Your Famous Facebook Friends and Beauty Creams

You walk out of the shower, skin polka dotted red from the hot water
Its always been this way even as a child
It was always about the hot water, the hotter the better
Funny how something this nondescript exists now as a
realisation to even write about

You lather yourself in creams
that promise to fade and whiten previous assaults of epidermis, they even promise to defy
quartz and clockwork
You know it is never about the properties or about its research done in Parisian laboratories
by Parisian researchers to justify its cost
It is only about the promise of the beauty you hope to attain
and beauty
can only be hoped for and not promised in a bottle/jar/tube

While awaiting the potions to assimilate into your skin
you log onto Facebook drifting through names of
people known as 'Friends' on the left side of your profile
You click to view all, marveling in your own predictions of how you were damn sure then,
of
Annie being happy earning nine hundred bucks a month after CPF as a clerk with a boyfriend pigmented in motifs on his mod-ride,
and how true it is now

You click to view all, surprised at how many famous people you have as friends
even though your contact is limited to the awkward hello at the shows you attend when you finally feel
more intelligent, creative and productive enough to show up
Others speak of these names in breathless awe and you want to say
Oh, he's my Facebook friend, but your heart taps your tongue to ask
excuse me but is he really a friend?
You decide against it and keep quiet
all the while knowing you haven't deleted these Friends yet because it makes you look better
but
at the same time
feel ashamed at your own superficiality of it all

Finally
You decide your Famous Facebook Friends (FFF) and beauty creams are the same
It all culminates in some wish for eventual potential
Of being as big as your FFF
Of being porcelain beautiful