I got this super cute mirrored vanity tray from @irene661 at #shopcitygirl on etsy. Love it!
“this leaves men confused and unable to pigeonhole you. What they are forced to do instead is… take you seriously.”
Get your own in the Beautylish Boutiques!
New Packing VIdeo!
Here’s Rachael’s packing video!
I hate packing and I’m not as organized & generally don’t pack til the last minute but if you’d like to see me make one using my nifty organizers from the container store just let me know!
|—||Angel Flonis Harefa (via therealamandahendrick)|
Watch any of my youtube makeup tutorials!
I’ve been traveling so much lately i figured i’d make a travel makeup video.
Once things quieten down i’ll make some more glam tutorials :)
Please like/share/subscribe if you enjoy!
So Brad totally talked about this in an interview, saying that Shiloh prefers to be addressed by all the family as John (and if anyone calls ze—I guess, I’m not sure if there are chosen gender pronouns yet, so I’m just going to use ze/zir—Shiloh, ze’ll be all “it’s JOHN OKAY?”) and prefers traditionally “masculine” things like swords and boy clothes etc., and he and Angelina don’t care because they a) recognize that not all children are the same/follow traditional gender binaries and b) they love John no matter what so it doesn’t matter to them what gender ze is. Which I thought was awesome/adorable.
Love them so much.
I’m not nessesarily a big fan of Jolie, however I will say this: If my mother had done for me what she is doing for Shiloh/John it would have saved me a a childhood full of frustration, numbness and confusion. I would not now look back on 19 years worth of life and wish I had been able to LIVE IT. Instead, I spent 19 years pretending to be someone else. I can’t help but feel robbed. Why do we tell children who they are? HOW can we tell children who they are?
Parents, please, LISTEN to your kids. Embrace difference and know that you are raising your children right by allowing them to be themselves and loving them unconditionally.
Everyone who’s liked or reblogged this seriously needs to become a parent. Please, for the good of humanity — reproduce, smart people.
10 points, Angie and Brad. 10 points.
it hurts that there are still parents out there that raise their children using gender-based toys, colours and clothes. I wish all parents were this understanding.
If my kids want to be a boy or a girl even if that’s not the sexual anatomy they were born with, then fine. I want them to always be true to who they are. If my son wants to play with dolls, wear dresses and have a tea party, then lets have a fucking tea party. I will make the tea myself. If I have a daughter who wants to play with cars and read comics, I will make her a batman costume for Halloween. If my son wants to play with GI Joe and my daughter wants to be a princess. Then that’s awesome too. I don’t get why parents drill traditional idea into their kids heads and try to make them someone that they obviously aren’t. If your son wants to be addressed as Princess Holly, then do a craft where he can make a big pretty sign to put over his bed that says, “PRINCESS HOLLY” in big fucking letters covers with glitter and rhinestones. Don’t be a fucking dick and say, “sorry son, you can only be a prince.” Fuck that. Your kids only get one childhood, let it be one where they can actually be a kid and not have to worry about social pressures and norms at the age of 4. They will get enough shit when they grow up. At least let them have an amazing childhood to look back on.
Maybe Shiloh/Jon will grow up and want sexual reassignment surgery, maybe they just have a great imagination… who cares as long as the kid is being loved and encouraged to be themselves. Maybe it means something.. or maybe it means nothing.
I used to ask my mum for face paints, not to paint butterflies on my face but to have a mustache just like my dad.
My favorite toy for a while was a piece of ginger i insisted my mum buy me as a pet.
I also had an imaginary fox friend, “Foxy”, who i made my nan carry around and push on the swings.
None of those things mean anything to me now or made me a poorly adjusted adult, i just have great memories of that mustache and watching my poor nan walking around cradling nothing… it was fantastic!
Isn’t half the fun of being a parent that you get taken back to that amazingly imaginative yet simple time where being called “Jon” is your biggest concern in life?