Of course, you’re shopping with your mom on a Friday night when you accidentally make eye contact with a guy you automatically recognize as your ex boyfriend. Only you rationalize this horrific thought away. That guy looks too young to be Bryan; isn’t Bryan in the military?; Bryan would never wear those pants… Just when you’ve convinced yourself it’s not him your mother leans over the tomatoes and whispers “Isn’t that Bryan?”

That is the point at which your instincts fail you, leaving you with two options: Stay still in the produce section or casually keep it moving through the aisles. Secretly, you want to see him, except you pretty much haven’t waxed your mustache in three weeks and you’ve been consistently sobbing over another guy for the same length of time. Confidence is running low, it’s best to avoid him. He does look good though. You decide the aisle browsing option gives you a better chance to spy.

He is with his friend, who used to sort of be your friend also. You decide to focus on the friend as indicator of when he leaves the store, rather than keeping tabs on the ex to know when you’re in the clear to proceed  to checkout. The flashbacks kick up. Man, you guys did a lot of cocaine together, then spent an entire summer groping each other in public until he dumped you that fall. Repress, repress, he’s talking to someone at checkout. Your mom meets up with you while you’re getting nauseated looking at discount salad dressing.

“He’s talking to an older lady.”

“Thanks mom”

You’re actually grateful your mother is there to hide behind. You get brave, peaking back out at the end of the aisle. He is bagging an item. You back slowly down the aisle, turn and run for the extra firm tofu, as you are in fact an extra fake vegan. At this point you’ve been in the supermarket for forty five minutes buying a total of four items. You scope the checkout, find neither him nor his friend, then motion your mother to freedom.

Of course, at the self checkout you find you’ve forgotten your debit card, and have to run over to where your mother’s paying for her groceries to borrow twenty bucks. Then in the car ride home she blames you that she forgot to get cat food. That night, you maniacally wax the shit out of every fucking fiber of facial hair.

that is when you know it’s bad

i watched a documentary about a woman who got labiaplasty and when she told the surgeon “i have dreamed of this” i realized in earnest for the first time that dreams are truly meaningless 

FURTHERMORE

why is labiaplasty a thing? seriously. i have never once in my life ever thought about how my labia looks. and a guy totally called me roast beef labia once. he was illiterate and had face tattoos. i was like cool whatever. i wasn’t like “OMG I MUST CUT THEM OFF?” then again i did spend ten years making myself vomit so i’m not judging anyone for letting the misogyny get to them it just makes me really sad. to me though labiaplasty is like a tanning addiction, i’m like secretly happy there are ways to be fucked up even i wont dabble in.  

I MEAN

if you’re trying to put on your disco ball halter top and pop bottles at the hottest club in minnesota, get some rando with with frosted tips to take you home, and if, like this girl in the documentary you are actually probably the hottest girl at said club in minnesota, then i get why it would be important for you to have said rando be like “i fell in love with you for your pornstar looking labia.” i know i sound judgmental, i’m not, we all experience nihilism in different ways. i actually ran out of thoughts on this like ten sentences ago.

ANYWAY

if looking emaciated was all the rage in the 90s it’s natural progression in america’s seemingly deliberate attempt to parody developing nations that we would move on to genital mutilation. and we use words like “third world” and “primitive” to describe cultures that preform female circumcisions without even looking at where the problem lies in us, all of us, regardless of geography. 

there is a cold dead feeling inside of me that won’t go away

everything is hell right now

i feel like the woman in devil’s rejects running through the street wearing a mask made out of her husband’s face and getting smacked by a truck in her blindness

i feel like the middle of the human centipede 

i feel the terror and torture at its maximum capacity, all the horrifying things a human can be are very real to me. pain that is eternal. i cannot see past it. i cannot see past the pain and it is eternal in that way. 

concentration camps.

medical testing on human animals.

the real reasons i don’t eat meat.

on a wagon bound for market.

http://www.thefreedictionary.com/ugly