Perhaps the most insidious part is that we’re so convinced our guilt is justified, we feel guilty for not feeling guilty.
Vaginal sweating. Yes, it’s a thing. No, I’m not going to describe it to you.
Some have asked me “who’s the woman in the relationship?” and I remain dumbfounded. I mean, the objective answer would have to be neither myself nor my boyfriend — that’s sort of a given in a relationship between men, no?
Earlier this year, the last name “problem” came to the forefront of my mind once again. I was now in a committed, long-term relationship, and there was a good chance that this was the last name I would be adopting someday.
As much as I’d never admit it out loud, just between you, me, and the internet: I want a good “how we met” story. With online dating you don’t have that, you just exchange a few notes and then meet at a bar hoping the other one isn’t fat.
Be your own inciting incident, be that girl Disney never writes about, that society never expects. Be the girl who provokes her own legends.
My parents raised me well, but sometimes I wish my mother had taught me to be “girly.” I was urged to ride bikes and play with the Ninja Turtle action figures I preferred over the Barbies and similar pink trappings…
I definitely have body image issues. One offhanded, mostly joking comment about a shirt making me look fat and I’ll be stressing about it for the rest of the day.
How we wish society was isn’t necessarily how society actually is.
I appreciate my body for some of the ways it helps me out. In the summertime, I get mosquito bites on my ankles because they can’t navigate through my hairy legs. Who am I for judging a girl who enjoys a little insulation in the winter months?