Kelly Rowland Nipple Pierce

Questione femminile?

Saturday evening. I remain at home because I have a cold coming. Stuffy nose and throat burning, you swine flu?
Anyway. My roommates come, as every Saturday night, and like all the Saturday night I can not help but be bothered by their rituals, rituals that someone would call "feminine." Preparing to exit normally requires a couple of hours during which:
1) You start to drink. They range from terrible califoriani rose wines, such as tremendous superacolici so as to leave already a bit 'merry.
2) It moves like tormented souls from one bedroom to another to ask the partner who dress is wearing, what shoes he's wearing, how you're doing your hair, how to put make-up. If you are not you change the tone and the ritual becomes longer, potentially dramatically.
3) listening to the radio or TV tuned to MTV. Or stuff like Rihanna Lady Gaga, James Blunt and Justin Timberlake when you feel sophisticated. If it is not trash, it's not Saturday night.

Now I should point out that my roommates are very nice girls, sometimes maybe just a little 'scemotte (like when watching Big Brother or one of those terrifying British soap operas), but, really, of Great Guys. However, with every ritual of Saturday night, I can not help feeling very uneasy.

I see them out sporting short skirts and horrible heels of equally dubious taste. Meta: first the pub, where they continue to drink, then the nightclub, where they will drink even more. One of my roommates go to the kitchen while I'm preparing dinner. He shows me on the left thigh bruise terrifying. "What happened?" "I do not know, Thursday night I drank too much, I do not remember, I think I closed the leg in the door of the taxi." This is to give you an idea of \u200b\u200bthe kind of evening that awaits them. This, for them is "a nice evening."

are sarcastic and pedantic. I know. But I wonder why. Because I have no desire to spend two hours of my day in make-up and stretching i capelli? Perché le loro gonne cortissime e i loro top scollatissimi mi sembrano volgari? Perché in discoteca MI ANNOIO? Eppure sembra che questo sia un normale sabato sera.

Dio mio, l'odore di lacca per capelli sta appestando la casa, altro che protocolli di Kyoto...

Sono davvero un'asociale? Sono davvero una "27 going to 50"? Sono una irrimediabile secchiona? Sono una pallosa all'antica?
Perché preferisco le lunghe cene con chiacchiere e vino alle lunghe notti con gin and tonic e Lady Gaga? Perché non sento la necessità di mostrare cosce e scollature e di bere fino a perdere la dignità? Quando avevo 18 anni ci andavo anche io in discoteca e mi ubriacavo pure, ma ho iniziato a trovarlo noioso molto presto.

Tutto il mio studiare il movimento femminista ha senso? Certo, le mie coinquiline lavorano, votano, sono indipendenti, sono "libere". Ma lo sono davvero? Questo modello di femminilità è autentico o è seguito solo perché sembra quello vincente? O forse sono solo io che non capisco?