What happens when she farts?

We have to be that one thing.
That one sort of woman.
That seductive but innocent, shy but funny, stay-at-home but out-going, naturally smooth, gorgeous and careless, supportive but independent, and definitely not too emotional female.

But what happens when a woman stops being all of that.
When she's lying on the couch, dirty and smelly, in knee pouched sweatpants.
What happens when she farts and laughs about it. And that fart actually smells.
What happens when she yells at you because once again you've hurt her so deeply by not being there emotionally for her.
What happens when she makes funny faces, like actually ugly funny faces. (What happens when she's funnier than you?)
What happens when she's got hair in places she "didn't" when you met.
When she doesn't feel like being the sexy seductress that you thought she'd never stop being.

What happens when she cries a lot.
Or when she's sad a lot.
Or when she's lost in her life.
In herself.
In what matters.
What happens when she starts expecting things from you.
What happens when she's not all you thought she would be, but more.
More of that heavy stuff.
More of that ugly.
That sad.
That confused.
That emotional.
That demanding.

You think she's not who you thought she was. You think you don't know WHO she is.
Neither does she.
She thinks all of this is shameful. That all of this is wrong. That all of this are things she is not supposed to be.
But the truth is, she IS all of that. She is every single bit of what you see. ALL of what you see IS what makes her Her.

All.
Of.
It.

But we don't know that; you don't know that, and she doesn't know that. Because we are all taught that THAT is not what a woman is supposed to be.



XO,

C

How can we trust men?

How can we trust men, when men are the ones we're taught to be afraid of.
How can we feel safe with men, when we are taught that no other being on this earth will hurt us intentionally - except for men.
How can we trust men, when men tell us we should not trust men. How can we believe men, when we are taught that we can't.
How can we even trust that one, when men tell us to at least not trust the one who says he should be trusted.

How can we not?

How can we live with men at ease, when we are taught that we need to stay cautious around men.
How can we feel good around men, when men are the ones telling us we're never good enough.
How can we rise next to men, when men tell us we are incapable. How can we break boundaries, when men keep building them.
How can we respect men, when men don't respect us?

How can we not?

How can we feel free to speak, when men tell us to shut up. How can we be quiet, when men are taking the liberty to speak for us. How can we not feel gagged, when men are putting words in our mouth.
How can we feel free, when men want us chained. 

How can we not?

How can we love men, after centuries and centuries of suppression, violation, manipulation and neglect. 
How can we approach men, with so much unwillingness to hear us.
How can we ever come close to men, with so much distortion to truly see us.

How can we not?

How can we not feel anger for all the oppression and greed?
How can we not feel resentment for all the unfairness and abuse?
How can we not feel desperation over how deep it lies buried and how high the walls reach?
How can we not feel hopeless?
How can we not feel helpless?
How can we not be screaming, when you refuse to hear us?

How is it, that we need to work so hard for our voice, when but a whisper from you is what determines the truth?

How is it, that we are not equal to you?
How is it, that we are not respected by you?

How can we not?



Love love love,

the Woman in me

My obsession.

The reason why I wanted to stop wearing makeup, to stop shaving the parts of my body where women are "not supposed to" have hair, was because I felt these things - that makeup and being "smooth" - had a power over me that I did not want them to have; the power of how I felt about myself. What I would wear, how I would act, how I would interact, my mood, how I would express myself, what I felt like or didn't feel like doing, were basically all dependent on how I felt my face looked and where I did or did not have hair.

So in an effort to get rid of this, to regain my power, I decided to stop wearing makeup and to stop shaving. To learn to love myself, see myself, feel, be, behave and do everything I would do with makeup and shiny shaved legs. I told myself that in doing this I was fighting inequality, rebelling against a warped norm, determined to love myself - no matter what, and no matter how uncomfortable it made me. And yes, I did reach a point where I now look at my makeup free face differently, where my hairy, haaairy legs are not as frightening to look at as they used to be - and I am truly happy about this. However though, what I was looking for - a sense a freedom - was still nowhere to be found.

So one day, as I once again stood there with a head full of thoughts about how I should be feeling about myself, questioning myself, wondering why it was so hard, why I still felt so uncomfortable, why I even was doing this (to myself) - I asked myself: What was my actual goal in this? What was my intention? And it hit me. What I was looking for, what I was striving to do, was to start feeling good about myself. To free myself from the prison of allowing how I looked to determine how I felt. To rise above all that, to become more aware, more at peace, more present, feel more joy and more love. But all I was doing was - again - spending all my time obsessing over my (now hairy) body.

I had changed one prison for another. Swapped one boyfriend for another. But I still felt the same, because I had not changed. I still thought the key to self love, the key to feeling good on the inside, would come from how I viewed the outside. But it is not so. It simply is not so. Just gain a kilo or two or ten, lose some hair, find some wrinkles or get some scars - and you'll realise: You thought you loved yourself, but it was only you liking what you saw.


Lovelovelove,

Carolina