Perhaps the reason Kate Moss is my hero is because she's usually naked, or close to it. Perhaps it's because she usually has a sexy, dirty, boyfriend on her arm (Johnny Depp, Pete Doherty, Jamie Hince...). Maybe it's because she doesn't give a fuck. Maybe it's because she is usually photographed leaving the bars completely wasted. Or, perhaps it's because her figure is completely attainable (unlike the stick-thin, titty implanted, 'I work out 3 hours a day' Victoria secret models). Despite her flaws, she is still more beautiful than any other model out there today. Whatever the reason, I would argue anyone who says that Kate Moss is not feminine perfection, and I would win.
Ugh. I don't want to go back to work tomorrow, but alas, there is money to be made and student loans to pay, and a future apartment with my name on it. Last week was wretched. The district manager was there on Thursday, and wanted to take my photo for the MIT bio. Now, I was very curious as to why she needed my picture for this 'bio' and curious to know who was going to see it (it's not as though we have a news letter at work). I was told that it was going to the corporate offices, and in the case that I wanted to transfer store locations, someone could look me up along with my photo and "get to know who I was," aka... see if I'm attractive/cute enough to work in like, the Soho location. So fucked up. Not only was I informed in advance to wear minimal makeup and leave my hair un-styled, but when I showed up to work in one of the designated plaid shirts that we are required to wear currently, it was apparently not good enough. I was made to change THREE different times before she took my picture (as if what I am wearing really fucking matters as long as it's part of the dress code). I was so fucking offended when I was asked to change into a 'blue plaid' shirt by the district manager, only to be given the once over and told that it 'overwhelmed my tiny frame.' I was then told to change into an ugly, white, lacy shirt suited for a 12 year old and a blue cardigan. The DM fidgeted with my sleeves for 5 min. straight, trying to get them perfect (whatever perfect is... I didn't know there was a 'right' way and 'wrong' way to aesthetically roll one's sleeves). I think the most offensive part of this evening was when she told me to, "straighten out my hair with my fingers, so it looks more natural." Are you kidding?! I didn't even take a curling iron to my hair, why do those natural waves need straightened? What would happen if my hair was naturally curly all over? Or I had an afro? Oh yeah, that's right... I wouldn't be hired. Because even the models falling into our 'diversity sector,' don't have afros, skin as dark as Alec Wek's, overtly Asian/African features (that is to say, no wide noses, or extremely slanted eyes). Shit is just fucked up. It's really hard to work here morally speaking, and I am actively searching for a better job right now. I will never work retail EVER again after this job. Not only was I made to feel unattractive before my photo was even snapped, but I was put in the WORST fucking lighting in the world (overhead flourescent), and shot on a fucking iphone camera, from the WORST angle in the world (I saw the photo, my hand looked like a mega-sized claw and my head looked tiny, like a pin). Whatever, I have no intention of transferring so I suppose it doesn't matter how ugly those fat fucks working in the offices think I am. hahahahahaha. Sigh. I remember being in middle school and hating my hair because it wasn't silky-textured, pin-straight and blonde like all of the popular girls. And I really hate the fact that my DM wanted me to physically straighten out my natural volume for the photo. Fuck that shit. My hair is awesome and I won't be made to ever again feel that it's not adequate:
You like that crotch shot? Yeah... me too. lol. hahahaha. My hair is luscious, full of volume, and naturally a color most people would kill for. Jealous? jk.
Speaking of never being made to feel inferior, I have been feeling a bit inferior lately... wishing that I had gone to school for medicine or something a bit more lucrative than the arts. Whatever, I now have two books underway, and if either of them gets published, I will feel like the most accomplished bitch on two legs. And it will happen. Someday, hopefully sooner than later.
I deleted one of my very best, angriest posts, titled "Is it the 25th yet?" after learning that my blog had been viewed by like 30 people in one day after they had google-searched under the key words of the CEO's name, and my blog was one of the top searches....yipes. I should probs be more careful. I did some research about previous lawsuits filed against the company I work for, the CEO himself, and I think I'd be able to sue them before they sued me for slander, no problemo. haha.
January is such a dreary month, thank God I'm going to Miami in a week's time for some sun and relaxation! Though I'm not sure what I was thinking when I ordered a white bikini... I am pale as Casper the friendly ghost and would probably benefit from a spray tan. However, I don't have the time, nor the funds, nor do I want to risk looking like a dirty, orange oompa Loompa. Oh well. Nastygal.com didn't have the white dress I wanted once again... clearly it is not meant to be. Another white dress I wanted went on sale, but again they didn't have my size. My birthday is next month, and all I want is a sexy, white dress to wear out! I've never owned a sexy, white dress (well, my bf though this white sundress I had was sexy, but I think it made me look like Laura Engels from Little House on the Prarie). I'm going to wait until the site gets in new dresses before making a rash decision on a dress I only like, and don't love. haha. I spent all day yesterday making butter cookies, and because I had no cookie-cutter, I individually hand cut each heart with a paring knife. I guess all of the toil and sweat I put into those little hearts of love really worked up my appertite (and yes, I purposely spelled appertite like that) , because I couldn't resist them. Yum!
On a closing note; I'd like to put these words of wisdom from Margaret Cho out there. I found this the other night while I was reading Jezebel in bed, and even though I've knocked on girls many times before for posting pictures of their less-than-societally-hot bodies on public sites, Ms. Cho made a valid point, and I applaud her 1,000 over. I applaud her, because I have also been called ugly before (shout out to my brother's friends talking smack in the 7th grade), and I have also felt inadequate before (thanks to the vicious, blonde, silky haired bitches on my soccer team):
