Honestly. I am a feminist’s nightmare, carrying on like some classically-conditioned woman. Let me explain:
- I work my 8-5 job Monday through Friday, getting up at 5:30 to do my gym routine, which is far less effort and output than it should be, but all the while I’m thinking to myself, “I’m doing more than 70% of women do on a regular basis. Good for me.”
- I check out other girls and compare myself to them in every way possible from skin, to hair, to nails, to clothing, to being in or out of shape. I base my mood for the next hour on the emotions I feel after said comparison.
- After mentally and physically beating myself up as much as possible, I race home at precisely 6:20am, wash up, take great pains in making myself appear beautiful. I trap my girth into a pair of nylons and suck in an inhale that I won’t let out until 5:00 tonight. Then, I charge into the battle of traffic, stop and get a coffee at my favorite multi-million dollar chain coffee shop, multi-task by checking emails and doing the crossword puzzle on my car ride, and listen to motivational audiobooks.
- I work as an assistant to a company executive, and tend to bite off more than I can chew always with the mantra, “I got it!”
- I spot cockroaches in my bathroom, scream bloody murder, and call in the forces (ie. the help of a big, strong male) to help me kill it
- I cook, clean, and do six loads of laundry on the weekends…and actually find myself enjoying it. Truly getting the greatest joy out of scrubbing a shower and the power of shiny faucet handles.
- While my boyfriend goes to watch sports with his friends, I call my girlfriends and get my gab on, paint my toenails, go shopping, or attend a yoga class
- I drink mimosas on Sundays
- I can’t do a real push up to save my life
- All this, and it’s sick really, but I’m kind of OK with it and because of that….my house looks spotless and awesome!