The existential threat of makeup, dresses, and doing my hair
There is a girl-creature inside of me who will scratch your eyes out before being turned into a proper woman.
Any occasion to dress up is liable to leave me with my collection of years-old makeup dumped out on the bathroom counter, a scattering of my self-cut bang trimmings on the sink, and tears, so many tears. These tears don’t come from a place of feeling like I look bad. They come from a place of feeling like Who am I? and Leave me alon…