Thank you. Thank you very much for your input and your labor. I know you’ve tried hard and given your best effort, but I’m afraid you are just not good enough. You don’t make the cut. There’s something much better for me than you. And although you may be surprised to hear this, it is you who has taught me to speak with such words.
Hollywood, you do not know me. Yet you tell me who to be. You convince me that I am less than. You convince me that others are less than. You have taught me how to compare and conclude.
You have plastered yourself across the billboards in the sky, the magazines in the store, the pictures on the screen, and you have come into my house and invaded my eyesight. You have shown me an image – an idol – of a beautiful woman, and I am not her. She is not herself. Yet she and I and others strive to become what we think she is. What you say she is.
We spend and skimp and starve
And tease and tone and tuck
And pout and plump and puke.
And, Hollywood, I am sick.
I am sick of this and through with you. I am pulling you down and tearing you up and shutting you off.
My eyelids are closed. My ears are plugged. My mind is resolved. I will run away from you, screaming until I bleed to make my voice louder than yours in the real ears of my real brothers and sisters.
We will know the truth and the truth will set us free!
We are precious and accepted
blessed and eternal
significant and treasured
wanted and desired
beautiful and adequate
chosen and adopted.
We are valued. We are enough. We are loved.
We are free.