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Bio 🐫🔮💪🏽💅🏽👑🍑 Writer. Meathead. Yogi. Feminist. Activist. Witch. Lightworker. Camel toe enthusiast. Muscles, Magic, & Messy Conversations👇🏾
Neghar Fonooni (@negharfonooni) Instagram photos and videos
List of Instagram medias taken by Neghar Fonooni (@negharfonooni)
We live in a Starbucks world—a place where mediocrity is rewarded and we’re not encouraged to be more discerning with our tastes, with how we spend our time and money. But that’s not the life for you, baby girl. You’re not a venti-sugar-free-vanilla-soy-latte. You’re better than that—you’re thicker than your average, a high achiever, a magic maker, a dime. Be protective of your time and energy; don’t waste it on that which doesn’t set your heart ablaze. Live with passion. Say no to anything that suffocates your soul. • 📷: @violetartistry • #magicmakers #everydaymagic #thickerthanyouraverage #justsaynototostarbucks
Nothing is ever as impossible as we think it is. The world is a weird and wonderful place where painful things can happen to us or they can happen *for* us - where we make a myriad mistakes just to get it right this. one. time. Sure, hearts break - but that’s just one of the things hearts do. • It stands to reason that if they break they can be healed. Rebuilt. Made whole again in some new and unexpected way. Stronger. Stranger. Fuller. More capable of receiving. Of giving. A truer representation of the host in which they’re housed, kept safe from the idea that love has to be hard and unyielding - that love has to break you. Love doesn’t have to make you bleed. Stories don’t have to include villains. • We can shape everything to our desired specifications, build a life that brings us joy when we wake up to it each day. Our happiness comes from seeing what’s possible and manifesting it into reality, despite the forces that work tirelessly to convince us otherwise. We’re never as stuck as we think we are; we have an infinite capacity for bliss.
🐷📓✏️☕️❤️ “Mornings with three boys I love” Eyes open Sun is rising Smile Smile bigger Brighter At each other At the day At this life Life is so, so good Remember when I wasn’t a morning person? Pull on sweat pants Socks, too The house is always cold Walk to the kitchen Brew coffee Aero press Not too hot Cup one, cup two, cup three Your turn to pick a record Draw knives Write poems Feed the pigdog Thank you for not peeing on the rug Make breakfast, pack lunches Did you brush your teeth? Did you do your homework? Do you know how much I love you? Let’s do it all again tomorrow Let’s do it for as long as we can • 📷: @christopherpinedo • • • #family #mornings #everydaymagic #momthings
There’s always some kind of standard I’m not living up to - a box I’m not checking off, a norm I’m inadvertently rebelling against, a construct I’m disrupting. I’m thick, tatted, and opinionated. Typical descriptions of “ladylike” are inapplicable here; family structure is unconventional; cellulite and stretch marks are not feared; arbitrary rules and regulations are not blindly followed simply because they’re upheld by some equally arbitrary authority. • And because I know that I will never check off all the boxes, because I know that I won’t ever fit into their beige and boring expectations of what it means to be a woman* in today’s world, I choose instead to go my own damn way - to reject the pressure to conform, to write my own stories and make my own rules. To sometimes break my rules. To change the beat with which I march according to the ever expanding nature of my being. • The overculture lacks appeal. • This life I choose isn’t about going against the grain - it’s about recognizing that the “grain” is narrow, limiting, and frankly, uninteresting. It’s about acknowledging that humans are multidimensional, that life pushes outward in all directions, that art only exists because artists choose to explore a path that was otherwise obstructed by societal standards. • At some point, you get so far away from the standard that the pressure to conform to it no longer exists. It loses its allure, the deeper you connect to the truer aspects of your being. You witness its deception, recoil from its ridiculousness, see clearly the thinly veiled attempts to keep you vanilla when you know damn well there are other flavors in your bones. • 📷: @christopherpinedo • • • #feministasfuck #intersectional #nonconformist #selfexpression #thickness
“Damn, your hair grows so fast,” he said. Close to 2 inches of silver this time. It’s been 7 weeks since my last visit. • Orlando has been my colorist for the past few years. I first came to see him when I was dying my hair shades of purple, blue, and green; these days he does my base color every 6-8 weeks - the gray that appeared when I was 19 covers nearly half of my head now. • I’m 35. I feel the years. I revel in the process of aging as I travel closer and closer to the truest, highest expression of myself. • Maiden. Mother. Crone. Lately I feel all three of these archetypes at once and in turns. As I age into deeper womanhood and grow in my feminism, I find myself asking if it’s “okay” to make my grays invisible - if wanting to eliminate wrinkles is a byproduct of the Patriarchal society in which I’ve been raised. These questions expand me; I’m committed to being honest with myself. • At my core I’m certain that any aesthetic choices I make are based on my own preferences. I’m not trying to conform to a standard - I no longer hustle for my worthiness or do things I’m told I’m “supposed to.” I don’t “need” to dye my hair, but I *want* to. • On either side of autonomy there are voices. One demands that I conform - it insists that aging is unappealing and offers up a narrow sliver of what’s acceptable. It asks me to mold myself, by any means necessary, to fit awkwardly into that sliver. • The other impugns any aesthetic change whatsoever. It tells me that the decision to dye my hair and paint my face is not my own. It criticizes my commitment to feminism. • Both voices are loud. Neither offer an ounce of nuance. Neither voices are my own. • Orlando finishes blow drying my hair and I smile at him gratefully in the full length mirror that faces us both. My locks are now a beautifully rich imitation of my natural almost-black-darkest-brown. I remove the nylon cape, exit the styling chair and enter a firm hug with Orlando. “I’ll see you in 7 or 8 weeks,” I say. • I’ll keep choosing to come back until *I* choose otherwise. I’m not interested in showing up according to someone else’s rules - I’m committed to making autonomous, empowered choices for my body.
Part of being confident in your skin is acknowledging that you absolutely cannot control what anyone else thinks of you, so there’s really no reason to show up as anything other than your authentic self. The other part is not giving a fuck what anyone thinks of you because you yourself think you’re dope as hell and worthy of love, connection, success, and belonging. Rather than waste your limited time on this earth worrying about whether or not other people like you, choose to focus on actually liking yourself - deeming yourself worthy of all the magic in the world - because that’s where true confidence is born. • 📷: @violetartistry • • • • • #magicmakers #musclesandmindfulness #confidence #worthiness #selflove #authenticity