Real Girls

I was at Five Below yesterday and bought myself a shirt that reads “I’m So Fancy, you don’t even know” which is hilarious and perfect because the only way for me to ever be fancy would be if no one in the world knew about it because I’m so not fancy in the slightest. And for $5, whereas in other stores it would be $20, it was a steal and I love it so I’m happy.

But then I saw another shirt that read “Real Girls Play In The Mud” or maybe it was real Women play in the Dirt, or maybe it was something about trucks. Honestly I don’t remember but it doesn’t really matter if it was girls or women or mud or dirt or trucks or bikes, because there are so many freakin’ shirts like that out there and the the point is always the same — real females can hang with the guys.

real girls kick balls

I went back to find the shirt, turns out it had nothing to do with dirt, but you get the point.

First, can we please stop classifying things as “for males” or “for females”? I know boys who like dresses and makeup and girls who like dirtbiking and headbanging and neither makes either of them more or less male or female, women or men, girls or boys. It just makes them human.

Now, the important thing to notice about this shirt is that it tells girls that being “one of the boys” is cool, but being “one of the girls” is not. Real women are one of the boys. They like mud and dirt and trucks and bikes and balls — not makeup and ponies and dresses and dolls. And this is so, so wrong.

I Googled images of “real girls play” before I went back to Five Below to find the shirt, and I was appalled with what I found. Photos of shirts and stickers and all sorts of shit that said stuff like “Some Girls Play With Dolls, Real Girls Go Fishing“. So you’re telling me that any girl who plays with dolls is not a real girl? This is the message we want to send our youth?

This is absurd. We’re all about empowering women to do whatever they want. You know, so long as what they want isn’t considered “girly”. Because real women don’t do girly things. Come on.

I don’t play with dolls or wear makeup or do my hair. I also don’t kick balls or hunt or fish. So does that make me a real woman or not? Of course I’m a real fucking woman. I have a vagina and I know in my heart that I’m a woman. But it’s shit like this that makes me identify as Androgynous, because it seems I can’t fit in no matter what I do.

We’re all just trying to survive. The message we should be sending our girls is not that they must fit in with the boys to be real women, but that they should be themselves because they already are real women. No matter what they do, or like, or want.

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Only Sluts Eat Bananas

A while ago I saw a Facebook friend of mine post this:

sexist

Which got me all riled up.

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What is slutty exactly? Please, dear male friend, inform us as to how to find the perfect balance between slutty and sexy. Because we all know you want to look at us, but then you blame us for giving you something to look at.

But, more importantly, our purpose is not for your eye candy. We don’t dress to impress you. Some of us don’t dress to impress anyone. We live in New Jersey, dear friend, where it has been in the 90s (or felt like it) for the past week. We’re not used to this weather. We’re fucking hot.

What do you do when you’re hot? Take your shirt off, I presume? Wear shorts and tanks, maybe? Yeah. We do the same. We wear shorts and dresses and bikinis because it’s hot and we want to be comfortable. Not everyone who dresses in small clothing does so to draw attention to themselves.

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What Women Really Want

I recently read this post from Paul Thomas Bell. Now, I follow him and appreciate his blog so this is all in good fun, but I just couldn’t miss an opportunity to write these posts.

[This is number three in the three-part response series. If you missed it, read part one — I Guess I’m Not a Woman — and part two — What Stereotypical Men Stereotypically Want.]

In What Women Want (In My Experience), Paul lists the things he believes women want. They’re normal stereotypical things, like babies and money. So I’m here to tell you all what women really want, non-stereotypically.

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What Stereotypical Men Stereotypically Want

I recently read this post from Paul Thomas Bell. Now, I follow him and appreciate his blog so this is all in good fun, but I just couldn’t miss an opportunity to write these posts.

This is number two in the three-part response series. If you missed it, read part one — I Guess I’m Not a Woman.

In What Women Want (In My Experience), Paul lists the things he believes women want. They’re normal stereotypical things, like babies and money. So I’m here to spin things around and tell y’all What Stereotypical Men Want (In My Experience).

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Unprotected Sex With No Consequence. Of course, who doesn’t? It feels better. But sometimes the idea of having a little me running around or dying when I’m 35 from a horrible disease or getting sores on my lady bits is enough to make me stop and say fuck off if there’s no protection available. Not men, though! Instead they’ll vow they’re the best at the pull-out method. News flash: you’re not. So Dude, don’t always rely on the woman to have protection or be on birth control. Prepare yourselves, or you will have one of those terrifying things listed above.

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I Guess I’m Not a Woman

I recently read this post from Paul Thomas Bell. Now, I follow him and appreciate his blog so this is all in good fun, but I just couldn’t miss an opportunity like this to shatter the female stereotype.

Paul has deduced that he knows the answer all men seek — What Women Want. Therefore I must not be a woman because, while the first phrase of some of the things on his list may apply to me, the descriptions sure as hell don’t.

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Babies. You’re right, I do want babies. However, I don’t want any more until I’m much older and much more stable. One surprise was enough, thank you. So no, I will not be forcing anyone to put a baby in me before they’re ready. I know what it’s like to not be ready.

I also don’t want babies nearly as much as my boyfriend does, and I’ve come across more women who want nothing to do with slobber and poop and “why?” and almost setting the house on fire every second of their lives than I’ve met women who want that stuff. Rock on, non-baby-makers.

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