I was going to go to sleep half an hour ago; and then I was just going to skim through my friends page and go to bed; and then I had a really strange reaction to Sunil's post and I thought I'd try to jot down my feelings about it
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I fucking resent that. I fucking resent that it's hammered home - constantly, continually, un-fucking-endingly - that as a woman my primary virtue is my beauty. That my looks are the most important thing; and that everything else - what I do, what I want, what I think - hell, even that I think at all - is therefore less important. And, a corollary: that anything I do matters less if I refuse to play by the wax-it-off/paint-it-on/push-it-up/suck-it-in/pluck-it-out rules.It is so depressing to think about how much easier it would be for me to achieve the things I want at work if I would just lose some weight, wear more makeup, spend more time on my hair, find more stylish clothes... I just can't be bothered to spend three hours getting ready every morning
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Did I tell you about the cab ride on the way to work from the airport yesterday? We were discussing politics, and Hillary's '3am phone call' ad, and the driver said (basically) "I wouldn't trust a woman answering that phone at 3am... what if she has PMS, no offense, but you don't want a woman with PMS running the country."
Um, also, isn't Hilary, like 60? And therefore most likely menopausal? And THEN we go into the whole discussion about how difficult it will be for this country to watch a woman age in high office. Excuse me, as if it's been a cakewalk watching an overgrown chimp with sub-simian brain function age in high office?
That cab driver fails at Taxi Cab Wisdom. And also, life.
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ARGGGGGGHHHHG.
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That cab driver fails at Taxi Cab Wisdom. And also, life.
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