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Barbies & Kens vs. The Real Thing

Where has September gone?! I’m currently lost in a tumble of studying for exams, hassling myself to work out constantly, and getting a grip on how much I miss my long-distance boyfriend. And you would think time passing would make me feel better, more confident that what I’m doing right now in life is going well, but in all actuality it just makes me want to nap for three hours a day. A lot of the time I wonder if my routine is really such a blessing or a burden. After all, there is so much I still haven’t explored…For instance, today I paid my first visit to the campus’ Women’s Center.

What the hell is a women’s center? Yeah, I asked myself that too whenever I first heard about it. Instead of a bunch of girls passing out tampons or whatever, it was actually sort of cool. I mean, yeah, there was stuff about eating disorders and breast cancer, but there were also stuff like free condoms and buttons that said stuff like “I love my thighs!”, which I really appreciated. Not only because condoms are expensive, but that it wasn’t like high school where girls were victimized for having sex. And I don’t know how many times I’ve heard my roommate talk about how much she wants a thigh gap, even though she’s beautiful and muscular as is. Being a female can be great and all, but I am so sick of beating myself up for not looking perfect, and I’m tired of my friends doing the same. I mean, so what if I don’t have 6-pack abs? I still have great legs, especially in heels! And so what if my roommate’s hair is too dark for her taste? She can still rock short hair like nobody else’s business! Another thing I really liked about the women’s center was that it wasn’t all, “women have so many problems and men don’t have a single one”… They had these great posters that spoke up about how guys can feel all this pressure to “be a man”, like they can’t have feelings or need to grow a beard to be considered grown up. In my college experience so far, I’ve felt so much more pressure for both guys and girls to be more like Barbie and Ken.

"Hey ladies, wanna make me a man all over again?"

“Hey ladies, wanna make me a man all over again?”

In high school, we all sort of accepted that there was a limited selection available dating-wise, and didn’t expect much. But in college, with so many options of beautiful available, it’s hard to believe anything less will be accepted and loved as well.

Maybe this is all just in my head, but even if it is, I know people who go through an internal battle everyday when they look in the mirror. Heck, whenever I’m depressed I can be one of them!  I just wish there was an easier way to break down these barriers that social stigma puts in our way. I hate how easily people can hurt themselves when they tell themselves they need to be someone else in order to be “beautiful”. After all, if there is no one else like you in this stinking world, why would you try to be a replica someone else?

Just some thoughts for the day. I’m fighting this whole self-esteem battle myself, so just know that everyday someone else is going through the same struggle you are if you are in the same boat. We can do this guys/girls!

Positively Difficult

This whole being positive thing is harder than everyone says. A lot harder. Being positive means ignoring a lot of thoughts that my depression filters into my every brain wave, and sometimes it can be exhausting to cherry-pick the things you want from your own brain.

Being positive means ignoring my girlish instincts to be jealous of all of my boyfriend’s ex-girlfriends. The thing is, it’s all a big mystery with him. He hardly says their names, but every once in a while we encounter remnants of their presence. Today it was a box in his truck, complete with two bras, a DVD, a pair of shoes, and a can of Spaghetti O’s as far as I could see. All items he has yet to return to Miss No-Name. Look, don’t get me wrong. Part of my brain is rational, reasonable and tells me that ex-girlfriends have the “ex” part for a reason. After all, if it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t be with this guy now. It just sucks to have that other part of my brain in my head, noticing that he has a missed call for one of the guessed ex-girlfriends. Hip hip hurray for insecurity time! It’s bad enough I have to occasionally be reminded of the pictures he still has on Facebook of relationship’s past…but then again, I’m being harsh. (But then again, I don’t have any photos up of me and my old boyfriends.)

Being positive means ignoring the fact that my grandparents are old and dying and want to see me all the time. But because of said age and health, they can’t visit me, which means I must visit them. But I’m always so damn busy, I never seem to find the time. When I do, however, I am filled to the brim with so much sadness and love that I promise myself to visit more often. Then I return to my life, and am swallowed back into the teenage world of grad parties, going to the movies/out to eat/park/mall, having a crappy part-time job, my boyfriend, and hours upon hours of sleep. And they call, send their love, and I drowned in a vat of guilt. They couldn’t go to my graduation, and so my grandma left a card at my house that she’d hoped to give me in person. Where was I? Not there. That card will have illegible, cursive signatures that wish me luck and love, and have money that was set aside for me, and me alone. And I can’t remember the last time I saw them, just that my grandpa teared up as he asked me to not stay away for so long.

That just kills me inside.

Being positive means ignoring the tears that were falling down my face yesterday at dinner when I realized I couldn’t pay for my meal. I had plans to meet my friends at the movies with my boyfriend, whom I was so excited to see. Then bam! out of nowhere I remembered that I couldn’t even fill up my gas tank, let alone my stomach. I’ve been in the process of looking for a second summer job for maybe three months now, and I haven’t landed anything. So right now, all my expenses are being supported on a job I work one day a week at, for three hours or so. I felt like the biggest failure in the entire world, because not even McDonald’s will take me.

Being positive means ignoring all this shit on my shoulders, and I don’t know if I really have the capacity to cut myself that much slack. At least not now.

Whoever said that their struggles encouraged them to stay strong obviously didn’t have much of a guilty conscience.

What Girls Aren’t Supposed To Say

Last night before I went to bed I got on here and wrote a new post without publishing it. I was so incredibly angry that I just needed someone to listen and take my side right then and there. Because often when you have a fight with someone you care about, you need someone else to tell you that it is okay to be angry and say awful things and act badly. It can be hard sometimes to justify hurting the people you love even when they hurt you first. So I wrote this thing out and I did not hold back and by the time I ended it I felt so wiped out that I just went to bed.

Well, here it is, the day after, and let me tell you, it has sucked. Not only because it’s Monday, but also because I woke up this morning remembering that all of a sudden things between Charles and I didn’t seem so certain anymore.

Let me explain.

I know females are not supposed to want to have sex and be reckless about it and let people they met earlier that night run their hands all over them, but the truth is, some of us are like that. Some of us have given up on giving a damn. So basically, I am in love with Charles, and I thought he loved me, and I trust him and want him to be my first. Not an awful thing to want, right? You’ve got love, check. Trust? Check. Protection? Check. The previous embarrassment of letting someone see you naked? Check. All signs point towards go. The universe is telling you to collect two hundred dollars (should have known it would go downhill…I stink at Monopoly). And yet, said person does not want to have sex.


“Why can’t you be like girls all used to be, and want it to be perfect and just right?” he asked. “Don’t you want it to be with someone you love?”

Great. Not only am I in love with a guy who refuses to sleep with me, but he also seems to doubt the relationship.

In a way, it’s reasons like that which make me want to do it with him. He’s already hurt me and seen me at some truly low points; no one else would be able to walk on in and hurt me.

That’s what shocked me when I reread my almost-blog post when I got home. It was if I just wanted to get it over with, because no matter what, it would never be perfect because I’ll get hurt.

Maybe Charles is right. Maybe its fair that he wants to skip the tears and energy.

Part of me refuses to believe that. Part of me says he owes it to me to let me lay in his arms and  need someone there.

But that might be approaching a girly point of view, where her first is the knight in shinning armor. If you want the truth, here it is: everyone wants to feel needed. To give, to accept, to feel wanted. And that includes being physical with people. As a person who feels less certain about the stability and functionality of her mental affairs, it makes sense that I want to express things through a different outlet.

So sorry Charles, that I can’t just wait until the honeymoon and put you through such torture then. Guess I’m just not the girl who will take “Why?” for an answer.

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