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Jett Superior laid this on you on || January 11, 2007 || 1:40 pm

She Who Will Not Be Contained

Today I shellacked my hair into my best approximation of an Audrey Hepburn ‘do. Except for the blonde thing I’ve got going on, it’s a pretty precise facsimile. I dusted, then covered, then chalked black powder across my lids and kohled them within an inch of their lives. My lips are draped in the barest of pinks –’Pink Vapor’ to be exact– and shine subtley. My brows are manicured precise and perfect (beauty tip: the eensiest bit of hair gel on your brow brush achieves this, but work quickly and with a deft hand for optimum results).

This is my angry look. I don’t know why, but when my emotional face is askew, my cosmetic one becomes more precise. If my insides chance to be jagged, the exterior becomes more coolly perfected. Hard candy shells are smooth and obscure whatever richness may lie within.

I have been biting back bile all damn day. This used to be my default setting, the way I lived my life on a daily basis. I’ve worked hard, so very hard, in the last two years to rectify this imbalance in my emotional makeup. I can tell you, though (and with no certain hesitation while doing so), that I miss it.

I miss the trucked-up, angry, power-wresting, lion-roaring me. Fuck if I know what to do with that.

Nobody worked it out »

Don´t be shy. Lay it on me.

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