Fit By February

... a fitspo journey

  • 24th July
  • 24


Men want us to kiss them with beards, suck their dicks and kiss their balls with pubes, hug them with hairy arm pits, intwine our legs with hairy thighs, but if women have one hair on our body that isn’t on our head it’s disgusting

(via beccaliving)

  • 18th June
  • 18
  • 13th June
  • 13


Confidence is not something that comes once you’ve reached your goals… it’s a prerequisite that’s required to get there. 

Very,very true. 

Almost all of my confidence came after gaining 20lbs back and recovering from an eating disorder. 

My whole life I thought that losing weight would fix everything. It didn’t. Learning how to eat without guilt and live unapologetically is what finally made me healthy, happy and confident. 

  • 11th June
  • 11






Can anyone give me a detailed answer to why women love a guy who is tall?

I love short guys!!! Don’t be discouraged!

I’m 5’10. Is that tall?

Yeah. Pretty tall, I think. I’m 6’2” so my idea of tall is slightly skewed. But yeah. 5’10 sure isn’t short.

Women like tall guys because they make them feel smaller. We are constantly told that we need to take up less space in this world so when we stand next to a tall man, we feel like maybe we are succeeding in that. 

  • 9th June
  • 09
  • 8th June
  • 08
  • 5th June
  • 05
Women who are fat are said to have ‘let themselves go.’ The very phrase connotes a loosening of restraints. Women in our society are bound. In generations past, the constriction was accomplished by corsets and girdles…. Women today are bound by fears, by oppression, and by stereotypes that depict large women as ungainly, unfeminine, and unworthy of appreciation…. Above all, women must control themselves, must be careful, for to relax might lead to the worst possible consequence: being fat.

“Letting Ourselves Go: Making Room for the Fat Body in Feminist Scholarship,” by Cecilia Hartley (via loniemc)

(via female-only)

(via weight-a-second)

  • 3rd June
  • 03
  • 2nd June
  • 02
  • 12th May
  • 12

Once again I have added not eating to the list of ways I deal
with the burden of being alive. I feel too old for this.
I have this strange solidarity with my seventh grade self.
The way she lived on green apples and coffee for six months
and her mother never noticed.

The friends I live with now say nothing when I do not eat.
When I carefully measure out my 600 calories a day
and half of them are wine. It is not their responsibility
to take care of me. It is my own. But lately,
I’m doing a terrible job.

Lately I’ve been looking at my body like it belongs
to someone else. Watching it slowly shrink like the crowd
at a party that that has gone too late. My stomach
has been an enemy my entire life. I miss her now that she’s gone.
She is a conquered enemy. A vanquished foe.
I did not want to win. Not like this.