Your account is not active. We have sent an email to the address you provided with an activation link. Check your inbox, and click on the link to activate your account. Acceptance is all the rage these days. Everywhere you look, social norms, beauty standards, and 'taboos' are being challenged.
Real women display their bellies: XO Jane Real Girl Belly Project
Hairy Stomach - Bilder und Stockfotos - iStock
Tired of unrealistic images of retouched stomachs and the ubiquitous flat stomachs of models, the xoJane Real Girl Belly Project sought to show the world belly photos of real women, taken by real women and without the use of Photoshop. Readers responded en masse with pictures of their tummies, from taught to flabby, with stretch marks and without. Those submitting pictures were also invited to include stories about their bellies and why they like them. Proud: Women proudly displayed tattoos, scars, and a little excess fat. Hair-raising: 'I love how my belly hair collects enough lint that I get to clean out my belly button at least once a day,' one respondent wrote.
This blog is a collection of pictures and stories from women cis and trans and non binary people living with excessive body hair. There is also some posts on self-care, more general body positivity, feminism, etc. Feel free to submit and write to me, I answer privately if possible and post all submissions anonymously. Note that I don't come on tumblr often so the answer may take weeks, please visit the FAQ and Ask archive to have a fast answer. Also don't hesitate to message me if you want your post deleted from the blog.
As the morning light stole into the vigorous and violent nightmares of Annie's tortured mind, flickering eyelids defending against the intrusive rays like flailing limbs warding off the onslaught of an attacking army of troublesome bees, a sense of foreboding lay a veil of woe that pricked her consciousness Eyes scrabbling for definition in the minutia of detail, she looked down at the bloodstained arms folded neatly across one another, a mass of tangled thick brown and black hairs covering the very sinews of her flesh. She knew the drill by now, only too well. The full moon was nothing but a faint recollection as the early morning light penetrated her flesh, battering her into submissive stance, though this had been anything other than the ordinary though freakish transformation that had plagued her life since the wolf bite whilst alone and wandering in the forest behind her wooden homestead in the summer of two thousand and seven.