Beauty, a fucking pain in the ass

We all know sex is power, and beauty fades. But, that’s a burden almost exclusively placed on womyn.

Obviously, we all don’t want to end up looking like an old convertible top or a sack of potatoes in the rain. Men worry about aging, their hair turning gray and receding, asses sagging into that haunting old man butt that no one wants to see walking to the bathroom after sex, etc.

But it’s women who are made to bottle their youth and rub it on their face every night while saying a horny Hail Mary. It’s women who seem to lose all power when they don’t age well, and fail to coat their later in life persona with enough eccentricity and cool factor to still be fuckable (see: present day Diane Keaton and Jane Fonda. They are at the opposite ends of the older lady fuckability spectrum, with Keaton on the whacky end and Fonda holding down the Mrs. Robinson sex appeal counterpart).

The pink tax costs women more money to primp and preen. Millinneals have completely normalized fillers and Botox, and they’re not fuckin’ cheap! (Who knows what the fuck Gen Z will be doing when they start to age…fiery space goo?)

And then there’s the invasive stuff that you think you’ll never want – until one day a small-dicked, suction cup-faced male doctor tells you that your tits are starting to sag, sending you into a rage blackout deep enough to make you sign up to go under the knife.

Hell, we’re even rejuvenating our vaginas surgically now.

So, in the words of the Velvet Underground, “linger on.” Dance in your youth while you can. Find the luxury in your routines to preserve it. Make self care your ritual. Keep your pussy tight and your coven strong, and you might have enough magic to self-preserve.