As children, we are socialized to believe that there is a “perfect” body and immediately trained to attain it through restrictions: We cut out our favorite foods, exercise fervently, deny our hunger pangs. We do all of this in pursuit of an ideal that is forced upon us by a capitalist, consumerist culture that preys on self-hatred. Well, I refuse to be influenced. Here’s why I’m rejecting diet culture and consuming as many microplastics as I goddamn please.
Before I had my radical awakening, I was like everyone else: afraid of carbs, saturated fats, the 5mm fragments of plastic that originate from a variety of sources, including cigarette filters, textiles, and tires. I was brainwashed by society into thinking these things were bad for me, that I was inherently “less than” for craving the flavors of sweet, sweet carcinogens. I may have been awake, but in my mind’s eye I was asleep, a sheep, and a micro-plastic-fearing coward.
All it took was one taste of that nectar of the gods (a microplastic fragment from one of my cleaning products), and immediately, I knew I had been lied to. How could something wrong taste so, so right?
I refused to be susceptible to the diet imagery thrust on us by the fashion industry — the photoshopped images of models with wire-thin frames and rock-hard abs. Wire and rock no longer interested me: only plastics, plastics, plastics. I need polyolefin resins and I need them yesterday.
Yes, several people in my life are concerned that I chew on cigarette filters and lick used plastic products, but they have clearly been brainwashed by Big Diet and are not to be trusted. I shouldn’t have to be self-conscious of my cravings, especially my cravings for polyethylene plastics found in some health and beauty products.
My doctors say that I should be extremely concerned about consuming trace metals and harmful chemicals, but to that I say, “hop off my dick, Big Pharma! There’s a new guy in town and my brain feels funny!”
Let me know when you’re ready to stop letting diet culture do your thinking for you. Until then, I’ll be here, gnawing on cosmetic containers, licking food packaging, and sticking a metaphorical middle finger to the man.
