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HOW TO MAKE A MEN’S BIG-ASS SHIRT INTO A FITTED SHIRT.

fuckingconversations:

I’m sure we’ve covered this already - Shirts from the Men’s section are generally superior in terms of opacity, durability and warmth. For some reason, designers like to make shirts in the women’s section see-through and flimsy. 

But! I’m not here to discuss their secret plot to make people buy extra shirts. 

I’m here to solve the damn problem. 

Kinda. 

So! Lets say you were walking down the local department store, and saw this really awesome t-shirt. Hell yeah! SHIELD!  In a fit of excitement, you got it for your sibling.

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Unfortunately, they only had the XL size, and it looks like a potato sack on her. 

Fuck. 

It’s okay, we can fix this. 

First, pin it to fit her. Not super tight! You don’t want any part of the shirt stretching. 

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We did NOT turn the shirt inside-out for that step.

After carefully taking off the shirt (neeeedles), we flattened it, keeping the pins close to the same location.

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We did migrate the pins about a half-inch TOWARD the existing hemline. This is because when pinning it on a body, some cloth will be pulled more from the back, and some from the front of the shirt. If you don’t flatten it out, you’ll get weird twisted chunks later. 

Then, we sewed along the curves that the pins outlined, using a super-basic straight stitch.

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(At this point I had leave the house, so she just continued on her own. *shrug* Hooray for selfies and experience) 

She tried on the sewed version, to make sure it was still loosely fitted. It shouldn’t be tight at all at this point. 

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After making sure it still fit properly (If it didn’t then you’d have to pick the stitches in problem areas and re-sew) she cut off the fabric flaps, leaving about a half-inch of of room for the stitches. 

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Apparently she also brought in the sleeves by about an inch. Just follow the existing bottom hemline for that part.

After that, turn your shirt inside-out. 

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And along the edges, where we sewed before, she used an overlock stitch.

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Do that along both sides, flip your shirt inside-out, and BAM

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Super awesome fitted shirt, nice seams, 100% opacity, higher durability, and some goddamn sleeves. 

This shit works to shrink massive tshirts down to any body size or shape.

If you’re normally a ‘large’ and you want a fitted shirt? Just buy an XL or XXL and slim that shit down to fit your beautiful body. 

This ain’t just for people with boobs, either. If you’ve got a flat chest and want your shirt to hug that killer abdomen of yours, this technique works for that too. 

Can I get a ‘Hell Yeah’?

(via spiffymuffin)

sydwiki:

some little elephants.

sydwiki:

some little elephants.

(via mojoflower)

listoflifehacks:

If you like this list of life hacks, follow ListOfLifeHacks for more like it!

(via onthesideoftheotters)

nae-design:

Cats really make everything better - check out these awesome embroidered shirts by Japanese artist Hiroko Kubota

(via bittersweetart)

tinyredbird:

miss-gelly:

thylegend:

I have the best hairstylist ever

That’s fucking amazing

WOW

(via fandomsaremyhorcruxes)

dek-says-so:

drawing-bored:

pringtella:

NEW TRAILER OF DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION THAT JUST GOT OUT!

nerd boner.

GAH.  Now I need to decide if I should fork over funds for a PS4 or try it out on PC.

My Parents are Dead and My Sister is Disabled

therealbarbielifts:

eisforedna:

On May 28th, my sister, Edna, turned 31.

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Her mental age is about three years old. She loves Winnie the Pooh, Beauty & the Beast, and Sesame Street. Even though the below picture is unconvincing. 

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Edna and “Cookie.” I think she was trying to play it cool. 

My name is Jeanie. I’m Edna’s younger sister. I’m also her guardian and caregiver. 

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That’s me on the left. (Hey, you never know. After a year of writing a blog about online dating - Jeanie Does the Internet - I’ve come to learn that there are A LOT of fools on the internet.) 

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ANYWAY, I’m not “doing the internet” anymore. I’m taking care of Edna full-time, after completing my MFA in Writing for Screen & Television at USC.

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May 16, 2014. I wanted a picture. Edna wanted breakfast.

In case you’re wondering where our parents are, they’re dead. Our mom died of breast cancer when she was just 33. 

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Us with mom before she died. (Obviously.)

As for our dad, he peaced-out around the time my mom got sick. His loss - we’re awesome. 

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Here we are being awesome at the beach. Pushing a wheelchair in the sand? Not so awesome. 

In case you’re wondering “What’s wrong?” with my sister - as a stranger once asked me on the street  -  NOTHING. Yes, Edna has a rare form of epilepsy - Lennox-Gastaut syndrome - but I don’t know if that’s anymore “wrong” than people who don’t have manners. 

Basically, Edna was born “normal,” and started having seizures as a baby. They eventually got so bad that they cut off the oxygen to her brain, causing her to be mentally disabled. Or impaired. Or intellectually disabled. Or whatever you want to call it - except “retarded,” because in 2010, President Obama signed Rosa’s Law into effect, replacing that word with “intellectually impaired.” 

Which is cool and all, but services for the disabled and the people who care for them are SEVERELY LACKING. Also, there’s a bunch of people working in taxpayer-funded positions who are supposed to help families like us, but don’t. (Big surprise, I know.) They just fill out paperwork (whenever they feel like it) with asinine statements like this: 

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YUP. I transport my sister down the stairs in her wheelchair, because that is not only safe, but TOTALLY PRACTICAL. Why doesn’t everyone in a wheelchair just take the stairs, for God’s sake? Stop being so lazy, PEOPLE WITHOUT WORKING LEGS! 

But, as it says above, Edna’s legs do work. Whether or not she wants them to, is another story. 

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Edna refusing to go inside. 

These are the stairs that I have to carry her up - by myself - on a daily basis. That is, until one of my legs break and both of us are just sitting at the bottom of the stairs, helpless. 

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For six months, I have begged - BEGGED - the State of California to help my sister, which they are required by law - The Lanterman Act specifically - to do so. But they’ve told me “these things take time” and that I “need to amend my expectations.” (That was said to me when I refused to place Edna at AN ALL-MALE CARE FACILITY. Because yes, that was an “option” that was offered to me.) 

Prior to Edna moving in with me in my one-bedroom apartment, she was living with her amazing caregiver, Gaby, back in Tucson, where we went to high school and I did my undergrad. Edna’s reppin’ the Wildcats below. 

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But back in November, Gaby also died from breast cancer. (FUCK YOU, BREAST CANCER!) This picture was taken a month before she died. She never even told me she was sick because she didn’t want me to worry. 

By the way, we were raised by our grandma. Edna and her were very close.

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She’s dead, too. Surprise.

She died when I was 20 and Edna was 21. That’s when I became Edna’s legal guardian and Gaby stepped into the picture to help me out with Edna. 

So, six months ago, after Gaby died, I moved Edna to California, where I tried to get the folks over at The Frank D. Lanterman Regional Center to help me. I’ve told them I’m worried about our safety - that one of us could get hurt on the stairs -  I’ve told them I can’t afford to pay the private babysitters $15/hour because the ones social services sent me who make $9/hour were unreliable (they didn’t show up on time or at all so I could get to school and work), untrustworthy (one of them let Edna go to the bathroom in the kitchen and then took her into the bathroom because “that what I thought I was supposed to do.”) 

But the people over at the FLRC don’t return my calls, they don’t file the paperwork on time - and the first caseworker that was assigned to us actually LAUGHED AT my sister when he came to our home to evaluate her. When I reported him to his supervisor, she told me, “That’s just [insert name of said jackass].” 

He was one of the two caseworkers that contributed to the report I mentioned above, which also included this: 

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So let me get this straight - I have to feed, bathe, dress and help Edna in the bathroom and you can’t deduce whether or not she is able to vote? What in the fuck?!

Now I realize I seem angry. And you can bet your balls I am. I’m also sad. Sad for those who don’t have family to stick up from them and who waste away God knows where, monitored by no one. Or monitored by people who physically and sexually assault them

I’m also sad for the caregivers who are SO EXHAUSTED - trying to take care of their loved ones - while also trying to take care of themselves and battling a system that is supposed to help, but does nothing of the sort. And I know a lot of people give up. They let their dreams, their marriages, their friendships slide. All while trying not to resent the very person you’re doing it all for.

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Edna wanted to sit next to me the other day while I was writing. Clearly, she’s not impressed. 

Here’s the thing: I REFUSE TO GIVE UP. I’M NOT GIVING UP ON HER OR MYSELF. I’m going to pursue my dreams while taking care of her, AND while ensuring that the people paid to do their jobs ACTUALLY do them.

That’s where you come in. I need you to help me get my story out there. Because I know I’m not alone in this. I want to connect with families who are in similar situations and also show people who have no idea what it’s like to care for someone with a disability (or even a loved one who is sick) that it can be rewarding. Super fucking hard. Exhausting. Painful. Isolating. But, rewarding. 

I’m going to get help for my sister - and others. My hope is that by sharing our story, I can bring awareness to the lack of services and help for the disabled. 

Thank you, 

Jeanie 

Facebook:  facebook.com/eisforedna

Twitter: @EisforEdna 

This made me cry

(Source: , via dek-says-so)

conquerorwurm:

One of my favorite things to see is random people trying to interact with unfamiliar outdoor cats. Just standing there with a hand out, making kissy noises, maybe meowing at the cat while it ignores them. Mankind at its best and least dignified

(via arezkoenig)

wugs:

jake the dog   (❍ᴥ❍ʋ)

          and

| (• ◡•)|   finn the human

(Source: wuqs, via oscitantego)

"

In the 1930s, men’s nipples were just as provocative, shameful and taboo as women’s are now, and men were protesting in much the same way. In 1930, four men went topless to Coney Island and were arrested. In 1935, a flash mob of topless men descended upon Atlantic City, 42 of whom were arrested. Men fought and they were heard, changing not only laws but social consciousness. And by 1936, men’s bare chests were accepted as the norm.

So why is it that 80 years later women can’t seem to achieve the same for their chests? Why can’t a mother proudly breastfeed her child in public without feeling sexualized? why is a 17-year-old girl being asked to leave her own prom because a group of fathers find her too provocative?

[…] I am not trying to argue for mandatory toplessness, or even bralessness. What I am arguing for is a woman’s right to choose how she represents her body — and to make that choice based on personal desire and not a fear of how people will react to her or how society will judge her. No woman should be made to feel ashamed of her body.

"

Scout Willis, in XOJane, on Instagram’s nudity policy and why she recently strolled the NYC streets topless. Solid essay all around. I found this piece particularly interesting because I’d never heard about the men’s nipples thing. (via batmansymbol)

(via zimbuka)