My girlfriend and I aimlessly spend afternoons texting back and forth – an endless conversation of what amounts to the typical female verbal dissection/hewing up and analyzing of our respective body parts.
I am willing to make two bets: Firstly, that she and I aren’t the only duos discussing these “I could TREE hop with these tricep batwings of mine” conversation topics; And, secondly, that we do more psychological dissection of ourselves than pre-meddies do physiologically with their cadavers.
(At this point, I suppose I could draw another parallel between the hypothetical pre-med students barfing during *their* dissections, and the women who barf in the hopes that their mental self dissection seems less repulsive, but I’m too tired to turn that into a joke, as it would seem ultimately contrived. So let’s move on.)
We’re here to talk about a wonderful place called W♀mderland. That’s right. A wonderland for women. I’ve only happened upon it of recent. Every once in a while, when the spirit moves me, I’ll offer you a glimpse into this lovely place via half assed art. It’s a place where my dear friend from afar (who shall remain nameless until she decides she wants in on the fame) and I go to find solace.
Topic of the day? “Fat Face Days”.
You wake up, and in spite of your stringent diet, your face looks like it has a layer of lard laying just below the skin, because you either drank wine, ate something salty, etc. the night before. Who can hide a fat face? Not loose sweater, nor ball cap, nor the greatest foundation on earth can hide a woman’s woe on such a day. Only time and cold soaks can heal this horror. Yes, ladies. Fat face days can be a day ruiner. But not in W♀mderland!
Enjoy:
<3~A