the fact that millie bobby brown is publicly talking about getting groomed basically and nobody around her is raising a finger is horrifying lol

Houses in Innsbruck, Austria. From Creative Photography – A Complete Guide for the Enthusiast, 1987
We’re getting pretty close to having adults who weren’t alive during 9/11, and we really need to admit at this point that the overemphasis on 9/11 in the US is just a propaganda machine to indoctrinate the younger generations into nationalism and to justify all the horrible war crimes the US committed in the Middle East, and the continued mistreatment and distrust towards refugees.
i’ve been thinking of that video, you know, the one where she burns her face for the sake of a contour. i watched it at 2 AM after having nightmares about churches. i thought i was still dreaming. she put chemicals on her body and fries in them. undoes in them. what a perfect metaphor for beauty worship.
is this girlhood?
oh we wanted to laugh. dumb bitch! in the comments. but i went back to sleep and i dreamed, not nightmare but not comfortable, of the cakes i will not let myself eat because of the cost of their calories. i started crying, woke up drenched in sweat, worried i’d somehow transported to the kitchen, worried i’d fucked up and actually done it. god, how terrifying. i remember the wave of gratefulness – no, no, this belly is empty, and it is good to be empty, like this.
how is it different. i’m not a dumb bitch; i’m a refined and self-controlled bitch, up on her shit. it is not dumb-bitch to starve yourself. to restrict. it is a respectable lady thing.
i think of her skin, swollen in the first week, while i go to work in heels and a jacket. my male coworker wears jeans. i think of her, waving at her face, while my hair goes up into professional-bun, stays there long after the headache. i think of her, watery-eyed and turning, bird-like, to look upon the damage she’d done – and i think of me, of my sunday-night facemask that “burns, but like, it works.”
razors and waxing and eyebrow tweezers and picking at skin and sucking in and sitting properly and suffocating and curling smaller and self-denying and eyelash extensions and taping the second toe to the third so you can’t feel your shoes anymore and destroying, destroying, destroying
2 AM heard the first words i said that morning, softly.
“that’s self-harm”.
or it’s just girlhood. or it’s just beauty.














