Disco-cowgirl Hat of Power, slim black dress and a boa. Rhinestone studded hair. Tall, chunky shoes with buckles.

I read The Beauty Myth. I know men and their industries are the ones who created that myth, and I know why. But just like we use the word dyke proudly, have stolen it back from homophobic oppressors and infused it with love, I take back my inborn, human right to glitz.

Black. Vynil. Bustier.

Let's get it clear, women: I am not abused by my gild and glam—I'm uplifted. I'm not defined by my image—I'm adorned. Makeup does not leech intelligence from my brain. And I do not wear this dress for any man.