(tw for numbers) Among so many other stressful things, I also recently-ish gathered up the courage to weigh myself: 18.5, for the first time since 2014. Officially a healthy weight. I simultaneously freaked out and was kind of proud of myself for all the effort it took to get there. Now, having had a little while to get used to the idea, I still don't know what I think ... part of me, no surprise here, is in hysterics in the background and wants to instantly lose weight again. Yet all the reasons why I've actually been trying, properly, with recovery for the first time still exist, and I recognise how illogical it would be to ditch my efforts because of an arbitrary number. Part of me wants to be totally anonymous. I feel like every time I "create" a persona – even though they're all really me; I don't mean I'm catfishing anyone – it becomes very difficult and I somehow fail to cope. The artistic pressure I'm feeling irl at the moment is absolutely crushing.
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João Arraes :: Fabiana Mayer for U Magazine, April 2013 / src: leclownlyrique
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Is this the Virgin Mary in the garden, her
blue gown bleached off
by too much sky? (Look how the world has bled me dry.)
— Laura Kasischke, from “Faded Snapshot,” published in The Journal
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self care is permanently transforming into your animagus form and living in the wilderness
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Svetlana Zakharova in Bolshoi’s La Bayadere
Photo by Damir Yusupov (?)
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Cassey Chanel and Monet Huie photographed by Tori Ferenc for Sicky Magazine
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Ekaterina Shipulina and Artem Ovcharenko in Bolshoi’s Ondine
Photo via Ekaterina’s IG @primabalerina
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