So, yes, I missed International Woman’s Day yesterday. I am, to be honest, a bit crap when it comes to the whole feminism/ standing up for women’s rights thing. Yes, there is inequality, and yes, the way women are treated in developing countries is something worth getting upset about. And I do… But being white, middle class and living in a (sometimes) civilised country I don’t feel the inequality quite so much… politically… socially… in a have a rally about it type way… am I making any sense?
Where I do feel the inequality is, well… Let me put it this way.
For the past 2 days I have been sat in front of my beloved Mac trying to sort out a couple of website designs for the Scout group I am involved with. I have had, yes, a month to do it and the committee meeting is tomorrow night; so am going through the kind of anxiety that I had at university when I realised I had about 9 hours to deadline, it was midnight and about 2,000 words to do on a book I had never read. That kind of fear…
So, I set my alarm yesterday morning and then had to go out to do various things, meaning I didn’t actually get started until yesterday afternoon. Then there was a whole ‘heated disagreement’ portion of the day which ate into my time because the men of my family (lovely though they are) don’t actually do any housework. And with Mum’s recent illness I am refusing to let her shoulder it all (even though she does without any argument, which is a whole other issue) so once all that got done I had only a couple of hours yesterday. Then today…
Oh today…
Mum let me sleep. I have been tired what with being ill and stressed and all that palaver… and what she did was technically lovely but…
when I woke up at 2 o’clock this afternoon…
So, I sit back down in front of the Mac, having thrown on clothes that were nearby, hair in a kind of wild woman frizzy state as I didn’t drag a hairbrush through it. I plugged in my headphones and got to it. It wasn’t going at all well and a couple of comments along the lines of ‘leave it… there’s no point in getting stressed about it’ really weren’t helping. I mean, I have accomplished bugger all recently. Life is becoming one long scheduled mess. I get a certain satisfaction from the job I do but that isn’t enough for me at the moment. I need to finish something. I need to be able to actually hit a deadline without being let off. Yep, my perfection chip is kicking in again.
I have been accused told recently that I am not a proper woman. Not in the fact that I am still a young spring chicken and therefore a ‘girl’ but that I am more like a bloke. Part of me looks around at the females around me and despairs thinking maybe it would be better to be thought of as a bloke but then… no.
Not that I have anything against blokes! Don’t get me wrong! You are all (mostly) lovely people who I would do anything for…
I apparently am not a proper woman because I don’t care what I look like. This is about 75% true. I hate the way I look, and am CURRENTLY unable to do anything about it physically. When the doctors figure stuff out then getting fit is right up there with the healthy tag.
I hate talking about or buying clothes. Everything I own and have worn in the past makes me look like a beached whale wearing a muu-muu in a sack race. Except the excellent t-shirts I own… which I wear in a classic-non-woman’s cut… so not girly there either. This is another thing about clothes sores - you see all these great clothes for tiny people but as soon as you get to the bigger sizes they decide we all want to wear bright patterns and sacks? Idiots. That’s another post.
I like shoes in the fact that they keep my feet warm and dry (although when it comes to Skechers it’s a different matter… I love them. L-O-V-E. Love)
I own one lip gloss, one eye shadow set, one mascara, and one foundation. I rarely use them as I either can’t be bothered, don’t have enough time, or just don’t see the point.
The last time I bought a women’s glossy magazine I nearly went back and asked for my money back. Out of 250 pages, there were 3 pages devoted to something other than looking good. And this wasn’t a fashion mag!
I do not want to watch any more soaps or gardening programs or shows in which the main point of it is to look around someone else’s house either to buy it or the crap inside it. I don’t want to watch any breakfast TV where the presenters roll their eyes at anything serious (this means you Fiona Phiillps - Britain’s most annoying presenter - ooo, when the revolution comes…). I want to watch Top Gear and Mythbusters and MegaStructures and American Chopper!
I want to be left alone to do a website in yesterday’s clothes until 5 in the morning while having a discussion about science-fiction and the news! K? And I am a woman! I get overemotional at things and fancy George Clooney and want the happy ending and all that. But mostly I want the last 48 hours back so I can work.
This rant was brought to you by Bec’s Overwrought and Massively Tired Brain. It is being strapped in for a couple of hours sleep but will be back with you after these messages…
PS. I know the beginning and end of this post had nothing to do with each other… I’ll try better next time.
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