Five Reasons I’m Bad at Being a Girly Girl

I love doing my nails and makeup, melt over adorable babies and my favorite color is pink, but for all intensive purposes, I’m not what many would consider a girly girl.

There are just certain girly things I’m not into, and I’m totally cool with that.

Celebrity “News” – I, of course, use the term “news” extremely lightly. There has never been a single moment in my life when I gave a teensy tiny care about what (or who) celebrities are doing. I’ve never spent a nickel on gossip rags and couldn’t even name three of them if my life depended on it. When famous people choose bizarre baby names for their sure-to-be inhumanly gorgeous offspring, I’m totally the last chick to know, and somehow, I’ve found the strength enough to go on.

Fashion – I know very, very, very little about fashion. I’ve never been “in the know” when it comes to trends, or even designers. Instead, I have this weird habit of choosing clothing that I like and fits me well. I honestly can’t remember the last time I bought something at full price, even from Walmart. Most of my current wardrobe is comprised of hand-me-downs, thrift shop treasures and sales rack finds. By “most,” I’m referring to about 98% of what’s in my closet. The remaining 2% were purchased literally years ago.

Fine Arts – I love musicals, concerts and stage plays, but there is a considerably better chance you’d find me at a Chicago Bears game than having my eardrums burst at an opera house or falling asleep at the ballet. Ice skating? Yeah. No. These frilly estrogen magnets have never been my cup of tea, and most likely never will be.

Tanning and Waxing – To me these seem like masochistic torture practices. I’m claustrophobic, so tanning beds are out, and I’m more likely to burn than get a tan, so cooking myself to a crispy brown is just plain not gonna happen. Aside from waxing my curse of a unibrow, I’ve got no use for wax either. The sheer thought of taking hot wax to my nether regions in the name of beauty makes my soul shudder. Ain’t gonna happen in this lifetime or any other.

Romance Novels – I’ll take a pass. First of all, Fabio makes me queasy. Secondly, “cleverly” (again, a word used lightly) composed prose about rose-petaled, candlelit bedroom antics only make me depressed. I’ve been married for nearly 12 years and have three children. I need not say more.

I think there is a reason why God chose sons for me. I’m genetically predisposed to play with action figures and run around the house in a Spiderman mask. I can save my hard-earned money on Gucci purses and use them for Cubs tickets. I may not be a girly girl, but things are exactly as they should be.


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