Dad vs. Social Media [via]
First week of Inktobers. Posted daily on Instagram!
THE SECRET OF ANGEL FOOD CAKE
I had a dream about some ethereal dog I somehow acquired the other night. My subconscious is all about the anime sparkles over kissing dogs’ foreheads, it seems.
I love how she almost drops it until she smells it and that flashbulb memory hits.
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real … Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
Notice she says “who” it was and not “what” it was.
Oh I just gotta snuggle my baby bear!
There’s no point to a guy yelling, “Hey sexy baby” at me out of the passenger window of a car as it speeds past. Even if I was into creepy misogynists and wanted to give him my number, I couldn’t. The car didn’t even slow down. But that’s okay, because he wasn’t actually hitting on me. The point wasn’t to proposition me or chat me up. The only point was to remind me, and all women, that our bodies are his to stare at, assess, comment on, even touch. “Hey sexy baby” is the first part of a sentence that finishes, “this is your daily message from the patriarchy, reminding you that your body is public property”.