Post-work musings

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I am not one of those unshaven feminist types. In fact, while I’ve always considered myself a feminist, I have only been able to lend wisdom to these tendencies recently. I think it’s because I’ve started taking WGST classes in college. Oh, and because I deal with blatant sexism on a WEEKLY basis at work. 

I’m going to write this now, because I have a week left and all this shit is basically anonymous. The things people do when they are rejected astound me. I have certainly been rejected, but I tend to just internalize things — not take them out on the person. No matter what you tell me, no matter what other reasons you claim to be treating me like shit, I am always going to think it’s because of personal problems. Maybe a personal bias, maybe some little slant that causes you to edit my pages last, critique every budget I send you and discuss the stories I write with everyone BUT me. 

I told you multiple times that I was not trying to hurt your feelings. I spent the majority of my life GETTING my feelings hurt and developing a tougher skin. I really recommend that you do that same. A tougher skin, mind you, not a hard and impenetrable callous. I don’t really want to write anymore because this is an issue that will NEVER be solved. I don’t ever want to be in that position again in my life. If I have to gain 50 pounds and wear a burkha to achieve that (because I am a brazen beauty, of course), so be it. I don’t find myself massively appealing. I am ok. I see girls around me who are both less and more attractive than me. And I don’t give a shit, because I don’t base my worth or merit on how I look. I know I’m not conventionally ugly, I suppose, and I’m fine with keeping things at that. But if I gain weight on birth control or out of STRESS from working with YOU, I’m not any less of a female. I want so badly to forgive you and even be your friend. But that is never, never, ever going to happen. 

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