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Bar, PHOTO: Sarah Lofgren

Hullo darlings!

It’s time for the most cherished of female bonding rituals.

I hope you brought comfortable pajamas. Something cozy and brightly colored, with feet.

I hope you brought your favorite pillow, fluffy and soft, the perfect density for thwacking skulls.

I hope you brought all the hopes and dreams of the person you’re about to become. It’s time for a bevy of swans to emerge where once our muddy, duckling bodies waited. It’s time to dazzle and transfix.

Let’s see if we can get Cyndi Lauper to kick this one off.

Let’s see if a pizza is in the cards.

Let’s see if we can pull off a dance. I know it’s early in the night, but a montage needs a dance or two. Throw out your arms. Kick up your feet. Don’t worry about that lamp. We didn’t need it anyways. You sing into my hairbrush and I’ll sing into yours. Higher and louder. Any pitch but the right one. Growl and shriek. Whisper and wail. Make those windows shake.

Let’s spill all our palettes on the floor. Grind them into the carpet and roll around in sephora gunk and drugstrong dust and unicorn glitter until some of the magic sinks into our skin and we can cast spells with the constellations of freckles we’re not supposed to want anymore.

Let’s roll out a pond of wax, then watch the thirsty goop try to steal the hairs from our body. But let’s keep our own hairs this time. You never know when you might need them to pay passage to another world.

Let’s feed the pond of wax our fears instead. Let it feast on the unpaid bills and unwanted touches. Watch it grow large on the conciliatory phrases we never meant to make. Laugh as it devours the bridges we were too nice to burn.

Let’s wait until it’s good and fat, then roll it all into one sloppy cigar. Then let’s smoke it down to the end, watch the ashes melt away into the linoleum, leaving little dark spots behind.

Let’s watch that one specific video where we can learn how to reshuffle the features of our faces. Remake the things that were made badly. They’ll tell us the lips should be bigger and the eyes, too, but we know they’re lying. It’s the teeth that should be bigger, bigger, bigger still until grandmothers and woodsmen tremble from the mere description of us.

Let’s make the teeth sharper, too.

Let’s all be beauty queens this time, because this time we’ll fire the judges and then we’ll set fire to the judges. Then we’ll eat the crown, because turns out it was chocolate all along and chicks sure love chocolate.

Let’s grow the nails we’ve been holding back, pink and green and black and blue, long and curved to skewer and sever and sometimes stroke, but only when we want to and never when the moon is full.

Let’s brush each other’s hair into fluffy clouds and ancient castles and birds’ nests where pigeons can roost without fear. Let’s pin all the knives we’ll need to our pajamas.

Let’s order another pizza.

Let’s eat the pizza boy.

Let’s eat all the boys in the neighborhood, so they won’t know it’s us.

Let’s not care if they know it’s us.

Doesn’t it feel good to dazzle and transfix?

Doesn’t it feel good to finally know? The part of the fairy tales they don’t tell you?

That all the princesses grow up into witches.

After the story ends.

Sarah is a freelancer who exists on twitter and instagram. She might be a little nuts, but that’s okay. If you’re a person who likes to buy cute, weird things, check out this otter journal she designed for her redbubble shop!

If you are not a person who likes to buy cute, weird things, pretend this never happened!

Written by

Engaged in inadvisable wordsmitheries and other creative acts. http://sarahlofgren.com

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