With friends like these

This past six months haven’t really been the easiest, and yet, in some ways, have heralded a lot of growth.

I am now, surer, more confident in who I am, and in some ways, happier. Happier in myself, knowing what I want. Sadder, cos I feel a bit more grown up, and I know that things that I felt tremendously secure in can end now.

I’ve had three relationships end, or change inexorably, which have been hard. And they’ve been hard, because I’ve been sad, and I’ve either not really wanted to talk about it, or I’ve been worried that people are bored of hearing me talk about it. So, I do what so many of us do, I cover up that hurt with dirty jokes, and bitchiness.

But, some things have come out of the last couple of months, that are just awesome. My mother and I are closer than we’ve ever been. (And for mothers’ day, I am taking her to Blenheim and getting her drunk).

And I am constantly reminded that my friends are pretty damn awesome. From buying me hot chocolate, cos I sound a bit blue (thanks Nadi), to entertaining me, to helping me move, to sending me free things, to shopping up a storm with me, indulging my love of weekends out of town, taking me on dates, burning cds of bad 80s music – and not laughing when I play them (or when random German men tell us our taste in music is HORRIBLE). I’ve always known they are awesome, but sometimes, it is good to be reminded.

Plus, the Sex and the City movie is coming out soon, so I feel an orgy of cocktails, shoes and platonic girl-love coming on.

Yes, I am.

In honour of the fact the lovely Julie somehow discovered the blog that doesn’t exist, and has linked to me from The Hand Mirror, I thought I should write something about my kind of feminism.

I am a girl.  I like shoes and dresses and pink, and puppies.  I knit and I bake, and I currently love teapots and cupcakes and champagne bowls and cake plates.  I drink bubbly and fruity cocktails, and read Marian Keyes books, and watch romantic comedies. I like lipstick and perfume and bubble baths.

But, I also like rugby, and beer, and talking about rugby while drinking beer. And cricket, and basketball, and talking shit about football.

What I don’t like is when you assume I will like something because I’m a girl.  If I wanted a tool belt, I wouldn’t want a pink one. Don’t play on my fears, whether they are of walking in a dark alley at night, or that I will die alone. Don’t play on a maternal instinct I’m supposed to have, or assume I want my skin to look ten years younger (because, actually, when I was 20 – my skin? Spotty and oily).

The only thing I want because I’m a girl, is the right to be exactly who I want to be, a right everyone should be afforded.  You are, why aren’t I?

In other words, shut up, and let me live my life.

Or, go read my favourite piece, by someone who writes better and is cooler, than I’ll ever be.  Whenever I get a bit frustrated, I go read it.