Wednesday, August 12, 2009

I read somewhere their periods attract bears. Bears can smell the menstruation.

The last three days have been chock-full of Punctuation Week-induced mood swings.  I hate admitting ANYTHING that makes me seem like a girl (which is an issue in itself), but MAN has my vig vag and it's monthly cycle been fucking with my emotional well being lately.

I'm not sure I'll ever understand why revealing any character traits about myself that fall under the blanket term of 'girly' is so repulsive to me.  I mean - I am in fact a girl (not yeeet a wo-man..), so why is acting like one such a fucking travesty?  The older I get the more I want to distance myself from the stigma that inevitably comes with behaving like a typical woman.  But when I truly think about it, the older I am, the more I'm fine with admitting that my lady parts are a huge factor in my behavior and personality.
Maybe the part that deters me the most is the 'typical' of it all.  I'm very aware of never being perceived as a typical chick, probably because I find typical chicks hard to handle.  And mostly because I don't feel I am one.  I take 5 minute showers (7 minutes if I shave, but let's be honest, that's only once a week), while my male roommate spends a good half hour.  I get ready in the morning in 15 minutes tops (I didn't say I looked good), and we all know I drink beer like I've got bigger balls than you.

Even deeper than that, I'm not big into drama or shopping, it's okay if you hang with the guys tonite, and going out to a sporting event is usually much more fun than dressing up for a nice dinner.
But lately I've realized that sometimes it's okay to have a little girl in you.  Not the kind that you kidnap (gross.  twisted.  funny?), but the kind that appreciates a good pedicure and spends too much money on shoes.  I'm finally fine with being picked up for a date and having it planned and paid for for me - which for any who knows me is irregular, if not unheard of, especially due to the controlling side of me that prefers to just plan things myself.  And the natural housewife-ish chores of cooking and cleaning?  At the top of my list of hobbies.

I think as long as I'm never typical, I'm finally ready to sack up and admit that my sausage wallet is a part of who I am, and I shouldn't be ashamed of it.  Not that I'm going to start flying a vagina flag around town, but I might not feel as bad next time my hormones make me laugh and cry in one breath.

Shit happens.


Its Only Life said...

i think its funny how were not the girly types..yet were in a sorority..the ultimate girl mecca.

lovely details on this btw.

Cory Parker said...

May I direct your attention to a little blog known as "Is That A Period Joke?" -

It may help you in your time of need.