Ratchet

The diary of a diva who desires to be ratchet:

 

The thrill of ratchetness intrigues me as women drop it like its hot, yells YOLO, and rocks a bird nest as a hairstyle (dyed three times). The freedom that surrounds this concept is secretly desired by me as I am well aware that ‘they’ shame the culture of being a true diva. Being a Diva takes much work, much thought, much preparation, much execution and follows a strict law of diva norms while being ratchet is unrestricted, limitless and executed with such a great level of mind-numbing stupidity that there is no sweat off the brow. The unfortunate thing is that neither culture can be impersonated as you either have it or you don’t. I am left with the reality that if you give me the most ratchet outfit, a grill, a tattoo across my chest, and turn me lose in a club I will probably curl up in the corner and die but in my dreams I am queen ratchet where everything goes. Until next time I am left with the reality that the highlight of my day is dumpster diving for furniture pieces that I can reconstruct into a work of art. What is a simple diva to do when she really wants to be ratchet?! *rhetorically speaking*. Now I have a few ideas but the Lord is gonna have to rush this Boaz campaign before im too old to get back up once I drop down…he he.