Some people trivialize depression (often unintentionally) by dropping a platitude on a depressed person as if that is the one thing they needed to hear. While some of these thoughts have been helpful to some people (for example, some find that praying is very helpful), the context in which they are often said mitigates any intended benefit to the hearer. Platitudes don’t cure depression.
Real women are feminine and smell good and they are masculine and smell good and they are androgynous and smell good, except when they don’t smell so good, but that can be changed if desired because real women change stuff when they want to.
Real women have ovaries. Unless they don’t, and sometimes they don’t because they were born that way and sometimes they don’t because they had to have their ovaries removed. Real women have uteruses, unless they don’t, see above. Real women have vaginas and clitorises and XX sex chromosomes and high estrogen levels, they ovulate and menstruate and can get pregnant and have babies. Except sometimes not, for a rather spectacular array of reasons both spontaneous and induced.
Real women are fat. And thin. And both, and neither, and otherwise. Doesn’t make them any less real.
So the ink in my anchor tattoo didn’t take to the skin too great, most of the ink came out in the scab. I’m going to have to redo it once it heals fully, it doesn’t look bad- it’s just faded. I’ll have to take special care of it next time, the tattoo on my hand was very different from this one.
Tank Girl meets Heinrich Kley meets Alphonse Mucha, the three inspirations for the style I am hoping to achieve with my future comic. Don’t want to give away any details but I have an interesting plot forming in my head. I’ve begun (very basic) character designs and a script. I hope I can actually stay focused on this project, I need to set deadlines for myself and practice and read up on the comic world. It’s all pretty new to me.