I’m not one of those…

I read an interesting (read: insulting, biased, dickish, douchey – because I’m none of the ideal things) article a few days ago. Basically, explaining what women should do/wear/behave to make themselves appear more attractive.

So! We seemingly shouldn’t have chips or smudges in our nail polish manicure…ever. Which is hilarious to me, as my nails are always chipped – I use my hands, funnily enough. And when my nails are painted, they’re ridiculous colours.

Sexy, matching underwear is apparently a mandatory rule. Another hilarious one. Yea…I’ll stick to my neon sports bras, tshirt bras and ‘nerdy’ boxer shorts, thanks.

Knowing how to contour your face, wing your liner and match off your lipstick. I combined this section. 1. I genuinely cannot be arsed with contouring. This is my face, regardless of how amazing I could make it look, someone is eventually going to see me without all the glam shit. So fuck it, this is me. Don’t like it? Tough shit. 2. I wing the fuck out of my eyeliner. It just ain’t usually even, perfect and there’s always too much eyeliner around my eyes – again, fuck it, as I like it. Eyeliner for days over here. 3. No. I ain’t matching any of this shit, dude. My hair is blue, my eyeliner might also be blue, or it might be purple. And my lips can be whatever their natural colour is, as I prefer lip balm to anything else. – I suck at being a pretty girl, who knew.

Wearing clothes to compliment your body shape/figure. I’m owl shaped. So…yea. Imma just wear these jeans, a band tshirt and a flannel, thanks. Don’t like it? It ain’t complimenting me right? Then don’t fucking look at me.

Behaving like a lady – which included speech and the type of language you use. – another fucking hilarious one for me. As we know, I’m not very (read: at all) “lady like”. I swear like a sailor, I’m rough as fuck, I’ll drink whatever’s cheapest, enjoy a kebab with extra garlic and you can go fuck yourself if you don’t like it.

Wearing heels – always strut your stuff, ladies. Hey, fucko. Wear what you want. What I like to wear, ain’t necessarily what you’ll like to wear or find comfortable. I can’t walk in Converse hi-tops dude, without falling over. So strut your stuff, hell yea…but do it in something you find comfortable.

You know, let’s stop. I’m not shaming or against someone that can look fucking incredible, wear the right clothes, talk the right talk, walk the right walk…I’m just against being made to feel like an unsexy frump, because I don’t do any of these things right. I’m a little short, I’m not curvy or skinny or slinky – owl shaped, dude – I’m not pretty or sexy or classy.

I talk with my mouthful of sweets or lollipops. I drink from the bottle/can. My underwear doesn’t match, my socks are always odd. My shoes are stupid colours and covered in heartagrams. My hair clashes with my eyeliner. I bite my lips when I’m nervous, so I rarely wear lipstick or gloss. My nails aren’t manicured/shaped, they’re a bit haggard and probably blue or black. My skin isn’t perfect, I have numerous flaws – Scars, bruises, marks, permanent black bags under my eyes. I am the opposite of everything the article considered attractive. And you know what? Good.

I like me. For who I am, for how I look, for how I behave. Yea, I’m a bit crazy, socially awkward and I can be rude at times, I’m not pretty or sexy, I don’t even own a “little black dress”. I’m a complete mess. And I’m fucking delighted at that fact.

Love me or hate me – but you’ll be loving or hating my imperfect face, dodgy clothing tastes, coarse language and acquired taste personality. Be you, whatever you happens to be.


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