The Scripts of Society: Females

From what seems to be the beginning of time, girls have been given this sort of rulebook containing what it means to be a woman or girl, how to act, what to wear, anything and everything under the sun pertaining to females maturing. Whether it is the rules that we [females] have to know how to cook, be polite, wear dresses, or be a “housewife”, it is nearly an impossible compilation of expectations to meet all at once. On top of the teachable things (how to cook, how to clean, etc.), or the fakeable things (being nice, accepting, quiet, etc.) there is a never ending list of physical attributes to meet as well. Physically we are expected to have a thin waistline, luscious, long hair, long legs, a big butt, big boobs, big eyes, nice teeth. The bigger the better, unless it’s your waistline because being full-figured means you lack self-control, and are indulgent.

I don’t remember what it is like to not consider myself overweight, fat, or not good enough. There has always been the need to strive to be what you see, whether it is what you see on TV or what you see on the cover of a magazine. It is drilled into your head at such a young age that you need to look like this in order to have friends, in order to be classified as pretty, in order to get a boyfriend. I’ve always dreamt that I would one day look like the Victoria’s Secret models, every girl does. The industry uses models whose body types are so far fetched, that girls grow up forever believing that their body type is wrong, disgusting, or not acceptable. When in reality, the models that we use today, weigh 23% less than the average woman and now 50 to 70 percent of normal-weight girls classify themselves as overweight.

All of the sudden, I went from admiring my sister for being the perfect role model to despising her. I began to compare myself to her, heartbroken that I didn’t look the same. I was the one child out of us three to “bigger boned”. I had broader shoulders, bigger legs, bigger arms; but I couldn’t help it, I just had more muscle than the others. I had been okay with looking the way, up until this time. I realized that my sister had lucked out with the body type that every girl wanted, and I just could not wrap my head around why I couldn’t have been born with that body too. I was probably around ten or twelve when I first started trying to diet. I had always been under the impression that I was the only person my age that was concerned enough about my weight to start dieting, but 35% of girls ages 6 to 12 have been on at least one diet.

A majority of these expectations that are given to us are impossible to achieve because a majority of them are things we are born with. We cannot change how long our legs are, we cannot change our eyes. We can only change certain things like how big our boobs are, the straightness of our teeth, or the color of your hair, but all of these things cost money. We’re expected to spend money altering our appearances in order to conform to societies standards of women, instead of being accepted for who we are.

Fated

If there is one thing I don’t want, it is for my blog to come off as a diary or journal of some sort. But there comes a time when you become so full of emotion towards something, where you can’t help but release or express it somehow, and I figured I’d share my expression with you guys. Sadly, I fear the only way I can actually get my point across is through a journal entry type of post.

I would also like to give you a forewarning on how cheesy and incredibly long this post is going to be, so proceed at your own risk.


Let’s rewind back to a year and a half ago, April 11th, 2014; that’s when it all started. I tried to play it cool by giving you my number as an excuse to “not kill my data” as we talked on Facebook. Luckily, you didn’t catch on to my idiotic plans to make you mine. We began to find ourselves uncontrollably texting, unable to stop… not that I minded. Before I knew it, you were asking to hangout.

Typically, due to the fact that I am incredibly socially awkward, any and every time someone new would ask to hangout, I would make every possible excuse as to why I couldn’t. But for some reason, with you, as much as I wanted to stay socially awkward, there was a part of me that told me to step out of my comfort zone this time. So I did.

We hung out once, and it very quickly became clear that this was not going to be a one time thing. There was not a single day that went by that we weren’t together. We would never really do much when we were together, but that was the best part, doing nothing. You’d pick me up from softball every day, and we’d drive around for a bit, and eventually park at the graveyard just to sit there and talk. Sometimes, you’d grab your binoculars and stare out your window looking for deer, while I stared at you instead.

There was one day we were texting, jokingly talking about prom, when you proposed the idea of going together. I laughed and agreed, under the impression that it would stay a joke. Needless to say, it was far from a joke. He failed to see how cruel it was to force a girl to do months worth of prom planning, in a single month. Against all odds, I managed to pull it off.

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At the time I failed to see how horrendous I looked, but it didn’t really matter because if only you guys could’ve seen the way he looked at me when I walked down the stairs that day. Despite the fact that I dyed my hair a million times darker the day of prom, and my hair looked like I did it myself even though I paid for it to be professionally done (THANKS NEWB), he still looked at me like I was everything he ever wanted. I death gripped his arm as we walked to the Mercedes. As my heels sunk a little deeper into the grass with every step I took, he couldn’t help but laugh at how much I12053384_10201042876111199_1304965299_n was struggling with the whole thing. As I reached for the handle of the car, he grabbed my arm, and said, “No, let me get it!” So, he opened the door like quite the gentlemen, and I got in the car. I was situating my dress when he came back over the door, opened it, and said we had to take a picture of him opening the door. That is what you see in this picture, a completely posed picture, but still one of the cutest Junior Prom pictures to this date.

Later that night, we were slow dancing when I looked up at him (because I was at least six inches shorter than him once I took my heels off), and asked if we could leave because it was starting to get a little lame. He told me to wait a minute, and that we would leave in a little bit. I sighed, but agreed. When the next slow song came on, I figured it was going to be our cue to leave, but to my dismay, it was not. We stood there, swaying side to side, when he looked at me, and asked me to be his girlfriend. Suddenly being forced to stay, wasn’t such a bad thing. Obviously I said yes, and shortly after re-asked if it was time to leave. Again, he told me to wait a minute. I was starting to get impatient when all of the sudden a familiar song came on over the speakers. It was our song. Being the emotionally unstable person that I am, I instantly started crying. After a few seconds I got myself together, and acted as if I never started crying because talk about embarrassing.

It didn’t take long for me to fall completely head of heels in love with him. Everything about him just made me “feel some type of way”. Every time I saw him I got butterflies in my stomach, every time he kissed me I could feel my heart start to beat faster. It was perfect.

We spent the next eleven months doing just about anything and everything together. We went to weddings together, and never failed to be the best dressed ones there. We went to countless family gatherings, because as far as we were concerned, I was just as much of a family member as he was. We even lived together, even though he hated having all my stuff spread out on the bathroom counter top.

Eventually, he decided that being together just wasn’t something he wanted anymore. Clearly heartbroken, I went and ate about a hundred tubs of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. I was heartbroken, and that was something that I had never experienced before. I spent the next couple weeks mourning, because it seemed as if everything good in my life was suddenly falling 12188276_10201117351693042_1359649209_napart. On top of the love of my life abruptly leaving me, he had done it at one of the worst times possible. The spring of senior year is easily one of the most eventful and best times of your life. You have Senior Prom, Last Chapel, and Graduation. These were all things that we had planned to experience together, and now we weren’t. I had never stopped loving you though, and there was not a minute that passed where I wasn’t beyond proud of you. So even though we couldn’t take a picture in our cap and gowns together, and I couldn’t tell you how proud of you I was, I can’t express how proud of you I was when you walked across that stage and received your diploma. I admired you from afar that day, despite the fact that I still loved you, and was still heartbroken.

I convinced my heartbroken self that everything was going to be okay after this because even if I had to withdraw from my top choice college, and commit to coming to Johnson State instead. I was still never going to have to see you again because you were going to be attending SNHU in the fall. Much to my surprise, when I pulled into the Bentley parking lot the day of summer orientation, I saw you walking towards the tent. My heart shattered all over again. I couldn’t understand how both of us could withdraw from our top choice schools and end up here, without each other knowing. It didn’t matter, I was going to avoid you at all costs. There was no way that we were going to have classes together, we had completely different majors. Everything was going to be okay… or so I thought.

I’d see you in passing, and maintain eye contact with the ground… and the ground only. I was going to make sure you knew that I was doing okay without you. Out of nowhere, you started favoriting my tweets and liking my posts on Facebook. I didn’t understand what was happening. I put off texting you about it for awhile, when all of the sudden I couldn’t take it anymore. I texted you, as if nothing had ever happened, as if you didn’t break my heart. “Hey what’s up”. A normal conversation quickly evolved into us telling each other how much we missed one another. A million thoughts began running through my head. I couldn’t think straight.

My mind was so boggled that I had to leave and go for a drive. During my drive, I realized how starry it was outside and decided that maybe a better way of clearing my mind was to lay outside and star gaze. I told you that this was what I was going to be doing, and you jokingly asked if you could join, and I jokingly said sure… and then before I knew it we were being serious. You pulled into the parking lot where I was laying on the hood of my car, and I couldn’t help but think of how bad of an idea it was to let you come see me. You got out of your truck, and laid on the hood with me. It was the first time we’d really seen each other since graduation, and the first time we had talked in person since we broke up. Although awkward at first, it quickly felt just like it did when we were together. We stayed there for hours, talking about everything. It blew my mind how normal it felt to be back around you again, despite the four months apart.

12096188_10201098960433272_3334849139774276699_nWe started hanging out again, and I started to feel myself falling in love with you all over again. Every feeling that I had for you the first time we were together, felt as if it had been amplified. The love that I felt for you before is nothing compared to what I feel for you now. It’s a love that consumes you. It’s a love that I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

All Good Things Must Come to an End

Last night marked the last game of my freshman year adventure on the JSC women’s soccer team. Although the season didn’t really end up going how I planned or expected it to, I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything in the world. Being a part of the soccer team was one of the best decisions I have made in a long time.  Being someone who is incredibly socially awkward, moving in a week before the rest of the student body for preseason, and getting to spend a solid week with my soccer team helped me make friendships that will last forever and helped me break through my socially awkward barrier.

To commemorate the bittersweet ending of the soccer season, I decided to do something a little out of my element. About three hours into the four hour bus ride, we all start to do our hair and get aesthetically ready for the game. A couple people started putting Bri’s ponytail into tiny little braids, a couple people started braiding their bangs back, a couple people put their hair into normal ponytail’s… and I got corn rows. Originally the plan was to just do partial corn rows on one side of my head, but after about four corn rows, I decided that I wanted more. So it went from one side, to both sides, to my whole head. The plan was also to just take them out once the game was over, but you’d be surprised how convenient it is to have the top of your head braided back into corn rows. Usually I spend all of warm-ups worrying about my pre-wrap falling off of my head, but for once I wasn’t worried! Not to mention the fact that you don’t have to worry about how crazy your hair is after the game because of all your fly-aways (girls might be the only one who know what I’m talking about there).

I wasn’t too sure what people other than my soccer team would think about the new hairstyle that I had decided to rock, but to my surprise, people are quite accepting of it. In fact, I’ve gotten more compliments on my corn rows than my normal hair!

I’m not too sure how long I’m going to leave them in, but I’m definitely going to enjoy them while I can. I don’t know how long they’re going to stay tight between sleeping with them in and showering with them, only time can tell. I can always redo them if they get too bad I guess. I sort of want to leave them in until my boyfriend comes back from Arizona because who doesn’t love a little surprise? He knows I have them, and has seen them over Snapchat, and I’ve sent him pictures of them, but it’ll be different when he sees them in person. He’s sort of picky when it comes to doing things that aren’t classified as the norm… so my double nose rings, my purple hair, and most definitely the corn rows. But, even though they aren’t his favorite thing in the world, he is still super accepting of change and doesn’t care too much. We’ll see what happens on Friday when he sees me for the first time in two weeks!

Forced

I only write

when I need to.

When I feel like there’s something there,

that I need to say,

or get off my chest.


I hate forcing myself to write.

It doesn’t feel right.


Words should just flow freely,

without my pressure,

without the deadline,

without the grade.

Thinking

I’m here,

but I’m not.


Physically, I am.

My body sits here,

but my mind wanders.


Far, far away.

I think about things

deemed more important.


I think of soccer.

I think of him.


I think of everything,

I’m not supposed to be.

Knives

My hands shake,

my vision gets blurry.

My mind can’t think.


Knives,

I can feel them

getting stabbed into me

from every possible angle.


From the outside, in.

From the inside, out.


I try to breathe,

but I just can’t.


It’s all too much.