153: Sleaze and Dank You!

3 decades old
and for every marriage and birth
i am reminded by obviously well-meaning people
that i am still behind;
that my value is depleting
  with my sagging skin
  with the layers of my chin
  with the lines around my grin
  with my shape being far from thin
  as my breasts reach my shin
  as my wrinkles keep on growing
  and endless other things
i should apparently be fussing about.

after all,
travelling solo
  and buying your own car
  and living in foreign lands
  and collecting awards and degrees
  and having contacts all over the world
  and working your ass of to pay off your loans
  and struggling against all kinds of inner demons
  and still breathing somehow
    are not achievements for women to be proud about
      when nobody wants you.

(haven't you heard, doll?
the age of your womb matters more
than the maturity of your brain.)

some friends say they miss their innocence when they were younger
but i am thankful of my decreasing ignorance
as i acquire firsthand pains and secondhand lessons
while bearing witness to my messups and glowups
that no one else had the privillege to observe,
and yet, i am still told
that my eyes are too cold;
that my 'resting bitch face' will only scare people away
but isn’t it an oxymoron?
because bitches are babes in total control of herself
and you can't be you're in charge if you're 'resting'

but at the end of the day, let's be real:
being unfazed while returning men's gaze isn't just a phase
it's a stance and a form of resistance
because masculinity is so damn fragile
so stop telling me to fucking smile.


2018-12-03 8.49pm

3 decades old

and for every marriage and birth

i am reminded by obviously well-meaning people

that i am still behind;

that my value is depleting

that my sagging skin

that the layers of my chin 

that the lines around my grin
that my shape is far from thin
that my breasts are reaching my shin

that my wrinkles will keep on growing

and endless other things i should be fussing about.

after all,

travelling solo

and buying your own car

and living in foreign lands

and collecting awards and degrees

and having contacts all over the world

and working your ass of to pay off your loans

and struggling against all kinds of inner demons

and still breathing somehow

are not achievements for women to be proud about 

when nobody wants you.

haven't you heard?
the age of your womb matters more 

than the maturity of your brain, dear.

some friends tell me they miss their innocence when they were younger

but i am thankful of my decreasing ignorance
as i acquire firsthand pains and secondhand lessons.

they say eyes are the windows to the soul,

and mine have witnessed my messups and glowups

inner and outer growths no one else have witnessed, 

but still, i am told

my eyes are too cold.

they say i have 'resting bitch face'

which amuses me because isn't it an oxymoron?

bitches are babes in total control of herself 

you can't be you're in charge if you're 'resting' 

and let's be real: being unfazed
while returning men's gaze

isn't just a phase
it's a stance and a form of resistance

because masculinity is so fragile 

so stop telling me to fucking smile.

2018-02-26 6.49pm

my knees as evidence of how much i've fallen down;

my hands testimonies of how i keep pushing myself up again.