We love. We hate. We talk. We ignore. We hug. We sulk. We support. We bitch.
We are the best of friends. We are the worst of enemies.
We are the biggest fans. We are the sharpest critics.
We give it our all. We take everything back.
We are women.
With the brain and heart not really working in tandem, I have been a giant dessert salad bowl of feelings, emotions, practicality and logic. It’s a crust of impudence, a fudge of flirtatiousness, a ganache of sensitivity, a sprinkling of caution all blended together in a fascinating sauce of womanly seasonings.
I was never a girly girl. It was never about pink frocks and beaded jewelry. Yes, I came up with disasters when I played with mom’s make up and made dad an essential part of Barbie tea parties… but at the end of the day, being a girl was never really my distinctive quality. And then came the thriving, terrifying teens and life was topsy-turvy! A nerdy introverted kid, I had a small group of close friends. I was a part of those girl gangs but never really in with my heart and soul. I was a spectator, a witness, an objective third party. And what I saw…
Why is it that it is our girlie gang behind many of those lurking misgivings, tiny hurtful sentiments and moments of self-doubt? Why are there unspoken words behind tags of partners-in-crime, female solidarity and sisterhood? We compete for the chic dress and funky hairdo. We compare our bodies and draw satisfaction when the scales tilt towards the other’s heavier side. We gossip like crazy about the sexual escapades of our fellow women and go mad over stalking the exes of our boyfriends to be assured “Oh! You are better! She is no competition at all”. We have a bunch of fake friends and a photo album full of groupies you couldn’t care less of! We dislike this one girl on sight and label her with every bad name we can think of (Okay fine! At times, she really is a cow… female intuition works here!) We subtly criticize when one of our own has an outstanding achievement. We have double standards – we demand liberalisation and unlocking the shackles but do not shy away from slut-shaming a promiscuous woman.
Nothing and no one is spared… boyfriends, wardrobes, jobs, paychecks, relationships with our moms, our cooking repertoire! I have been guilty of quite a few and have no doubt that I ain’t changing overnight. Why do we do this to ourselves? These crossed wires mazing around! Yes, I am doing some major generalizing. It doesn’t happen every time with everyone… but at one point, at one moment, it has happened.
Yet, it is impossible to live without our daily dose of female camaraderie. I love my girlfriends! I love exchanging clothes, gossiping over drinks, bonding over our mutual hatred of the period gods (I may dislike her, but it will never stop me from lending a tampon to my girl in need), comparing first times, swapping love tips, sorting family issues and be insanely crazy. At times, a comforting shoulder and a nice cuddle with our mates is our sustenance. We will be lost without each other and these quirks which are so uniquely female!
SATC quote nails it – “Maybe our girlfriends are our soulmates and guys are just people to have fun with”
Peace.
An Armchair Perfectionist 