Jeans

They are so cute and different from what she has.
A new kind of style that’s really in.
She wants the jeans.
She doesn’t want the jeans.
She doesn’t need them.
She may not like them.
She must have these jeans!
Cathexis colonizes her brain.

In a dark, private space
Alone, behind a curtain,
She tries on and takes off.
The tags tear at her skin and leave a red mark.
The dressing room like a locker room before a match:
She’s a boxer getting ready for a fight.
A towel drapes over her bowed head.
She’s in a holding pen before gates open
For a wild horse race. Concentrate.
She tries to find a good fit, tries to fit in.
The moment before she lets the mirrors decide 
If she looks good.
Please, let me love myself 
in these jeans,
She prays.

What’s wrong with you? 
If you were normal, you would walk into the store
Shop and behave.
Participate in capitalism’s parade.
Submit and pay and play.
Kill the anti-hero trying to save you from seduction.
It’s only a pair of jeans, right?
Be submissive. Be beautiful. Be worthy.
Feel fat. Feel worthless. Feel your own skin like a disease.
Practice the art of self gifting.
Distrust the “you” in your head desperately trying for your attention.
Not this worry and fret.
Not this dueling duality all in your head.
For God's sake, behave.
Act normal.
Maybe, meditate.
Maybe buy a lavender candle as well, the one on display.