the stepford yuppies. i see couples like those around the mall, plastered across my friendster list. perfect hair (blandly straight or impeccably styled), clear, clean skin, toned bodies, trendy clothes. shoes too precious to commute in, no signs of penny-pinching. up-the-corporate/professional-ladder-ambitious or where'd-you-get-all-that-capital-entrepreneurs. steeped in the good life. with that touch of artsy-fartsiness/socio-economic-political awareness/eco-adventure trippiness/sexual openness/spiritual peacefulness. smiling pictures at house parties with matching, mutual testimonials on friendster.
i'm proud to be a stepford daughter with a twitch. (yes, a twitch, not a twist.) signs: the frazzled look when exhausted. the skin break-outs from all the commuting. the big, uncombed hair. the deep, dark circles around my eyes. the scars. the flabs. the stretch marks. the muscles in my legs. the lines on my hands. the lolita lips. sun worship. the preference for meat. a disdain for extremely contrived diets and exercise. being a scrooge. the sloppy, lazy days. flashes of inflicting violence. the aversion of stepford sons. the hostility sensed in stepford territories.
and the last two signs don't matter anymore, because karl showed me this world that crazily felt like home ever since. in fact, none of them matter, because he likes me with the twitch. because he said i could be virgin, vixen and virago without choosing. so instead of being half of an enviable couple walking around the mall with friendster photos and matching, mutual testimonials, i'm half of the couple that lurks in loud gigs, quiet walks, cultural adventures, bookstores, record bars, and our alma mater.
everyone (including me) used to wonder if i am destined to attract the *weird ones*. for someone with a twitch, i guess i wouldn't have it any other way.
*look who's giddily in love*
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