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(seriously)
15/11/05 11:31***Meg, why did you make Sam have sex with David in READY OR NOT? I don’t believe in pre-marital sex.***
But not every girl is like you. I myself am a strong believer in trying on pants before I buy them. Of course, I don't even try the pants on until they've told me they love me and have forsaken all others, and we have known each other for quite some time (hint: longer than a month. And no, I am not worried about the pants selling to someone else while I make them wait. If they were meant to be my pants, they'll wait for me). And of course, I always wear panties when I am trying on strange pants, so I don’t catch any diseases, or, God forbid, get pregnant. That’s just the kind of girl I am, and I guess that’s the kind of girl Sam is, too.
Seriously. Why does Meg Cabot ROCK SO HARD?
I mean. SERIOUSLY.
*fangirls her like whoa and draws little heart around her name in my notebook*
(Meg Cabot gets my feminist icon, too. Because I said so. And because she explains it so nicely in small words to all the ignorant teenyboppers.
The thing that bothers me most about all this is that my mom and lots of women in her generation—not to mention those ladies back in the wet/dry vac section at Sears--fought really hard so that women of my generation (and yours) could have the same jobs for the same pay as men. If you choose to stay home and raise kids, like my mom did, that is totally your prerogative.
But it is because of women like my mom and her friends that we HAVE that prerogative: before, it was just a GIVEN that that was what you’d do—stay home and raise the kids.
If you don’t want to wear a bra, you don’t have to. But if you do want to--like a really cute pink polka dotted one from Agent Provocateur--you totally can.
And you can still call yourself a feminist. Really. It’s all right. IT’S NOT A DIRTY WORD.)
But not every girl is like you. I myself am a strong believer in trying on pants before I buy them. Of course, I don't even try the pants on until they've told me they love me and have forsaken all others, and we have known each other for quite some time (hint: longer than a month. And no, I am not worried about the pants selling to someone else while I make them wait. If they were meant to be my pants, they'll wait for me). And of course, I always wear panties when I am trying on strange pants, so I don’t catch any diseases, or, God forbid, get pregnant. That’s just the kind of girl I am, and I guess that’s the kind of girl Sam is, too.
Seriously. Why does Meg Cabot ROCK SO HARD?
I mean. SERIOUSLY.
*fangirls her like whoa and draws little heart around her name in my notebook*
(Meg Cabot gets my feminist icon, too. Because I said so. And because she explains it so nicely in small words to all the ignorant teenyboppers.
The thing that bothers me most about all this is that my mom and lots of women in her generation—not to mention those ladies back in the wet/dry vac section at Sears--fought really hard so that women of my generation (and yours) could have the same jobs for the same pay as men. If you choose to stay home and raise kids, like my mom did, that is totally your prerogative.
But it is because of women like my mom and her friends that we HAVE that prerogative: before, it was just a GIVEN that that was what you’d do—stay home and raise the kids.
If you don’t want to wear a bra, you don’t have to. But if you do want to--like a really cute pink polka dotted one from Agent Provocateur--you totally can.
And you can still call yourself a feminist. Really. It’s all right. IT’S NOT A DIRTY WORD.)
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