you better be a perfect ten or just forget about it. for life.

This weekend I was so not impressed with the peek-a-book we all got to have of Salma Hayek’s titty tattoo. Just, why? What exactly was going through her head when she posted this?

At first I felt angry. Then enraged. Is that what we’re supposed to be doing now as women? Is this type of thing the best we can do? 

I had no choice but to view this Salma Hayek luxury lifestyle exhibit / propaganda because it was in the news feed. Along with some famous lady’s kid’s outfit. Really?? Ugh !!!

I can’t rally the anger now. It didn’t last long. Now I just feel …. sad. We’re not just star struck, we’re star stung.

I’m not saying never wear makeup for the rest of your life, never buy a nice new dress, etc. But the pressure on us has become quite overblown and it’s time to put the bullshit up on blast.

I’m not buying this notion floating around that it’s so brave to parade our bodies half-naked or nude in public and that’s how you earn your respect and admiration. Nothing against nudity generally speaking, I like the hot springs too. I’m just saying this is NOT the bravest thing.

The bravest thing is to not buy into the glamour obsession, the injections, the filters, the industries making millions and billions of dollars off of our insecurity, our disenfrancischment and disempowerment as women. The bravest thing is to recognize that our lives are worth more than fashion, beauty, food and fancy diets, and our bodies. Even though it seems that’s where we’re most safe, accepted, and dare I say valued. But our existence is worth more than just for entertainment.

They’ve put us in our place. Which is in Entertainment. You could say it’s our #1 industry now, more than ever before, and we feel like shit for a reason. Let’s not forget that our bodies are used to sell and make people shitloads of money. That’s all they care about. They don’t care about us and they don’t care about art. They care about money and it’s easy when consumers are brainwashed as fuck.

It’s not that entertainment is bad. There’s a place for entertainment. It’s that we seem to be relegated to this role whether we actually work in entertainment or not. The role of providing (someone) with amusement or enjoyment –’s definition of to entertain. Also to receive someone as a guest and provide them with food or drink. To give attention or consideration to (something). Service with a facelift. Don’t trip.

And it’s no secret that entertainers’ actual abilities and talents matter only as much, if not less, than having and maintaining their fuckability. At any expense. Specifically if you’re a woman. You better be a perfect ten. For life.

Doomed to be overrated for the wrong reasons. And underrated for the exact same reasons.

Who exactly is most entertained, and who suffers?

Somehow all this manipulation gets disguised as progress for women. It looks like it builds us up, just as it keeps us down. Even as we secretly underrate ourselves in a kind of collective perfectionism that spreads like a disease, it’s like we’re supposed to be done. We’re supposed to act like we got what we wanted, so be grateful and shut up. I don’t think so. Somebody’s got to call it out, might as well be me. Because there’s no way I can walk away from Salma Hayek’s titty tattoo without considering its deeper significance. Because we’re all smarter than we pretend.

Recently my lover made a huge deal about how smart Stormy Daniels is. Interesting. I don’t think, in our seven off and on years, he’s ever called me smart even once. Or intelligent or anything of the sort. It’s almost as if he does that on purpose, but I’ve never faulted him for what might be no more than a reflection of his own insecurities. But Stormy Daniels? She’s so smart, in fact, it was as if he needed to go out of his way to express this point to me. Right.

I’m sure she is INCREDIBLY impressive. Considering we have no idea who this woman really is, we have never met her, all we know of her is what’s on television and the internet. And yes, she was smart enough to sell the looks and body to a powerful white man with a big mouth and a bunch of money, smart enough to cash in on everyone’s lowest common denominator in service to everyone’s bottom line including hers, and then open a couple of lawsuits because that just makes you look even more clever. And probably smart enough to invest in enough quality plastic surgery and products to deceive 7 billion people. Everybody knows that if we’re willing to go through that, people will want to work with you. Because you will do whatever it takes.

It’s quite mysterious. Seven years and he still talks to me, so I can’t be that dumb. Yet for some reason this prestigious word “smart” is sooner applied to this totally abstract person. Tv wins. I lose. I’m average, right? I get it, right? Nice girl. It’s not his fault if he’s wrong. And it’s not his fault if he’s fucking brainwashed. This shit is everywhere.

Are you smart enough to sell out? I’m not. Clearly.

Last week I painted my nails with my $6 bottle of polish and it completely changed my reality for three days. Imagine if I bought a pair of fake tits? How much would my reality change? How much more respect and admiration would I earn?

What else could I have done with that 6 bucks and that 20 minutes?

And isn’t it kind of… scary to put something foreign into your body? I’m scared just thinking about it. Yet I understand why people do. Look around us at what we have to live with.

It’s time we remind ourselves and our lovers about the difference between real and fake, first of all by looking at the parts of ourselves that either already are fake or want to be more fake. And recognize that even as we love the men in our lives and don’t want to make them feel bad, the fact is that this is still a man’s world, that we’re still being put in our place, that we’re still totally objectified if not worse than ever before, that gender is manipulated and controlled by industries to the extent it’s an invisible presence in everyone’s head what you’re supposed to be, and that the other sides of beauty including the full range of our creativity has limited scope with only the tiniest iota of defiance inside, of authentic voice drowned out by tv and the internet and Hayek’s tit and we’re broke. It’s time we come to realize that how far we’ve come just isn’t good enough. IT’S NOT fucking GOOD ENOUGH !!!!

Tell me who gets best served, in this hookup culture we live in?

Who is best served in this culture of flashy, sexy, glamorous images of girls and women? And who pays for it? Who pays for it?

It’s desperately, pathetically sad what we go through.

Where are our favorite heroes? Excuse me, heroines. Salma? Hollywood? Marvel comics?

Look at the picture. All Salma achieves in this moment is make us wish we had bigger boobs, a different kind of face, or that we can buy a new tattoo. It might be time to bust out that credit card.

This shit fucking WORKS. And they know it.

I wanted to read the real news, and I’m not sorry but Salma Hayek’s breast just doesn’t make the cut for me. What else is new, other than women will have to be jealous and hate themselves and men will jack off?

It’s so old. Don’t you wish you could look like me? Don’t you wish you could fuck me? Don’t you wish …

Is this the best we can do?

I’m diving right in

with little to no explanation. 

I’ve been out there, pouring my heart out to strangers and feeling like a freak but also just feeling like i’m right. 

I’m not oging to get organizded in this blog, I’m not gooing to be organized, stay organized when I get there, I’m just going to blurt this shit out out. 

As it comes. 

It’s going to be unprofessional, messy, maybe even

ugly.  At times.  Unlike other recent writings, the poetry and the essays and the stories, this is not for editing.  This is not for getting it right. 

This is not for making it look good.