I cannot believe I am seeing this tweet right now. I am in shock that someone would purposefully go on twitter to attack the way someone else looks. Just because you claim to have body image issues or an eating disorder doesn’t give you a free pass to being ignorant and rude, and to be quite honest, that guy eating that sandwich probably doesn’t care that his lunch “triggers” you. How would you feel if this tweet was made about you? I know how I would feel, because I feel it all the time. So many people walk around terrified of catching a glimpse of themselves in a mirror because of how they hate their reflection. People kill themselves over the way they look, and anyone who truly understands what it’s like to feel that way knows that shaming someone else for the way they look, or what they choose to eat, is the most triggering of all. People like this are the people who add to the problem. You are ignorant. You are rude, and you are a phoney. How dare you make others feel badly about the way they look. How dare you purposefully put hate into the world and expect to receive respect in return. I wish I knew this person so I could personally award them for being the biggest asshole I ever accidentally stumbled upon over twitter. Congratulations, you’re officially the douchebag of the year.
No… I’m cry like a baby… I’ll cry more when I watch the last scene of Sandra Oh
As she turns, her stomach drops. She can read it all on his face and in the trembling of his hands. No words come as her mind races through one terrible scenario to another.
"Dr. Rizzoli-Isles?" His voice is hopeful, but it’s the hope that he’s talking to the wrong person, that Dr. M. Rizzoli-Isles is a hulk of a man with a hooked nose and bad disposition.
She still cannot speak, at least not with her mouth, but he can read everything in her eyes. Devastatingly beautiful, beautifully devastated, his mind skips and mixes the words and his mouth goes dry. He cannot tell her.
They both jump as the door is shoved open and crashes into the wall behind. He turns to see an older woman escorted by two men, although escorted is being generous. They are practically carrying her. All three of their faces are streaming tears, and the woman’s fingers are pressed tightly against her mouth, and he can feel the weight of Dr. Isles’ gaze lift from him and settle on the other woman who is shaking her head and trying to filter the strangling sobs between her fingers.
The doctor’s eyes jump back at him for just a second before the silence is rent by a choking voice.
"Maura. Oh god, Maura…She’s gone."