At first I was confused by what passed for love in this world: people were discarded because they were too old or too fat or too poor or they had too much hair or not enough hair; they were wrinkled, they had no muscles, no definition, no tone, they weren’t hip; they weren’t remotely famous. This was how you chose lovers. This was what decided friends. And I had to accept this if I wanted to get anywhere. When I looked over at Chloe, she shrugged. I observed the shrug. She mouthed the words Take… a… hike… On the verge of tears — because I was dealing with the fact that we lived in a world where beauty was considered an accomplishment —
I turned away and made a promise to myself: to be harder, to not care, to be cool.
Brett Easton Ellis, Glamorama