WIN: Trump Administration Ends Body Dysmorphia

     

    Given that I have been one of his harshest critics, it will mean that much more when I say that Donald Trump may have accomplished something that no administration in American history has been able to. He may be… a little unorthodox in his ways, but there’s got to be a method to his madness for getting this done in just his first month of being in office. 

This first month has brought with it some momentous changes. From the banning of paper straws, to the beginning of global preparation for world war three, Donald has been doing what no other president would never be brave enough to do, like yelling at other nation’s presidents, and instating the first ever co-president, Elon Musk. It took me some time to see how these puzzle pieces fit together, but I now see how the obliteration of relations with long-time allies, government revisions, and general air of chaos works together to solve a very real problem plagueing American women: Body Dysmorphia.

    As a father to two daughters, husband of three women, and solicitor of sexual favors to an unspecified amount, Donald likely has a keen understanding of the female mind. And as a former beauty pageant host and rapist, Donald Trump knows a thing or two about the female body. This makes Donald the person best suited to conquer the body image crisis once and for all. Lyin’ Kamala Harris could never.

    In the midst of all the confusion and fear surrounding executive orders, cabinet picks, and bills being passed, I found myself dazed and bewildered, like a rabbit that jumped in front of a car at just the right time to bounce off the bumper and land in a nearby ditch instead of being crushed under the tire; not dead, just stunned. The thirty days since January 20th felt like three million, and the information never seemed to stop streaming in. “What is the meaning of all of this?” I’d think to myself as the New York Times would give me a new notification, each one more mind-boggling than the last. 

    Then it struck me. I hadn’t thought about my appearance in a month. I had been so concerned with the actions of a man with dementia that I had never met that I completely forgot to hate myself for not looking like I did when I was 14. No longer could I care about how others perceived me now that my mental space was entirely consumed by impending doom. Spending any amount of time nitpicking myself in front of a mirror was a waste of time that could be spent wondering if MAD will be enough to deter WWIII from breaking out.

    His new efforts to fight the body image crisis have completely transformed my look. I am more natural and accepting of myself for who I am now. After three years of bleaching and toning with harsh chemicals, my hair is now a lovely shade of recession brown. My skin is no longer forced to bear the weight of makeup, and I am completely comfortable exposing the world to my now sunken eyes. As for my attire, there is no amount of money that could get me in anything other than a pair of sweats. Not because I’m depressed at the state of the country and the world as a whole, but because comfort is King. And so is Donald Trump!

                        Xxoxoxoxox,

                                        Psychotic Perfect <3