Don’t come to me with that “the algorithm is shaped by what you engage with most” bullshit. If you ignore your accounts long enough, they reset. I’ve been on digital detoxes, I’ve muted, blocked, unfollowed. Hell, I’ve left social media for close to a year. Did not miss it a bit. As I was saying, if you ignore your accounts long enough, the algorithm always returns to factory settings: sex sells. The idealized, trendy, glossy female body is the default. I have come to bitch and moan today. This is going to be a rant.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
I cannot stand seeing beautiful women all over my timeline whenever I let myself spend a little too much time on Twitter, Instagram, or Reddit. They multiply like a virus. Gorgeous, doll-faced, surgically optimized women. I scroll, and with every scroll, I hate them a little more. They exist too loudly, too effortlessly. They remind me of how little of that I carry. I’m a little too fat, a little too much, a little less womanly, a little less alluring. I don’t know how to be minimal. I don’t know how to be soft. I don’t know how to be just enough. I can’t dance for shit. I can’t pout for the camera. I can’t move like silk. I can’t play cool, mysterious, detached. I don’t have the “pretty girl makeup” mastered. Whatever that means.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
When I see a woman who doesn’t have to be funny, or articulate, or broken in an interesting way to be considered worth something, I get scared. They symbolize everything I lack, everything I want to destroy and worship simultaneously. They scare me. They make me feel threatened. And despite always having felt ugly as fuck, I had never considered plastic surgery in my life before. I still don’t even know what I would alter if I had the money. End of the rant.
