I don’t know what happened, but all of a sudden, every woman I see seems to have filled her lips with something. I don’t know who tells them that this is appealing, that this is attractive. I suppose it’s the same people who tell them that pneumatic breasts are hot, or Brazilian butt lifts, or ridiculously high, clear stripper heels. All I know is filled lips make me want to run in the opposite direction.
Featured image prompt (openai): Large-format color photography, merciless overhead fluorescent light. A bathroom vanity counter, close and slightly low-angled: a litter of small syringes still in their sterile packaging, a hand mirror face-down, a tube of numbing cream uncapped and squeezed nearly flat, a latex glove turned inside-out and discarded. The objects fill the foreground — clinical, banal, faintly obscene in their abundance. In the soft middle distance, slightly out of focus, a woman stands at the mirror with her back to the camera, one bare shoulder visible where a robe has slipped, her face half-reflected in the glass but the mouth cropped just out of frame. The light is wrong — too white, too flat, bleaching the counter a color that has no warmth in it at all.