The Sleez-tainment Industry

As I peeled my fake lashes off, the tacky glue refusing to let go of my skin, I'm glad to be home. By myself. Sans random guy.
After one night of working in the entertainment district, I've had enough. I've had enough of creepy guys, of bitchy girls, and drunk crazies. Oh, and especially of guys trying to get me to work for them. No, thank you, I'm not interested in having you buy me a drink and giving you head in the bathroom. Now move on.
75$ for 3 hours is good money for handing out flyers, so in fact I may come slumping back to Richmond Street another night. But for now, I can feel my skin crawl from the night that passed. The worst part of the night wasn't being oggled and hooted at by strangers or sidled up to by Mr. "if-I-wasn't-getting-married-I-would-so-do-you". The night was overshadowed with the overwhelming feeling that I wasn't good enough. Maybe that guy would've taken a flyer if I was skinnier, blonder, or taller. The manager approached my friend first, maybe he thinks I'm ugly?
I believe that it's exactly this mode of thinking that leads to the Paris Hilton/Lindsay Lohan look. Females go out and think that they aren't good enough. They feel competition from even their friends, so they fake n' bake, bleach their hair, and get implants. Why? So that when they go out, they can be confident in the fact that every guy in the place wants to sleep with them. This is silly because 1) guys will fuck anything that moves and 2) so what?
It matters because we are obsessed with what other people think and view ourselves as others view us. Self-esteem goes up with compliments and stabs at hooking up every weekend. Conversely, it also goes up with accepted requests for a night together and sex. So everyone's a happy camper.
But not really because the girl goes home to some shame and ample fuel to stoke the Superficial fire and the guy is just reminded of his ex girlfriend and hurts.
Or maybe not- that's just how I see it.
I'm happy I recognize I'm more beautiful without caked on makeup and revealing clothing;that I don't have to be with a man (in any kind of way) to feel worthwhile. I go out and I have a choice- it's not a do or die every weekend. I'm happy to go to Clubland once in a while, but after a night, return to reality.
A reality where I am as natural and true to myself as possible, because in the end, that's the only person left to answer to.