So, what do we know about you?
You have a blog about pseudo-grunge fashion and you’re probably obsessed with Paris, Chanel and champagne.
Your Instragram bio just says “Wanderlust.”
You have a small Mini Bijon named Dulce.
You have no issue with any part of your A cup bra showing at any moment. It’s your personal theme every year at Coachella.
You love telling people that you’re a dreamer.
You’re “obsessed” with coconut water.
You tried collecting vinyl records for a bit but ultimately realized that an iPod was easier- regardless, you only listen to music through gigantic headphones. But not Beats. THESE.
In your lifetime you will %100 get an inner wrist/forearm tattoo. It will be in french. It will say something like “To Err is human…” and you will have no idea where that half quote came from. You were gonna get “Live and Let Die” but then you found out the song was from Wings Paul McCartney and not Beatles Paul McCartney and were all like “ew, my parents listened to Wings” so you passed.
So of course you want to be a mermaid. This from the girl who swears she was “the first to be obsessed with unicorns, like, I started that shit in ‘99.” If it’s escapist and ethereal and wholly impractical (see “bathing in Moet) or physically impossible (see “ingesting a diet of glitter and stars”) or just really naive and annoying (see “Marilyn Monroe is my idol), then it’s all you want.
But let’s take a second and think about what being a mermaid would entail.
First of all, you will smell. Like fish. 100% of the time. If you ever sun yourself on a rock, your skin will crack from the the salt water baking in the heat and you will stink well, like fish left in the sun. For the rest of your life you will be surrounded by fish poop, whale pee, oil, cruise liner septic dumpings, dead bodies, machinery wreckage - this is all, of course depending on which ocean you’re in. If you’re in the Atlantic your odds of being gross increase exponentially.
Assuming you’re somewhere at the top of the maritime food chain, you will have to hunt, with your bare hands, for live food. You will have to physically grab passing fish and immediately kill them. They will bite you, sting you, poison you- whatever they have to do to get away. You’re going to have to gnaw through, chew and swallow fish scales, bones and eyes like, on a regular basis. Literally anytime you want a snack, unless you wanna be a hippie and just eat kelp or a loser like a whale and sift through plankton, you’re gonna have to turn off the human part of your brain and just mercilessly kill.
You will only speak Mermaid, which I’m assuming is similar language to that of a dolphin, so your communication will primarily rely on echolocation- basically just a lot of clicking and squeaking. But, even if you master this practice, it only limits you to communication with other mermaids. You can’t communicate or, more importantly, reason with predators. Predators like the Porbeagle Shark who will attack you. The Porbeagle Shark will attack you, on sight, and absolutely eat you alive. You can echolocate all you want but no one in your mer family is gonna swim to your rescue. You have people hands and he has teeth capable of inflicting up to 1000 lbs of pressure per square inch. Sorry, you don’t use imperial measurements because you’re a fish. Not square inch, “square guppy.”
You won’t have a jacket. I guess you’ll be cold blooded so that will help.
You will probably never have a pet. Fish aren’t really loyal and anything that’s a mammal will probably want to be with its own family. Most seals are mean and having a pet manatee (sea cow) would be like having a cow on land, not thrilling. I guess you could swim around with a drowned cat. No one is gonna want to be friends with you though.
Your days will pretty much be spent endlessly swimming. Swimming. Eating and trying not to be eaten. That’s what animals do. I don’t even think you’ll sleep. I think fish just always swim, pretty sure they die if they don’t. Ugh, you’re gonna be so stressed.
You will have no phone. You can find a conch shell and pretend to have a phone? You won’t even be able to put it to your ear to listen to the ocean because that “trick” relies on resonation of ambient noise within the shell and, well, your ears will be filled with water, so will the shell. So no calls for you.
No calls. No warm food (save the still beating heart of whatever Tuna you capture). No bed. No sleep.
Only fear, cold water and dead fish. This will be your mer-reality.
Still want to be a mermaid? I didn’t think so. You’re lunch break is up, get back inside Brandy Melville.
It’s like $80. And you’ll pay it. Why? Because you loooooove mermaids!
I’m not convinced that this dude doesn’t realize mermaids are 500% pure fantasy.
Let me tell you, in my world, mermaids are swole motherfuckers. They smell like fresh, sun-kissed babyflesh dowsed in lavender, and ride sweet ass laser sharks (made loyal by magical, bloodbound fish oath, fuck you). They can sink galleons with their fists, they fuck pirates, they gain their sustenance by devouring the raw terror of their enemies and by swallowing whole any pessimistic asspickle who shits on other people’s flights of fancy. They don’t need no fucking cellphones because these cold ass bitches are telepathic, motherfucker. That’s right, they can communicate with each other from anywhere in the world; perfect reception, no roaming fees!
And tuna?? Man, fuck tuna, they’ll eat your still beating heart, and it’ll taste like fucking nirvana. They feel no fear, they are the fear. Their emotional range is simple as shit; there’s the ever present rapturous joy,and then there’s the unpredictable fits of violent, cold-blooded rage that can only be quelled by ripping a full grown man in half with their bare hands. And they slumber. They slumber in the blood of non-believers.
If you wouldn’t rather be this, you’re a lying piece of shit.