One Million Things I Hate About You
I hate that you call me sweetheart, I hate that you tell me how to dress—sexy, not too sexy, I look like a slut, show some skin, leave something to the imagination. I hate that it’s always my fault, I hate that it’s funny to say make me a sandwich and pussy…
To some people, not caring is supposed to be cool, commenting is more interesting than doing, and everything is judged and then disposed of in, like, five minutes. I’m not interested in those kinds of people. I like the person who commits and goes all in and takes big swings and then maybe fails or looks stupid; who jumps and falls down, rather than the person who points at the person who fell, and laughs. But I do sometimes laugh when people fall down.
When we’re drunk, though, when our cheeks are flushed with rosé, something changes. There is an almost palpable feeling of defenses coming down, a sudden compassion and joy for the women around you. We make immediate friendships waiting in lines, we compliment uninhibitedly, we laugh and cover for one another while going to the bathroom. We tell secrets and hug and even kiss. We tell one another how beautiful we are, in a very sincere, if somewhat slurred, kind of way. It’s a joyous scene, the kind of unedited girl love we always imagine we should be having but never do. The instinctive prickliness with which we often confront new women is replaced by a kind of curious sweetness, a desire to make one another feel good because life is too short to feel any other way.
I believe that getting drunk is a moment of pure catharsis for women, a time to forget the crippling social anxieties raised by other women and embrace one another as the beautiful friends that we all have the potential to be. There is no reason that we shouldn’t be welcoming, lending beauty products in the mirror and making happy conversations with strangers. There is no reason that another woman being beautiful and well-dressed should threaten our ability to be those things ourselves. There is no reason not to tell someone if you think she looks wonderful tonight. When drunk, we feel the euphoria of realizing that all of our greatness can co-exist and enhance one another, and we deserve to feel it all the time.
This article just completely blew my mind. I could not have read this at a better point in my life- I am ready to eat the “big frogs” first in 2014!
Over here at R29, we’re all about celebrating every body type (and helping you to flattering yours, to boot). We’re not ones to play favorites with soccer legs, Botticelli curves, ballerina bods, or anything else, really. BUT, that’s not to say we don’t appreciate it when others take a moment
Hot showers, especially when you’re achy or dirty, feel like getting kissed all over your body by a thousand tiny Ryan Goslings.