And Jill has given us another form of beauty – this one a bit more frou-frou but no less classic.
As for me, I think it’s fitting that I would write my column this week on beauty and love and grim reality. It wasn’t one of my more poetic ones, though. I’d like to give you a whole different kind of, um, poetry.
Behold! The cleavage that sunk a thousand feminist battleships!
Behold also! A much less stylized photo featuring, it would seem, the same dastardly cleavage (which really hardly even qualifies for cleavage, but manages to “hurt women” regardless – it’s just that ingenious):
And just in case you thought I was done! Behold at last! I am the wielder of the flame of Anor…. Sorry, I am the wielder of the Cleavage of Unnumbered Tears, and I pose here with my family’s ferocious trained beastie, Fedya, just so you know not to mess with me in the future:
I can only hope that everyone is sufficiently terrorized. I hear the Patriarchy’s check is already in the mail for this one. Will spend it on something appropriately sparkly and empowerful (and possibly some catfood).