Junk food.

vegetarian-hime:

Junk food is worth it for no more than five minutes.

1. Short term: The guilt kicks in. You start to regret eating it and maybe even hate yourself for eating it.
2. Your stomach gets bloated and you feel a little sick.
3. Short - Long term: You can experience lethargy / reduced energy levels. This can make you less alert, less inclined to be active later through the day and your reflexes may become slower.
4. Potentially, it can trigger diarrhea, vomiting or even constipation.
5. If you continue to abuse junk food, the lack of nutrition can result in a weakened immune system which can make you more prone to colds, fevers, infections and other bugs.
6. Long term: Junk food abuse can cause diseases and other health issues such as diabetes, high cholesterol and clogged arteries which can make you more prone to strokes and heart attacks.
7. Then there’s the obvious, obesity. When you’re obese, you’re also prone to many other diseases and health issues.

So guys, is it worth it for five minutes?

countingtovermillion:

There’s a Twitter trend and the French is dodgy and nobody else is noticing it :(　

The French people seem fine with it, from what I can see.  dunno.

I am officially in love.

literatureandwisdom:

I guess that I can’t really describe the sort of world I’m living in.  I crave things.  I want things I can’t have and there is nothing in front of me to be ungrateful of.  I am grateful for so many of the things given to me, but still I want more and more and I suck the potential out of every situation because I am constantly searching for another story.  All of my best stories have stemmed from real events because people can feel the energy seeping from every word; the memories practically strangle the readers.

Here’s a memory for you kids:

I remember the way you felt.  Your skin has tiny bumps, sitting next to hairs and freckles.  I feel them now as I think back.  I memorized every part of your body that I could, even the parts I didn’t like.  I know how your skin molds to my touch, how you shiver at a kiss.  And your lips are so soft, with teeth and breath backing them.  I know that tongue, don’t want to, it is a slimy intrusion.

Your toes touch my calf, your hand feels the scars on my side.  You run a finger around my waist and I let out a sigh because maybe this is what it feels like to be a woman, to be loved.  Yet, I know what comes next and I dread it like a bad smell, my nose crinkling at the thought of pain that seems to pleasure you.  I can’t do this much longer, play like everything you’re doing is just fine because it’s eating at me and you’re able to shrug it off when I say oh, i’m great.  You know somethings wrong and still your fingers with fingernails too short from days spent biting them off move downward and I am angry now, but I don’t show it.

This isn’t one memory, its too many.  Too many nights compiled into a single hatred for the religion that tore me from you and stole any sense I had.  You caused me to step back and break the chains that held me too tightly, to see that I could do this on my own.  Still, the pain we both caused and endured like it was something we had to carry, it broke us both.

Now I think back to the memory, the whole idea of foreplay and the two of us on a beanbag or a couch and I don’t like it.  I can think of a man doing that to me now and I feel excitement, but back then I would have cried.  Cried because I knew that if that happened, I would burn.