I was thinking about Steel Magnolias when I was in the bathroom earlier. I generally dislike stereotypical “chick flicks,” but I fucking LOVE Steel Magnolias. It’s the dialogue. And I know I sound like a dude who reads Playboy for the articles, but it’s seriously one of the most quotable pieces of work ever. And, yeah, if I’m feeling emotionally paralyzed, I just need to watch Sally Field’s histrionics and the pent up shit flows out of me. It’s like an enema for bitches who hate…aka Yours Truly.
When our house got broken into last year, Steel Magnolias was one of the movies the dude stole. When we hunted our DVD collection down, we kept having conversations like, “Okay, so we have A Clockwork Orange, Dr. Strangelove, the Tool boxed set, Unbreakable, Kill Bill…and Steel Magnolias?” And I would be like, “Oh my god! What? I have one estrogen indulgence and it’s a huge deal. Fuck off and give me my Ouiser before I cut you.”
Anyway, I thought about Steel Magnolias because I’m wearing tights today and faux-Spanx on top of that because I hate when the waistband of tights rolls down. Like, nails-on-a-chalkboard hate. So I’m extremely…held in today and it was making me think I should just say, “Fuck it,” and start wearing a girdle and then I started thinking about, “It looks like two pigs…fightin’ under a blanket.” And laughing. In the bathroom. To myself.
So there’s a disturbing little walk through my thought process for you.
But while I’m thinking about it, you know who can shut it down? Grown women who still pull that, “Oh, I’m having a second piece of pizza. I’m a pig. Oh, I’m so fat. Oh, I’ll just have some lettuce,” fishing for validation bullshit. I can understand some young chicks being insecure, but my god. If you’re looking at the other side of, say, 30 and you’re still talking like that, go to therapy. Or at the very least do not say that shit to me. I spent many hours of my formative years in a dressing room at a ballet school. I have seen and heard some psychotic shit and behaved that way myself. It sucks. I don’t think that you have an “appropriate” amount of self-hate, I think you’re acting like you’re insecure and want me to fix it. EAT YOUR PIZZA AND OWN IT.