thoughts on plastic surgery & two OOtDs
i haven't posted or been on lj in a very long while due to being a total suckah and agreeing to work four jobs. my nephew was born--check my flickr for tons of pics! finally, in the rare moments i'm not working i've been watching too many plastic surgery shows (because i think i want to do my MA in cultural studies related to fat/"imperfect" bodies" since i clearly lack the discipline or inspiration or uterus to move forth with my creative writing. i feel bad that i wasted cat's time doing a creative writing special studies, and that the novella i so painstakingly plotted for an entire year might never be finished. i also worry that 60 years from now i am going to be one of those old people who desperately cleaves to the few accomplishments of her youth--in my case three tiny publications--and i'll be in the home pulling out copies of juice over my dinner of mashed carrots and grey meat, thrusting them in the faces of the other residents who will either look at me blankly or with intense pity.)
Plastic surgery shows have intense affects on me. A month ago I caught myself thinking "hmm your eyelids bulge oddly. it's almost like muffin top of the eye. perhaps you should consider a lid lift" while i put on eyeliner and was horrified at myself that i haven't worn anything for two weeks. Also i keep thinking that the proliferation of these shows on TLC and Slice suggests that plastic surgeons are society's new artists/rockstars. i'm really disturbed by how elated people who get liposuction and gastric bypasses (for cosmetic, as opposed to health reasons) are to be thin. like they are really really really ecstatic, as if they've won the lottery, as if before this moment they had never had the capacity to feel happy or anything about anything.
it really depresses me to think that all these people saw themsleves as compltely worthless before surgery and really feel like they aren't "living life" until their unfit body--an apparent sign of moral and patriotic and emotional decrepitude-- has been appropriately discplined and punished by an industry that sells us self-hate and cleary succeeds. People doggedly pursue physical perfection like they would a love interest, someone they felt could be the love of their life. i just find it disgusting and sad and disturbingly familiar.
when i was in tenth grade (almost ten years ago, OMG!)i write this sci fi story about a girl who was shunnned by her peers because her parents were hippy naturalists and refused to let her use beautification procedures (in this story, plastic surgery was a daily thing, like brushing your teeth). she starts to murder her classmates--in particular the ones who date a certain guy she likes-- in grotesque and ironic ways. at the time my teacher thought it was "hyberbolic and overdone" and now it all seems very plausible that not having the means to be perfect, could drive a person to harm others. i know i'm rambling and a lot of this is probably pretty common and obvious and pedestrian but i really feel like the more we change to suit this grotesque world--injecting pillows in the bottom of our feet to wear heels--the more we allow the world to become grotesque and hateful place, a place that doesn't acknowledge the variety of bodies that walk the street, the more self-mutilation and deprication becomes societally sanctioned and worse than that, expected. a world where if you don't completely hate yourself, you're just "in denial" or "lying to yourself" or an outsider or a bad person.
shirt & pin detail
these were taken moments before i ate the best crispy salty gluten in the word, at Affinity.
white pointelle henley with silver thread: torrid.com
slate tank: torrid
yellow skirt: ebay
slate tights: the bay
white flats; superstore
zebra scarf: remix
leopard pin: is on permanent loan from mom
blue purse: remix
yellow bingo chip earrings: le chateau
i gave up on ever thrifting a leather jacket--i feel better, ethically, about used leather-- i liked in my size... and bought one new. (on ridiculous sale, though) i love the way it looks, but feel guilty about the extravangance and dead cowness of it all. i keep thinking of the ben folds song "ascent of stan": "once you wanted revolution... now you're the insitution..."
green scarf: remix
yellow puffed sleeve tee: ricki's
purple/white/black geometric skirt: ricki's
belt: torrid.com
boots: remixed a zillion times.
blue purse: remix
snap front leather jacket: the leather ranch (aka worst named store ever in life).
Plastic surgery shows have intense affects on me. A month ago I caught myself thinking "hmm your eyelids bulge oddly. it's almost like muffin top of the eye. perhaps you should consider a lid lift" while i put on eyeliner and was horrified at myself that i haven't worn anything for two weeks. Also i keep thinking that the proliferation of these shows on TLC and Slice suggests that plastic surgeons are society's new artists/rockstars. i'm really disturbed by how elated people who get liposuction and gastric bypasses (for cosmetic, as opposed to health reasons) are to be thin. like they are really really really ecstatic, as if they've won the lottery, as if before this moment they had never had the capacity to feel happy or anything about anything.
it really depresses me to think that all these people saw themsleves as compltely worthless before surgery and really feel like they aren't "living life" until their unfit body--an apparent sign of moral and patriotic and emotional decrepitude-- has been appropriately discplined and punished by an industry that sells us self-hate and cleary succeeds. People doggedly pursue physical perfection like they would a love interest, someone they felt could be the love of their life. i just find it disgusting and sad and disturbingly familiar.
when i was in tenth grade (almost ten years ago, OMG!)i write this sci fi story about a girl who was shunnned by her peers because her parents were hippy naturalists and refused to let her use beautification procedures (in this story, plastic surgery was a daily thing, like brushing your teeth). she starts to murder her classmates--in particular the ones who date a certain guy she likes-- in grotesque and ironic ways. at the time my teacher thought it was "hyberbolic and overdone" and now it all seems very plausible that not having the means to be perfect, could drive a person to harm others. i know i'm rambling and a lot of this is probably pretty common and obvious and pedestrian but i really feel like the more we change to suit this grotesque world--injecting pillows in the bottom of our feet to wear heels--the more we allow the world to become grotesque and hateful place, a place that doesn't acknowledge the variety of bodies that walk the street, the more self-mutilation and deprication becomes societally sanctioned and worse than that, expected. a world where if you don't completely hate yourself, you're just "in denial" or "lying to yourself" or an outsider or a bad person.
shirt & pin detail
these were taken moments before i ate the best crispy salty gluten in the word, at Affinity.
white pointelle henley with silver thread: torrid.com
slate tank: torrid
yellow skirt: ebay
slate tights: the bay
white flats; superstore
zebra scarf: remix
leopard pin: is on permanent loan from mom
blue purse: remix
yellow bingo chip earrings: le chateau
i gave up on ever thrifting a leather jacket--i feel better, ethically, about used leather-- i liked in my size... and bought one new. (on ridiculous sale, though) i love the way it looks, but feel guilty about the extravangance and dead cowness of it all. i keep thinking of the ben folds song "ascent of stan": "once you wanted revolution... now you're the insitution..."
green scarf: remix
yellow puffed sleeve tee: ricki's
purple/white/black geometric skirt: ricki's
belt: torrid.com
boots: remixed a zillion times.
blue purse: remix
snap front leather jacket: the leather ranch (aka worst named store ever in life).