Shit I Wish Girls Knew About the 411

The only thing that spreads faster than herpes on ships is gossip. True or not true, nobody cares. If you went to dinner, rented a movie or made generally any other action while on or around the boat, don't waste time telling your friends about it. They already know. 

Currently I am rumored to be hooking up with a musician. While he is certainly attractive and we do spend a lot of time together, nothing romantic ensues. But ships have the same mentality as middle school girls and obviously a mixed gender friendship is impossible without any hanky panky. 

I don't mind that people think that or that they ask me. What does irritate me however is that nobody believes me when I insist that I didn't. I am a pretty honest person. If I say i didn't do something, I didn't. But gossip doesn't care. 

The moral here isn't that ship folk gossip worse than Regina George. It's that no matter where you are in life, people will talk about you. You need to accept it. If you don't want people talking about it, don't do it. If you couldn't talk about it with your mom, don't do it. Don't engage in some horrible or embarrassing behaviors and then whine when everyone find out. You brought it on yourself. 

If I really cared people were making such a big deal about me hanging out with the musician, I would stop doing it. But honestly? I don't give a fuck. 

Rumours happen. Even Adele sings about it. Life lesson learned. 

Shit I Wish Girls Knew About Beauty and the Bitch

I'm pretty sure I spend what the average (and responsible) person spends a year for mortgage on makeup. Just my make up bag alone cost fifty dollars. And that baby is bulging at the seams. It's not that I am particularly vainglorious or that I cake the makeup on. To be honest I don't even do my makeup everyday. But, in times of high stress, I shop for makeup. So needless to say, I have a lot. 

I used to joke that I was a stress cutter. (Not to make light of mental illness) When I was stressed, I would cut my hair. Or dye it. Or alter my appearance in some way. But this has resulted in five years of me trying to grow my hair out. So I have given up on the hair cutting and moved on to an obsession with makeup. And it really does make me feel better. I can walk into the shop, get a mini makeover and walk out with all the products they used, feeling like a whole new gal. Bank balance aside, it's an easy fix.

However there is a deeper psychological question to be posed here. Why does my stress/happiness level directly correlate to my appearance? Why do I need to look good to feel good? Even if you cannot relate to my shopping binges, every girl knows that when you head out feeling you like you look amazing, you automatically feel more amazing overall. Compare how you feel when you've just rolled out of bed in sweats to when you are in your favorite outfit, on a skinny day, with your hair and makeup all cooperating (every girl gets this, every guy has no idea). It's no contest.

People are constantly critiquing their bodies. "If I could just lose 5 or 10 more pounds, my life would be so much better". Why? Would your job suddenly suck less? Would you earn more? Be smarter? Suddenly develop a hidden talent or start reading more Tolstoy? No. You would just conform better to society's ideal opinion of a woman.

At the end of the day I am pretty happy with myself. I may not have Maxim's idea of a hot bod, but I think I look feminine and can throw together a decent outfit. While I may not be a face that launched a thousand ships I have no obvious deformities and I wear makeup well. My hair is a white person Afro, but then we all have our crosses to bear. I know that depending on makeup to cheer me up seems pathetic, but I do genuinely like who I am. Your appearance isn't going to change that fact that you are a shitty person inside, so remember that that is what really matters. Our society places a high premium on looks but there is no concealer for douchebaggery.