My hair

My hair. My ears. My breath. My teeth. My skin. My tummy. My back. My knees. My toenail fungus. My everything. If I watch TV long enough, some world-famous doctor or some woman with a happy voice will explain how all parts of me need help to feel better, feel stronger, look nicer or younger or just be generally more attractive.

Of course the underlying marketing message with its whiff of shame is that I should want all these things. Otherwise how can I be popular and happy?

But I don’t want these things. I don’t need these things. I don’t even want to want these things. In fact, I’m more likely to trust people with yellow teeth. I don’t know anyone who’s died of toenail fungus. My skin has had freckles, birth marks, brown spots, rashes and wrinkles, and I still think I have a damn good set of friends.