My Wrists Are NOT Precious

I don’t let a watch grace my wrist in attempts to bring attention to that which sings the tune of modern professionalism, instead it sings the tune of petty sheepish convention and the insatiable desire to be noticed, to be mentioned.
My hands were made to work and a watch would only slow me down, besides who has the time — pun intended -to be so inclined when everyone in the world has smart phones…? I don’t let branded so-called-premium new rags don my shoulders because I’ve seen first hand the queues lining up through factory doors in Bangladesh;
and the same buildings are synonymous with unfair wages, distrust and abuse.
I’ve seen the noose of employment and survival around their necks so I can have a summer blazer to help me creep up the ladder of respect…? Nah,I’m happy with my Op-shop ties, 80% off racks and ethically sourced clothes.
Screw Gucci, ain’t no fan of Tommy, ain’t buying F.C.U.K., unless it’s filed in the USED category on eBay.
We’re led to believe a lie that each season warrants a new reason to jump in the car and empty our wallets appeasing the consumer Gods and big business when all we’re appeasing is our over inflated egos which is really just hiding the fractured-but-held-together-with-sticky-tape insecurities we’ve convinced ourselves to believe in.
Don’t justify your future, create it. If you wanna be mindful then do the work and take the steps to mix it together, stick it in the oven and bake it. Stop letting someone else determine what your cherry on the top is. Realise that it’s yours to determine, and stop buying — LITERALLY BUYING — the bullshit.
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