**Disclaimer: This post is meant to be stereotypical, potentially mildly offensive, and completely farcical. Any viewpoints endorsed by the author are her true beliefs, although if you asked her, she’d deny it.**
I woke up this morning in a mood. I had a fight with my Ish last night. (You know, the guy in your life who isn’t quite your boyfriend, but is more than the guy you’re dating; he’s boyfriend-ish). It wasn’t even really a fight. It was me being frustrated at him for various reasons, expressing that frustration, and him responding in an even more frustrating, nonchalant way. So I went to bed mad, and, not surprisingly, I woke up mad.
But I don’t blame my Ish. At least that small part of me that is actually rational doesn’t. I blame my anger on my girl brain, the (overwhelmingly large) part of my brain that I hate. I know that everybody knows what I’m talking about because, face it, you have a girl brain, too. And you probably hate it for the same reasons I do.
1. My stupid girl brain makes me overanalyze everything.
What I say: “Ish, I am mad because you aren’t affectionate and that makes me think you don’t like me.”
What Ish says: “I do like you. I’m just not an exceptionally affectionate person like you are.”
What my ears hear: “I do like you. I’m just not an exceptionally affectionate person like you are.”
What my girl brain hears: “You’re right. I don’t like you. Actually, the thought of hugging or kissing you makes me want to throw up and run away.”
This happens in all sorts of situations, not just with Ish. It happens with friends, roommates, and professors. I overanalyze everyday sentences and make them into things they are not. Usually into something passive aggressive meant to slight me in some horrible way. My logical brain knows this is not the truth, but my girl brain makes it so.
2. My stupid girl brain makes ridiculous demands.
What my girl brain says: “I WANT CHOCOLATE!!!”
What I say: “Girl brain, it’s 7:30am. No chocolate.”
What my girl brain says: “YOU WILL GET ME CHOCOLATE NOW OR I WILL RELEASE A FLOOD OF HORMONES SO HORRIFIC YOU WILL UNCONTROLLABLY SOB FROM NOW UNTIL NEXT WEEK!”
What I say: “You win, girl brain. You win.”
3. My stupid girl brain makes me sob uncontrollably.
What I say: “Today is a good day for laundry. I should also reorganize my dresser drawers.”
[I then proceed to remove and re-fold everything in my dresser, when girl brain interrupts my progress.]
What my girl brain says: “Why can’t you fold this sweater??? Your lack of legitimate motor skills is really, really sad. Not sad in the pathetic way, but sad in the tears and other fluids spewing from your face kinda way.”
Yes, every few weeks I cry uncontrollably about nothing. Last week I really did cry all day because I couldn’t fold a sweater properly. Then I got an eyelash in my eye. That really pushed me over the edge.
4. My stupid girl brain is mean and critical.
What I say: “These jeans fit perfectly. And they’d look so cute with my new riding boots!”
What my girl brain says: “What is with that little strip of fat poking out of the top? And look at your thighs! Maybe these would look better on you if you stopped eating chocolate at 7:30 in the morning.”
5. My stupid girl brain is masochistic.
What I say: “No, you’re not going to look at the ex’s new girlfriend’s photos on Facebook. You’ve got better things to do with your time. Plus, you’ve got someone new so you don’t care.”
What my girl brain says: “YOU WILL LOOK AT THOSE PHOTOS RIGHT NOW. THEN YOU WILL LOOK AT ALL OF HER FRIENDS’ PHOTOS. Then you will ask your friends to look at them and tell you that you are prettier. And happier. And so much better off without him.”
What I say (while eating a bag of Fritos in bed): I HATE YOU, GIRL BRAIN.
I love being a girl (especially because I can use makeup to cover up the puffy, post-sob fest dark circles under my eyes), but sometimes this girl brain thing is just too much. I’m irrational, I’m angry, I’m emotional…and hard as I try, there’s nothing I can do to change it. Much like boobs and the ability to have children, it sorta comes with the territory. And that just makes my girl brain rage even more.
Sigh. Grrr. Sob.