This isn’t some thing to celebrate women. This isn’t a thing that tells them that they should love themselves, flaws and all. Because they won’t. They won’t listen to you. The only voice they’ll listen to is the one that does not exist.
The voice that comes in the form of visual stimulus of false promises. The voice that sends them intricately engineered mixed messages so they never love themselves, not more than a few hours at least. The voice that manipulates them so skillfully that they’re kept in a whirlwind of insecurity.
So guess what, women? You suck. You suck for making yourself some doctor’s arts and crafts project where he can stitch and sow, crop and edit, cut and paste as much as he likes. You suck for letting men in suits at some big corporation tell you how you should look, what colors you should wear. You suck for letting homosexuals that walk at the end of a runway show put their threads on your back.
But most of all, you suck for drinking Millions of Milkshakes. For all those donuts and all those burgers you didn’t need to eat. For all those so-called cravings you didn’t have but convinced yourself you did. You suck for being the perfect victim of addiction.
Oh by the way, you’re beautiful. For no one can objectify you without your consent.