You are my problem, with your shiny skin and your boho skirts, your straighteners and your issues, $2.99 to shit on my ego is more than I can afford thanks. Fat or thin I’ve got places to be and they are as far away from you as possible. You can blow dry your hair for hours and cry at Disney films, you float about in flowers and tawt on about nothing on your cell phones. You want me to worry about men and feel guilty about sex? Fuck you, I’ve been able to handle men for years, it’s women who scare me and it’s your fault because you’ve turned feminism into a war zone, you’ve created a monster and the monster is you.
--Fiona Dinkelbach