IHateGirls!

I HATE GIRLS!
I mean…I don’t hate all of them.
Just those…those hella complicated ass girls.
I mean those...
you could try for a life time and never even slightly understand them ass girls.

And those…

Those stupid ass girls.
Those wear 3D glasses around the mall ass girls.
Those other girl has something they want so they start hating ass girls.
Those make a big deal out of nothing ass girls.
Those try so hard to be noticed but never get a mention ass girls.
Those got a Formspring account but never get a mention ass girls.
Those on Tumblr all day reblogging the same crap ass girls.
Those never go anywhere unless they’re in a pack ass girls.
Those wear leggings and tights as pants ass girls.
Those wasting their time dating assholes and douchebags ass girls.
Those post pictures saying they’re ugly while fishing for compliments ass girls.
Those thinking they’re the shit ass girls.
Those thinking they’re worth shit ass girls.
Those expect guys to do everything for them ass girls.
Those think they’re drunk after taking one sip of alcohol ass girls.
Those put the worthwhile guys in the friend zone ass girls.
Those can’t let go of their ex after forever ass girls.
Those boots with the fur ass girls….well, I don’t really mind them.
Those never stop talking ass girls.
Those never start talking ass girls.
Those Facebook status updates of song lyrics ass girls.
YEAH! Those “Can we pretend that airplanes in the night skies are like shooting stars ‘cos I could really use a wish right now” ass girls!

I hate those girls…
But I haven’t even gotten to the girls I really hate.
I mean I just hate those…

Those think they have to show skin to be noticed type girls.
Those got a lot to say but too shy to voice their thoughts type girls.
Those think they’re fat because their dress size is an actual number type girls.
Those beautiful soul but get passed in the halls type girls.
Those want something great to happen but aren’t willing to take a chance type girls.
Those quick to believe gossip but will never believe a compliment type girls.
Those gave up on what they want because society said differently type girls.
Those perfectly fine but completely insecure type girls.
Those won’t eat because they don’t want to be seen as fat type girls.
Those stopped believing in love because of one bad experience with an asshole type girls.

But just to get it straight, I don’t hate every girl.
Just most of them. Thank you.

WhyDoYouBelieveCosmeticsCompainesAndNotMe?

Okay, I get it.

You put on layers of make up to make up for the fact that you can’t get your mind made up on who you really want to be. So you put on that mask made of mascara and foundation on your face, meaning that the foundation of your confidence is built on water and oil.

But we all know oil and water don’t mix, so it’s BP’s job to start cleaning off the fish.

‘Cos there’s something fishy going on here…

You treat every outing with your girlfriends as a photo-op, knowing damn well you won’t post one of yourself without a little Photoshop. Not knowing if people like you for what your momma gave you, or maybe it’s Maybelline.

Because the entire cosmetics industry is built on telling girls they’re ugly. Either they’re not pretty enough, not skinny enough, not curvy enough or that your eyelashes need to be 120% longer or else you’re not as pretty as you could be.
That if you eat, you eat too much. That your body don’t look right without silicone tits, a flat stomach and Kim Kardhashian’s badonkadonk.

So you conceal your insecurities with concealers, fighting signs of aging because you relate wrinkles to looser skin. Afraid your mask will fall off, while wishing you could just lose your skin and just be seen for what’s inside, as the strings on your mask begin to loosen and we see you more for who you really are.

A girl. Just like any other, hoping she could stand out. So she wears lipstick the same shade as bright rose petals to frame the words that escape from her lips. An attempt to hook a gentleman that wouldn’t mind getting intimate as he pays attention to her intellect, so she feigns confidence in her high heels. Hoping to turn finding a mate into a game of inches granted by the stiletto at her heels. Because everyday she walks on daggers and egg shells, afraid to lose the façade because she doesn’t fit the mold.

But I don’t care if you don’t look like a movie star.

Because they are not real women. They are fictitious creations molded by a man behind a desk with pen and paper with his own idea of what somebody should look like. So girls everywhere believe the lies…because they see it on their TV screens

That they’re not pretty enough, not skinny enough, not curvy enough…not plastic enough. That it’s wrong to be real…

That Jersey Shore is better to look at than, that girl sitting in the corner of the room reading a book. That tanned orange skin somehow makes you think less Willy Wonka oompa loompas and more of a lifestyle spent in gyms. That reality shows are what’s good and that reality shows our real flaws and it’s not acceptable.

Because we have to look perfect…the way nobody really is.
So you continue hiding behind your mask, so perfectly crafted by manufacturers to convince you that you…don’t want to be you anymore.
Because you take compliments with a grain of salt but take anything negative to heart like it was fact.

So miss, you’re ugly because you let them convince you are.

It’s not the shape you’re in, or how your genes dictated way your face is arranged that make you beautiful. It’s cliché to state the fact but it’s what lies behind the cover of the book that keeps a reader interested.

So if you never believe a compliment…you’re hideous for not letting your beautiful soul shine through.