let's get real here for a second.
When was the last time you looked in the mirror and said confidently to your reflection,
"I AM SO OBSESSED WITH EVERY SINGLE THING ABOUT MYSELF!"
Now that'ssss more llike it.
It is the American way, after all. To be perpetually dissatisfied with the natural, the average,
If we can't handle our vegetables, our beverages, even our genetics, unaltered, then I certainly doubt that we're going to be able to handle our bodies that way.
So, now to the (chunkylicious) meat of the matter:
How many of you have ever used Spanx (or the generic brand alternative) to transform what would have otherwise been a fairly lumpy underbelly into a (relatively) streamlined specimen?
It's so narcissistic and adulterated and uncool of me.
If my style were really semi spacey and spontaneous, I wouldn't have had to take the time to squeeze myself into an underlying spandex sheath and suffer the subsequent suffocation.
((no seriously. I'm actually not breathing here.))
But I did (for the first time, mind you)... and now I may or may not (may) be hooked.
Though I wish I didn't prefer the phoney silhouette to the natural one.
I wish that the absence of the several extra bumps that typically underly my uncomfortably tight pencil skirts didn't placate me so.
But I do. And it does.
And I don't know how to feel about it.
I'd like to think that someday models will range from 5ft to 7,
caucasion to chrome (we'll have robots by then...so...),
but we could just as well progress(??) in the opposite direction, and continue striving for some unattainable level of "perfection" set, not by ourselves, but by a strange inhuman standard to which I myself have already fallen prey.
What happens when the taboo shifts from tiny rolls of fat and too short eyelashes,
skirt: ?forgot (cool one), shirt: Paris (sister's DIY project)(similar), shoes: Zara, spanx slip
What happens plastic becomes a much more appealing alternative?
Scary stuff, y'all.
Cliché, but scary.
Cliché, but scary.