20 Reasons Why I’m not Like Most Women
I love my fellow women. As you probably know I am a totally pro-women, proud feminist and a supporter of the female species. I’m heterosexual (although, just for the record, if gay model Ruby Rose tried it on I wouldn’t say no), and I enjoy wearing short skirts and high heels. I dye my hair, I wear make up and the moon rules my moods. I can’t read a map properly, I have an obsession with crap supernatural teen series and I eat too much ice cream. Oh, and I have a vagina. So yeah… I’m about as much of a ‘girl’ as you can get. All very stereotypical, but all very true.
The problem is that, no matter how unique every man and every woman is, if you were to look at what is ‘trending’ or who women’s magazines are directing their articles to, there seems to be a new kind of woman out there. One that I just don’t understand. While my friends are all nodding and agreeing about the things they read on internet gossip pages or idolizing some vacuous celeb, I’m on the sidelines thinking ‘What the fuck? Really?‘
Am I getting old? Or am I missing something? There’s a bunch of things that I am constantly being told that women should and do love that I just don’t understand. Here are some examples as to why, maybe, I’m not a real girl after all… or at least not in the way I’m being made to feel I should be!
1. The cute baby excitement
I have kids. I like children (well, most of the time. Okay… sometimes) but I can’t melt over a newborn. Not really. Not as much as my other friends do. Don’t get me wrong, when I first got broody I was a quivering wreck of hormones and my womb would visibly clench and writhe beneath my jumper. But beyond that, I don’t get that ‘Oh my God he’s sooo cuuuuute‘ thing other mums get. And I feel a bit bad about it. I do love that snuffly noise they make and the smell of their heads and their tinsy tiny clothes, but I don’t get broody any more. Never. Neither am I desperate to pat pregnant bellies (who does that? do you have no shame?) or gaze adoringly at the new collection at Baby Gap. So nope, that bit of womanhood is definitely missing in me.
2. The tiny animal thing
Chihuahas. Wearing clothes. Inside handbags. I know a lot of women that get excited about that… I just feel bad for the poor little shaky thing. You can see the humiliation in their big round bulbous eyes (the dog’s eyes, not the woman’s… she’s just chuffed that her dog’s outfit matches the colour of her nails).
I can’t squeal and I can’t scream. I just can’t. I have tried but it doesn’t work. It’s good in a ‘at least I don’t sound like a stupid cheerleader’ way. But I do genuinely worry that one day I may be abducted and the witness will say “And I heard a strange guttural cry that could have been a piercing scream… had she only tried that little bit harder”.
What is that? My two little girls sound adorable when they do it, anyone over the age of 16 doesn’t. Stop.
I fucking hate pink. The only thing that I like being pink is the inside of my steak. Actually I like my meat so red that my chips are covered in blood. You’ll have to excuse me, it’s a Latino thing.
6. Not getting to the point
I very much get to the point (you may have noticed). When I speak to men they understand what I need from them, when I speak to women I am apparently rude and insensitive and a million other things that they fart-arse around trying to say until I realise they simply mean I need to surround my words with cuter adjectives.
7. Careful driving
I drive like a fifteen year old boy that has stolen his mum’s car. Too fast, too careless and with no panache whatsoever. I may actually be the only woman who mutters, ‘Pah, that’s got to be a woman driving that Clio.’
8. Handbag obsessions
I love handbags and shoes and clothes. Of course I do. But I’m not going to have a full on climax in Chanel when I discover my husband has spent the equivalent of a two week holiday in the Maldives on a bag that the next day will be full of my kids’ snotty tissues and twenty leaking pens. No. I can’t do that. I’d kill him.
9. The Kardashians
Don’t. Just don’t. I… No. Forget it. I can’t even bring myself to write about them.
10. Fake Tan
Can be a great idea. Or you can do it yourself and look like you’ve been all day rolling around naked in a bathtub of crushed Wotsits. I know it’s unethical but I prefer real sunshine and inappropriate tan lines.
11. Fake Nails
I used to have these when I was younger and richer and had more time. But they ruined my nails. And have you ever tried to do up small buttons or necklace clasps or pick money up off the counter with long nails? It’s not worth it. And it’s really really annoying and painful when you lose one.
12. Fake Tits
Not interested. I should be, mine look like two small defrosted bags of peas… but I’ll settle for a Wonderbra. That’ll do.
I’ve taken a few. Mainly with the kids for fun, but never EVER in the bathroom mirror. In a public place. Making a duck face. People don’t care what they look like any more. I’m partly amazed, amused and embarrassed when I’m in an airport and women (it IS mainly women) are taking selfies outside the check in gate. Oblivious to everyone around them, they can be there for ages… sometimes long enough to risk missing their flight… to get the perfect shot of Gate 43. And anyway, I always look mildly surprised in selfies. Why? It’s like I’m shocked that I’m having a photo taken by me.
14. Being a Lady
I know, funny, because it’s my name. But if being a Lady means not swearing or getting blind drunk, then forget it. Don’t get me wrong, I know how to behave in public and dress smart and I speak ever so nicely. But I love a good expletive peppered among my soliloquies and I love a good mojito or five. And normally the former is encouraged by the latter. What can I say… at least I’m not a boring date.
15. Sex aversion
I like sex. You know how some people ask ‘fancy a cuppa’ and everyone else says ‘oooh yes please’ without even thinking whether they really have time or energy or an actual need for a cup of tea? Well I’m like that, but with sex. What’s not to like? You get to cum and everything. But there are millions of women out there that aren’t interested… either I’m missing something or they need a decent lay.
16. Designer Stuff
I have a Mulberry. I have an Apple. I have a Blackberry. Well I have a banana and I know where I want to stick it! And before you start, I’m not jealous. Jealousy would imply I want what I can’t have, and I CAN have designer stuff… my budget will stretch to the odd gadget and arm candy if I want it to, thank you very much. But I don’t. And I get confused when my friends get so excited about one brand over another. Choosing an Aston Martin over a Ford Focus (given the choice) I understand, but a three hundred quid pair of jeans? That look like the ones I bought the other day in H&M? Sorry, my friend, but you got done.
17. Afternoon Tea
I won’t lie, I love cake. What’s not to love about cake? And when you get the teeny tiny pretty ones on a three tiered cake stand, well that’s all manner of good. But what I actually hate is tea. I really really hate tea. I hate tea as much as a twelve year old hates homework. To me tea tastes like falling into wet rotting leaves with your mouth open, or accidentally swallowing bath water after sticking a Lush bath bomb in it. It’s water with the taste of garden. I don’t get it. And as for the small tiny sandwiches you get with it? Just give me a chorizo and melted cheese baguette and keep your curled up triangles. Please. That’s not lunch…it’s pretend.
Again – I won’t lie, I love chocolate. What’s not to love about chocolate? But I can’t get half as excited about it as other women do. I know women that say chocolate is better than sex. It is not. That is a fact, ladies. Chocolate is nice, but it will not give you multiple orgasms. Not Cadbury’s, anyway. All I can decipher from that ridiculous comment is that there are lots of women out there that have not had good sex. Or there’s a chocolate bar I haven’t tried yet.
19. Worry and Guilt
I don’t do worry or guilt… but I do do a lot of shrugging. It’s not that I don’t care, of course I care, I just don’t worry about something happening before it has happened. That would be like walking around with an umbrella open all day just in case it rains. I have a finite amount of hours and energy in my day, and I’m not about to waste any of them worrying about hypotheticals. As for guilt, well… that’s stupid too. But I’m a mum, so I feel guilty about everything when it comes to my girls. Not about other people though, they can do one.
20. Getting Offended
I know I’m a bit alone on this one but I don’t get as upset about things nearly as much about every other woman I know. How could I when I write shit like this and you all tell me how mean I am? I’m not jealous either, nor am I envious or outraged and I rarely take things personally. Maybe because I don’t read between lines that aren’t there. I say it how it is… so I take it how it’s said. Or maybe because I am a cold-hearted mean bitch that lacks empathy. Who knows?
So, my wonderful fellow ladies, unfortunately I don’t have the ability to think like a man (which is a shame, because I’d love to understand what the fuck my husband is saying half the time) but neither do I conform to being the kind of woman that I am being told we should all be. It’s all a bit no-man’s-or-woman’s-land over here. So I’ll just stay in my funny unique little corner, being my not-so-funny and unique little self… feeling perpetually confused and exasperated by everyone. And shake my head a lot. And roll my eyes until I get a headache.
But I’m not going to worry about it. And no thanks, chocolate and a cup of tea won’t make me feel better (unless they can give me an orgasm.)