The family of rabbits gambolled freely in the field unaware a furry assassin was lurking. Ears pricked, on alert she stood, waiting and hoping for the signal from her master to catch and retrieve one of those tasty, furry toys.
MLM? What's that I hear you cry? MLM stands for multi-level marketing which is like a pyramid selling scheme but for legal reasons is definitely not a pyramid scheme despite the fact it operates in pretty much the same way as a pyramid scheme. The only difference is rather than it offer you a promise of profit if you recruit people, it gives you physical products to sell with the promise of more profit if you recruit people to also sell said products. See the difference? It's very subtle. But how do they work? They're usually easy to spot as they're selling products that are too good to be true. Want to be thin? Want a new you? Detox? Beauty products you've never heard of? Perfume that smells like Jean Paul Gaultier but isn't quite as expensive? This is for you! The premise is you sign up for a package of products to market. You can host parties, sell from the catalogue or harass your friends into buying. If you're lucky they'll buy your ...
4264 weeks. That's it. That's your average lifespan; assuming you are blessed with an average one. I heard this fact last week and it terrified, yet motivated me. Because here I am counting down the weeks until the next holiday. Living, yet wishing my life away. It's no way to live. Something needs to change. 4624 weeks. What can I achieve with what's left? Finding the answer to that is the next challenge.
Recently I've been taking issue with photo filters, there's tons of them on phones and photo apps designed to take any trace of uniqueness personality out of your face and leave you looking like a mannequin with perfect skin, contoured cheeks and eyeliner. And occasionally bunny ears. We're setting up people with unrealistic expectations and the idea that beauty is everything. In an act of defiance I've turned off the photo filters and only post pictures of my actual face. Bags and all! Add this to the fact I don't wear make up and I often wonder how I don't end up terrifying small children. But it turns out children aren't superficial arsehole. And neither, it turns out, are my lovely friends. Here's a poem that's stemmed from my loathing of the instagram age of fake beauty. Broken Filters My Snapchat filters broke today I had to show my face No soft focus or colour balance Just my actual genuine face No fake eyeliner, or...
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