I wish I could gently cup each and every males’ hands in mine,
Look them dead in the eyes and inform them in a sickly sweet voice,
‘I do not wake up at 5:00 am every morning and gel my brows,
Pat on foundation,
Paint solid strokes of eyeliner,
Tap on various colours on my lids and brushes of pink on my cheeks,
Carefully place blinding highlighter
And gloss my lips to the absolute heavens,
For YOU. It is NEVER for you!’
It’s pretty shocking that so many men are so nauseatingly entitled to the point that they think women spend hundreds of dollars, hours and pieces of sanity,
Just to receive a nod of validation from an unshowered moron with a neckbeard. That women are just hysteric messes, clutching their wombs and eyelash curlers, desperate to win over a member of the male species by pure deception because it is indeed a very little known fact that most women don’t naturally have scarlet red lips.
In the wise words of our Lord and Saviour, Cher Horowitz,
“UGH! As if!”
And do not get me started on the supposed holier-than-thou white knights, experts on the righteous way for women, riding in on their high horses and spewing affirming words such as,
‘I prefer natural girls.’ as if their opinion holds any weight, or,
‘You know, you really don’t need makeup to be pretty.’ as if they were consoling a lost child.
Please shut up. Your condescending and stinky breath must pay rent if it wishes to invade my airspace!
What the societies that have come before us and the one we live in now fail to understand is that women too deserve a choice. I should be able to choose if I want to invest hours into this artform. It is also just as valid and fair if I choose not to. It should solely be my decision if I care to spend all my funds on coloured mascara and decadent liquid highlighter or not. I have a choice. No one else gets to decide for me.
I genuinely do not care, not a single string or sliver of bother, whether anyone else thinks I’m pretty or if I’m extra or if I’m just too much.
Because I know I’m drop-dead gorgeous. I know that the hours I spend dolling myself up every morning are because it sparks so much joy for me, it makes me feel ready for the day ahead, it brings me still and silent peace within.
It is solely for me.
I’ve noticed my girlies taking more beautiful risks recently. They’ve seen me bathing in the pristine lake of self-expression, and are now venturing into the daunting territory of coloured eyeliner and rhinestones. Empowered women empower women!
So when the year 9 boy, neither acquainted with the art of wearing deodorant nor familiar with breath mints, tried to drag me about wearing ‘5 pounds of makeup because I hate myself’ in homeroom this morning, the desperate urge to,
Sprinkle on extra shiny highlight on my Angelina Jolie cheekbones,
blush over my smooth and buttoned rocket ship (?) nose
Comb out my heavy, dark and quite literally perfect brows
And cake heavy layers of gloss on my perfect, plump and ripe lips
Only grows so much stronger.
So tomorrow, I’m wearing ten pounds! Along with a rainbow eye look and gems <3.
I’d like to end in the wisest words of our other Divine leader, Ka$h Doll,
‘She’s like “Kash, bitch you doing too much.”
And I’m like “Shut up hoe, hoe you ain’t doing enough.”’
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