Tuck & Cover
Fri, Nov 30, 2007 at 1:02 PM - recovered from my yahoo! mailbox vault.
Tuck & Cover
pave the way for perfection: cover up those wrinkles.
hide those lines and age spots. cover up the gray.
bleach away the stains. remove unwanted body hair.
hide your age. hide your weight. hide your wrinkles.
what does your driver’s license say? hide your years.
hide your insecurities. hide your short comings. what
does your resume say? offer a helping hand, hide your
motivation. what does your track record say? hide
your envy, breathe deep, hide your true intentions.
hide your wits - tilt your head, bat those lashes twice
then smile. flash and twinkle. cover up your character
flaws. she’s doing it too. dont stand out. blend in.
be still. don’t fidget. be the best in a sea of bests.
when everyone’s perfect, nobody’s special. take a look
closer. see the translucent façade. see through the
feeble layer of concealer, a mere attempt to disguise
the truth: wrinkles and gray, tummy tucks and bleached
teeth and botox, age and weight in all it's hidden
glory. truth dressed up in her sunday finest; toting
illusion, trimmed with a secret, white lies hanging
from every shoulder. no one is extraordinary when
everyone's perfect. buy into perfection, purchase it
at your local drug store. rejoice in the norm,
celebrate average glory. sneak a sideways glance at
her perfection. she's doing it too. bite your tongue.
hide your tears.
Composed by my 24 year old alcoholic self upon moving Los Angeles.
A critique on LA culture, vanity, superficiality, performative beauty, expectations of femininity. Whatever I judge, I become. I was still drinking when I moved to LA in September of 2007. I deeply love my fearless, drunk, wholehearted, deeply flawed, broken, desperate 24 year old self. She was so brave. I got sober in early December of 2007. You don’t have to drink or do drugs to change how you feel. You can take up an eating disorder as I did. Being surrounded by the rich and famous, thin and beautiful, effortlessly cool and composed, it didn’t take long before I was restricting my food and over exercising like a motherfucker. Marathon training. Weighing and measuring my body and portions. Food scales and teaspoons. Counting calories in, calories out. Mirror checking/mirror avoiding. Disordered behavior packaged as a ‘life style change’ courtesy of a conglomerate I’ll call Weight Botchers. According to their bylaws, when you exercise you earn “Activity Points” aka a free pass to eat more - points earned, points eaten. Training for a marathon I regularly ran nine, twelve, twenty miles, and earned myself a Weight Botchers sanctioned binge. I did this for years. Whatever I judge, I end up doing.