I don't want to take a shower.
I don't want to get dressed.
I smell bad - and I don't care!

(Because I am safe at home.)

I want to go dancing, but don't want the prep work and uncomfortable shoes that always seem go along with a night on the town. If I were a guy, I could wear jeans, a shirt, and tennis shoes. But because I'm the girl (ahem, the aging girl) that generally wears jeans, a shirt, and tennis shoes it puts me in the situation to often mess up the dancefloor....a thorn among roses. A thorn with an excellent sense of rhythm, mind you, but a thorn none the less.

Why do women need attention to the point where we make ourselves miserable to get it? Girls eye each other - wishing for her body, her hair, her clothes. Wishing for the confidence that she seems to have (but really doesn't, the poor bulemic wreck.)

An even more disturbing question is why (WHY??!) does a fairly unconventional, free-thinking person like me play dumbly along with society's stupid, stupid mind/ego games? I eye those girls, wishing for their bodies, their hair, their clothes, their confidence, their youth. We (women) imprison ourselves every day. Men help, of course, the poor primally-driven fools, but it is we women who perpetuate the majority of the bullshit. And, of course, I hate myself for sheepily following the masses, as I forever wonder why a serious, society-toppling female revolution never seems to actually happen. Oh, how I would love revolution to begin...first and foremost within my own heart.