I am a woman...therefore.... I should not, may not, must not, CANNOT...

Inspired by a recent spate of angry tweets on my TL & an incident involving my juicebox being violated (this is not innuendo) I've decided to write this post for my "sisters".
 

Hands up if you've ever felt personally victimized by a construction worker you've had the pleasure to try and avoid in the narrowest of streets? Maybe some other leering creeper in an overall? Cos let's face it the well-dressed creeps reserve their leering to "sly" glances while their girlfriend yacks away unbeknown...

Although, if that construction worker doesn't bother to cat-call or even whistle at you, you must be looking butt ugly that day. Take Note.

This isn't meant to sound like a feminist rant I just feel that sometimes as a woman I'm forced into this type-casts of how I should behave and act without my consent (Not even mentioning the "real" issues of women abuse and rape).  And I'm sick of it.

1) If a strange man greets me, I'm a bitch if I don't respond.
I have no issue with a passing "good morning" but don't follow me 3 blocks screaming at the top of your lungs demanding I reply. If I don't know you I'm sorry I just don't feel the need to get to know you. I strongly apply the "I don't talk to strangers" policy here... especially if said stranger has a hand in his pocket & is licking his lips.

2) When "the game" is on, I should be making a salad for the braai.
No. Just no.
Luckily Jarryd knows to prepare snacks and chill drinks before the match build-up and only ask for refills at half-time... and to steer clear if our team is losing, especially of my colourful language and crockery that might be in the vicinity.

3) If I'm not a size minus zero.five then I'm obese.
Just for the record I have the same bust and hip measurements as Cindy Crawford. 34B 12. Therefore, I am super model size, albeit 40cm too short. And if Jennifer Lawrence is "fat", I want to be "fat".

4) I am female and will thus approach any other female as my enemy.
Women never leave high school, the struggles & issues we had there follow us to retirement: Bullies, Bitches and B.S.
I say enough!

5) And obviously I can't drive...
This one is my favourite. For every decent female driver out there, there will always be some poppie that will stall, roll & cut-out and then mess up her alley docking and drive 7 floors to find a new parking devoid of any "obstacles". (Not inspired by a story shared by the Pereira sisters)

Glory, Glory... Valentine's Day... This is NOT a rant... Or maybe it is...

As with any commercialised “holiday” I have my opinions on Valentine’s Day. To me, the number one problem with this day is that movies and the like promise you that this day is of some importance. That’s a lie. I spent most of my childhood waiting for a fat man to appear at the bottom of our non-existent chimney and wished dearly for a snowman in the 32˚C sun but alas… It just never happened. And that is why expectation can ruin lives. This is the same analogy I apply to New Year’s Eve and any other high expectationed (yes, I invent words) events. 

My rules for these things:

1.     It is never worth the expectation
2.     It’s what you make of it
3.    There’s always next year

I’ve never been big on Valentine’s Day. I don’t hate it, I just don’t particularly love it either. When I was 9 I received my first rose and promptly burst into tears of embarrassment, fast forward to 8^th grade and it was still pretty much the same, except that the Crunchie was a bit less offense but still not accepted as it’s my least favourite chocolate. I’ve also had the pleasure of receiving a pilates ball. Needless to say the relationship pretty much deflated along with the ball that my dogs got hold of.

However, one of my favourite Valentine’s was V.Day 2013 or rather the night before… My “new” boyfriend (who also has the credit for my cheesiest Valentine’s ever – circa 2009 – a story for another timeJ) and a group of our friends went to watch the first leg of the Round Of 16 Uefa Champion’s League game – Real Madrid vs Man-Utd. 1-1. Ronaldo & Welbeck scored. I’m off topic.

The point is, the memory of that night is imprinted forever in my memory, just because it combined all of my favourite things football, friends, food and love. Unlike chocolates and flowers that have a shelf-life of about 3 days (1 day if pms is trending), I have something much more lasting. (I did get a Man-Utd top as a gift but that’s also beside the point)

It’s silly that we sit around and wait for the big & special days to make them special memories. Instead we should be taking every moment to love and be loved. Don’t let the pressure or stress deter you from the real meaning of these celebrations instead enjoy the moment.

And it doesn’t have to be filtered and instagrammed.

Also, chocolate makes you fat.

Flowers give me sinus attacks.

Rather give me Versace Yellow Diamond (THIS IS A FACT NOT A HINT)