afternoon poem

i feel like if i used a typewriter, i wouldn’t have imposter syndrome 

i don’t want to lose weight to be hotter 
i just want to smoke cigarettes 
without having a panic attack
my mom says i should go on ozempic 
i ask her if she’s happy 
twenty nine is the ugliest age
i want to be thirty two or nineteen
drinking a gin and tonic isn’t interesting 
anywhere in between

my biggest regret in life
is feeling guilty for wearing heels
i wasted my best years 
writing papers on the male gaze
when i could have been writing
about nice paintings or fucked up sex
today i told my doctor 
someone’s wife put a curse on me 
my hair is thinning out 
and i deserve it.