Never Feel Guilty

Just Do It, Who Cares? 
Cut by: Davita Cuttita 


I bet you’re feeling guilty right now, aren’t you?

Admit it.

Shouldn’t you be a productive member of society and do something like stop surfing the internet and get back to work or maybe you should really be doing that assignment that’s (over)due?

Shouldn’t you be doing an extra fifteen minutes on the treadmill to burn off that chocolate bar you ate? Don’t forget about that dress you bought that’s two sizes too small. You won’t be able to fit into it unless you work, work, WORK.

“If you ever have another bite to eat, I swear; I’m sleeping with the Secretary!”

Besides, you didn’t really deserve that treat anyway. You didn’t work hard enough.

You really need to get those new clothes. Otherwise you don’t deserve the attention of little Mister or Miss Hottie. Don’t forget the matching car.

And your appearance too. No, no, no that just isn’t good enough. You need to be RIPPED so bad, you could strangle me in less than fifteen seconds using only your index fingers. I don’t want to date a nice guy that showers regularly, may care for his hair and wear attire that is appropriate and comfortable to him! You gotta work, work, work, WORK because no one fucks ugly, carless, not-in-the-trendiest-clothes imperfect people.

Fo’ reals.

 I don’t. I only fuck supermodels.

Shouldn’t you be doing something?

Because you don’t deserve anything in this world.

Respect? Dignity? Love?  

I think my panties have permanently disappeared up my ass from typing the above HORSESHIT and I seriously can’t believe I wrote it, but this is the “fisting” in “feministing” so all the dirty mindfucks must be done.

Hoo-hoo, dear child it is a crazy world we are living in. Everyday we’re made to feel guilty for some reason or another; most of the time we feel guilty for shit that isn’t even our fault. Women feel guilty for getting fat (so do some guys), some guys feel guilty that they couldn’t stick it out long enough in the gym for their *six pack to form (so do some women. As a side note: The Boyfriend, I await beach season and licking your abdominals, so please; disregard this message and continue bench-pressing) that would “make” them a man or somehow manlier (in the case of both man and woman, more physically “perfect”). It would finally take them off the dreary beat of the pussy-patrol and I dunno, make them the pussy government; every woman’s poontang would just bow to them and beg their penis for a sweet, sweet, pounding. If they don’t live up to this standard? Well, their penises would just turn inside out and—a vagina!

So, I guess men still get what they want either way.

Many a woman feels guilty for stepping on a scale and seeing numbers; numbers which mean you are eating, human, tangibly exist in this reality and are subject to the rules of gravity. Let’s not forget the stepping! The stepping means you have full function of your legs; a privilege (as far as I’m concerned). She has to take up as little space as possible and conform to the standard of blonde, tan, and skinny. Even if she’s fat, Black, short, Latino, average size, Muslim, has a pear shape, Asian, Native, Mixed, has no titties, has too much titties, has no ass, has a never-ending ass, is White or a combination of the aforementioned. I guess this is pretty big (AHAHAH!) talk from a size 7/5, 130 pound 5”7 Black girl. I’m just reporting what I see going on in this Western Society, people.

 And I call fucking shenanigans on ALL of it.

Why do we feel all this crushing guilt?

Because we feel like we have to be perfect. It’s not rocket science, people!  

Now this is where most people go into talking about the media, the fashion industry, the air-brushed models, the ridiculous beauty standards, capitalism, rampant consumerism, THE MAN and so forth.  This is also where I roll my eyes and  sigh.

Yeah, I get that and you can read all about it on Wikipedia or in some literarily half-assed, lip-service “power to the people!” section in any magazine right next to the ads for weight-loss, Axe cologne and the too-hot-to-be-real models trying to get you to BUY NOW but I’m not going to go into that. It’s been done.

Because I don’t feel guilty for shit.

People ask me what I do to keep in shape.

I do exercise, I have to; if I didn’t I wouldn’t be able to minimize the crushing side-effects of my daily (anti-psychotic) medication. I wouldn’t be able to do a lot like going to class, having a social life, not hallucinating about blood-smothered brains on the floor and cockroaches, not attempting to kill people. Drive. You know—normal girl stuff.

All that aside, I eat what I want when I want and however much I want. I have a big ass and big titties ‘cause of it, but telling a Black woman she has big ass and titties  is like telling a man—any man—that he has a 10 inch dick and the sexual prowess of a pornstar. Honestly, who complains about ass n’ titties? Even my gay male friends love themselves a good stare at some titties once in a while. Titties never hurt nobody. Moving away from tangents…

I usually just respond to the query with a brief answer: “I exercise, I eat what I want, WHO CARES!?!?” followed by a loud, annoying laugh. Then the girl or guy in who asked will just frown and tell me horror stories about how they don’t exercise (which is understandable, most people I meet are University students; it’s hard for us to find the time. I’m usually up until 1 or 2AM, get 4 hours of sleep and am out the door FRESH AS A FUCKING DAISY OH! HAPPY DAY AAARRGGH!!!), skip meals and take diet pills. Some eat once a day. Some eat a few days out of the week here and there. A few people have even expressed feeling panic at the sight of food.

 PANIC. Like, panic attacks and feeling like you could piss yourself over the sight of any kind of food; a salad, a hamburger, some pasta, soup, chicken, sushi, A CUP OF COFFEE.


They just feel like they’ll eat to live like the rest of us and as soon as the food touches their lips they’ll explode to 800 pounds and be tossed into the unfuckable pile with the other rejects like…I dunno, that homeless guy with the clap. Or Kevin Federline.

The guilt of not deserving the food and fearing the consequences of having it causes them to go through these extremes.

Much of our appearance is controlled by genetics and a bit by lifestyle ( I say lifestyle because if you grew up in a jungle full of landmines, chances are you might have been land-mined at some point. Or if you grew up on a high mountain, chances are you’d have slightly bigger lungs than most people. It’s science, you fools!)

The fact of the matter is that if ugly people never had sex (yes, there are some people in this world who are ugly, I have nothing against them or Lil’ Wayne; love his jams; but what must be said must be said) there would be no more ugly people today. If fat people never had/were not capable of sex, there would be no more fat people today. So no matter who you are, or where you’re from, or what you did, someone would absolutely love you to death, want to make love to you and have a whole litter of babies with you. You don’t need to feel any guilt and even if nobody loved you TO HELL WITH THEM ALL, WHO NEEDS UM!?!?!


If we were all meant to be a certain shape, size, or race and that decided how we were loved, respected and dignified, the world would be a very different place. I read into this and the history books called it “Slavery” and “Dictatorship” but nowadays most people just call it; GET THIS: a “commercial” or “society’s standards”. That’s so wacky.

I just don’t get it but I won’t let it get me anymore.

Don’t feel guilty: eat the cake, ask that person out, kiss the girl/boy, have the sex. Living is hard work enough with jobs, school and emotionally crippling tragedies.

Live your life: So long as you’re sincere about it.


~ by davitacuttita on March 11, 2008.

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