Women: you don’t owe anyone pretty.
You don’t owe anyone make up. Glowing airbrushed skin, juicy swollen lips, or fluttery eyelashes. Defined cheekbones, strong brows, or a Saint Tropez tan. You don’t owe anyone a face void of freckles and creases and pimples. A face of character, smoothed and painted over into a false sense of perfection.
You don’t owe anyone femininity. A softly spoken voice, gentle curves, or long, luscious locks. A ring on your finger, or a new last name. And you don’t have to clothe your body in sweet frilly dresses, or enjoy shopping at the mall, or pride yourself on making a house a home. Because this is femininity as told by men, not the feminine in her true light.
You don’t owe anyone beauty, whatever that’s supposed to mean. You don’t owe anyone fairer skin or a smaller waist or a more symmetrical face. Longer legs, thighs free of dimples, or tamed, shiny hair. Your body was not made for decoration, your body was made to create and birth life.
You don’t owe anyone sexy. Not bigger breasts or bum cheeks, just because that’s what men like, isn’t it? Not your body when he texts at 3AM looking for comfort. And not your screams or moans of pleasure, when he’s not satisfying your deepest desires.
You don’t owe anyone pretty. Not him, or her, or me, or you.
You don’t owe anyone a damn dime in this world. Not your body, not your time or attention, and not your heart.
You are not here to please or pander, in the hopes of winning approval or acceptance. Because when we play by their rules, we can never win.
You are here to be you. To drown out the white noise, and discover who that woman is. To free yourself from the invisible chains that have bound us all for far too long. And to say fuck the rules, and live and play by your own ones.
This you owe, not to anybody else, but yourself.