Being a Woman is Hard
by Darla Halyk
Being a woman is hard.
Let’s peel away all the extremely important stuff. You know, like unequal pay, social stigmas, and that we live in a mainly misogynistic world. Catcalls as we walk by a group of men, fearing walking alone at night, and many other things, make this world difficult for us women. But there is so much more. So. Much. More.
Plucking, make-up, shaving, bleeding every month — just to name a few — make being a girl even more difficult.
First, let me explain why this is on my mind.
Recently, I was perusing the feminine hygiene aisle for, you-guessed-it, tampons. Just as I reached for the super-max-heavy-flow box of 100 tampons, I heard from behind me, “Hi.” Okay, unless you know me (even then, this isn’t usually a good time), I do believe there is some sort of code not to strike up a conversation with a woman reaching for (heavy flow) feminine hygiene products. Am I wrong?
Startled I turned around to see a gentleman standing uncomfortably close to me. Nodding my head, with a strange look on my face, I replied “Hi.”
And this is where it gets weird.
“I noticed you walk into the store, and I think you are beautiful,” What-da-fuck, I am buying tampons buddy! Instantly all the blood from my body rushes to my face. “Thank you,” I replied, dumbfounded. This guy has balls. “Do you think we could maybe get a coffee sometime?” Stammering my words, while trying to hide what feels like the biggest box of tampons ever, I politely decline. Yet, he didn’t give up! We spent the next 5 minutes having the most awkward conversation I have ever had in my life, in the feminine hygiene aisle.
Bringing me to point.
Being a girl sucks!
PSA – Do not hit on a woman buying tampons!
Let’s delve into the world of tampons for a moment.
This, the moment I lose all male readers…
These things are incredibly intrusive; the mere fact that we have to shove these up our vagina for 5 to 7 days once a month is ludicrous. If we weren’t already moody, bitchy and bloated, this ought to put us over the edge. And, what the hell is with the packaging? It doesn’t help the situation. I find it disturbing that anything with the label Super should go near my vagina and don’t get me started on the name, “Pearl.” These things aren’t cheap either, and we have to pay TAX! Seriously, we can’t help that we bleed once a month, its nature.
As if it isn’t enough that we endure the torture of menstruation, we now have to shave. I am positive I have spent over 600 hours shaving my legs, not yet having perfected it. Barely being able to balance on the slippery shower floor in the-flamingo-formation. Daily, I shave the skin off my shin or Achilles tendon, and as my skin curls through the razor, I don’t stop. I just keep on dragging that sharp tool across my skin. Don’t get me wrong, I like being freshly shaven, but I’m 30 years in and terrible at it.
Then comes time to take care of our lady-parts; I am not sure how you girls go about it, but I choose (using the word choose, very loosely) the Brazilian wax. If you haven’t had one, I suggest a bottle of wine and a couple of Advil to start. This way you will at the very least be ready for the eradication of your pride. But there is truly no amount of wine that can prepare you for the spreading of your butt cheeks by a perfect stranger while she Mr. Miyagi’s-your-butt-hole. I remember my first time vividly, asking the esthetician if she wanted to buy me dinner first. She did not laugh — nor did I after she peeled the wax off with a vengeance.
Bringing me to the art of plucking, even the word itself sounds painful. Here we are, holding a tool designed to take out slivers (so I’m convinced), and instead, we are steadying our hands to pull unwanted hair from our face. I don’t know about you, but once in a while I grab more skin than unwanted hair. It’s not a good feeling.
Waxing, plucking, shaving are only some of our womanly problems.
Not only do we spend countless hours on our face, but we also spend countless dollars. Okay, foundation. Seriously, you might as well take my left arm, this shit is expensive. Oh, I know what you are thinking, you don’t have to buy the expensive stuff: LIES. If I do put the cheap, tested-on-animals crap on my face, I quickly turn into a hormonal teenager. With the onset of adult acne, I am then finding creams to reverse the effect. Happy Days.
Being a girl sucks! Not only are we plucking, shaving, waxing, and being hit on in the Tampon aisle, but also we live in a world mostly made for men. So ladies, don’t let anyone take away the strength you have. I don’t know many men could go through all the shit we do in a day.
What do you hate/love about being a woman?