When I think blog, I think public diary. But when I think diary (despite it being public), I think raw, gritty, dark, exaggerated passion. I want to use REAL names. I want to swear. I want to write a list of the people I plan to kill this year. Last year I just wrote the names on a sticky note and lost it so I was unable to hunt them down. Have you caught on to the sadistic and sarcastic sense of humor yet? If not, you should probably stop reading here. And you should also clear your search engine to ensure no murders are linked to me.
Talk about a tangent. So now that I’ve explained to you what a diary looks like to me, it brings me great sorrow to inform you that we aren’t diving into the deepest of waters. I’d say we’re at like… waist level. So bring your waders and join me in this adventure.(Jesus…maybe I should add my own name to my hitlist).
I can’t get down and dirty because, well, my parents are loving these posts.And now, they’re beginning to share them with our extended family, their friends, their friends’ families etc. etc. Jesus. When does it end? I have been working on a personal memoir for years. Adding chapters as the timeline of my life progressed. But then I realized…if this book actually becomes published, and I actually become recognized, my parents would never look at me the same way. I mean, come on, we all have things we’re not proud of. Some more than others. *insert uncomfortable clearing of throat.* And please don’t reach out to me explaining how I can be an anonymous writer. No shit. Nice try but not going to work. Even if I changed the names, places, and states throughout the book, I don’t think there are many little girls who pulled out a few strands of hair from a ginger classmate to cast a spell on her during the night of the full moon. (I had an entire chapter dedicated to my belief of being a witch). If you stumble across a NONFICTION book that discusses this very scenario, I’ll give you all of my savings. (Jokes on you. I’ve got negative money).
So. Can you believe that everything you’ve just read has been one long opening line for my main topic of the day? Ha! Suckers. Now you have continue reading. It’s National Women’s Day (as it should be every day), and there are SO many subjects I could cover but there is something I’ve been wanting to discuss and it revolves around the sex (Borat voice). Mom and dad, everything I said prior was like the rubbing alcohol before the shot. (Or in my mom’s case- her infamous numbing cream-that literally did absolutely nothing but I always pretended it helped simply to appease her. Sorry again, mom.) Don’t worry though, I’m not going to talk about MY (nonexistent) sex life, I want to have an open conversation about learning to say NO.
Far too often, I hear girls asking each other if “they should at least give them something. I mean he bought me dinner.” Or, “I don’t know. I was drunk, let’s just not even count it” and what was even worse, is when this particular person followed the statement with “and I guess I hold myself together pretty well… I mean he probably didn’t even know I was blacked out like I probably asked for it!” No. You were drunk. That is in no way considered, CONSENT. I am all for women owning their sexual preferences. It is THEIR body and THEIR choice. If sex is something they desire, then who is anyone to judge? If sex is something that makes her uncomfortable, then back the fuck off. Bottom line: end slut shaming and accept/respect other’s needs. But it should ALWAYS be consensual.
Here is where it gets slightly personal. Respect is essential. In any form of relationship. In many ways, respect is earned. As is trust. It is a bit traditional to view sex as this sacred right of passage to ‘seal the deal’ of marriage. (By the way, how well has that been working out for you, husbands and wives of America)? But I do believe that it is something to be earned. Anyway, my point is that I feel myself constantly thanking partners or apologizing to the individual I am with. “Thank you for being so patient with me!” Or, “I’m sorry to make you wait for me.” If you are someone like me, can you imagine what it would feel like to set BOUNDARIES? Can you imagine how liberating that would be? To be able to simply say “no.” No explanation needed. Just. No. I admire those of you who exude the strength and confidence needed to establish these boundaries. Sometimes it can be difficult to even identify the kind of boundaries you need, let alone put them into place. Sternly. I want this to be an open discussion. Have you ever felt guilty for saying no? And if so, how can we empower one another to rid ourselves of guilt and begin to radiate power and control?
Please reach out via instagram, email, or the comment section below! This is a topic that needs to be addressed and there is so much more to say. I’m eager to hear the thoughts of others.
But for now,
Over and out.