I am lucky in the sense that I am the correct gender for the body I was born into, but this does not make me excited about the gender I am. So many years of my life have been wasted on trying to be this “ideal” female, and awkwardly having to “act like one of the girls” in social situations involving females. I fucking detest squealing about things, looking at womens’ shoes, listening to women bemoan the fact that The Male didn’t call her after she slept with him? (Of course he didn’t, you fucked him expecting a relationship when he fucked you expecting a fuck) and being excited about babies/weddings of people I don’t know/care about.
Why am I not interested in “brunch with the girls”, shoes, pandering to men at my own expense, wearing ridiculous things in the name of fashion, baking cupcakes to impress co-workers/friends, or big weddings? Probably because I have never aspired to be like the following women: Carrie Bradshaw, Samantha Jones, Miranda Hobbes or Charlotte York. That’s right: Sex and the City is probably one of the most pathetic things to happen to feminine media since Cosmopolitan magazine.
What’s even funnier is that, like Cosmo, SATC claims to empower women – I guess they think that by including Samantha (the unashamed sex fiend), they are making up for the multitude of insults hurled at the women who watch the show religiously, unaware that the joke is really on them. For those lucky few of you that haven’t seen the show or movies, Sex and the City is about writer Carrie Bradshaw and her 3 best friends who live in New York, love fashion, and talk about nothing but relationships and shoes. Hopelessly, Carrie is in love with a man named “Big” that just won’t commit, no matter how much she wants him to. Her friends are typical sidekicks: Miranda the workaholic lawyer/mum, Charlotte the prissy princess, and Samantha the successful PR go-getter/sexaholic.
These 4 friends seemingly go out for brunch most days and cocktails most nights to dissect their hopeless lack of self-worth and how they enforce that by letting men treat them like shit, and how much they paid for their 4th pair of designer shoes this month, whilst laughing at their maxed-out credit cards over another $22 cosmopolitan. “Oh aren’t we typical New York City gals!” they congratulate each other heartily, fishing around in their latest Marc Jacobs/ vintage Chanel purses for some cherry red lipstick to match their 7 inch heels (because it would be ridiculous to go to a dentist appointment in anything but). You get the picture. A scene that is so ridiculously removed from any life that a girl growing up in New Zealand/Australia would relate to. However it seems to be what people strive for – whether subconscoiusly or not, the absurdity of shows like Sex and the City are invading the brains of females I know to be otherwise interesting and fun. I’m a bit sick of getting texts encouraging me to “come for brunch with the gals” or to “skip work and check out a shoe sale this afternoon – you’ll simply DIE if you don’t!”
I have 6 pairs of shoes, 2 of which are black flats, 1 pair of high tops, 1 pair of gym shoes, 1 pair of black heels (worn 3 times) and 1 pair of jandals.
I also have always had relationships with men that just honestly liked me and were happy to be my boyfriend, no pissing around or analysing texts with my girlfriends necessary. In fact, I have never once fretted about a man and whether or not he was interested in me. Simply put, I was intelligent enough to know when it was just sex and when it was something more – not that I was ever actively looking for “more”. My own interests and friends were always enough for me, thanks. I firmly keep relationships low on my happiness list – much to the dismay of Carrie, because she believes that a girl needs only to snare a guy and a pair of half price Jimmy Choos to be happy. I get really frustrated with girls that get upset because a guy didn’t call them, or sweep them off their feet after a one night stand. I’m not saying that men are assholes that only want one thing or anything like that, but I will say that sex isn’t a contract. Sex means absolutely nothing except for physical fun, and if you can’t handle that, then you shouldn’t be having sex until you meet someone that shares your view on it. Womens media loves to villify men for having sex and not following through with a dozen red roses, but this is unfair on men, and also serves only to make women seem even more idiotic and naive. Why can’t you just have sex for fun, not as a tool to trick a guy into a relationship? You fool.
Shoes. I’m quite willing to bet that some girls that claim to “love shoes” probably don’t care much about them at all, but just feel safe in the knowledge that they share something in common with “Carrie and the sisterhood”. This is an expensive lie, ladies! Of course many do love shoes, but seriously, what the fuck are you going to do with a pair of 8 inch heels in 40 degrees in Perth? I do love to have a laugh at the girls who wear heels out clubbing, but walk with their knees bent over their shins in a stunted way because they haven’t mastered the art of “heel-toe” in stilettoes. For the record, yes you do look fucking ridiculous – any length those heels have added to the legs that some magazine probably convinced you were too unattractively short, is completely cancelled out by the fact that you now look like you are trying out a new set of prosthetic knees. For the record, anyone that can walk naturally in heels looks amazing. Walking in your shoes should not be the main thing on your mind. Trying to be sexy is not sexy – amateurs take note ploise.
What was next? Oh yes – debt in the name of fashion. Need I even explain why this is so mental? I think debt is the single biggest issue facing our western society today – it locks us into jobs we hate, it limits our means to travel and it controls many of our major decisions. Put simply, debt prevents us from being happy, and should be avoided at all costs. Some debt is unavoidable – ie mortgage, but thats a moot point as you’re either paying that money into your own home, or into renting someone else’s. I was accosted with a whole barrage of insults about my car last weekend – the car that my mum gave me for free, and uses about $20 a fortnight in petrol. It’s not a pretty car because it has heat damage on the navy blue bonnet paint, but thats not always necessarily a bad thing. Take a tab of LSD and my bonnet becomes the motherfucking galaxy, true story. Anyway, the point is I could have a prettier car but meh – I have one that works, and I don’t have any car debt, like many people I know (who the fuck buys a $25 000 car on finance anyway?). So any TV show that glamourises women getting into major debt because they want to own $800 shoes is not cool in my book. It’s fine to treat yourself to something if you really want it and you have worked hard, but if you buy three pairs of designer shoes a month on Mastercard, you’re begging to be made a joke of.
I hope that all women can read this blog and leave with a bit of self appreciation, and the realisation that they are too good for the retarded behaviour that I see from females that I know are smarter and better than that.
Enjoy the long weekend everyone! – Love Chelle xoxoxooxoxoxoxox