What Boys Want.

On a regular basis I both witness and experience the pretentious and mundane bitchiness that occupies 70% of the dribble that escapes the mouths of the women who unfortunately, make an appearance in my daily life.

Today I was on the receiving end of : "Ew, why would you want abs? Boys don't like abs."

Oh well heaven fucking open the skies and break my balls for I had no idea that my destiny was to fabricate the Stepford image of What Boys Want.

I do apologise for momentarily thinking I had a mind of my own -slap- silly silly girl.

Here's a thought, (define: thought: noun: an idea or opinion produced by thinking or occurring suddenly in the mind) could we all just stop for a moment and attempt to comprehend the idea that some women may just do what they do, whether it be diet, exercise, squats or read a fucking book, because THEY want to.

Oh wait, no no. I'm reading Tolstoy because that'll bring all the boys to my yard right? My milkshakes are clearly below par.

Just stop it. I'm not a feminist. But right now my anger management classes are the only thing keeping the royal bitch slapping I'm subjecting you to, at a purely mental state.

And just to completely contradict myself, I'm going to buy something deep fried and covered in chocolate in the hope that I can clot the part of my brain that wished people were simply happy for people who are happy.

Maybe I'll even turn it into a sandwich.

Blah.

I'm allowed to be proud.