Yes, I am a white girl.

I love Taco Bell and Starbucks probably more than I love most of my immediate family members. Sometimes I can’t even and have to eat two chocolate bars before I can start to even again. I want to be able to eat whatever I want, whenever I want, and not have to feel guilty about it. I makes joke about how “Love is an Open Door” is secretly about a refrigerator, and I’m very open about my affair with all things carb-related.

Yes, I am a teenage girl.

            I make jokes but on some level I know it’s not right. I go back and forth between retweeting my love for pizza but then pinning photos of body builders. I laugh about how fat I am even though it’s now bikini season, but I know it’s not true. If I were truly fat, I wouldn’t talk about it. I would not think it was a joke, because my culture tells me it’s an abomination.

Yes, I am a media girl.

I admittedly watch the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show every year and attempt not to cry myself to sleep with my roommates that same night. I see photographs of models in bathing suits, hot pants and G-strings, and ironically the ad is supposed to be for shoes. Big booty hoes dance on cars and on tabletops while the man parades around making it rain, because as women we are incapable of having any intellectual or professional value. Our value is in our appearance and our youth, but only so that value can be dominated by men.

Yes, I am a young woman.

            I have ambitions and I have plans. I want to be successful in my career, more than I want a baby, a white-picket fence or a husband. God forbid, I am a woman who aspires to more in her life than marriage and a minivan. Children are supposed to be the fulfillment of my life. But don’t worry; I’m still young. I’ll change my mind eventually. Society will help me see my value is in the man I can snag, and in order to do that I need to be young, beautiful and thin.

            I’m sorry, but I really don’t give a shit. There’s a difference between taking care of your body for yourself and limiting yourself because society tells you it’s the right thing to do. As women we drive ourselves crazy over this ambition to be thin and beautiful and sexy and young. Why don’t we feel driven to be intelligent, compassionate, or make a difference?

The modern professional woman wears the scarlet letter of today. If you are a successful woman in the business world surely you must be a manipulative bitch whose home life is an utter wreck (cue Miranda Priestly, Hillary Clinton, Sarah Palin, etc.) I’d rather be like Sarah Palin than Kate Upton, and I’m sure that’s shocking. Society says it should be.


Even you, if you’re even still reading up at this point, I’m sure are judging me subconsciously. You’re picturing a bitter, ugly, maybe even a bit frumpy girl who’s just mad at the world. That’s the problem. Just because I want something different doesn’t make me any less of a woman. Just because my dreams are meant for men, doesn’t mean I lack the ability to achieve them.

No, I don’t want kids. I want to make history.

 No, I don’t want to join my neighborhood housewife book club. I want to join the Peace Corps.

 No, I don’t want a trimmed yard behind a white picket fence. I want to see the streets of Argentina and a sunset in Dubai.

 No, I don’t aspire to have a husband. I have faith in my intellect and strength as a woman to keep me happy well into my future.

             No, I’m not a bra burner. I’m just tired of the way I am expected to shrink myself as a woman even in the 21st century, and I won’t have it.

Besides, I’m much more satisfied with Taco Bell than I would be showing off my hot body for 10 minutes on the beach.

 Sorry, not sorry.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s