PRETTY WILL KILL YOU

By Mama Tiff

The world taught women to be “perfect.” Pretty. Thin. Smiling. Quiet. Pleasing. Palatable. Digestible. Manageable.

That version of “perfect” makes me want to gag. Seriously—I can’t even fucking stand it.

And yet… so many of us tried to be it. Because we were trained to believe if we were good enough, someone might love us. If we were pleasing enough, someone might choose us. If we were quiet enough, we might be safe.

But here’s what no one tells you:

The real “perfect woman” isn’t pretty and polite.
She’s honest. She feels. She shakes. She sobs.
She processes trauma. She sets fire to expectations. She lets it OUT.

My Thanksgiving Story…

This Thanksgiving was beautiful. Truly. The food, the ambience, the kids were home—gorgeous.
But the day after… something else happened.

You see, growing up, we had this deeply ingrained tradition:
You wake up Thanksgiving morning, make a massive breakfast feast, eat all day, watch Christmas movies, and basically stay in a food coma from sunrise to bedtime.

It’s what we always did.

But this year? I felt a NO in my body.

So I broke it. I got up, had a little turkey on a roll, and Jack and I got in the car and went for a drive through the mountains.

It felt strange at first—like I was betraying some kind of rule.

But I realized: I was done.

Done doing what I “should.”
Done feeling sick and stuffed.
Done overriding my own needs in the name of tradition.

And then…

That night we went to a party.

I took my usual two shots of tequila to manage the energy (because I’m so sensitive), and I had a beautiful time. I danced. I laughed. I connected with friends.

But then… something rose.
Out of nowhere.

This massive wave of energy started pulsing through my body. I went straight to Jack and said, “We have to go. Now.”
I barely made it into the Lyft.

And when we got home—

My body erupted.

I started screaming. Crying. Trembling. Shaking. Purging. Releasing.
It was like every bit of trauma I’ve ever shoved down—every smile I forced, every time I held it together, every time I didn’t scream when I should’ve—it all came out.

I laid in bed for an hour sobbing, howling, being cleansed by the release. And thank God for Jack.

He knew what was happening.
He wrapped his body around mine, and held me through the hell.

The Real Truth About “Perfect”

You want to know what being perfect really means?

It means not abandoning yourself.

It means feeling instead of stuffing it down.
It means letting the damn trauma move out of your tissues instead of rotting inside you while you pretend everything’s fine.

It means breaking protocol and breaking cycles.

And that’s what I did.
And now I feel clearer than I’ve felt in a long time.

You Are Not Alone

Many of you right now are feeling the pressure, the intensity, the emotions that don’t “make sense.”

You are not a disaster.

You are clearing your life of cancerous residue. Because this isn’t just a season change—it’s the end of a 9-year cycle.

And 2026?
It’s going to be a brand-new world.
A fresh field.
A place where your nervous system gets to breathe.

But you can’t bring the stored trauma with you. That’s why it’s rising.

So if you’re crying, if you’re shaking, if you’re breaking traditions and saying “I’m done”—good.

That’s the Queen’s Path.

And darling, your life is not falling apart.
It’s being perfected.

Perfection isn’t pretty. It’s real. It’s raw. And it’s the only way through.

I love you.
– Mama Tiff

The Queen’s Path