February 5th, 2023
Of the many things I resent about our modern-day capitalist helltrap, one is that we’re always being courted into new wants based on our perceived deficits. Stuck in a constant loop of ‘never enoughness’. Our cores hollowed out by scarcity. Filling it externally. The algorithms feeding into our sense of lack and churning out distorted realities that we eat up and take as truth. It's tiring.
‘Fitspiration’ videos of 90 pound women with spray tans and concave stomachs who haven’t let out a fart in years, let alone carried or birthed a baby. My organs were literally rearranged for that shit. But sure, show me how to get fit and repair my body from the inside out. I’m all ears. Or the reels of young families with immaculate homes showcasing their minimalist design and pristine white couches with $500 throw pillows. You know damn well there’s no way young kids live there, but it’s annoying all the same. White furniture is just a poor life choice though, really. Or the cosmetic contouring techniques trending on TikTok. After all, your nose is a little crooked hun, and those cheekbones could use a lift. ‘Sure, I’ll take 3 hours to do my makeup, I’ve got time’, said no mom ever.
Add in 24-year-old influencers who’ve never worked a day in their lives showing you how they’re living it up on the beaches of Bali on some mundane Wednesday afternoon: “HEY BITCHEZ, JUS’ SAYING HI FROM MY OFFICE. CHECK THE VIEW.”
Meanwhile, I’m just over here wiping a four-year-old’s butt and having mild panic attacks over the price of butter and eggs.
But wait, check the inbox, there must be something there I actually need. Nope. Go to a spa for a facial and they feel the need to harass you about how ugly you are in your primitive state until the end of time:
Melissa, because we value you and want 2023 to be YOUR year, here’s a special offer: A one-time deal! Freeze your tummy! Freeze time! Some women age, others do Botox. What about those lips girl? Fill those voids with some fillers. This is a ‘no hair’ year! We’ve got the LaserMax T5000. Want a perfect landing strip? Half off the first labia!
I’m all about self-empowerment, and I have my own beauty routines. I’m not above a good natural filter. I’m not disparaging doing things that make you feel good if you want to do them. I just resent being told constantly that I’m not enough. Sure, I’d like to level up. Who doesn’t? But I also don’t want to be caught in the net of inadequacy all the time. My own brain does that enough, incessantly chiming in with conversations about who I’ll never be. Shut the fuck up in there, shadow people. I don’t want to hear it.
If you do something to your face, it never stops, right? Like the regrettable overplucked eyebrows of the early 2000s. I’m still slightly traumatized. You can’t leave it alone because if you did, you’d start hating the face staring back at you. A vicious cycle. I give myself ‘makeup breaks’ for this purpose. Just to remind myself I’m not a troll without all the smoke and mirrors. At the same time, I’ve got visions of what I’ll look like when I’m 80 if I allow myself to age naturally, and it ain’t pretty.
The reality is that we get old, and we die, and then we get transformed into a sunbeam or a fuzzy little caterpillar and it all starts again. But before that, our bodies get absolutely destroyed, and everything starts to sag and degrade. And nobody tells you this, but one day you’ll wake up and there’ll be new lines and deeper hollows under the eyes, and you’ll swear you just saw a hair sprouting on your toe. Then you check the mirror to see that the hourglass shape which earned you plenty of admirers throughout your younger years is looking more like a lumpy potato sack, and you’re fully convinced now that you’re fucking unlovable. Frumpy mom, here you come. Why so glum?
Deep breaths. Just make sure you wear your sunscreen and take your vitamins. Do some yoga. Get fresh air. Gentle reminders that I have a little girl watching me – how I take care of myself, how I talk to myself. Even if I feel like hot steaming garbage, I won’t say it. I don’t want her to know.
I see her standing in front of the mirror evaluating herself, wishing already to tweak what was never broken. To her I simply say:
“You’re beautiful and your body is strong.”
And then I recall the words my own mother used to say to me when I’d lament about the constellations of freckles and birth marks I had:
“Those freckles and birth marks you have are actually beauty marks.” Yeah, ok mom.
You can’t bullshit a bullshitter. Cut to 18-year-old-me buying some random and potentially toxic formula on eBay to straight up demolish them. Spoiler alert: it didn’t work. Still as freckly and ‘beauty marked’ as ever over here. Coming to terms with that in these later years.
I just know its unescapable to be roped into a cycle of lack, and sometimes I wish that the world wasn’t so slimy, especially when raising kids in it. As for me, well, I can’t keep up. I don’t even know what’s ‘in’ anymore. I wear berets for Christ sake. At the end of the day, I just want to do what feels good for me. And though I love to look fly and fashionable (or whatever my version of it is), I’m just not sure I want to play the game anymore.
Time to click ‘unsubscribe’ I guess.
Not you. You stay here. I meant me and those pesky emails…
Keep fighting the good fight ❤️