Neck-ties strangle me beyond my parents’ grasp, And I’m not just being awkward, I insist, ‘Respectability’ that sacred virtue, Is a construct oh-so subtle that it’s tricky to resist, Public invisibility is not a paradox, For a better Oxymoron: try ‘catwalk amputee’, And I don’t think that I’ll be ready for the front page, Till they invent some kind of airbrush especially for me, The panoptic gaze is keeping me in check, There may be no gun to my head but nonconformity equates to no respect, But I’m not the only one who’s sick, Of aspiring to a fabricated norm that just won’t stick to who I am, ‘Normality’ is such a fucking scam. The average British woman is a size 16, but the average British model is a 6, and Dove might say it’s campaigning for ‘real beauty’, but Dove is Owned by Unilever, who also own Lynx. And we’re familiar with the women in the Lynx adverts, they’re examples of what we expect from women on TV, skinny, young, objectified and silent, We’re drowning in the Beauty Myth, we’re trapped within deceit. I’m tired of seeing life through this male gaze, So terrified to drop our guard, the whole world is a stage, Passivity to judgement as constraint, A re-examination of the aspects of ourselves that we can’t stand, ‘Normality’ is such a fucking scam.

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