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Thank fucking god. Thank fucking god I will never look old or tired again. Thank fucking god I don’t have to be ugly anymore. We are so back. We are so free.
I look so beautiful, I look just like my mother.
I squint at her face under the light and measure the depths of her crows feet, I’ll probably get a unit there maybe some on my neck. I need to watch her forehead and see if I should get some there too.
She doesn’t wear her years but they keep coming regardless. I long to pin back her jowls and make her in my image, I long to shatter this moment of her like a hammer and freeze the shattered pieces of her into a mosaic of endless youth.
when she looks at me she’ll see not herself but a black mirror yearning for recognition. a blank slate without reference. an image without bottom.
I’m beautiful in-context, I am an individual alone on an island, my waves are my own and do not reach other shores. We are lonely reflective images and everyone has a mask to wear so I’ll make mine couture. I grind down my lumpen geode skin until its surface is smooth to the touch.
Call me gorgeous call me productive call me singularity, femmebot divine, Ariana sings God Is A Woman as my glass skin breaks through glass ceiling. I am empowered to build a cage with the finest silver, I a liberated product to be bought and sold, examined and defiled by a violent lens.
I flatten myself down to a mirror of the culture because money is beauty is power and when all meaningful power has been taken from me at least my face card never declines.
oh this is SO good!!!!! one time for a class I combed through a discussion board of people analyzing ads that targeted ageing and the first part of this reads like an amalgamation of all of them. as always I ADORE your writing and I love the part on mothers & daughters
brilliant!