Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman. Oh Yes, Tammy, I hear you!
I’m not talking about unequal pay, tits in family newspapers, or arseholes making it unsafe for women to walk the streets at night.
I’m talking about the unrelenting bile that some members of my sex think it’s ok to project over their peers.
Yesterday one of my friends went to watch her daughter complete in a sporting event. She overheard one of the other mum’s declaring, “I don’t like that mum in the mini skirt”.
My friend was the mum in the mini-skirt and had never spoken to the woman making the comment. Ever.
What the hell*? (*you know what I really said, yes?)
A few years ago, I was a little on the heavy side. Ok I was fat. I thought I was happy.
The Saint wasn’t complaining, but one day as I was pegging out my jeans next to the The Saint’s which were half the size, I decided I didn’t like it any more. I wanted to be healthier.
Please note, I did not wake up thinking “I’m going to get skinny, make the rest of you feel bad and steal your partners”.
However, the reaction I got from some women as I began to lose weight made me think I was wearing a t-shirt bearing that very statement.
Women I considered friends were openly looking me up and down in the playground, asking “How much weight have you lost NOW?”, barely concealing their disdain.
My favourite comment came from another woman in my social group “You don’t want to lose too much weight at your age you know, because it will go off your face and that’s not good as you get older”.
If you ask any woman around you, on any given day of the week, she will have similar stories. Of judgement, scorn, bitchiness and unreasonable dislike received from the so-called “sisterhood”.
Is this behaviour hard-wired into us? Are we biologically programmed to compete against all other females in the pack in our quest to find a dude with A grade sperm? If so, you can have him.
It’s the 21st century. We can have babies by ourselves if we want. The competition for the eligible caveman is over.
So Ladies, I
asking telling you to stop. Pour a bloody gin and get over yourselves.
Let’s not make it any harder to be a woman than it already is.