Water Your Garden

America is not satisfied with itself. We’re a nation of people who think we deserve better, and maybe we do.

But why, in our quest for satisfaction, must our makeovers be so extreme? Why can’t I just buy a new hat? Why do I need a whole new body?

Because the body I’ve got isn’t cutting the mustard. In fact, it’s not even opening the lid on the mustard jar.

Therefore, I need to do something. I need to extend my hair, tuck my tummy, lift my face, whiten my teeth, augment my breasts. And I need to make sure that after my surgery, I look nothing like the person I was before. I want to look into the mirror and be startled by the beautiful stranger staring back at me. I want Freaky Friday to be every day of the week, and I never want the spell to wear off. I want the voodoo to last forever.

But here’s the thing: I don’t need any of it. None of it is essential, at least not to the survival of my soul.

Yet you continue lamenting, “My nose is crooked. I don’t have a chin. My tits are lopsided.” Big fucking deal! The Elephant Man had one good hand and he built an exact replica in cardboard of St. Philip’s Church—-from memory! You have two good hands and you can’t even build a popsicle raft, and you want to talk about being afflicted.

Please.

One-hundred years ago, how did ugly people survive? How did they live with themselves?

In dirty cages at the freak show, that’s how.

So learn some self-restraint, already. Stop sucking television’s dick and water your garden. You’d be surprised at what comes up.