Author Archives: Sonia K.

You Weren’t Allowed to Do This

There were rules, babe.

You said it yourself.  Time and time again… Whenever someone at work was acting up, or whenever someone in their personal life was doing something idiotic, you’d shake your head and talk about “the rules” in life:  The things people are allowed to do, and the things they aren’t.

We didn’t agree on everything, and that was part of the beauty of what we were, but we always agreed on “the rules.”  We lived by the same ones both in our lives, and in our relationship.  Simply put:  we knew what we were allowed to do and what neither of us were allowed to do.  The rules were very clear.

And as the years went on, I’d like to think I got more liberal in my allowances.  I think we both know I started off pretty…rigid.  But I think towards the end there, we were really getting it right.  By the end, after loving you for so long, there were a lot of things that I would have happily allowed you to do:

You were allowed to forget to call. 

All those times you would fall asleep, phone in hand, and wake up to 17 angry missed calls from me…were totally allowed.  Though I said otherwise at the time, all that anger…all that irritation… would disappear the second I saw your name appear on my screen the next morning.

I’d listen to you frantically explain what happened: how tired you were from work, how you fell asleep watching a movie with your roommate, how sorry you were for not calling.

And I’d tell you to never do it again because it worried me…because your job is dangerous and whenever you didn’t call, the worst case scenario would explode in my head… and you’d swear it’d never happen again.  But it always did, because it was allowed.

You were allowed to fight with me. 

And man, did we fight.

Those knock-down drag-out brawls where we’d be set on nothing short of complete and utter annihilation of the other person’s point (or feelings)…those fights were allowed.  The fights were allowed to be ugly.  They were allowed to be ruthless.  They were allowed to hurt.

Truth be told, I loved fighting with you; honestly I did.  Because, no matter how bad they got, every single fight we had  would lead us to the same realization time and time again: The realization that the bottom was never going to fall out on us.  That we were never going to give up on one another.  Never not have each other’s backs.  Even if we needed days, weeks, months to get over something.

To give up on one another…that…simply was not allowed.  Ever.

You were even allowed to leave me. 

You were allowed to decide that you needed something else in a partner.  You were allowed to meet someone else and be happy with them.  I would have allowed it.  Because I’d still have been able to have your back, though someone else would have your heart.

You were allowed to find someone your family liked, someone who loved themselves more, who didn’t press you so hard on every…single…stupid…thing.  You were allowed to do that, babe, if it made you happy, because at times, I certainly didn’t feel like I made you happy.  And you deserved nothing short of that.

You weren’t allowed to die.

Not even a little bit.  It wasn’t even something to be discussed.

You weren’t allowed to leave me here and not take me with you.  We had adventures planned…together.  I wanted to go everywhere with you, and you went to the one place I can’t get to, and to say that that completely breaks my heart is the understatement of a lifetime.

And I can’t talk to you again, and I can’t call you again, and I can’t see you again, and I can’t figure out what exactly you expect me to do because you’re not here for me to ask you, and that wasn’t ever allowed.

You’re gone.  You stopped living.  You broke the rules.

But I didn’t, so I still have to follow the rules we set for one another: I have to be tenacious.  I have to be honest.   To be a better version of myself every day.  I have to walk outside everyday in a world you’re not in anymore and continue to try to be a good person.  And I have to do it without my best friend, my wing man; I have to do it without my heart.  And I have to pretend that it isn’t utterly exhausting just to keep breathing sometimes.

And sometimes, it’s too much, and I just miss you.

And I know…I’m not allowed to fall completely apart.  Or to give up on myself.  Or give up on people.  I know that because you made those rules very clear over and over again when you were right here next to me.  You believed in me.  Always.

I know I’m not allowed to turn into a person you wouldn’t be proud to know.  I’m not allowed to turn into a person you wouldn’t recognize.  I’m not allowed to turn into a person who stops showing up for her friends or family.  And I won’t .

I’m not allowed to let the space in my heart that held all of the joy and happiness you brought me turn into a sanctuary for bitterness and anger and resentment.  That place is only allowed to be filled with goodness.  With you.

And even though you were way better at following the rules than I was…I’ll finally say what I never said during any fight we had, and that is: Ok, babe…you win.  I’ll follow the rules…some days more so than others though, but I’ll do it.

But one rule I need to make absolutely clear to you is that I am allowed to keep loving you…forever.  And I will, babe.  Every day.  Without fail.

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Side note:  If you go through any of the other articles on this blog, they’re from years ago.  None of them were about the partner this post is based on.  This man, my best friend, John, was never the cause of any of the painful and angsty posts that I had written years and years and years ago.  

 

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Why You Would Go Back to Your Abusive Ex

I’m not writing this to hurt anyone.

Even though I’ve wanted to write this for a while,  I held off on it for several reasons: the post always came across as incredibly bitter…and quite frankly, I wasn’t strong enough to deal with any criticism or blow black from people who knew me when I was with him.

Trust me, I know there’s two sides to every story.  But this is mine.

I’m not writing this to hurt anyone, but I know it will.

I also know if it will piss a lot of people off…particularly those in my ex-boyfriend’s camp or the people who just wanted me to shut up about everything all those years ago.

I know this is going to hurt people.  So  I’ll go ahead and tell anyone who’s upset about this post exactly what my ex boyfriend said to me the day after he grabbed me by the neck and shoved my head into a car window over and over again.  I’ll go ahead and say:  I’m sorry…but I never meant to hurt you.

Hope that makes you feel better?  I dunno…It never really worked for me.

I’m not writing this to hurt anyone. I’m writing this because the only reason I stopped talking about abuse, is because other people told me to.

I was sick of being called dramatic, of getting belligerent emails from him, or getting called a liar in bars by people who knew him.  I was sick of  having to explain to people why I broke up with him…after all…we looked so happy together in photos.

I’m writing this because I told myself that I would never go back to someone who abused me.  That if a guy so much as laid a finger on me, I would be gone. I’m writing this because we all have stories like this, but we never talk about them.  And we need to start to.

I judged people like Rihanna, questioned their sense of self respect, and held on to the belief that I, some how, was better and stronger than a girl who would go running back.

But I wasn’t.

And for a long time, that made me question myself.  And doubt myself.  And ultimately hate myself.  But luckily, as time went on, I got some clarity…and with that clarity…the questions turned to answers.

Answers that I wish I had two years ago.  And answers that I think may help people.  Who knows…maybe this post is just for me.  For me to help myself. To finally put one of my relationship Bogeymen to rest.  He always did say I was selfish.

Why did I go back?

1. Because people convinced me the abuse wasn’t bad enough

As my ex so poignantly put in an email, “it’s not like  I Ray Rice-ed you.”

If you dont get the reference, please stop right now and view the footage of what NFL player Ray Rice did to his fiance in an elevator.  (She later married him that month)

So I’ll go ahead and confess that this is true: my ex did NOT knock me unconscious in an elevator, and drag me by the leg into a hotel hallway and let the doors almost close on me.  He sure didn’t.

He also didn’t leave me bruised up, or in need of a hospital.  He never punched me.  He never slapped me.

He did, however, go from being a guy who “would never touch a girl,” to someone who “would never touch me again.”  You see…it was a one time thing. He believed it.   Other people believed it.  And after a few months of being broken up, I believed it too. So I went back. And when it happened again…it still wasn’t bad enough for people.

But it was finally bad enough for me.

People asked questions.  How hard he pushed me…had I said something to antagonize him…was I sure I wasn’t exaggerating?

And I spent way too much of my time and sanity trying to answer these questions.  And I’m done now.  But I do have a question of my own for anyone who still thinks things weren’t bad enough:  how bad did I need to let it get?  Seriously, how badly did he need to hurt me? 

2.  Because I saw it coming

I saw the violence build up the first months we were together: he’d punch walls, throw phones, push taxi drivers…all the while swearing he would NEVER touch me.  Ever.

Then he did.  And I left.

But then it seemed like he changed.  And I told myself that I would be able to see it coming if it were to ever happen again.  And I told myself that I would leave at the first sign of his old habits.

I was wrong.

3.  Because he convinced me that if I couldn’t love him, I couldn’t love anyone

This one makes me angry.

Because, nothing brings out the weakness in a strong woman, like a weak man.

Because he made me believe that it was better to give up on myself, than it was to give up on the relationship.

Emails, phone calls, text messages, all saying a variation of the same thing: that I gave up on him.  That no one could possibly love me more than him.   That no one is perfect.  And if I couldn’t appreciate how much he loved me, then I would never be able to appreciate anyone who would love me afterwards.

Because he redefined and blurred the lines between loving someone, and needing someone.  And after a while, it all felt the same to me.

4.  Because I lost every single one of my friends

To make a long story short, it wasn’t a fun time for any of them.

Many of them  pulled away from me because, to them, my behavior all of a sudden became erratic. I was crying all the time.  Wanting to see him, but then swearing I’d never see him again.  Blocking his number, then calling it a million times.  Many of them pulled away because they just didn’t know what I needed.

I was always the one that they could depend on.  Unflappable.  I was the one that always helped, and all of a sudden, I needed help.  And I didn’t know how to ask for it, and when it was given, I didn’t know what to do with it.

I changed, and I didn’t recognize myself.

But he stayed the same.  He was a constant…and for a while…despite his temper and the emotionally violent fights we would get into…he seemed safe.

5.  Because he wasn’t a bad person 

This was the hardest conclusion to come to. And I think for a lot of people on the outside of these relationships (the friends, family, co-workers) it’s the hardest thing to come to terms with…

Abusers aren’t bad people.  They are just really horrible partners.

My ex is a good friend to a lot of people.  He has a family he loves, and a job that he excels at.  And I wish him nothing but the healing I found (some days)

A lot of people couldn’t understand how someone like my ex could have such a dark side to them.  Hell, I couldn’t understand it either. And I don’t try to understand it anymore. I just know that I don’t want it in my life.

6.  I did not go back because I loved him…

To this day, people say this to me.  That I must’ve stayed because I loved him.

I didn’t love him.

And he didn’t love me. He needed me.

Abusive partners will never love anyone who stays with them, because in their hearts, they will never respect them.  They will never respect someone who allows themselves to be treated on the outside, the way abusers feel on the inside.

*******

So there it is.

I wouldn’t consider myself someone who “survived” an abusive relationship.

I was lucky enough to be able to “leave” it.  And to move on.  I left before things got “too bad” and for some reason, people think that means I’m not allowed to talk about the things that did go bad.

But I’m going to keep talking about them anyways…hoping that more people choose to leave and live, rather than survive.

And in case anyone needs to hear this, Ill go ahead and say it:

Is he going to change?  No

Should you leave? Yes

Will anyone love you more than he does?  Absolutely

Acknowledgements:  this wasn’t easy to write, but I feel like it needed to be written.  And I can’t write this post without paying a special thanks to my Mom. She was a warrior for me during a time where I had no fight left in me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why People Don’t Deserve Second Chances

We have all, at some point, been in a situation where someone we loved or cared about has asked for one thing, and one thing only… a second chance to make things right.  A second chance after they have royally and utterly screwed something up.

We’ve all been let down and disappointed by a person who, frankly, wasn’t supposed to do either of those things.  And we’ve all been assured by those people that whatever it was that they did will never happen again.

Whether it was with an ex, or with a friend, or family member, most of us know what’s it like to have someone pleading with us to keep them in our lives.  We’ve watched boys cry over us, friends blow up our phones with text after text of apologies for something they’ve done, and we’ve had to decide whether or not they deserved one more shot to be in our lives.

It’s a difficult situation to be in.

We listen to them call us judgmental or selfish.  Hear them tell us our standards are too high. They list all of the ways they make our lives better, and remind us of all the horrible things they haven’t done to us. It usually sounds something like this:

You:  I can’t believe you lied again
Them:  I know.  But c’mon… it’s not like I cheated on you

I’ve been on both sides of it.  I’ve been the one begging for another chance, swearing things will change… and I’ve been the one being begged, being told things will be different this time.  I understand how it rips you apart.

So if you’re out there wondering right now whether or not this person, whoever they are, deserves a second chance, I’m going to have to tell you this one sober fact:  They don’t.  

Do not give them a second chance.  Because they will mess it up again.  And they will mess it up beautifully. Do not give them a second chance because honestly, when you sit down and think about it…this ISN’T their second chance. It’s their hundredth, or millionth chance, and they shat all over it.  Again.

So walk away.

It’s not easy.  You’ll question and doubt yourself.  They will make you feel guilty and horrible for as long as they can.  You’re going to have to block all of that out, and just know and accept these things…

1. They will never change for you:   

This is a bitter pill to swallow. People don’t change unless the situation changes.

If you’re with someone and they lie, and you break up with them…they may change and be honest with the next person they’re with.  But not with you.

However, if you’re with someone and they lie, and you break up with them…and then you take them back…the situation never changed.  So they won’t change.  They really won’t.

(Please see #3 if you believe I’m lying, and that your partner did actually change for you)

2.  They fully believe that they’ve changed:

This is true.  I know this from first hand experience. I remember promising to be different, knowing in my heart… that I was going to be different.  I was going to be better.

And I remember how quickly those promises and efforts faded, the second I was given another chance.

That person who is in front of you, swearing they’re never going to cheat, or lie to you again.  The person who says they’re going to cut back on their drinking.  They really really believe that they’re going to be different.

But believe me, if you give them another chance, things won’t be different.  Things will be fake. And then things will get difficult.  And then… things will be the same.

3.  You will never actually believe they changed: 

Taking someone back after they’ve lied, cheated on, or abused you is like Chinese Water Torture.  Even if the drops stop falling on your head, you’re still going to be sat there, tied to a metaphorical chair, waiting for the next one to fall…because you know it’s coming.

So even if they’re not doing anything wrong, you’re going to be waiting around for something to go wrong…again.

So what’s the point? Why do that to yourself? Why make yourself an emotional hostage for someone who pulled the trigger the first time.  It’s not worth it.

4.  Unconditional love is bullshit:

Love should always come with conditions.

I love people fully, but only under certain conditions.  To do otherwise, to me, is idiocy.

You should love someone under the conditions that they respect you, are honest with you, and add value to your life.   If these conditions change…get  out of there.  You are not their mother.  It’s not your job to make sure they’re okay.  It IS your job to keep your self interest and self worth in mind. So just leave.

5. Your life will be better without them in it:

So stop worrying, and go live it.

 

Why Your Relationships Fail, and Why You Shouldn’t Take it Personally

This post is not about the romantic relationships that matter.  Those few great romantic relationships we get in a lifetime (yes…you will get more than one, I promise).  Those relationships deserve to be cherished when they’re around, and missed when they’re gone.

This post is about “filler” relationships.  The relationships that have the emotional equivalence of bubble wrap.  We have many of those in our lives, and many of us spend far too much time worrying about them.  

This post is about the relationships that shouldn’t matter:  

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I can’t count the number of times one of my girlfriends has come up to me, crying and upset, because some douche-bro went MH370 on her and vanished without a trace.

This happens to all of us at some point. Someone we like, or thought we could like, decides to cut ties with our existence.

Poof. They’re gone.

Sometimes we get a conversation.  Sometimes we get a text message or email.  But most of the times, the person simply, just one day…is gone. Just gone.  Like magic.

When someone we like disappears, it sucks.  It’s hard to understand “why.”   (In fact, a friend of a friend has a great coping mechanism for times when this happens: he just pretends that that person died)

This stuff happens to all of us.   And when it does, we ALL have questions.

We want to know why they decided to stop calling.  In fact, we NEED to know…so we start to evaluate the entire relationship.  We scour over each detail and conversation and text message, and we just can’t figure out why they stopped calling or stopped wanting to hang out.

We do this after every failed relationship…ask ourselves why, why, why.  And eventually most of us come to the only possible conclusion: there has to be something wrong with us.

There HAS to be something wrong with us, right?

Are we are too clingy, too distant, too blunt, too secretive? Too skinny, too fat?  Am I not funny, too funny, funny but not in the right way? Too insecure? Too secure?  Too stand off-ish.  Maybe we didn’t laugh at his Batman impersonation when he did it for the millionth time?

I mean, there has to be something wrong with us…that’s the only way to explain how this just keeps happening to us over and over and over again.  We think there has to be something wrong with us because ALL of our relationships in the past month/year/decade have failed…

Well there’s not.  There’s nothing wrong with you.  If you want to know why relationship after relationship has gone no-where…I can go ahead and tell you the reason:

Most of your relationships will fail because that’s just how dating works.  

Very few romantic relationships will ever go past a certain level.  Those are the ones that matter.  It’s dumb luck and timing. It has nothing to do with you.

You date until you find someone who you can get to “that” level with.

 So if you date a lot…it may seem that people are always walking away from you.  It’s not you…they just know it won’t get to “that” level with you.  If you’re tired of being rejected, take a break from dating.   It gets exhausting. Three dates in a month?  None of them worked out? Sounds completely normal… but it still sucks. Take a knee for a moment.  Get back out there when you’re ready.

 If you don’t date a lot, and you go out on one date…unless you are very very lucky,  it won’t work out.  Do not make that one date a personal statement about your value.  And stop saying stupid dramatic things like, “this is why I never put myself out there.”  Just shut up about it.  You DID put yourself out there, and you got hurt. Take a knee for a moment.  And get back out there.

Side note: If you know anyone who always seems to “luck out” and find a boyfriend or girlfriend, please just know they’re probably majorly settling.

You may now be saying, “Hey…you don’t get it…they said such nice things to me.  They really seemed to like me.  Why would they lie?  Why would they lead me on?”

Why did they say nice things about you?  Probably because they meant them. I hate to bust your personal tragedy bubble by telling you this, but they really probably meant those things.

And if someone tells you you’re funny and amazing to be around, and then they stop hanging out with you…it doesn’t mean you’re NOT funny or amazing. It means they’re super weird.  Or it means they just didn’t see things going to the next level.  Or it means they got busy with life and realized they want to focus on other things… A relationship not being one of them.

So please…

Accept this fact: 99% of your relationships will not work out.  They will fail.  Because…math.

No one can ever have more than one successful romantic relationship in a life time. So even if someone has been married for ten years, the second they get divorced, 100% of their romantic relationships didn’t work out.

 As single people…we’re all in the same boat.

In the interest of full disclosure, 100% of my romantic relationships have never worked out.  And I’m awesome.  It has NOTHING to do with me.  And it has nothing to do with you.

It’s luck. Dumb luck.

So if you’re still not convinced, and you still think that YOU are the reason things don’t work out. Let’s think about this logically:

 Let’s imagine there’s something “wrong” with you. Maybe you think you’re not pretty or attractive enough, and that’s why nothing has worked out.  Ok.

So what you’re saying is that the only people who have successful relationships are attractive.  Fine.

Now think of all the people you know who are currently in relationships.  Think about them.  Are ALL of those people pretty and attractive?  NO FUCKING WAY.

That’s because finding a lasting romantic relationship has nothing to do with what you look like. It’s luck.

So maybe people don’t want to date you because you’re boring and insecure?

Think of all the people you know who are currently in relationships.  Are all of those people interesting and confident?  NO.

In fact, I think we all know some awful people who have managed to find someone to put up with them.  Being in a romantic relationship is not validation that you’re a good person.  It’s just…not.

Because being in a successful romantic relationship has nothing to do with you or what you’re like.  It’s luck and timing.

Real Talk: Why do you want to even be in a romantic relationship?  Why is this a goal? 

I always ask my friends this.

 I mean…how much more fun do single people really think committed people are having ?  Relationships are hard fucking work…that’s why most of them fail.  If you think being in a relationship means you won’t feel lonely at times…  Im sorry…but you will.  In a relationship, you’re also going to feel let down at times.  And bored as hell at times.

Single or not, life is hard for all of us. So stop making it harder on yourself by thinking you’re the one with an issue.

And for all of those people who don’t call you back, or who vanish into thin air…here’s how you deal with them.  Get out your phone and scroll to their number.  Delete it.

Poof…they’re gone.

Looks like they’re not the only one who can make shit disappear.

Worrying About What People Think About You Is A Stupid Waste of Your Time

Everyone has haters. Everyone.

Here’s why we worry about them, why I used to worry about them, and why we can all stop:

We worry it means we are not good people: 

There are people who hate Mother Teresa.  No joke… Mother Teresa.  I won’t go into the reasons why.  You can Google them on your own time.  And I don’t know much about Mother Teresa…never met her.  But I do know that to many, she was not only a good person, she was a GREAT person. Better than me.

Mother Teresa has haters, she was a good person.  You have haters, you are a good person (Logic)

Stop worrying.

We don’t understand why they don’t like us. 

That’s fine because it’s none of your business.  Not at all.   It’s not your business to understand how someone else thinks.

I am a great friend.  A lot of people who barely know me also think i’m a fantastic person.  Since starting this blog, people have called me “inspirational,” “motivating,” people have messaged and said I’m a “good role model for young women.”

It’s great to hear all of that, it really means a lot, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know that plenty of people HATE ME.  I don’t understand why one group of people feels one way, and the other feels how they do.  People make no damn sense.

Just move on.

We don’t want people to be mean to us in public. 

There are so many ex boyfriends, ex friends, relative strangers out there who despise my existence.   We all know who those people are, and we worry that it will make things strange for us if we see them out in a bar or at a party.  I get it.

But take it from me…no matter how much someone dislikes you…when they see you, they’re going to treat you like they love you. That’s because people are chicken shit.  Even though they dont like you…they’re going to pretend like they like you.  I promise.

So basically, if someone likes you, they are going to be friendly when they see you.  If someone doesn’t like you, they too, are most likely going to be friendly when they see you. No issue.

We worry other people we meet won’t like us because of things our haters say. 

So you’re worried about people who make up their minds about others before even meeting them.  You’re worried these people won’t want to be your friend?  Why?  That doesnt  sound like a problem.  Not even a small one.

Sounds like the haters are doing you a favor on this one.

We are worried there is actually something wrong with us, and that we need to change.

Fair enough.  Some of us really do need to change things about ourselves.

But if the haters are the one pointing these aspects of our personality out…you’ve got bigger issues.  Your friends and family…the people who love you…that’s their job.  And it’s your job to listen.   So were you listening?

I’ve said it before…my friends are my mirrors.  Yours should be too.  And if they’re good friends, odds are they have mentioned things to us that we should adjust…but for some reason we only pay attention when other people say it to us.  So if you’re getting the message from both sides…yeah…evaluate that.  Change it if you want to.  But it still doesn’t make you a bad person if you don’t.

You don’t owe anything to the haters.  Never change for them.  Never.

You do owe a lot to the people you love.  You can change for them. Always.

So like I said before…everyone has haters…

You can find a group of haters for pretty much any “good” cause or person out there today.  We often wonder why there’s a shortage of good or honest people in the world, but I’m pretty sure it has something to do with the fact that people only love to TALK about how they don’t have “good” things or people in their lives.

Then the second they meet someone who is happy, or honest, or doing something good, many people try their hardest to tear them down.  Or to find the cracks.  And if none exist…people try to create them.  Never crack for haters.

Keep your head up, shake it off, keep smiling (always keep smiling).  That’s what you do and should keep doing.

Let the hater’s hate.

The “Body Shame Game.” Can We Stop Playing It Now? It Sucks

The “body shame game” is a behavior many of us are familiar with.   The game can last anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours, consist of any number of players, and take place anywhere and everywhere.  The only thing that’s consistent about it is that absolutely no one walks away from this game as a winner.  Everyone loses.  It’s the worst game ever.

So what is it?

The game usually starts with a group of girls catching up.  Things are cordial for a while.  Banter and jokes are flying around, people are smiling and laughing, the night is looking pretty good…and then someone decides to make the first move.  She looks at one of her friends and goes:

“Oh my god…you look so great!  Have you been working out?  Ugh, I have no time for it anymore, I’ve gotten so fat.”

The table will get silent for a second.  The friend, not sure what to say at this double edged sword of a compliment will think for a second and quip something along the lines of, “Oh no, I’m actually so out of shape at the moment.  I mean…that’s why I’m wearing pants right now, my thighs are like cottage cheese!”

Anxious to get involved, another woman quickly thinks to herself and goes, “You have great legs! I mean, I would kill for your legs.  Mine are super short…I look like a penguin.”

And thus the game begins.  When it’s your turn to speak, you have two choices:

Say something positive about someone ELSE

 OR

Say something negative about yourself 

This game is quite frankly…pretty gross.  And like I said…no one wins, no matter how many cards you have to play.  This game is what causes so many of us to look at our bodies every day and see it as a combination of problems to be fixed.  This game is what causes us to take a healthy, functioning human body and view it like this:

photo (2) To be fair…I loved my calves

I mean…seriously…what the f*ck.

We need to quit this game, and we need to quit it now.  Your body is not a problem…it is the one thing you are guaranteed to have until the day you actually freaking die, so it’s time to start honoring it, and all it does for you.

Now look…We all have that little voice that speaks to us every time we look in the mirror or see a photograph of ourselves.  That’s where the “body shame game” starts: at home…in our own heads.

This voice sneaks up behind us and says: “Hey…you’re not actually happy with what you’re seeing here, right?” It points out our thighs, the texture of our skin, our rolls of body fat.  It does this so often, that when it’s time for us to actually talk about our bodies, those are the only things we have to say.  We define our bodies by what is wrong with them…so I think it’s time we start re-defining what we view as problems:

Stretch marks:

Yes…I have them.  They are a result of a dark shameful  period in my life where I put A LOT of weight in a short amount of time.  The doctors called it puberty.  I called it hell.

Before puberty: The “no stretch mark” glory days

And that’s all stretch marks are… signs of growth and change.  They show us how adaptable our bodies are.

Did you have a baby?  Did having the baby leave you with stretch marks?  Now you don’t want to wear a bathing suit because you don’t want people to notice them? I completely get that…but…i’m sorry…I may have trouble noticing them because I’m busy being in complete awe that you GREW A HUMAN in your body.  Where there was NO human…you made one…and now it’s here… walking around and talking and stuff.  That’s amazing!  And your stretch marks…they are a badge of honor that show everyone that you loved someone else more than you loved yourself.

Did you lose a lot of weight?  Now you don’t want to wear a bathing suit because of your stretch marks?  I completely get that but…no.  No wait, I don’t get that.  You freaking FOUGHT for your new body.  Blood, sweat, and tears for this new body.  Those stretch marks are your battle scars for winning a war most people never even have the balls to start.

Body Fat:

Yes, I have it.  I also have the luxury of eating food everyday.  I have the luxury of not having to walk miles for my food. I have the luxury of never knowing what it’s like to have to be hungry.  And If you’re reading this, I’m going to assume you’re like me.

We don’t know what it’s like to have to be hungry…so why do so many of us spend our time time trying to starve ourselves?  Why do we try to convince ourselves that body fat is something we are supposed to eradicate?

Bringing up body fat is ultimately the Ace of Spades in the Body Shame Game.  Girls and women love to bring up the fact that they need to lose weight.  Please don’t play that card.  And if someone you know needs a way to feel good about their body fat, please remind them that their fat rolls are the only thing that will help them survive the next famine.  Seriously.

Thick thighs and thick arms: 

Instead of trying to make these body parts smaller, can we please just try to make them stronger?  Get off the elliptical and get onto a pull-up bar.  Stop with the crash diets, and go and get to know the squat rack.

And if you don’t want to do that, at least acknowledge and thank your body for giving you arms and legs that work.  None of us have any…freaking…reason to ever shame the body parts that allow us to get from point A to point B and allow us to pick up and hold people and things that we love.  None of us.

Faces: 

My face…I used to hate how it looked when I smiled.  Im assuming a lot of women feel this way (would explain duck face). I would hide my face when I smiled or laughed.  It was a cool time in my life.

But then I found that a lot of people in my life made me smile and made me laugh, and I didn’t want to shield myself from those experiences by putting a hand up or turning away.  We all need to live life by putting our best face forward.  And your face…well…it’s your best face.  And it’s wonderfully your own.

Just smile

So, the body shame game.  Needless to say, I don’t play it anymore.  When I look in the mirror, that little voice that used to dominate every view I had on my body has no choice but to say, “sure…I guess you look good.”  It’s not easy at times, sometimes, after a hard day or experience, that voice still has a lot to say.  But just like a drunk friend at a bar, I let it talk at me, but not to me.  I let it ramble and rant until it has nothing left to say, and then I get on with it.

I don’t play this game when my girlfriends bring it up either.  I don’t even try to re-assure them about their bodies anymore, because by doing that, all I’m doing is validating that “voice” in their head that is speaking for them. And I don’t want to talk to it.

 I don’t shame my body anymore.  And because of that, when I look in the mirror, I’m able to see a true reflection of who and what I am on the inside…someone who is happy and healthy and loving life.

So ladies…honor your bodies.  You would not let someone else call you fat or ugly or thick…so why are you letting yourself talk to yourself that way? If you don’t like something about the amazing vehicle you have been given, you have two choices: accept it or change it. Don’t shame it. 

And ladies, gentlemen, who ever is reading this still.  I want you to stop talking to “that voice” in your head.  Stop giving it power over you.  You are valuable. We all are.  And no matter what that voice is saying, whether it’s telling you that you’re not good enough, or pretty enough, or smart enough… whatever it says, please just know one thing…

It’s lying.

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Disclaimer (read if anything slightly upset you in this post):

I KNOW body fat is a huge issue for so many people.  We all need to honor our bodies by keeping them healthy, and some people do NEED to lose body fat to be healthier versions of themselves. Im not talking about that type of body fat.  I’m talking about the “shame game” version of body fat  where we agonize over things like having a slight muffin top when we don skinny jeans.

Also…this is not a “woe is me” post.  I’m aware that I have no reason to feel bad about my body.  But then honestly, neither do you.   We ALL struggle with these issues.  No matter how we look to other people, it’s ultimately how we view ourselves that define us.  

And for over a decade, I didn’t see what a lot of people may see when they look at me…I saw a girl with gangly wrists, a fat tummy, and oddly placed knees.  The purpose of this post is to show you that for a long long time…I did struggle with body issues.  It wasn’t easy for me, and realistically… it should’ve been.  It should be easier for all of us.

Stop Saying, “I Don’t Date Short Guys.” You Sound Awful.

“He’s super cute and nice but…I don’t date short guys”

I can’t express how hard I want to laugh when I hear a girl say this.

After ALL of the crap we give guys about appreciating us for the unique angels we think we are, we sit around saying this nonsense, with almost NO hesitation, to our friends, at dinner tables, and worse of all…to guys we know.

It’s awful.  Epically awful.

Now don’t get me wrong…we all have “a type.”  You are entitled to liking whatever it is that you want.

But ladies, we have been BATTLING to eradicate body shaming  for years and years now, and we are making some major progress, we really are. There’s a long list of things that men are just not allowed to say about us and our bodies in public domain.  So then why should it not go both ways?

Just because historically body shaming has been directed towards females by men AND women, doesn’t mean we get a break when we do it.  I’m not saying it’s wrong to feel this way about dating shorter men, I’m saying it’s horrible, awful, and hypocritical to be saying this stuff out loud.

The measurement of a man is not in how tall he is, it’s in how much he measures up in your life. He may not stand tall, but does he stand up for you and the people he loves?  Does he support you? Does he bring things to your metaphorical table? Those are the things that should matter.

Once again, I’m not saying you should want to date short guys… just stop saying it without realizing the double standard you are very openly playing into.  Stop saying it because you are basing someone’s value on something they have no control over.   Stop saying it because your words are hurting other human beings.

And come on…We know how it feels when people do this to us, when they make us feel like less of a woman because we have small breasts, non-existent hips, short legs etc.  So let’s stop trying to instill the cycle of insecurity that has held us back for centuries onto men. We all know where that leads.

For the first time in a long time, many guys are working on themselves and their friends…challenging each other to be better partners and allies to us.  Don’t you think we owe them the same respect?   

Gentlemen, if a girl says this to you or around you in any way shape or form…avoid her.  And if she SAYS she doesn’t want to date you because of your height, let me be the first to say: Congratulations.  You dodged a very basic bullet.

Oh, and ladies, if one of your friends is dating an amazingly great guy who is barely taller, just as tall as, or <heaven forbid> shorter than her, and you feel the need to bring that up publicly as a “con” when discussing their relationship…please hand in your “opinion card” because you’re no longer allowed to have one on this issue.

With men beginning to step up to the plate on issues like gender equality, it’s becoming harder and harder to excuse women who perpetuate these double standards. And remember…I’m a girl’s girl…I WANT to be on your side. But ladies, we are wrong on this one.  Very very wrong…so it’s about time we start treating the men in our lives with the very same BASIC decency we have been fighting for for the past few hundreds/thousands of years.

Why This “Girl’s Girl” Owes it All To A Nurse

I promised myself when I started this blog (a whole three weeks ago) that I would keep my posts universal, relevant and humorous (when needed).  I’m not sure this post will meet any of these criteria, but this needed to be written.

Screen Shot 2015-09-18 at 5.22.52 PM

Miss Colorado

I needed to write this because  I thought this morning that maybe, miraculously, the nurse/ medical assistant I’m writing about will recognize themselves in this story.  I wish more than anything I knew her name.

But this probably won’t reach her. So, hopefully and more realistically, this will at least be read by a few nurses or medical assistants, that often never get to hear what they so often deserve: thank you, thank you, THANK YOU.

For those of you who don’t know, during the Miss America pageant last week,one of the contestants (a nurse)
performed a monologue that she wrote about her profession.  It later came under scrutiny by a talk show host, and has caused quite a few people to share their experiences with the awesomeness that is nursing.

*********

So here it is: 

To A Nurse,

I’m a doctor’s kid.  In fact, most people in my family are doctors, or surgeons.  I understand the fascination people have with them, the way we tend to glorify them… They are Gods amongst men, the healers of the sick, the fixers of broken bodies.  In TV shows and movies, the doctor is the one who takes the special interest in the patient and makes the breakthrough that changes the course of their patient’s lives.

So I get why people feel that way about doctors, I do.  And honestly, I think we all tend to think that because very few of us know what it’s like to be really really sick.

I know what it’s like.  When I was 18 (so twelve years ago) I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma…a bad…but highly treatable form of cancer.  At 18, I was shuttled from doctor’s office to doctor’s office, out of one scan into another, injected with all sorts of dyes, liquids, chemicals, to see how “bad” my cancer really was.  I met a million doctors, was poked, prodded, asked a thousand questions, and was scheduled to start chemo all within in the span of a week.  My life, as I knew it, had ended.

And then I ended up in a room with you.  In what seemed like the basement of the hospital.  You were supposed to take one of my “baseline” tests (to like make sure my lungs didnt melt or something during treatments, I don’t know really).  You took my blood pressure, listened to my breathing patterns (with your stethoscope!) and gave me a tube I needed to blow into.

You handed it to me, and said, “ok, honey, take a deep breath and just blow sharply into this tube…let it all out.”  So I took a deep breath, held onto the tube, and did exactly what you said…I let it all out.  I cried.  Inconsolably.  It was just so quiet in there and you were just so nice, I needed to let it all go.

You didn’t look away like my friends would do.  You didn’t “give me a minute” and leave the room so I could get myself together.  You sat there, and you listened to me snuffle and sob, and you waited until the hysterical teenager in front of you finally quieted down.  And then you took the tube out of my hand, and put your hand on mine and said:

“Hey…look.  I see people come in here all the time.  I don’t know what your prognosis is, or how long you’re going to have to come to this hospital, or how things are going to go for you.  But I know one thing…

I know that one day, years from now, your doctor is going to say to you that you’re done.  That it’s time to start living your life.  And that’s what you need to do.  Take your time…be sad… but when the doctors tell you it’s time to move on, promise me that you will.  Don’t be one of those people who is constantly looking over your shoulder and thinking about this part of your life…forget about this place, and just promise me, you’ll move on.” 

I nodded my head, wiped my nose, and you handed the tube back to me and said, “Ok…let’s get this done now.”

And that was it.  I went on with the treatments, lost my hair, got my hair back, went to my follow up appointments, finished school, and then five years later, in March, I was done.  My doctor said I didn’t need to worry about coming in anymore, and that it was time to move on.

And that, dear Nurse, was when I remembered what you said…what you said about moving on and not looking back.  And I listened.  I really think you would be proud.

1536609_10104009941636690_1952932284_n

Life’s been good

People who know me know what I’ve been up to, but I’ll give you the Spark’s Notes version: I live overseas, I work a job I love, I travel and meet more people than I ever imagined, I’ve learned empathy and compassion from the empathy and compassion you and others have shown me, and I almost never think about those days when I was really sick.  I do, however, think a lot about you.

Anyone who ever asks me how I ended up overseas, has heard about you.  You’re nameless in the stories, and I hate it.  I’ve rarely cried about cancer since then, but I’ve often teared up thinking about what you said, and how I would never get to tell you to your face, because what does an 18 year old really understand about the impact our word’s have on others?  So I’m sorry.  I wish more than anything you knew in that 30 minutes you spent with me, you changed the course of my life.

With eternal gratitude,
Sonia

*********

So, if anyone who worked at, or is still working at Medical City Dallas, remembers an 18 year old girl in 2003 wearing a shirt that was entirely too low cut, and crying all over your equipment…please know that I owe much of who I am today, to what you said to me.

And to the chemo nurses, the medical assistants, the people drawing blood and the guy who operated the PET-CT scans (yes I remember you)..all of you were my angels at Medical City Dallas.  I have innumerable stories from that time I spent in your good graces, and without you all, your jokes, your sincerity, your all around bad-ass-ness, I don’t think I would’ve been able to move on from it like I did.  I mean…one guy saw me run into a bathroom crying, and waited outside just to make sure I was okay…really…he had a job to do, and he did that instead.

And to ALL nurses…if you think you remember the one or two patients who stood out to you, please know that numerous people hold your faces and your words in their hearts, even though they may never know your name.  Keep up the good work, I just wanted to drop you all a line.

And to anyone still reading this, nurse or not…your kind words matter.  Say them.

So, Are You in a Relationship With Anyone?

We all know what it means. If we think of all the times we have asked it and all the times we have been asked it, the answer is one of two things:

“Yes!” followed by  a meet-cute story of how we met our boyfriend or husband
OR
An awkward pause as the room dims. We shake our head, “No,” while someone randomly begins to play an organ in the background 

In summary: if we have a boyfriend, we ARE in  a relationship with someone.  And if we don’t have a boyfriend, we are NOT in a relationship with anyone.  It is so simple to think this way. It is also, utter and complete bullshit.

But first, let me answer the question myself before I explain why.

Now, there’s no meet-cute in these stories…These relationships have been challenging and difficult.  These relationships are the very definition of “til death do us part,” they’ve made me cry, made me  laugh, and made me change.  That’s probably why these relationships matter.  So, after 30 years of living and loving, here’s my answer to:

So…Sonia, are you in a relationship with anyone?

Yes.  Yes I am.

******** 

I’m in a relationship with my mother:

Everyone says me and my mom have a great relationship.  And, it’s true… we finally have a GREAT relationship, but, I’m not gonna lie, It wasn’t easy.  I don’t’ know if you know this, but I’m no bed of roses. Me and my mom would throw down, gloves off.  We’ve fought til we were both red in the face, slammed doors, stared each other down, and then I realized… I was the one with the problem and I needed to change.

Each door I had slammed over the course of my life had to be pried open, and I had to face the reality of the damage I had done.   I had to change.  We both did.  And now I’m best friends with one of the bravest women I’ve ever known.

My dad.  The surgeon.  The man who taught me how to ride a bike, was with me every moment of the way during cancer treatments, the man who worked to pay for new clothes, cars, college, medical school, Master’s programs.  The man who I never knew quite how to talk to about things other than money and his practice.

The man who did everything for his family with stoic diligence, and never asked for, or got, any thanks.  None.  He went to work, the bills were paid, he showed up to to teacher nights, helped us with our math homework, and went to bed for over 25 years, until I finally realized that in any other context… this wouldn’t fly.  I was taking advantage of one of the best relationships that had literally been handed to me since birth.

Well… a few years ago (27 years too late), even though it felt weird and strange, I sat down at the breakfast table and I thanked him.  And I told him that I loved him.  And then I waited.

He put down his Wall Street Journal for a second, looked at me, cleared his throat, and said:  Would you like the other half of my English Muffin?  (Baby steps.  He’s never shared his English Muffins with anyone.)

 With my brother:  

We’ve overcome a lot, and he’s seen me put myself through a lot.  Yes he’s married and has a kid, and yes people told me that things would change and he would be less able to “be there” for me.  So I decided to try to be there for him whenever or wherever I could.   I know, we are SO different, but it’s weird how as time goes on, I find myself really enjoying the time we get to spend together.  I wish we did this earlier.

And yes, he’s a surgeon. Yeah, yeah.  But, surgeon or not, he still signs all his emails to me with a, “meow,” so don’t look too impressed.

My brother's last email My brother’s most recent email

 With my  family:

My cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents…the army behind my back at every step I take.

It’s like whack-a-mole, really.  I focus on one of them, and a million things pop up with the others.  I’m not very good at it yet, but I think they know I’m trying. Trying.

I’m in a relationship with my friends:  

My friends, my champions, the family we choose.

11196304_10106055164199280_1042217132853861116_n Nothing better than being a friend to friends worth having

 I worked hard for these friends. We fought with and fought for each other.  From  missed dinner dates, missed weddings and misunderstandings, we’ve survived it all.

In life when I’ve been  a bit broken down, these people have stepped up and had my f*cking back. My friends are my magic mirror, they speak the truth and only the truth.  They tell me they love me, they tell me they’re proud of me, and they tell me when to shut the hell up.

 Im in a good relationship with my career:  

They say you shouldn’t be married to your work.  But I’m not sure I agree with that.  If a marriage is supposed to be a commitment that both challenges and fulfills you, requires that you grow and evolve, develop compassion and patience, well then, consider me hitched.

Most importantly, I’m in a good relationship with myself:

And it was the hardest and most difficult relationship to build…ever.

I am not in a romantic relationship:

I’m not.

I don’t have a “love life” at the moment, but I have no shortage of love in my life.  And if you think this is the “make or break” relationship…the ultimate void to fill, you have a little bit of growing up to do and some perspective to be gained.

This type of relationship is a piece of some people’s puzzle.  They will find it when they find it, so leave them to their journey.

For some, it’s the whole picture entirely.  Let them paint it with whoever they want… Even if its not the vision you have for their life.

And for other’s it is the icing on what is otherwise, a very very delicious cake.   They could take it or leave it.  We all need to accept that about one another.

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Real talk:

Think about your definition of being in a relationship with someone:

If you have a relationship with a boyfriend/husband, fantastic!
Now start building those relationships with other people in your life.  If you think about how rewarding it is to have a partner you can rely and depend on, think about if all of your relationships were like that? Why be defined by the one relationship you DO have in your life.

(If you’re one of those “my husband is my everything” people, that is amazing, and you are lucky to have one another…but you’re building a very pretty glass house on a quick sand pit…in a rock slide area…set on a fault line)

If you don’t have a relationship with a boyfriend/husband, fantastic!
Start building those relationships with other people you DO have in your life.  Call your parents more, start “liking” your cousin’s or sibling’s facebook pages more…talk to that one person at the gym who always seemed nice…just do it, already!  Why be defined by the one relationship you DONT have in your life?

(Truth bomb: Whether you have a boyfriend or not,  if you have absolutely no acquaintances, friends, or family that you can reach out to…you’ve got a “you” problem…so start on the inside, girl)

And to everyone who is reading this and thinking, “I haven’t called my mom in months…it would be weird.”  I have to say this: What the mother-loving-earth are you talking about!

It’s going to be weird? To call your mom?  The woman who wiped your ass, showered you, and KEPT YOU ALIVE through infancy…it’s going to be weird to give her a phone call? What exactly do you think your mom is going to do if you call her for the first time in a long time?  I’m going to take a wild guess…she’ll probably f*cking pick up the phone and want to talk to you. That’s what.  If not…try your brother.  And keep going down the list until you make contact with another human.

Think it’s weird to drop your dad a text message that says, “I love you?”  Chug a few beers, send the text message, turn off your phone, put it under a couch cushion,  and go to sleep.  Just get it done!

Call to action:

Whether you have a boyfriend/husband or not, there are probably several people in your life that you don’t reach out to because you guys ‘just don’t have that type of relationship.’  Well…BUILD IT.  You’re an adult now.  Pick up the Lego Blocks of missed opportunities and build that bridge to someone, anyone,  you want to care about.

That way, the next time someone asks you whether you’re in a relationship with someone or not, you may have more than one answer to give.

Oh and update: I sent this article to my family ahead of time, to make sure they were fine with me writing about them, and look what I got in my inbox…three years later.  Baby steps.  

FullSizeRender (4) Dad responds

Disclaimer:  Do NOT call or get in touch with people who have severely hurt you, neglected, or abused you in the past: parents, siblings, boyfriend, friends etc.  Some people don’t deserve to be in your life and this article is not a “sign” to call up someone who treated you like a door mat…In fact, if you still have their numbers, delete them right now

Why You Should Be a “Girl’s Girl”

 

Genesis: 

In the beginning, I used to be a “guy’s girl,” not gonna lie.  We all know the type.  The girl that simply just is one of the guys.

In my late teens and early 20’s, I was proud to be a declared a guy’s-girl. You know, one of those low-maintenance- no-holds-barred-roll-her-eyes-at- other-women type girls.  I thought  it was the highest compliment, that the men folk viewed me as an equal because I was, “not like most girls.”  I was a renegade. An outlier.  So so cool.

And then somewhere along the line, I evolved.

And Let There be Light: 

It was one day, a few very transformative years later, after life and love had kicked my ass six ways from Sunday, that a guy friend and I were at a bar. We were talking about dating and issues he was having with his girlfriend. He looked at me and said, “Guys probably never have these issues with you.  You’re like a dude…you’re one of us,” and for the first time, ever, I gave the appropriate response:  I asked him if that was supposed to be a compliment.

I mean, what was it about my personality that made me “like a guy?”  That I was funny? Honest and outspoken?  That I didn’t let people walk all over me? That I could maintain my cool in the back and forths of dating (in my LATER 20’s)?  If so…what did it say about my actual gender?  I can’t even IMAGINE telling one of my guy friends that he was “like a girl,” and have that go over well. When did being “like a girl” become an insult?

Why had being accepted into the ranks of “the boys” become a point of triumph for me and so many girls?   I mean, let’s face it… guys really aren’t that hard to impress.  Being friends with a dude is relatively simple: you go somewhere, have some beers, make a few jokes, maybe talk about the gym, and go home.  It’s easy.

You know what IS hard to do?  To form meaningful and lasting relationships with other women.  To pick away at the barriers you and other women put up between themselves and realize that when we are at our best around one another, we are unstoppable.

I’m not saying that every woman needs to be friends with every other woman that they meet.  We are not houseplants. Just like you aren’t going to like every guy you meet,  you’re not going to like every (or many) woman you meet.

The thing is: we, as women, rarely ever really give other women a chance.  We will so quickly say, “Oh, I don’t like her,” when what we really should be saying is, “Oh, I don’t know her.”  And I want that to stop.  

Why do we so quickly dismiss women we meet? There’s an excellent, excellent explanation for that here In this TED talk by Caroline Heldman.  But from what I’ve seen,  it’s usually because this unknown female commits one of the following sins within the first few times of meeting her:

  • She’s prettier than you
  • She’s confident
  • She’s funny
  • She has a talent you don’t have and brings it up in conversation
  • She has a talent you do have, and brings it up before you do…that ballsy, evil, bitch

So basically…she is everything you have ever wanted to be.

Ladies, this  insecure pettiness is beneath you, and you need to eat cement and toughen up (thanks for the saying, Sash).  There are always going to be funnier, prettier, more successful women than you.  You know what you should do when you meet one?  TRY TO BE HER FRIEND.   How on Earth are you going to better yourself if you’re surrounding yourself with people who don’t challenge you?

Jealous that she’s got a banging body?  That’s a you problem.  Ask her for some workout tips and see if she’ll spot you at the gym.  Jealous that she seems to be more confident than you?  Hang out with her and find out her story to see how she got that way.  Think she’s standoffish because she’s not speaking to you?  Well…have you gone up to her, or are you just waiting for her to ignore the daggers you’ve been staring at her and mosey on over to you? Sort yourselves out, stop hating, and start making an effort.

The New Testament

Now here’s the tricky part, in order to have a friendship with a genuinely strong, confident female, we ourselves have to be genuinely strong and confident.  This is where a lot of girls (myself included) get stuck.  You have to work on yourself before you can be much good to anyone of value.  That’s true for any relationship.

So while “confidence-izing” yourself (yes that’s so a word) is a tricky uphill battle,  I will leave you with the first, and very simplified, steps that I took to becoming a “girl’s girl,” and a girlfriend worth having:

I made a list of all the things I dislike in other girls and people: the cattiness, the body and slut shaming, the competitive vibes that came out around the company of the guys. And I asked myself if I was guilty of having any of those traits.  That answer was a resounding, “yes.”

And then I decided to change.  I realized I didn’t have to be that person anymore.  And I’m not.

And that voice in my head…you know the one…the one that whispers to you everyday that you’re really not THAT smart, you’re really not THAT pretty, no one REALLY likes you.  I told it to shut the f*ck up.  I decided that if I wouldn’t let another person say things like that to me, there was no way I should be talking to myself that way.

And after I started making those changes, the rest (very slowly) came into play.  I’ve had a lot of hits and misses with female friends, but they’ve gotten better, mainly because I’ve gotten better.

So…ladies…if you’re happy with your bro-card and all of this sounds like arrogant “who does she think she is” nonsense…keep doing you.  You are still, at the core, wonderfully intuitive,  caring, and amazingly strong people, which, I’m sorry to tell you, makes you very much “like a girl.”

And I’m also sorry to tell you that no amount of social awareness campaigns targeting males is going to advance the status of women very much if we ourselves don’t start having each other’s backs rather than stabbing one another in the back. 

So please…be one of the girls.  Be for the girls.  Be like a girl.