Higher Power

I’m not sure how it happened, but a crime against humanity has once again been allowed to occur. I suddenly find myself swimming in a sea of despair and confusion, bobbing aimlessly and helplessly like a wee cork in the waves of sadness. Even now as I ponder this atrocity, I am forced to wonder what kind of world we live in. I want to write letters. I want to speak before the UN. I want to jump up and down on Oprah’s sofa and get the sympathy of the overweight masses. Heads must roll. Riotous demonstrations should be organized at once.

I have tried to bury my head in the sands of denial but instead ended up banging it upon a concrete floor, resulting in nothing less than a psychological concussion.

I can’t believe it.
I won’t believe it.
I musn’t believe it.

Yet even as my soul cries out “stop the insanity” I can feel the cold void in my heart. The questions run frantically through my mind… How will I go on? How will I survive? Just when I thought I had found the meaning of it all, I find the foundation upon which I have built my image, my very life even, ripped out from under me like a cheap garage sale carpet. Fashion TV has been banned in India. Banned I say. They find it too sexy and too steamy. As if anything can be.

Whatever happened to freedom of religion? Do I not worship at the temple of fashion? Do I not point my Pradas west and bow towards Milan at least once a day? Why, it is my unique fashion sense and god given ability to properly accessorize that separates me from the common masses. Everyone has their higher power, Dolce and Gabbana just happen to be mine. I simply will not be turned into a fashion communist with everyone being equal, walking around in drab colored Hush Puppies, Toughskins jeans and no L’Oreal in our hair. I’m worth it, damn it, and if one can’t be superior, what’s the point in getting up everyday?