LJ Idol 2011; topic four.
‘What does narcissism have to do with me?’
Mirror, mirror, on the wall; who’s the fairest one of all?
Not me. I’m not one of those girls-one of the girls who shampoos and exfoliates and manicures. Not one of those girls who colours her hair every few months, or gets it curled, or straightened, or any of that fancy shit. More important things than appearance, right?
Not that I’m ugly or anything. People have told me I’m pretty, actually. Not gorgeous, of course. My hair’s too mousy and thin and raggedy for that, but it’s not bad. My skin’s nice, but it’s just a little too pale because I stay in-what, you think I’m going to go under one of those stupid tanning booths? Forget it. The bags under my eyes can just stay there; who wastes the time with oils and whatever, anyway? It’s not like it actually stops you from aging.
I’m thin without trying-take that, girls who obsess every single minute over their diets. I’ve got good proportions, too; legs long for my height, thing, boobs not too big but present. But so what? I’m not going to turn into one of those airheads who only cares that they look pretty. No makeup for me; not even foundation. No hair-plucking or eyebrow-tweezing or waxing and special skin creams. Just because I’m pretty doesn’t mean I’ve got to care, you know?
Seriously, what’s with the obsession with appearance, anyway? With all the slinky blondes and perfect, air-brushed faces and fake rubber boobs. Give me a break and spend your money on something real.
I’m not like that, though. Not me. I spend my money on useful shit. You go waste time asking the mirror how pretty you are. I’ll be over here, being something worthwhile.
[Written for therealljidol, week four, topic four. The perspective is fictionalised; I realised I tend to think of narcissism almost exclusively in relation to appearance. And then I thought, well, why? What other ways does it come out?]
Mirror, mirror, on the wall; who’s the fairest one of all?
Not me. I’m not one of those girls-one of the girls who shampoos and exfoliates and manicures. Not one of those girls who colours her hair every few months, or gets it curled, or straightened, or any of that fancy shit. More important things than appearance, right?
Not that I’m ugly or anything. People have told me I’m pretty, actually. Not gorgeous, of course. My hair’s too mousy and thin and raggedy for that, but it’s not bad. My skin’s nice, but it’s just a little too pale because I stay in-what, you think I’m going to go under one of those stupid tanning booths? Forget it. The bags under my eyes can just stay there; who wastes the time with oils and whatever, anyway? It’s not like it actually stops you from aging.
I’m thin without trying-take that, girls who obsess every single minute over their diets. I’ve got good proportions, too; legs long for my height, thing, boobs not too big but present. But so what? I’m not going to turn into one of those airheads who only cares that they look pretty. No makeup for me; not even foundation. No hair-plucking or eyebrow-tweezing or waxing and special skin creams. Just because I’m pretty doesn’t mean I’ve got to care, you know?
Seriously, what’s with the obsession with appearance, anyway? With all the slinky blondes and perfect, air-brushed faces and fake rubber boobs. Give me a break and spend your money on something real.
I’m not like that, though. Not me. I spend my money on useful shit. You go waste time asking the mirror how pretty you are. I’ll be over here, being something worthwhile.
[Written for therealljidol, week four, topic four. The perspective is fictionalised; I realised I tend to think of narcissism almost exclusively in relation to appearance. And then I thought, well, why? What other ways does it come out?]