I'm like a one-woman protest machine.

I'm like a one-woman protest machine.

There is so much in the world to hate, why hate yourself?

I decided to lock myself in. A forced segregation. Sabbatical. A retreat into myself. My selves. Play hide and go seek in the looking-glass. The mirror angled at the foot of my bed. Twisted reflections bouncing off into infinity. Obsessed with my image, the myriad of distored figurines who danced in front of me in rapid succession, every feature exaggerated, every slight imperfection a new delicacy.

The female format is a beautiful one in which to function. Foolhardy as it may be. I change my image all the time, it's whatever suits me at the moment.

Because we have so much eye candy and mind candy, spending so much time trying to pay the rent, all of this conspires to keep us from thinking too hard or taking action from that. Our time is stolen. So much of our daily life is stolen.

Women are denied masturbation even more severely than men and that's another method of control-they're not taught to please themselves.... Most women-it takes them a while to warm up to the "situation" but once they get into it, I'm sure they're going to get just as hooked as-well, everyone I know is!