Don't mind me, I'm just randomly testy because I got food poisoning from ancient chicken chow-mein...
"So... OH MY GOD, did you hear? OH GOD, it is just too much for words. Like, totally. Natalie Portman? Oh my god, I know, I love her... Natalie Portman shaved off her hair. Yeah. I know. Yeah. For a movie role. I know. Totally. She is so brave. SO BRAVE. I know! Like Kiera Knightly, oh my god. Oh, I know! I mean... their hair!"
"Oh my god, I know, I could never do that. I know! But she looks so cute. She doesn't even look like, you know, like a lesbian. I saw her on the cover of 'Vogue' and it's, like, totally growing out already. No. Totally. No, I totally understand. She is so brave. I mean, like, when people have like, cancer, you know, their hair totally falls out. And it's so totally sad. I know! I would cry so hard. I know! And your hair is so cute. God. Natalie Portman shaved her head."
Ohhhh, shut the fuck up! Welcome to America, land of the future, frontier of the world, pushing the envelope. Welcome to California, home state of freaks, land of Hollywood, where you can see anyone dressed like anything...
Oh, no, wait. That's a big fat fucking lie. Here's the real America: everyone looks exactly the fucking same. At least in magazines, on television, in movies, and in the corporate world. There is no room for wildness, here. Natalie Portman shaves her head for a movie role, and everyone shits fucking bricks. Like it's such a big deal. Like her world could have come crashing down and it was such a huge gamble for her to do this. Look at her. She is beautiful without hair. Stop freaking out.
Style is a big fat lie, people. Where do we learn style? Who tells us what is stylish? E!? Cosmopolitan? Rich people?
Here's a fun fact for you: They make this crap up. Designers and make-up companies do whatever the fuck they feel like, and Americans eat it up with a spoon because magazine articles tell us it's great, new, and will finally make us beautiful enough for Mr. Right to come along, sweep us off our feet, and take us to a little house with a doggy and a minivan.
Ain't gonna happen. And you know what else? It probably shouldn't. Life is probably a lot more interesting and enriching without Mr. Right's help. There is no mascara that will improve your love life. There is no secret special sex move that will turn your crass, unkind boyfriend into a charming person. There is no five second tummy toning exercise that will improve your self-esteem while you sleep.
Following formulas will get you places only in math and science. Life is not a science - it is an art form. If you cannot look in the mirror and love yourself, without make-up, without clothing, without a romantic interest on your arm, you'd better go back into that bathroom and take another long look. You, naked, without any money and without anyone else... That is what you have to work with. That is who you are. The goal is not to fuck it up until you don't look like yourself anymore. The goal is to remain precisely as you are, and learn to love it.
Stop believing this crap. Stop the South Beach diet, stop the self-tanning, stop the endless highlights and bi-weekly split-ends trims. Stop doing anything that you're doing simply because someone told you it would make you more beautiful, and start doing what your heart tells you sounds like fun. Your outside will always change, get wrinkled, get grey, fall apart. Your insides are what's lasting, so you'd better make sure they're in good order.
If you want pink hair, have pink hair. If you want blue eyes, go get contacts. And if you want to shave your head, go ahead - it's only hair, it grows, beleive me. But be sure you're doing it because it sounds like a kick in the pants, and not because Natalie Portman made it okay or Jennifer Aniston also has that haircut and she was married to Brad Pitt. Or whatever.
Be yourself. Be healthy in your eating and exercise, be clean in your personal hygeine, be flattered by the things you wear, and just let it be. There is no yardstick for beauty. You cannot measure it. You can only feel it.
(This venting session has been brought to you by a friend's sister's latest issue of 'Cosmopolitan', which told me - in the same paragraph - that the best way to look sexy was to feel sexy, and also that I should apply more self-tanner to my sides to give the illusion of a thinner waist.
Make up your minds, America. Either love us for who we are, or admit that you're entirely superficial.)
"So... OH MY GOD, did you hear? OH GOD, it is just too much for words. Like, totally. Natalie Portman? Oh my god, I know, I love her... Natalie Portman shaved off her hair. Yeah. I know. Yeah. For a movie role. I know. Totally. She is so brave. SO BRAVE. I know! Like Kiera Knightly, oh my god. Oh, I know! I mean... their hair!"
"Oh my god, I know, I could never do that. I know! But she looks so cute. She doesn't even look like, you know, like a lesbian. I saw her on the cover of 'Vogue' and it's, like, totally growing out already. No. Totally. No, I totally understand. She is so brave. I mean, like, when people have like, cancer, you know, their hair totally falls out. And it's so totally sad. I know! I would cry so hard. I know! And your hair is so cute. God. Natalie Portman shaved her head."
Ohhhh, shut the fuck up! Welcome to America, land of the future, frontier of the world, pushing the envelope. Welcome to California, home state of freaks, land of Hollywood, where you can see anyone dressed like anything...
Oh, no, wait. That's a big fat fucking lie. Here's the real America: everyone looks exactly the fucking same. At least in magazines, on television, in movies, and in the corporate world. There is no room for wildness, here. Natalie Portman shaves her head for a movie role, and everyone shits fucking bricks. Like it's such a big deal. Like her world could have come crashing down and it was such a huge gamble for her to do this. Look at her. She is beautiful without hair. Stop freaking out.
Style is a big fat lie, people. Where do we learn style? Who tells us what is stylish? E!? Cosmopolitan? Rich people?
Here's a fun fact for you: They make this crap up. Designers and make-up companies do whatever the fuck they feel like, and Americans eat it up with a spoon because magazine articles tell us it's great, new, and will finally make us beautiful enough for Mr. Right to come along, sweep us off our feet, and take us to a little house with a doggy and a minivan.
Ain't gonna happen. And you know what else? It probably shouldn't. Life is probably a lot more interesting and enriching without Mr. Right's help. There is no mascara that will improve your love life. There is no secret special sex move that will turn your crass, unkind boyfriend into a charming person. There is no five second tummy toning exercise that will improve your self-esteem while you sleep.
Following formulas will get you places only in math and science. Life is not a science - it is an art form. If you cannot look in the mirror and love yourself, without make-up, without clothing, without a romantic interest on your arm, you'd better go back into that bathroom and take another long look. You, naked, without any money and without anyone else... That is what you have to work with. That is who you are. The goal is not to fuck it up until you don't look like yourself anymore. The goal is to remain precisely as you are, and learn to love it.
Stop believing this crap. Stop the South Beach diet, stop the self-tanning, stop the endless highlights and bi-weekly split-ends trims. Stop doing anything that you're doing simply because someone told you it would make you more beautiful, and start doing what your heart tells you sounds like fun. Your outside will always change, get wrinkled, get grey, fall apart. Your insides are what's lasting, so you'd better make sure they're in good order.
If you want pink hair, have pink hair. If you want blue eyes, go get contacts. And if you want to shave your head, go ahead - it's only hair, it grows, beleive me. But be sure you're doing it because it sounds like a kick in the pants, and not because Natalie Portman made it okay or Jennifer Aniston also has that haircut and she was married to Brad Pitt. Or whatever.
Be yourself. Be healthy in your eating and exercise, be clean in your personal hygeine, be flattered by the things you wear, and just let it be. There is no yardstick for beauty. You cannot measure it. You can only feel it.
(This venting session has been brought to you by a friend's sister's latest issue of 'Cosmopolitan', which told me - in the same paragraph - that the best way to look sexy was to feel sexy, and also that I should apply more self-tanner to my sides to give the illusion of a thinner waist.
Make up your minds, America. Either love us for who we are, or admit that you're entirely superficial.)
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
gofuserectus:
gosh i just randomly ran acros your profile pic. youre very pretty!! nice to meet you!
gofuserectus:
thank you sweety! that was very kind of you!! it's good to have friends!