I'm working on gaining confidence in my life by expressing my truths. So first I'll pick an easy one: Why I don't like Mitt Romney. I don't like him because he looks like The Man. The White All Powerful Condescending Father Figure that all rebels rebel against. He epitomizes The Man. I'm only going to focus on looks because my truths often falter in the face of morals and ethics and non-hard science. I'm pretty sure he dyes his hair dark and then dyes the side burns and edges of his hair grey. You know, to better make him look like a successful business man. I have a hard time trusting men who care that much about how they look cosmetically. If you go into a bar and there are two older gentlemen sitting there, who are you going to sit next to to talk to: the one who has fake hair and an overly expensive suit or the one in flannel with scared hands, weathered skin, and a beard?
If Mitt's lacking the woman vote (which he is) then of course he's going to do what he can to get the vote. Creepers and Mitt dye their hair for the ladies. I wonder if the curtains match the drapes?
I just thought of something, go back to the old men at the bar scenario: who would you rather talk to, Mitt Romney or Joe Biden? I heard Joe was quiet the sex symbol for 60+ yr old women.
I for one do not talk to any old men at bars, unless I'm the odd one out and it's a bar for old people. Otherwise, experience has shown me that old men at bars are the creepiest of all men. Another truth.
I do not like bowling. Please don't ever ever ask me to go bowling. Don't even ask me to go hang out and watch you bowl. Don't beg me to bowl.
I do not like playing volleyball. It hurts me and makes me look stupid because I will actively avoid the ball and try not to hit it. That's the truth. So, do not beg me to play volleyball with you.
I do not like it when people try to make me say swear words to prove that I can say them. Grow up.
Truth: I do not like people telling me up wrong without substantial and logical facts to back it up (proof if you will) nor do I like people telling me what to do without a reasonable reason.
I really do not like people telling me how to drive my truck or what sort of vehicle I should get. If you do either one of those things...really? It confuses me. I try to make my love for my truck as apparent as possible to all people so that they know that it is off limits. Sort of like children.
I do not like dress pants. I will not wear them. I don't care how comfy you say they are or how nice they will look on me or how professional they will make me. Unless they are mostly cotton, I will not wear them. I will not wear them if they have a geometric pattern that comes to a point along the crotch or butt crack. I will not wear them if they are black and look like waitress pants.
I WILL wear heals with jeans, skirts, etc. Heals are not hard to walk in and can be comfy if you pay enough or are picky enough. Did you ever think you can't wear them because you only buy clearance heals from Target (or Wal-Mart?)? For every pair I buy there are 20 I didn't buy.
Red is my favorite color to wear.
I do not like to be told to calm down, and what you are hearing isn't yelling...yet.
I do not like to share my food and I do not like to share other peoples food, unless you are family. Food is very very touchy subject for me and is an anxiety trigger. Please do not touch my food without permission and especially don't scoop up my plate for me. I'm a big girl, I can get my own food.
I know how to choose my food at a restaurant...you do not need to make suggestions for me, especially after I said I've made my decision. I also do not like being asked if the bagel or sandwich I am eating is gluten free. It's really none of your business and if you know I'm gluten free and you know I buy GF bread, why do you have to ask? Do you think I'm stupid or something?
I do not like it when I hold the door open for a man and he grabs it above my head and forces me to go under his arm to enter the building because HEAVEN FORBID he feel uncomfortable because a woman held the door for him. Yes, that's one of my first lessons at work, to let the men hold the door for me because they feel uncomfortable if I don't. Screw how I feel. Even when I explain it to them, it's still not enough. It's the very worst part of being south.
These are my truths that in general people don't believe when I tell them. They either ask me again, ignore my answer/reasoning, or get mad it me because I didn't conform to their ideals. Well, these are my ideals and I'm conforming to them.
I do not like ham. Truth. Especially if it's spiraled with honey.