-shirt, but I gotta feed my calling to the sea.

And not because I’ve been called a manatee, once, in middle school.

The real question I should have asked is..don’t you ever just want to go to the beach? Cuz I know I do.

Working on my 2nd book and getting totally real in the dieting chapter. This first draft is really coming together, guys! (via thefrenemy)

Sometimes when I see my legs in pictures I think ohmygod, if this was a Donner Party situation, I would definitely be eaten first but then I try to be positive so I think well, not if I outrun them or kick them in the face. So there’s that.

I drooled on him today. It was 100% on accident. I usually drift into half-sleep, all heartbeats and nose bridge to jawline… and then I kiss his forearm, move it, turn over and resume sleeping. But I messed up all the steps today.

I felt totally comfortable and safe and I fuckin’ fell asleep and drooled on his superhero tee shirt. Hot, right? Ohmygod.

I let go. I felt OK.

This goes out to all the girls who felt like they have to sleep with their makeup on.  All the girls who felt like we have to pretend those eyelashes aren’t fake. 

I’ve never felt as loved as I do now.

it’s kind of a learning experience.

baby got back(s)

Something I can’t really relate to: people who are friends just because they’ve known each other since they were toddlers. Timeline doesn’t mean as much to me as does intensity or authenticity of connection. 

I have acquaintances and friends of friends and I’ve been to weddings and birthdays and happy hours…

I feel like I SHOULD value those lifers more than others—in a peer pressure sort of way… but I don’t. We’ve shed the skin of our former selves like 18 times since we were shredding our knees on asphalt as 7-year-olds learning how to skate.

Is it insensitive of me to gravitate towards new, magnetic conversations? Am I supposed to feel comforted and warm by the boundaries of an existing friendship skeleton? Is knowing it’s there bear equal weight with knowing that chemistry means much, much more?

Godspeed, you default friends.