Late at night when I can’t sleep, I like to scour my favorite internet sites and read random articles about life, sex, and however many reasons I should or shouldn’t do something. However, recently I spend more time rolling my eyes than learning awful sex tip number 86982301.
It seems lately every other article is promoting feminism, and even though I am a woman, I can’t help but think, yawn* is this is still a thing?
Before you ladies start lighting the torches, I am not talking about equality in the workforce. I am aware women make 77 cents to every dollar men do, (which needs to change), but not shaving your legs isn’t going to make that happen. Trust me. Every winter I go extended periods of time wearing high socks and avoiding human contact, and I never once received a raise because of it. Refusing to wear tampons because “menstruating is something that women shouldn’t be ashamed of doing,” isn’t going to prove a point either…unless that point is you like to ruin your clothing and furniture. Yes people, “Free Bleeding” is a thing; look it up, but not while you are eating.
Personally, I have never once felt inferior to a man because I don’t even acknowledge that we are really that different. Sure, some men are bigger or stronger than I am, but so are some women. Personally, I know plenty at my gym who you wouldn’t want to run into in a dark alley, and plenty of men whose asses I can kick. I’ve met numerous men who are more/less successful than me, and the same goes for women. I’ve come across men who are smarter than I am, and some men I just want to pet while saying, “So pretty.” I have just always considered that a little thing called “life.”
I came across an article saying women who let a man pay for the date or pull out their chairs are “pathetic.” Well call me Captain Pitiful because I believe in Chivalry. I also believe in common fucking decency and holding a door open for anyone regardless of their gender. If a man wants to buy me a drink, I will gladly accept it. Sure, I can afford my own drinks, but I won’t get upset with a man for offering to buy me one. If a woman, dog, alien, or Sasquatch offers me a cocktail, I will gladly accept that too because FREE BOOZE people.
Another article even tried to tell me I wear make up because men have put pressure on me to look beautiful at all times. Yeah, uh huh, that, or maybe I prefer people not telling me I look tired which everyone knows is the nicest way of saying, “You look like shit.” Perhaps I like tricking people into thinking I slept a full 8 hours instead of watching “The Sandlot” for the 20 millionth time at 3 am. *On a side note, why is that movie always on at obscure times? Get it together ABC Family!
Now I know someone, somewhere is burning a bra and reading this in disgust, but you know what? I like my bras. They are pretty, and lacy, and they keep my boobs from punching me in the face. I have spent far too much of my woman salary on them to set them on fire. If anything, I would like to burn Victoria for charging so damn much for her secrets…
You know what else? I also love dresses, not because they were “created by a man to sexualize women” but because fuck pants. Have you ever felt a warm summer breeze on your lady parts? Well it’s delightful.
I wear heels because I am 5’ 2,” and every now and then it’s nice to not huff armpit the entire night. I also love the idea of appearing to lose five pounds without having to cry into salads for weeks. It never once crossed my mind whether or not they were designed by a man. They had me at artificial slimming effect.
I enjoy cooking and baking because I love to eat, with no correlation to the stereotype that “a woman’s place is in the kitchen.” If that is where the food is, that is exactly where I want to be. Put a fridge in the attic, and that’s where you’ll find my ass.
I also like Disney films. Does that mean I am giving in to the idea of women being “helpless victims who need a man to save them?” Fuck no. I like singing and cartoons.
Everyone needs to relax.
If you want to go to work while your husband stays home with the kids, then do it. If you don’t want to give into gender roles/stereotypes, then don’t, but if I want to cook dinner for my future husband in a pair of high heels and nothing else, that’s my damn prerogative. If you want to braid your armpit hair, that’s yours. However, I’m willing to bet I end up with my happily ever after first, and you bet your ass there will be a sweet song about it.