| We see them walking through shopping malls. Bunny. Tiffani. Stacie ("With an -ie!"). Their eyes are glazed over, their minds perfectly programmed to think of nothing but their physical appearance, boys, and what they are going to buy next (not necessarily in that order). They are lovely but empty shells of women. Where are they all coming from?
Suburbia.
Being born an upper/uppermiddle class woman is a curse. The day she is born, her life is laid out before her. Birth. A few popularity contest crowns. Sorority membership. An MRS degree. Spawning. An idle life of tennis at the country club, large diamonds, and being hauled around on the husband's arm at society functions. Not knowing who she is or why she feels a vague sense of dissatisfaction. Not learning. Not growing. Nothing but expensive stagnation.
Fuck that.
Having a brain is a curse in suburbia too. I've become used to the frightened looks my mother gives me... Always accompanied by "You think too much." I've come to relish it. I know it will be my ticket out. I will not submit to an unhappy marriage to appease the gods of good breeding.
I was bred to be an ornament. That does not mean that I am capable of nothing else. | 
