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🏡PLP's Bazaar of the Bizarre: A Study Hall for the Deviant and Delightful

hotwords229_A said:
https://64.media.tumblr.com/d5bda9dd947ee518c4febf68eb88832f/39281df122fe26e6-cc/s1280x1920/bc6425dc53d12bfd6f44f6e3c0fd8201f8bf32dc.pnj
The biggest problem with being an unstoppable killer is how shallow the dating pool is.
But at least they’re good at penetration.
Click to expand...
I can't even lie. I'd watch 👀
Idk if it would get me there bc I like sex noises too much.
Photog1rl said:
maybe someone will knit some pants for winter. View attachment 2391227
Click to expand...
Thats actually weirdly beautiful! Do I need to crochet outfits for my trees??
 
Blog post from a sleepy brain anyone?



So when I was in eighth grade, I was a curvy girly which, in the late nineties didn’t come with the same self acceptance and culture hype that it now sometimes can. But don’t get it twisted, I was cute! I was a drama kid who laughed most things off and had friends in every group and while kids were kids growing up I was remarkably unphased. Until one Wednesday in pre-algebra….


There were five long rows of desks filled with sleepy students trying to care what X equaled. I sat in the last seat of row four and I was probably perfecting my bubble letters with glittering gel pens and giving zero fucks about X. Nothing about the day was remarkable until a note started circulating around the class. It started with a boy in desk one of row one. A tall, quiet, specific looking basketball benchwarmer with the dyed blonde ramen noodle curls of a top tier Justin Timberlake wannabe. His name was Jeremy and while I’d shared classes with him over the past two years, I can’t honestly say I’d ever thought about his existence once. We all exist in bubbles at 14 and his bubble never intersected with mine until this Wednesday when he began passing an intricately folded note around the room. It made its way around the room back and forth sporadically along the desk until finally it plopped on my desk, no doubt smearing my gel ink.


I unfolded the note to find to my horror my name written largely and carefully across the top and a rather well drawn, if not deeply unkind, picture of me filling the page. I had done what most middle and high school girls do and pushed the uniform dress code as far as possible and was feeling cure in my corduroy khaki skirt and white button up with a little blue vest (ok it was the 90s, you’ll just have to trust me that I looked cute for the time) and now I see myself depicted as a huge ogre of a girl whose massive legs were splitting the skirt, a whale whose stomach hung out under the vest, a hippo whose many chins was covered in the crumbs of two Twinkies I was holding in my meaty fists and with the words “I love Twinkies” erupting in a word bubble from my face whose cheeks we round and clearly full of cream filled cakes.


Now friends, the first thought I had was I don’t even like Twinkies. And then the thought of the time and attention that this boy had paid to my body, the snickers or groans from everyone else in my class, the idea that even though I didn’t think about these people at all, they all thought rather a lot about me filled me with shame and humiliation. I folded up the cartoon and put it in my pocket and sat with my eyes open wide, praying that the tears filling them would evaporate instead of falling down my face. Alas, a few of them spilled over and then the whispers of “oh god, she’s crying” “look what you did” and others circulated around me. I sat stone still and stared at the unfathomable X on the board until the bill rang. Walking out of class, Jeremy approached me and asked for the cartoon back and in a haze, I handed it over. Then I went and had lunch with my friends, who were hilarious and made me cry with laughter, which is a much better way to cry.


The day passed and the next day passed and then the year, then middle school and high school and the weird tenderness of middle school became a distant memory. Maybe once a month, I think about ole noodle-headed Jeremy, occasionally when people discuss bullying (though, god this is SO mild compared to what some kids have to put up with),sometimes when I hate my body, and every time I see a Twinkie. I always wondered why a guy with such a talent for drawing and basketball and whatever else filled his 14 year old life cared one iota about me, a girl he’d never spoken to. Well, friends, I was in Target (where all the best revelations happen) and I saw Jeremy! Now forty not fourteen, no noodle hair or much hair at all, same specific face walked next to his wife. A beautiful woman with a big curvy ass, thick thighs, a swell of breast, and a sweet round face with big blue eyes who by the way he was rubbing her back while they shopped, he was very much into. Well of course, the lines all connected, the lights went off and I realized I was a mere speedbump in Jeremy’s journey to openly liking a certain figure of women. Something I know can be hard for some men to admit, not men I fuck with anymore but they exist.


And I realized how much shit we put on other people while trying to figure ourselves out. I know I’ve been on the giving end just as much as the receiving. I thought about marching up to Jeremy’s wife and telling her what an absolute pig he was but why? He’s clearly grown as a human and that should be celebrated and emulated. My small attempt here to spotlight the beauty of bodies is over in Curveaday. May we all keep evolving, accepting, forgiving and giving grace to others and ourselves when we need it most. But seriously, fuck Twinkies.




If you made it this far, you know I’ll pay in filth. This is Lit after all.
 
PrettyLilPussy19 said:
Blog post from a sleepy brain anyone?



So when I was in eighth grade, I was a curvy girly which, in the late nineties didn’t come with the same self acceptance and culture hype that it now sometimes can. But don’t get it twisted, I was cute! I was a drama kid who laughed most things off and had friends in every group and while kids were kids growing up I was remarkably unphased. Until one Wednesday in pre-algebra….


There were five long rows of desks filled with sleepy students trying to care what X equaled. I sat in the last seat of row four and I was probably perfecting my bubble letters with glittering gel pens and giving zero fucks about X. Nothing about the day was remarkable until a note started circulating around the class. It started with a boy in desk one of row one. A tall, quiet, specific looking basketball benchwarmer with the dyed blonde ramen noodle curls of a top tier Justin Timberlake wannabe. His name was Jeremy and while I’d shared classes with him over the past two years, I can’t honestly say I’d ever thought about his existence once. We all exist in bubbles at 14 and his bubble never intersected with mine until this Wednesday when he began passing an intricately folded note around the room. It made its way around the room back and forth sporadically along the desk until finally it plopped on my desk, no doubt smearing my gel ink.


I unfolded the note to find to my horror my name written largely and carefully across the top and a rather well drawn, if not deeply unkind, picture of me filling the page. I had done what most middle and high school girls do and pushed the uniform dress code as far as possible and was feeling cure in my corduroy khaki skirt and white button up with a little blue vest (ok it was the 90s, you’ll just have to trust me that I looked cute for the time) and now I see myself depicted as a huge ogre of a girl whose massive legs were splitting the skirt, a whale whose stomach hung out under the vest, a hippo whose many chins was covered in the crumbs of two Twinkies I was holding in my meaty fists and with the words “I love Twinkies” erupting in a word bubble from my face whose cheeks we round and clearly full of cream filled cakes.


Now friends, the first thought I had was I don’t even like Twinkies. And then the thought of the time and attention that this boy had paid to my body, the snickers or groans from everyone else in my class, the idea that even though I didn’t think about these people at all, they all thought rather a lot about me filled me with shame and humiliation. I folded up the cartoon and put it in my pocket and sat with my eyes open wide, praying that the tears filling them would evaporate instead of falling down my face. Alas, a few of them spilled over and then the whispers of “oh god, she’s crying” “look what you did” and others circulated around me. I sat stone still and stared at the unfathomable X on the board until the bill rang. Walking out of class, Jeremy approached me and asked for the cartoon back and in a haze, I handed it over. Then I went and had lunch with my friends, who were hilarious and made me cry with laughter, which is a much better way to cry.


The day passed and the next day passed and then the year, then middle school and high school and the weird tenderness of middle school became a distant memory. Maybe once a month, I think about ole noodle-headed Jeremy, occasionally when people discuss bullying (though, god this is SO mild compared to what some kids have to put up with),sometimes when I hate my body, and every time I see a Twinkie. I always wondered why a guy with such a talent for drawing and basketball and whatever else filled his 14 year old life cared one iota about me, a girl he’d never spoken to. Well, friends, I was in Target (where all the best revelations happen) and I saw Jeremy! Now forty not fourteen, no noodle hair or much hair at all, same specific face walked next to his wife. A beautiful woman with a big curvy ass, thick thighs, a swell of breast, and a sweet round face with big blue eyes who by the way he was rubbing her back while they shopped, he was very much into. Well of course, the lines all connected, the lights went off and I realized I was a mere speedbump in Jeremy’s journey to openly liking a certain figure of women. Something I know can be hard for some men to admit, not men I fuck with anymore but they exist.


And I realized how much shit we put on other people while trying to figure ourselves out. I know I’ve been on the giving end just as much as the receiving. I thought about marching up to Jeremy’s wife and telling her what an absolute pig he was but why? He’s clearly grown as a human and that should be celebrated and emulated. My small attempt here to spotlight the beauty of bodies is over in Curveaday. May we all keep evolving, accepting, forgiving and giving grace to others and ourselves when we need it most. But seriously, fuck Twinkies.




If you made it this far, you know I’ll pay in filth. This is Lit after all.
Click to expand...
That old saying.. If the boys are picking on you must mean he likes you.. Not always the case but..
And girl... If that 14/40 year old boy could see the girl/women we know and love on LIT..That boys head would explode..Not only with your beauty but that heart and soul in you... Your way with words and stories 🥵❤
((Big hugs and kisses))
 
PrettyLilPussy19 said:
I was a curvy girly which, in the late nineties didn’t come with the same self acceptance and culture hype that it now sometimes can.
Click to expand...
do you ever wonder what it would be like to grow up now as a person in a curvy body?
PrettyLilPussy19 said:
And then the thought of the time and attention that this boy had paid to my body
Click to expand...
He was clearly working on something here. Those hormones were probably making his brain fight with the vision of what he was supposed to find attractive.
PrettyLilPussy19 said:
Well of course, the lines all connected, the lights went off and I realized I was a mere speedbump in Jeremy’s journey to openly liking a certain figure of women
Click to expand...
It most definitely seems to be the case.

You have a lovely way with words PLP❤️ and you being a cute drama kid definitely tracks.
 
I love that you have the ability to see an awful experience in a new light and recognize growth in others. I still want to go back in time and kick Jeremy in the balls though 🤷‍♀️

Also, it’s so not the point of the story, but now I’m thinking about how much fun curvy PLP in the drama productions while I was in stage crew would have been. I would have been enthusiastically friend flirting while likely oblivious to the fact that I really wanted to flirt flirt with you 😍
 
LadyLascivious1 said:
I love that you have the ability to see an awful experience in a new light and recognize growth in others. I still want to go back in time and kick Jeremy in the balls though 🤷‍♀️

Also, it’s so not the point of the story, but now I’m thinking about how much fun curvy PLP in the drama productions while I was in stage crew would have been. I would have been enthusiastically friend flirting while likely oblivious to the fact that I really wanted to flirt flirt with you 😍
Click to expand...
As always, you've made my day 💗
 
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