Dear Dehydrated Dames,
Every time I turn around, I see one of y’all p-poppin’ on the ‘Gram. Every time I turn around, one of you is in your little sister’s tight ass drawers, barely breathing with your ass propped up on a sink. Every time I turn around, I see this:
And just when I think I’ve escaped the Twilight Zone of booty shots and botox, I come across a photo of an attractive-looking girl, who’s just doing waaaaay too much for that little white heart to turn red.
Y’all all look the same. In the club. Half naked with your shirt pulled up lying in bed. In front of your dirty bedroom mirror, bent over in a bathroom stall. In the kitchen fake-cooking with your boy shorts on but ain’t a damn thing brewing in those pots!
I get it. Y’all wannabe models want to be models.
Social media has made it piercingly urgent for young women to be physically perfect. So you all study these cake-faced, butt-injected females with their million-plus followers and y’all want to be just like them. I undertstand. You poor babies are just following a trend.
But the problem with you always naked, oh-so-common Instagram “models” is that y’all care more about those sewn-in weaves, waist-trained waists and knockoff designer heels than what’s really important in life. Yeah, your ballpoint-penned, Etch-a-Sketch eyebrows on FLEEK! That 32-inch Virgin Remi wig on FLEEK! But those pockets on WEAK! That house ain’t got no HEAT! And your baby’s pamper supply is on DEPLETE!
It’s okay boo, we all go through tough times. But stop stuntin’ on the ‘Gram like you got it like that, and start putting a plan in motion to really get it. Stop going the extra mile to show your ass off with the infamous “look at my new pillows” pose ⇓
and retailing your precious body for a few hundred likes. You’re selling yourself short boo. No, those thirsty photos and attention-whorish captions don’t make you a “bad bitch.” They make you look like a sad bitch whose subconscious screams, “I NEED VALIDATION!”
So instead of totting around Ciroc bottles and Henny shots, why don’t you pick up a book and read something? Learn how to spell. Learn how to write. That way, you won’t be the female with a “body like a goddess” but the literacy chops of a remedial third grader.
Work on cultivating your mind and nurturing your spirit. If you did that, then maybe you would see how beautiful you really are and wouldn’t feel the need to fake confidence with half-naked pictures uploaded for men to degrade and devour. Instead of flipping us the bird, why don’t you wrap that pretty little finger around a pen and write down some goals. At some point, don’t you want to attain the life that you pretend to live?
Don’t be the wordless, hair-blowing-in-the-wind bimbo uploading 15-second videos of those dust-busting eyelashes blinking at 75 miles per hour, preparing to take flight. The ones where you’re playing in your weave, lip-synching something ratched, and showing off your fake smile. Because, just like in those videos, you’ll be viewed as a substanceless object that’s good to look at, but when it opens its mouth, all you get is emptiness.
Yeah, it’s cool to be a pretty face and sport a curvy body, but don’t let the physical be where the treasure ends. Be an all-around knockout, with some class. In other words: get your lil’ skanky ass up off that sink and park it on a throne where it belongs.