Women Aren't That Great

For over several decades the feminist movement has been among us creating a wave of change for women and their roles in society. Very recently much talk has surrounded the issues of how women are portrayed to the masses and the gender pay gaps in almost every occupation. The main reason for the feminist movement is to be treated as equals to men and to stop being seen as merely sex objects. Men need to change their attitudes towards women, but the truth is we aren't doing all that well ourselves.

In my current job I have come to the conclusion that there is a certain type of woman who feels they have the right to be rude to the young women they are talking to. She tends to be middle aged or older, middle class and white. Over several occasions I have seen the attitude change almost immediately if someone else arrives to speak with them. There have been many times when I have told a woman something she doesn't want to hear such as "I'm sorry, we do not stock that product". It is something that can't be helped, either the company has it or it doesn't and some places are not able to order things in for whatever reason. However, this news coming from a 20-something can make the older woman become very irritable and impatient. She becomes rude and disrespectful and this seems to give her the right to talk down to the young lady as she is clearly incompetent. More than a handful of times I have gone to get another colleague who is an older man to come and say the exact same thing to the woman only to have her accept what he is saying without any kind of argument and be on her way. I have seen this happen among my other colleagues, even my manager who is a woman. You just need to look younger than these women it seems.

Perhaps young women have fault in these situations. I know that this certain type of woman, on a bad day, can crush the small amount of confidence that I have in an instant. I become flustered and embarrassed and can't speak properly and will end up saying something wrong to worsen the situation. I know that it happens to others too and you forget what you know you should say. Maybe its something you learn to grow out of as you get older. Watch this space.

On a primal level, there does seem to be evidence that it is logical for women (and everyone else for that matter) to follow the authoritative man. After all we are animals and commonly in the animal kingdom (among animals where the males stay in the group) it is the males who are bigger, who are head of the group and who fight other males for territory, food and the right to mate. Others in the group are taught not to try and take his role. Maybe this has something to do with women finding it easier to fight and argue with each other than it is with a man, especially if the one woman is viewed as below the other.

Of course this kind of treatment between women is not just between those who have a large difference in age, all women can be very unforgiving towards each other and you would know this only too well if you are, or have ever been, a teenage girl. In terms of bullying and bringing each other down, teenage girls are masters. I will admit I did not treat every girl the way that I should have at that time. But now, after getting through this stage of life and into make adult years I have discovered that it doesn't matter how old you get, some women don't outgrow these behaviours. There have been times that I also have repeated my teenage self as a grownup and I've felt terrible about it. I'm no angel, nowhere close, but is there anything around us could be encouraging such childish ways?

Prime examples of this are tabloid magazines and reality TV shows based around gossip. Mostly written and hosted by women and read and viewed by women. If you look closely at these you will find the same old bullets that these women are using to fire at those in the spotlight: she's put on weight, she's lost too much, she has a secret eating disorder, she's sleeping with this guy or all these men, she's fighting with this woman, she's still carrying baby weight after having her baby four months ago! Its ridiculous. The only thing that ever changes is the target. Why do these things have any kind of audience at all?

They also have extremely mixed messages about how women should treat themselves. Usually these things will say 'love yourself and your imperfections' then 'here's a workout to get that 'perfect' body', 'dress how you want to' to 'these are must haves!', 'eat healthy' with 'here's a great recipe for a cake'. I'm not aware of any male magazine doing this to men. If anything they build themselves up and don't make men feel guilty about it. Why don't we?

If we want to be seen as equal to men shouldn't we be starting with ourselves? I have no doubt that women can be great and could end up running the world so it won't be such 'a man's world' anymore. We can have equal rights and opportunities and girls everywhere will be able to receive an education but we won't be able to do it if we don't treat ourselves and each other properly. I have been told that how people treat others is a direct reflection of how they feel about themselves. If this is the case women must see themselves as deserving of being in the gutter.

I wish I knew the solution to turn these attitudes around but I don't. I'm at a loss. It all just feels like a David and Goliath battle with Goliath getting bigger and bigger the more women become obsessed with judging other women and going out of their way to hurt each other through new mediums like social media.

Can this ever stop? Am I the only one embarrassed?!

Manhattan

I find that writing in the middle of the night, like I am now, brings out old memories from a myriad of places. I suppose all memories are old as they are events and moments from the past, but I think old memories are the ones that you know will never fade. Like the ones I'm having at the moment.

I remember being in my local coffee shop in Manhattan. It was October and the leaves were falling, like me. The coffee shop where sometimes the drinks were decent but most of the time it was disgusting stuff. You remember don't you? 'Course you do, you worked there. I always came in only to see you. A cliche I know, but you did believe me for a long time when I said I worked from home and didn't want to walk too far to get some coffee, so I settled for clump of coffee you served. Stupid lie, you told me, but you smiled when you said it.

It was that day in October when I first got the courage to say more to you than just "Americana please". You let me embarrass myself for so long until you finally said "It's Americano." I blushed a deep red and you laughed. When I was about to leave you told me the coffee was on the house. "I love you, no I mean I love that!" I couldn't breathe. "That's a relief" you said, with that smile. I still couldn't breathe. From that moment I was ruined.

All of a sudden it felt like New York was ours. We shared it. You went wild for the crisp air and beautiful snow during winter while I stayed near a fire. I soaked up the sun and heat in summer when it was too hot for you to leave the air-conditioning. You loved the never ending noise of a city alive and I loved the never ending array of people who brought it to life. That was us, two halves who, together, had everything the city could give us. Until it wasn't.

Over the years it was like the winter snuck in through the cracks and tickled my feet before creeping up over my bones. Folding itself around me, over and over. It wouldn't have made a difference had I set a forest on fire and stood in the middle of it. It made me deaf and blind to you. Numb, actually, now that I think about it. And I couldn't stop it.

What was it like for you? Did the heat grow through you like anger? Did the summer boil your blood? Is that why you left so often, to go out and drown yourself in the constant roar of the city, so loud that it would conceal your own explosions?

You found me saying more to strangers in the street than I would to you. I always had to fight my way through crowds to find you. Eventually we both stopped looking.

So I left.

As I knew you would, you didn't search for me. I tip-toed out during the night you were away to spare you having to explain to your friends that you watched me leave. You came back to space that could be filled with someone new. That was that.

As atonement for my actions, I leave you Manhattan. You always needed it more than I did. The streets, the avenues, the falling leaves. I've gone west to settle on the beach. When it gets blustery I'm going to shout out my apologies into the wind, hoping they make it to you. Like how sorry I am that I didn't love you enough or that we ended up the way we did. I wish things had stayed the way they were at the beginning. But through the seasons and over the years, like everything else, we changed. I loved you back then, I do now, but after a while we weren't us anymore and I fell in love with an idea of us that I started to imagine. An ideal us that we could never come close to but that's where I stayed for so long. I shouldn't have.

Please have Manhattan, because I can't have you.

Girls and Beetles

My mother doesn't make sense. For starters she named me Wolf.
"Its short for Wolfgang. Its classical! Mozart had that name."
As if that explanation on its own would make up for the years of relentless teasing at school. It started with 'Doggy' in kindergarten and evolved from there over the years. Just one of the joys of having a name that is originally a noun. Had I had brothers they would have been called Van and Spike. Though it has been lonely being an only child, I am happy to have saved them from such torment. ("I never knew that having a child would be so expensive!" That was the same line I got from her every time I'd ask if there were a chance for me to have a sibling.)

I'd ask her what names she had picked out if I were a girl.
"A girl! None, I always knew I'd only have sons...well a son."
"But how did you know you'd never have a girl?"
"Because I wouldn't allow it. Now, off to school."
"I'm back from school."
"When do you go back again?"
"Tomorrow."
"Oh, well I suppose you can stay the night."
"I live here."
"Then you can start on dinner. And be quiet, I'll be in the next room contacting my aura so I need silence! I'll get that stubborn fucker to change from orange to blue if its the last thing I do."

I remember coming back from school, strutting down the street having just learnt in science that it's the man that decides the sex of a baby, not the woman. However, when I got home I found her crying because another boyfriend had left her. (It's not that she is incapable of having a long-term relationship, seven months is the longest so far, it's just that, after a while with her, most men realise its better for them to go back to their wives.) So I thought I should leave my new found fact for another time and let her ring her 'sorrow bells' (her wind chimes in which the nice, high sounds will eventually pick her mood up with them. They usually take a few days and piss the dog off to no end but its better than the alternative: friends with make-shift drums and no need for sleep are invited over for a kick off. It escalates very quickly from there.)

You might be thinking that I should like having such a unique name as Wolfgang, but I resemble nothing of a wolf or a strong man who could take on a wolf. Even the dog doesn't listen to me! I'm 14, 5'2, scrawny, very white, dark haired, asthmatic and I need huge glasses to see anything. I kind of look like Harry Potter if he were Gothic and afraid of the sun. Good thing is I don't need a costume for Halloween, even though I'm not allowed to take part in anything that's a part of Halloween as Mum doesn't want me to get sucked into 'Satan's Annual Orgy.' This coming from a woman who renamed herself Pixie-Loveboat because Delia seemed a little too close to the word devil. The only member of the family who doesn't have a weird name is the dog, who's called Dog. "Why would I call it anything other than what it is?" explains my mother. Like I said, she doesn't make sense.

Before I can get any dinner started, I need some pots and cutlery that go missing from the kitchen on a regular basis so I have to trudge to the other side of the house to interrupt Dad (Albertus) and his space experiments. He and mum were never together so I'm the result of a one night stand ("You could have said something before mum filled in my birth certificate!" "I'm afraid of your mother."). He still lives here because he can't get a proper job, usually due to his insistent need to show off his Klingon to prospective employers during interviews. I'm embarrassed to say I know how to count from one to five in that funny space-age language. I think I haven't forgotten cause it makes him happy and it once stopped a man from jumping off of a bridge. He was depressed as he couldn't find anyone like him until Dad started struck up a conversation. Unfortunately the man slipped on the side as he was turning around to get back over the railing and died in the water. Dad still considers it a victory.

I use the special knock that he needs to hear to open the door, otherwise I could be anyone: the CIA who have finally found him after all these years after he stole a dirty magazine when he was nine, or the Scientology people who have correctly identified him as the man who tried to throw an egg at a fellow Scientologist's house, missed and hit his cat instead (he would be a faithful member of Scientology if only Tom Cruise weren't part of it). The door cracks open slowly and I recite the line I learnt at age five, "I am no harm to those behind the door or any visitors from above who may be inside." I'm let in straight away and I find what I need in the structure of Dad's homemade Dalek. There's still a dent in the side after he and Mum got into an argument when mum said that they actually sound very worried and unsure rather than sinister and evil. Mum won and Dad's Dalek got the final blow.

"I'm going to need those back. I've nearly finished you know."
"You've been working on it for seven years."
"And to finish it, I need those back."
"Right"
"What's for dinner?"
"Lamb chops for me, non-gluten, no egg pasta and soy-mince for Mum and your usual mashed potato, raw kidney beans, five leaves of lettuce and a plate of peas on the side."
"And my drink of water?"
"With three ice cubes, no more, no less."
"Because odd numbers confuse the aliens."
"Yes, Dad. I know."

I close the door behind me and hear Mum yelling from her room when I get to the kitchen. "WHY ARE YOU RED NOW!?" While I prepare the separate dishes, I prepare in my head the conversation I need to have with Dad and Mum too but only because I know that there's no way I can speak to Dad without Mum around. In the event of an abduction, the aliens will go for the women first letting Dad have ample time to make it to his bunker (a three foot hole in the back garden that Dad promises he will finish but has been filled with rainwater in the meantime). So Dad won't leave his room unless he knows women are around.

My father is the last person I should really be asking for girl advice from but my choices are severely limited. There's the internet but the school and the local library have blocked any kind of inappropriate website that may be of use, (needless to say we don't have a computer at home) and the only other source for help is my one and only friend Tony. He's very tall and thin and his voice hasn't stopped cracking since we were twelve. I let him show me once how he picks up girls every weekend when we both know he's helping his mum at church or singing in the choir.

As I said I only needed to see it once to realise he's worse than my dad at talking to girls. He sauntered into a shop and said "Hello gorgeous, may I please have a boob BOTTLE! BOTTLE OF WATER PLEASE!'' He sprinted out of the store before anyone could say anything.

So that leaves my dad. He thinks that most women are cyborgs of some kind because he can't understand them, but he did get my mum to lie still long enough to create me so he obviously knows more than me and Tony put together.

See, there's this girl. She's new and I don't think she's worked out that who the cool kids are and who are the nerds that no one really knows. At this point I think I still have a chance to introduce myself and make an impression before the football guys do.

Her name is Annie and everyone wants to be her friend or her boyfriend. She oozes the essence of cool. No drama, always calm and will talk to anyone. ANYONE! She has amazing long blonde hair that smells of citrus, cool glasses and her skin is perfect. No makeup and no pimples anywhere, The complete opposite to all the other girls at school. Everyone knows who Annie is.

And that brings us up to date in my predicament and explains why I am going to ask a nervous, sci-fi recluse how to get Annie to go out with me.

I set all the meals on the table when Mum walks in looking drained and pale.  "No luck?" I ask. She just gives me a look that says 'if-I-wasn't-so-tired-you'd-be-dead-by-now'.  "I'll go get Dad." I mutter. "No, I'll go." Mum replies. After an unsuccessful aura session a good yell at Dad usually makes her feel a bit better. I wait to hear her let out her frustrations. "GET OUT HERE NOW!' No knock, just a yell.

I hear the door fling open and Dad comes shuffling into the kitchen wearing the head of his home-made Dalek. Mum quickly follows looking a bit more relaxed.  When they sit I realise I don't know how to start the conversation as Mum and Dad dig into their food.

Mum sees that I'm not eating. "Are you not feeling well? Did you do your emotional meditation today?"
"Mum, would you mind getting your Listening Beads?" I've never asked her to do this so she complies without any questions. When she returns she throws the necklace over at Dad which scatters his peas.
"So, what do you want to talk about?"
"Uh, I actually want to talk to Dad."

Slowly, very, very slowly I take the beads off Dad's plate (Dad is frozen with surprise) and hand them back over to Mum who's looking very confused.

"Dad....please don't freak out at all if you can help it. But I want some advice about a girl."
My mother clutches her necklace, straining the chord so hard her fingers are going red. I decide to carry on.
"There's a new girl who started a two weeks ago and I think she wouldn't laugh at me if I asked her out. I just need to know how. Do you think you could help me?"
"Well I don't know son. How's her Klingon?"
Mum makes a high pitched cry without opening her mouth. The vein in her temple is starting to show.
"No Dad, I mean she's normal. How do I talk to someone normal?"
Dad just looks at me as if he's never heard the word normal. Mum knocks the under side of the table with knee jolting Dad back into the conversation.
"Well I think...this is ah...hmm...ugh...who does..where...where is she from?"
"She's moved over from Cambridge. Her name is Annie."
"NO!" Mum screams slamming her beads onto the table. "I can't take it anymore. Beads or no beads I must speak. Wolfgang, you cannot bring this girl into our house, our lives."
"But Pix, we all have to learn how to initiate a conversation with all species of human being. If not I wouldn't have my Nimoy Appreciation Group to go to. Being a NAG is wonderful, even all the women joining love being a NAG."
"For the last time Eugene, my name is Pixie-Love not Pix! And the moment he said the name Annie I felt awash with anti-mother energy. She is not good news."
"But she's already the highest achiever in my class Mum. Even the teachers are starting to check with her that their facts are right."
Mum takes my face in her hands "My son. My beautiful, soulful son. The tender, succulent fruit of my loins you have to listen to mother! My skin crawled after you said her name and you know what that means don't you?"
"Yes Mum, your spirit levels are unstable."
"They are unstable! It has taken me weeks just to get them to sit next to each other now I have to massage my Mama points to calm them." She stomps off into her bedroom. Dad starts to sweat as he realises there are no women around him.
"She is still in the house Dad," I reassure him "the UFOs will still take her first." He seems to relax a little.
"So what should I say to Annie?"
"Who?"
"The new girl, Dad."
"Oh yes. How's her Klingon?"
"I don't think she knows any."
"Well then if she has big hands you could ask her to come round and finish the bunker."
"She doesn't have big hands. She doesn't know Klingon, anything about Dr. Who, our universe or the Marvel one. She's normal Dad, please try to understand."
"Well, my therapist told me to simply ask about them. Humans love to converse about themselves. Oh! Ask her if she gets that funny rash between her thighs like you do. That might be something you could have in common."
"You still go to that therapist?"
"Of course. He says I'm not crazy, I am just mentally athletic."
"Dad, please don't take this the wrong way. I'm asking you about this because...well you got Mum to be with you long enough to make me. How do I get a girl to stay with me while I'm talking."
"I'm going to be honest with you son. You know you're mother and I met at a Halloween party, she was Gaia and I was Spock. She liked me because she thought I was a good actor."
"You were acting like Spock?"
"No, I was just being me. Soon she wouldn't leave me alone and she pulled me into one of the bedrooms. Everything was a bit of a blur after that. She says that Venus was strong in the sky that night which is what made her particularly aggressive. To be honest I didn't have much say in the matter and before I knew it it was over and she was asleep. I did enjoy it."
At this point I've lost all hope for help from my father. I excuse myself and head off to my room.

Down the hallway I am clutched on the shoulder by my mother who shoves a jam jar filled with what looks like purple vomit into my hands. Its only covered by a layer of thin cling film and a rubber band.
"It's beetle husk son. Wipe it on her every time she's near enough. It will start to cleanse her spirits."
"No thanks Mum." I hand the jar back to her and make a bee line for my bed.

The next morning I'm up and out the door before either parent can say anything. I'd done some thinking on my way to school and thought that maybe Dad did have some good advice: just ask people about themselves. I decide that yes, this is what I will do.

I make my way over to the brick wall by the school entrance to wait for Tony. Leaning against the wall I hear a gentle clink from my bag. I lean back again and again. The clink is still there.  I pull my rucksack off to have a look inside. Before I reach in to take whatever it is out, I notice some familiar blonde hair in my peripheral vision. It's her. Oh God. There she is, two feet in front of me talking to some other girls. Her back is perfect. Can a back be perfect? She is perfect.

My brain manages to reconnect with my arm and I yank the mystery clinking item from my bag just as Tony arrives slapping me on the shoulder, jolting me forward throwing the contents of what I'm holding all down Annie's back.

It's the beetle husk. It had leaped through the thin cling film and was now dripping purple goo down her spine.

She's screaming. Her friends are screaming. People are laughing. People are pointing. I have to stay calm. 1, 2, 3...

"Wolf. Wolf!" Tony exclaims in my ear. "You're counting in Klingon out loud!"
I do the only thing every other person would do. I bolt. I sprint as fast as my little legs will take me down the street with Tony close behind.

"I'M NOT READY FOR GIRLS!" I yell at Tony.
"NO MAN EVER IS!" Tony shouts back.

I think maybe next time...ah, hell. There is never going to be a next time.

Unrequited Love: A Letter To You

Everyone has a story of an unrequited love at some point in their lives. That's what you are to me.

People are talking about how you're with someone new. That you're not using those 'boyfriend/girlfriend' terms yet but it'll get there eventually. I always knew that you would really like her. I knew it when I saw her and I'm usually pretty good with these things.

The rumours are flying around and most people say they don't believe something until they have seen it for themselves. But I don't want to. It will be too hard. I have been here before so I know from experience to get away from it all early before it goes further and I end up heartbroken over someone I never had and never will.

That's not to say that this doesn't hurt, this is brutal. But what's best is me leaving you alone completely. Not even looking at a profile picture. Its a very lonely place to be. You made me so happy and confident with myself in a way no one else has. I miss you, I hope that means something to you.

I thought that we would be good together. In fact I still do (maybe it's the idea of you, but I don't want to believe that). There is a lot in common between us and I have never gotten bored listening to you. You are one of the most interesting people I have ever come across. Intelligent. Thoughtful. Confident. Softly spoken. Funny. Creative. Tough. Considerate. Difficult. At times a real dick but I love that about you, so openly flawed that it made it so easy to fall in love with you. All of you. Not want to change anything. Not even how you could have your pick of any woman in the world.

For so long I have been looking at so many beautiful women comparing myself to them and hoping that you wouldn't fall for them, though I saw the way you would looked at them. Or maybe go back to one of your incredible ex-girlfriends, beautiful beyond compare, killing all my chances of being with you. Now you are with someone, someone I suspected from the start, and I have to turn around. I can't look for you anymore. Even if it's not true I should've done this earlier. But you changed me.

I'm better off having had you in my life. Stronger, braver, bolder. I'm going after things that, a year ago, I never even considered could be something I could do. I believe that nothing is impossible because you taught me that and I am forever grateful.

I just wish you were with me.

I hope in the future I will get to see you, talk to you and tell you all this. Or maybe all you will know is what is written here. In my wild imagination I hope that we both move on with our lives and they will eventually bring us together. But I don't want that if its at the cost of your happiness. You are so much more important than anything else.

I'm going to, but I don't want to move on. I have to to stop me from getting to involved when you know none of this and the only person who ends up crying is me. So here goes...

Be happy (with her or someone else).

I love you.

I miss you.

So much.

Goodbye.

Unacceptable

Self Acceptance.

There has been a lot of talk over the past few years in terms of body image and the concept of self acceptance. From a social stand point, it is based around the idea of dismantling the underlying messages that images in magazines and on the internet portray. Directed towards young girls and women, self acceptance seems to be about knowing that the way you look is okay despite the fact that you don't look anything like the model in the picture.

Why is it that 'perfect' looking women are so revered? It may be because she is the same sex as the audience that a campaign is mostly aimed at and therefore has more of an impact on those looking at her. If so, what is the underlying message that the picture is saying?

What is shown is a perfect body, face, skin, teeth, hair. A perfect everything. She is wearing the designer clothes, she is surrounded by other women who look the same as her, she is usually happy or oozing sex, she is surrounded by handsome men. She has money. She has men. She has friends. She has it all. It may be because her body is what is emphasised that girls and women take in these messages from the picture and associate her 'success' to the aesthetic of her body. She has value and she gets what you want. In many cases this translates over into the models personal life as many go on to date handsome, rich, famous men.

As a result, if you don't have what she has, it is because you don't look like her. Queue in fad diets, constructive clothing to give you the desired lines, the exercise regimes. I believe that a lot of people are actually aiming for this ideal rather than aiming for a fit and healthy body.

This certainly has a lot to answer for in terms of girls and women being unable to accept their bodies for what they are. However, I believe that the difficulty of accepting your body is also directly related to the difficulty of accepting who you are as a person. For me, this started as a child.

I have always struggled with myself. To like myself. To find myself interesting. I know exactly what I am and what I'm not, but still find it hard to go easy on myself. Usually when I have done something wrong or maybe over something I didn't do for example. I have always been this way, just like I have always been very sensitive.

As a child (and still as an adult) I took a long time to be at ease around new places and people. I am on the unusual side. My sense of humour is very specific, my imagination is always running (so at least I'm never bored), a lot of the time I can be a bit of a loner and I'm very quiet. No kid really wants to go and talk to the girl who's sitting on her own smiling to herself. So I've always found it hard to make friends and, at times, keep them. I went through a very long stage of loneliness as child and for a while considered my cat and dog my only friends. My peers weren't accepting me so it became very hard for me to do the same (especially when you have a sibling who has never really struggled in this area).

My mother has always said that you only need a handful of good friends to get you through life. I truly believe this to be accurate as I did eventually find a small group of friends as a teenager and then again in university. But during my childhood and early adolescence I did see the large group of kids as the group that I needed to be part of. Most kids like to talk, they like other kids who can make them laugh and they usually are very similar to each other. Subconsciously, on a couple of occasions, I tried to change and be like them. I tried to make jokes (usually didn't do too well with those), I tried to talk a lot and to make myself heard (a challenge when you're naturally softly spoken). Children are pretty harsh so if you're quiet you're usually left behind.

This didn't work while at primary school but it did for a time in my early teens. However, as time went on, I found myself becoming distant from the big group of friends I thought I had. Perhaps it's because talking for the sake of talking isn't really my thing and eventually I reverted back to being my quiet self.

As a teenager with your hormones on the loose running riot, you become very aware of your body as it changes and also noticing the changes in those around you. You become attracted to a certain kind of person and you become aware of the certain kind of person they are attracted to. This kind of attraction is like the way in which you meet people who you would like to be your friend. You end up comparing yourself to them and those around them. This is then influenced by the women you see in popular culture. The models, the actresses, the singers, the women who have it all.

It has carried on to a certain extent into my twenties. I am jealous of another woman at work who is the sort of person everyone wants to be their friend. She is fun, funny, happy, chatty, very smiley and happy and to top it all off, she has an amazing figure and sense of style. I'm am not going to try and be like her in any way but I can't help seeing how people are so drawn to her and praise her so highly, especially when she's not around. There have also been a lot of times when I have said something while she is having a conversation and she hasn't heard it.

It can be very blinding and overwhelming to be in a world where the skinny person is the 'ideal' and feeling as though, if you're not like her, you won't be as widely accepted as she is (this is slowly changing with more plus size models coming into mainstream consumption but it still has a long way to go) How we feel about our bodies is related to how we feel about who we are which can be related to how we were accepted as children before our different body types were thought to be important.

The women I know who accept not only their bodies but who they are as people, are in their fifties, don't really care what other people think of them and have found success in their own individual ways. They know that their bodies are what they are so why try and modify it to look like a twenty year old?

I feel that maybe if I was okay with being who I am then I would be okay with my body and walk around with more confidence. I would be fine with the fact that my thighs and many of my other bits are a bit big, my stomach is round and I have an extremely long neck (at odd angles it makes me head look very small). There are some days where I think I look pretty but the days where I feel pretty are very rare. I have never seen myself as beautiful. I think that has a lot more to do with my internal dialogue with myself rather than with what I see in the mirror.

Here's hoping we manage to accept ourselves and our bodies. I hope I'm not alone with these feelings. 

Does Marriage Still Have Meaning?

Why get married? In this day and age it's not something that is mandatory for long term couples.
Previous generations were married for decades as marriage was something that was taken very seriously and divorce was almost unheard of (whether they were happy or not).

Now, since divorce has become, for want of a better word, common, divorce rates have sky-rocketed to 42% with marriages lasting only 8 years. In the 2009 US census it was found that 11.6% of men married twice, 3.1% three or more times and 12.1% of women marrying twice and 3.2% marrying three or more times. Almost half of all children in the UK and US with married parents will experience divorce and live between homes. The family unit is now made up of step-parents, step-children/siblings and half siblings. If this is the norm that the next generation are growing up with, it would be fair to assume that this kind of pattern will carry on now we have what seems to be a very relaxed attitude towards marriage.

The split of a marriage is something that is consistently reported on in gossip magazines and on websites about our current obsession as a society: celebrities. As soon as a couple makes themselves public the question of tying the knot comes up and as soon as they are married its reported that the couple are already on the rocks and divorce is being spoken about with infidelity being the main cause for a split. True or not. With this kind of influence it appears that marriage is now something that you can get out of as soon as you don't like it.

From a birds eye view it looks as though people are now only preparing for the wedding rather than the marriage.

With most people meeting others online it has been reported that around 72% of couples are now meeting online. Social apps like Tinder and Grinder are now more popular than ever. This begs the question: what affect has this had on people? Even before getting into a relationship never mind marriage.

With social apps and the popularity of the selfie people are now picking people based on what they look like immediately. Look at their picture, swipe one way if you like them, swipe the other if you don't. You don't even have to speak to them. There is something very impersonal about the whole thing.

Feminism is now becoming an ever increasing issue all over the world, women are calling for equal treatment as people rather than being treated based on how they look. If this is the case then shouldn't participation on dating apps like Tinder go down? Or at least have profiles without a picture? Statistically women take far more selfies than men which makes me wonder whether or not they know they are playing into the objectification of themselves willingly (especially when its proven that the more skin you show the more attention, likes and comments you'd get, from both sexes). Women are saying one thing but their actions say the complete opposite when looking for some kind of romantic attention.

As a result, the young men of my generation now look at women even more as sex objects because it looks like that is all what young women want as well. Relationships are now shorter and people ask for nude selfies even before they meet the other person.

Dating is now a very daunting aspect for people as going online is the number one means for getting a date and is completely based on what you look like.

Only 10 years ago people were asked out on dates by people coming up to the other and introducing themselves first. A personal connection would be made first before anything else.

Where are we going if we treat each other like a novelty item? Will marriages that actually end with 'death till we part' be a thing of the past in the future?

A Secret

You have a secret
Hibernating in your mind
Crawling through your bones
Inside it sends you wild
Bending, twisting, contorting
Soon you will break
Soon you will shatter

You can't stop it
It's been too long
You've left it there to grow
The whispers twirl in between your thoughts
Louder and louder
Turning and swirling beneath the surface

Like cigarette smoke
It suffocates your guts
Gliding up to your heart
The beats are now erratic
You start to sway
Sweating, shaking
Now your knees are buckling
In the mud your skin is cracking

You have a secret
It dances in your day dreams
It keeps you from sleeping
Your heavy eyes are blind

Eaten from the inside out
You now belong to it
A possession bound alive
In it's world of tarnished chaos
And endless filth

Lying in the shallows
Weeds bleed out of your fingers
To knot through your hair
Intertwining with the roots below
So very still
So very small
A voiceless carcass

Sinking slowly
To break
To shatter
To crumble into dust

Now deep in the dark
Down in the depths
This secret has you