Here are 10 things women should never have to apologize for.

1. Your relationship status

Do you feel zero desire to obtain your "Mrs. Degree?" Being a single woman is not a crime, despite your mom asking when you'll be a good girl and walking down the aisle already. Shacking up with the love of your life? He doesn't have to "put a ring on it" for the two of you to enjoy a long, loving, and healthy committed relationship. Or elated with the role of "wife" and desire to live your white picket fence dreams to the fullest? Good for you!

No matter what your relationship status is, your worth as a human being doesn't change based on your love life. Being happy with yourself, and the life you're living right now is all that matters, despite what your mom might want.

2. How you choose to use your womb

Are your parents hinting that you need to hurry up and "make them grandparents," yet you've decided that being a mom isn't right for you? Sorry, Mom and Pops, what you do with your womb is your decision, not theirs. Or has someone told you that "only" having one child is selfish? Or, maybe your friend is in your face with her opinion that no sane person has more than two children, and you want five?

Your womb --- your choice! It's your choice if you'll use it, how often you'll use it (or even whether you'll rent it out as a surrogate). None of that is anyone's business but yours. Being a parent is a lifetime commitment, and you are the only person who can decide if parenthood is right for you.

3. Your parenting style

Have a clutter-free home, two kids, and a dog, yet friends insist that no "real mom" has such a neat house? Or, do you let your toddler hang out with Elmo so you can relax over your morning coffee, and you feel guilty because a "real mom" should play educational games with her toddler, not let said child watch TV? (Gasp! The horror!) Or maybe you secretly can't wait for your kiddos to head off to college?

No matter how you're parenting, baby, you're doing the best you can. No one else can tell you what being a mom looks like, so trust me: You are a mom however you choose to do it. And you're doing a fabulous job, too (just look how great your kids are)!

4. How often you get busy between the sheets

Have you heard that most happy couples have s*x twice a week? Are you afraid that a once-a-week romp with your husband means you don't have a happy marriage? Or are you feeling slut-shamed by your friends when you confess that you and your honey hump like bunnies?

As long as you and your sexual partner feel satisfied with how often you're getting intimate, that's all that matters. Having s*x for a reason other than truly wanting and liking it is harmful to yourself and your relationship. Daily, twice a week, or once a month doesn't define your relationship's health or happiness. What matters is that it's just the right amount of pleasurable s*x for you.

5. Your level of success

Not earning six figures by your thirtieth birthday? You have no ambition, and you're a slacker! (wink!) Love your career and feel great about your position on the corporate ladder? Well, you're just too ambitious! Do you have an awesome gig but downplay your success because it makes others uncomfortable? Are you "just" a SAHM (stay-at-home mom) with no "real" ambition? Who said raising little humans isn't ambitious?

In the Mayo Clinic's Handbook for Happiness, Amit Sood reminds us that no matter what you do, or how much money you make, your work is valuable to society. If you find meaning and satisfaction in what you do, that's what matters. Striving to achieve some external measure of success cultivates temporary pride in something that is ultimately unsatisfying.

6. Your beauty routine (or lack thereof)

Does it take you an hour to get ready? Do you watch all the latest YouTube videos on how to use contouring make-up for a flawless look? Or can you go from an alarm clock to walking out the door in less than twenty minutes? Or, maybe you are strictly an au natural kind of woman.

Mastering an efficient beauty routine or choosing not to wear makeup are not crimes against society. And if you love how wearing makeup makes you feel, then sugar, you keep playing with that Urban Decay Naked Palette.

The number one criterion around your beauty routine is this: if you feel confident about yourself when you step into the world, that's all that matters. We all know that confidence is an inside job and no amount of makeup (or lack thereof) will change your inner glow.

7. Your style choices

Do you rock a daily uniform of yoga pants and fitted tees? Are you having a love affair with Jimmie Choo? Love classic silhouettes? Did someone tell you that middle-aged women shouldn't wear short skirts?

What we wear also affects how we feel about ourselves, but whatever makes you feel fabulous about yourself is a personal choice --- not the dictate of society, your best friend, partner, or mother. Choose clothes based on your lifestyle. Clothing that supports you in doing things that make you feel brave or that make you feel joyful is valuable. Clothing that makes you feel powerful and assured is a better measuring stick than the pages of Vogue.

8. Your bikini body (or glorious muffin top)

Proudly showing off your six-pack abs? Happy wearing a bikini with a lot of cleavage and a bit of a muffin top? The number on your scale, the size of your dress, or the tone of your muscles does not define your intrinsic worth as a human being. Nor does your worthiness of love depend on the size of your thighs, the bounce in your breasts, or the flatness of your belly. You deserve to feel seen and heard without judgment.

Focus your precious time and energy on living your life to the fullest and not obsessing over how you look naked. There is no need to postpone your life or withhold pursuing your desires until you reach some arbitrary weight goal or outward definition of beauty.

What's important is that you're healthy and take care of yourself. The size and shape of your body don't always reflect your inner health. Loving yourself no matter your size is what's important.

9. Daring to embrace your age (or fighting it tooth and nail)

Are you going gloriously gray? Have a standing appointment with your dermatologist for Botox? Our modern society has a lot of rules for how to age gracefully, but why should we follow those arbitrary guidelines of a patriarchal society?

The pressure to look young requires you to deny who you are and suggests you should feel bad about the natural process of life. You don't need to strive to look "young." Instead, invest in looking and feeling your best as you uniquely define that.

Getting older is a simple fact of life. How you choose to manage the process of aging doesn't need explaining to anyone. If you're happy with how you look and feel, then that's what matters.

Aging is simply a number. Cultivating a youthful spirit and improving how you live trumps an aging body time (even if you decide a little Botox helps.)

10. What you like to splurge on

Can't begin your day without your daily Starbucks latte? Do you have a standing monthly appointment for a mani-pedi? Does getting a new stamp on your passport each year thrill you? Does every conversation with your father or partner end with them saying, "I don't understand why you waste your money on..."

As long as you aren't going into debt financing your indulgences and these splurges truly help you feel more engaged in your life, then darling, go ahead and indulge. Life is short but not always easy, so choosing to "treat yourself" is a mantra we should all embrace.

Living life on your terms is the path to living a life that's loving, supportive, fun, and fabulous. Stop wasting valuable energy explaining your choices or apologizing for how you choose to live life. It's time to drop arbitrary "sorries" from your vocabulary, ladies!

She is wearing pants since her skin is full of cellulite so it wouldn't be that smooth as those pants

Can cook, tall, slender, cute

Did Audrey Hepburn REALLY suffer from malnutrition from ages 9-16? How did she manage to grow to 5'6/5'7 tall if so?

Any girl who suffered from severe malnutrition would have had their height stunted, especially during the ages of 9-16, which is puberty. I doubt that she suffered from severe and constant malnutrition if she was able to end up tall. Girls usually finish growing at about age 14-15.

I've come to the conclusion that your semen is your soul.

When you're drained of it, your personality shrinks, you have nothing interesting to contribute, you have no passion for anything, you have no direction, you're waiting for days to pass.

When you're full of it, you're creative, interesting, excited, witty, and ready to conquer the world.

It is obvious to me now that we are bodies with souls trapped inside. Our semen is the life of that soul. When we procreate, we pass part of our soul on into the future. When we retain, the strength of our soul grows.

“You'll be alright. Just stop squirming honey, lay still,” Orpah said.

Samson lay on his back on the hot rocks beside the rugged rock path of Sonder Mountain. The sun was flaming intensely, laying a blanket of heavy heat over them. His leg was bent awkwardly, unnaturally, so much so that a lick of the white of his bone could be seen through his shin.

“Calm down honey,” Orpah soothed him, leaning the water flask into his mouth.

The yelling had stopped. Samson had screamed and yelled in pain until his vocal cords were bloody. It was obvious that there was no one else on the path, and with nighttime fast approaching, unlikely it was that the situation would flip. Orpah took off her top, leaving her in just her skimpy white vest, before soaking it in water and laying it over Samson's forehead. The sky was a deep shade of orange. It would have been quite beautiful to look at if the situation was different, less dire perhaps. Orpah knew she would be able to find help at the bottom of Sonder Mountain. But that was easily a three-hour hike, and with night looming over them, she couldn't risk leaving Samson at the mercy of the coyotes. Not while his leg dripped blood and he dipped in out of consciousness, driven hysterical from pain. So she remained at his side, lovingly combing her fingers through his long hair as she tended to his needs.

“They'll notice we aren't there at dinner and come out looking for us. I'll start a small fire to make us a tad more visible,” Orpah said.

Samson gritted some form of acknowledgment through his gritted teeth. His face was almost as pale as his knuckles. Pain like this, it was nothing he ever felt before. It had him contemplating death, wondering whether a life with this amount of agony was one worth cherishing, worth fighting for. Was death not void of all such suffering? But he held on to life, if only for Orpah and her beautiful face, the love she evoked within him, and the tenderness of her touch.

“Go… find… help,” Samson managed to utter without opening his jaw.

Orpah looked up at him.

“Light the fire… and go find help… it'll keep the… coyotes away,” Samson explained.

“Are you sure?” Orpah asked.

Samson nodded. His leg had gone numb from the pain. The feeling of being stabbed over and over again was so consistent it had become a non-factor, like when noise is so ceaseless it becomes soothing or when you wear your glasses for so long you forget they're on. The first few stars twinkled in the sky which was slowly turning from orange to black. Orpah reached into her backpack and pulled out a box of long matchsticks. The trail was mostly stones and sand, but Orpah managed to gather enough sticks to start a sizeable flame. She cordoned it off with a few rocks, kissed Samson on the forehead, and headed down the trail.

“I'll be back as fast as I can,” Orpah said.

The smoke from the flame was serpent-like, the wisps slithering sinisterly. Every moment remaining in consciousness was a conscientious effort. He was glad for the flame. The air had suddenly gone from sweltering to chilly which only made the pain worse. Suddenly he felt the ground shake. He wasn't sure at first; it was as subtle as can be. But it grew and grew until it was an undeniable tremor, as if a giant was walking in the vicinity. Samson didn't have to wonder too much before the source made itself known. A kangaroo hopped out from behind a rock. It was purple and had a flame on the tip of its tail.

“What the everloving frick are you?” Samson said aloud in fear, “what in the frick is that?”

The kangaroo looked at him, tilted its head, and smiled. About twenty crabs crawled out its pouch and scattered all over. The kangaroo stretched in relief. Samson tried to crawl away but failed. The kangaroo was still towering over him.

“I done carried them from Jupiter. Nasty lil buggers, those claws are nothing to be ignorin',” the kangaroo said in a raspy voice.

“What the actual frick is going on?” was all Samson could manage.

“S'pose now is a good a time as any for an explanation. My name is, well I aint got a name. No need for those on the dimensional plane I'm from. I've taken this form because your puny mind would never understand my true form,” it continued raspily.

Samson blinked hard twice. He was convinced this was some kind of hallucination, his mind playing tricks on him, insanity brought on by dehydration and deliria.

“I am the bringer of the gift of death. You can do nothing to earn it, nothing to lose it but like any other gift, you may decline it,” the kangaroo continued, but this time in a different voice like a lady.

“How do I know you're real?” Samson managed to ask.

The kangaroo paused for a while, thought, and then answered.

“On the sixteenth of December your wife Orpah was asleep and you wanted a sandwich. You were too lazy to make it yourself so you opened a jar of Nutella and ate directly from it, you ate it all Samson, all. You got sick the next day and denied eating it. You told Orpah that from the bottom of your heart you didn't do it. But you did,” the kangaroo said in a different voice yet again.

It was as though the kangaroo was having great fun altering its voice each time. Perhaps more out of embarrassment than anything else Samson admitted to himself that indeed the kangaroo was not a figment of his imagination. The entire situation fell into the category of ‘too strange to be fiction'.

“So… am I dead?” Samson asked tentatively.

“Only if you want to be,” the kangaroo replied casually.

Samson lowered his eyebrow, his forehead creased. He was flummoxed.

“Death is a gift, as I have said. You can accept it or reject it,” the kangaroo explained.

He held his long tail in his hand, swinging it around casually.

“And, uhm, if I choose death? What would happen, I'm not saying that's what I want, but if I did choose death, what would happen next?” Samson asked, making very sure to emphasise that he wasn't asking for death.

“I don't know. I've never died. I'm only the collector of souls. I can tell what will happen if you choose life though,” the kangaroo said.

Samson shrugged.

“Oh c'mon, the same old,” said the kangaroo, “pain, misery, discontent, disappointment. Amidst it all a few moments of love and happiness. I've seen a lot of lives in my job. No matter where you are, how you live, it's always the same. Just a different variety of it.”

Samson paused for a while. He had forgotten about his broken leg, something that tends to happen when you have a kangaroo from the realm of death before you. A sly thought crept in his mind.

“You said that death is a gift, right?” Samson queried.

“Indeed.”

“Then, like any other gift, I could pass it on, couldn't I?”

“I s'pose.”

“Then I give my gift to Orpah,” Samson said resolutely.

The kangaroo looked at him, vexed.

“Your own wife? Well that's certainly a new one,” the kangaroo said.

“If death truly is a gift, I would not want my last action to be something as selfish as running away from the strife of the world. If my wife takes it, I will know she loved death more than I. If she rejects the gift, then this will be a life worth living. I don't know, it makes sense in my head,” explained Samson.

“Very well then.”

And the kangaroo stuck its purple hands out, waved them and uttered a magical spell. The sky lit up in a million colours. And then the kangaroo was gone. Samson lay there in the darkness of the night with only the flickering of the flames as his company. No one came until morning when the mountain ranger came around for his morning route. In a state of semi-consciousness, all Samson remembered was being lifted up and put into the back of a pickup truck. He swung in and out of consciousness and found himself on a soft bed, his leg raised in a cast in some sort of log cabin. The ranger and Orpah stood over him.

“He almost died,” he heard the ranger say.

“Oh my poor honey,” Orpah said, “I'm so grateful you saved him. How can I ever show my gratitude?”

“Well there is one way,” he heard the ranger say smugly.

A bit of whispering and a bit of giggling and Samson heard the sound of something oddly similar to the clank of a metal belt buckle hitting the ground. They left the room.

Samson wanted his gift back.

!pinggrouplovers

Here he is sweating bullets trying to deny it

https://rdrama.net/h/asia/post/262141/chiobu-and-his-uncles-circa-2024/6280228#context

Chuds at kotakuinaction are feeling vindicated.

Normies in the Pokémon Go Subreddit have page after page of noticing.

This thread in particular all but names the locomotive menace.

>There's only 2 genders, men and men who dress like Woman

This thread discusses how the choo-choo update has ruined the avatars Pokemon Go whales have spent real money on.

Redditors are noticing they're being called ugly by the Vidya company.

I'm supposed to be tapering but I took 4 benzos today already. I feel sick if I don't take them, they make me feel normal. I actually feel productive after taking benzos. Without them I feel like dying. I don't want to wean, I want to ramp up but I know I should be doing the opposite. They help me sometimes but I can't stay addicted to pills my whole life.

The calm they hit you with is irresistable. It's like nothing matters anymore. You can just focus on the good parts of life. Maybe listen to some music, write, work. It's all good and flows smoothly. Why can't life always be like this?