Kara Nesvig

I wake up with a hot knife searing my jaw apart.

Wake up, Dorothy. We’re not in junior high anymore.

“I never go outside unless I look like Joan Crawford the movie star.”

You brag about Bob Dylan having lived in Dinkytown…

I think Rita Hayworth would pick Viva Glam I if she were alive today; it’s vampy and glamorous.

I hope I’m not a horror story! I’ve never screamed or bled or anything! I hope my vagina is just a faceless, run-of-the-mill normal vagina.

In this day and age where everyone’s scrambling to compare girls in their twenties to Lena Dunham and writing insipid essays about “millennials,” you might need a little foundation to keep you from losing your shit. No, literally: foundation.

Then I thought, A-ha! I can hide behind different “looks” and see what kind of response I get from men.

See something pretty, try and touch it.