Women, I've had enough of how similar you all are. Of how cookie-cutter cliche your truest of true ambitions are. Suddenly you turn 30 and no longer are you competing on how hot you look, how nice your clothes and accessories may be, but on how many kids you have and how cute they look in baby polo. It makes me want to gag. It's not even that you let your dreams fall to the waist-side. It's that you never really cared to have dreams in the first place. It's all very disheartening and hard to take. I'm glad my happiness lies in the satisfaction of my obsessive compulsions and addictions as opposed to the fulfillment of standards typical of the modern woman (which, more often than not is hinged on the presence of a man.) No thank you.
LO
My ocd and I had a wonderful weekend, stereotype free.
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