The way I look is not and never was nearly as important to me as it is to the looks-obsessed conglomerate, which abuses me more vindictively every year that I age.
There never was a time when I voluntarily chose a goodlooking, mean, stupid man over a reasonably attractive, nice, smart one. Nor did I ever like being with men who obviously wanted to be around me only because of the way that I looked; those were always the men I disliked the most, even when I was at my prettiest.
The conglomerate usually confuses my anger at its vicious and immoral behavior toward me with consternation at its having hit me with unpleasant but deserved truths. It enjoys insulting me, and never seems to realize that its misperceptions about my character and intelligence are the real insults. Like all discriminatory people and groups, it interprets everything I do according to its biased and grossly inaccurate understanding of what women are and should be.
Copyright L. Kochman, December 20, 2014 @ 2:49 p.m./edited @ 2:52 p.m.
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