I began writing this blog because health and happiness are two things that I am extremely passionate about. The problem lies in the fact that my intentions were all wrong. I conjured up the ideas for my past posts long ago, but because they were being graded by my journalism professor, my take on things was to be left out. And that's just not my style. If I am going to write and you are going to read (you being whoever stumbles upon this or whoever I force the url on), then I am going to give you every piece of my aching soul. Writing is the art of my being. It's the only form of expression I could ever grab a hold of. It's the only thing that doesn't keep my head from spinning in a million directions with all the crazy thoughts that jump from ear to ear. So, let's not only get healthy and happy. Let's get personal.
I feel that today I wept the tears of a grown up. A real life tragedy has been looming over me since before I could tell the world that my favorite color, indeed, is pink. Today, more so than other days, I felt trapped in my gender, unable to attain my dreams because I was born with that beautiful, flower shaped region between my legs. I felt belittled, weak, oppressed against for something that I had always been appreciative of. I adore my womanhood; I embrace it, but an accumulation of events was sneaking up on me, such as the three times in the last month that I stood in line at three different Starbucks locations and had a twenty-something, male barista find some way to spill some idiotic sentence from his mouth to make me feel inferior to his powerful status as a professional coffee maker. Unfortunately, not one of these three then spilled the coffee on themselves, but they did manage to make me angry. And that would be the part that makes me even more upset-their stupidity actually got to me. So, I started asking myself why it mattered so much what they thought, and this is what my over-analyzing mind came up with.
I sat in my car and let the tears drop, because for the first time I felt the brutal, disgusting, awful pain of oppression. I am a young woman, and it is evident that whether people realize it or not, and whether I recognize it or not, many will only see me as a young girl who to their knowledge is not necessarily someone worthy of their respect. I had let myself be hurt by the constant flow of condescending remarks, and for that I felt angry with my weakness.
I find myself torn in two directions, as I'm sure many of you will understand. In our society, it seems women have two choices of how they wish to be perceived. Option A: Dress up and look appealing, and you're an object. The number of your dress size means more than the number of your IQ. Option B: Dress down and risk looking or feeling unattractive. You're respected for your intelligence, but looked down upon for your lack of "femininity." So, I find myself as perceived on one end of this spectrum. I wear make-up, dress in fashionable clothes, even wear high heels, because I enjoy my feminine side, as many women do, but I feel that I am constantly deemed "Option A," and through my eyes, this is devastating.
You're probably wondering where the happy ending is. After all, this blog is titled "Healthy & Happy." So, here is my optimistic spin on this sad reality sweeping through society. When the tears dried, the sadness began to fade, but the anger remained. I suddenly felt empowered, almost liberated by my newfound tragedy. I felt nothing but the need to overcome my own weakness, and to stand strong. After all, the only way to embrace my femininity is to stand strong in my heels.
