Like seriously, why isn’t pole dancing an olympic sport? This is freakin gymnastics. This is strength and skill. This is not sexual whatsoever. Why does pole dancing have to be so stigmatised as a sexual thing that only strippers do? I have great respect for all people who can pull this off. This is art and beauty right here. 

HEY FUN FACT: pole dancing is known as something strippers do because strippers invented it. And that’s okay! It’s okay to have respect for strippers and the hard work they put into what they do! Let’s stop trying to take the stripper part out of pole dancing so upperclass white girls can do it without being ~stigmatized~ because god forbid women be sexual.


Chicken, cheese & shredded zucchini quesadilla made with a flatout wrap for lunch. With homemade guacamole, lettuce, black beans, diced tomato and plain Greek yogurt for topping.
Instagram - goodhealthgoodvibes
Oh my God, what if you wake up some day, and you’re 65, or 75, and you never got your memoir or novel written; or you didn’t go swimming in warm pools and oceans all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart. Don’t let this happen.
Anne Lamott   (via modernhepburn)

I got injured recently and haven’t been able to run in three weeks. If you’ve ever been through something like this, you can understand how crippling this feels. This whole afternoon, I couldn’t stop thinking about how badly I want to feel the power in my legs as they hit the ground, sprinting past and around the people walking through the city and feeling confidence and strength and sweat. This absolutely sucks. I can’t even experience a nice sunny day without wanting to feel what it’s like during a run. I can’t look at the streets or listen to the same songs I listened to when running. It was the one thing, the ONE thing at the end of the day that I could rely on to reboot my energy and keep me going. Now, I feel groggy, sluggish, weak, crippled, out of shape, absolutely miserable. I wish there was something that could replace the feeling I got when I ran but there’s absolutely nothing like it. For my sake, if you have the ability to run right now you better get out there.

Healthy sammies!
However mean your life is, meet it and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you are. It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poorhouse. The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the almshouse as brightly as from the rich man’s abode; the snow melts before its door as early in the spring. I do not see but a quiet mind may live as contentedly there, and have as cheering thoughts, as in a palace.
Henry David Thoreau, Walden (via observando)

"We get to choose who we let into our weird little worlds."
Always go with your passions. Never ask yourself if it’s realistic or not.
Deepak Chopra (via hedonisticalien)