My mother imposed an ultimatum on me today. She gave me two choices.
C1. Have long hair. Wear a skirt/dress once a week for normal weeks. For the pair of pants you get to wear, it has to be different each week. One pair can't last two weeks. For school holidays wear skirts/dresses two times a week. Three times a week you can wear pants.
C2. Continue to have your short hair. Wear only skirts/dresses on weekends. For school holidays wear skirts/dresses four times a week.
Freak.
EARTH TO THE MOTHER OF THIS MAD FREAK!! ARE YOU ON SOME CAMPAIGN TO MAKE A FEMININE FIGURE OUT OF YOUR BLOODY DAUGHTER, AND TORTURE HER TO DEATH IN THE PROCESS?!
I'm a tomboy. And I'm happy with it. I love my short hair(though I want one that my mother's golf teacher has, but my parents won't agree). I love wearing baggy pants(knee-length or jeans). I'm at ease with myself, which is an un-girlish female. I don't like shopping for bags/clothes/shoes. Everyone says I'm a tomboy. I have no qualms about it. Some people may mistake me for a lesbian but I ca say with confodence that I'm not a lesbian. I have one question:
SHOULD PARENTS OF TOMBOYS SEEK TO 'FEMINISE' THEM?
In my opinion, NONONONONONONNONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONOOOOO.
NON. (LATIN)
不应该. (CHINESE)
NON. (FRENCH)
Need I make myself clearer? You should get my gist. Damn. A tomboy. You're just seeking to destroy who your daughter is! You're trying to destroy her character, tell her that her who she is, her inner identity, is completely wrong, being a tomboy though not a lesbian is wrong. You're trying to make her reform, change her character, get rid of her identity and get another just to suit your selfish whims and fantasies! You don't care about whether she wants to be feminine or not! This reminds me of what I feel about this year in bloody f-ing mgs(note I didn't give it caps). When the f-ing form teacher(yes! she's a bloody bitch! I mean it! Dad, don't come chasing and correcting my language, she doesn't deserve any respect!) decided that I was behaving unlike the rest of my classmates, like I 'have a morbid interest in war', 'write disturbing poetry', 'read unsuitable books with gore, violence and sexual innuendo', 'behave violently', 'uses vulgar language', 'puts people off in way completely different from her classmates', 'acts mature', 'is like a soldier, military-like', 'stares at people oddly when they're bing nice', 'does not communicate well with her classmates' etc. WAKE THE HELL UP! GET OUT OF YOUR NICE COMFY BED OF ILLUSION, OF THE MIST AND CLOUDS THAT BLOCK YOUR CATARACT-FILLED EYES FROM SEEING THE TRUTH! That's all wrong. The first three are wrong. Number Four is a little true. But one of your favourite pupils, that bitch TL(these are her initials, she's register 31 of class 1E'08), is even more violent than I am, and you don't even give a bloody shitting damn! All you focus on are my mistakes, those tiny little smudges on my white record sheet of paper! You don't look at your favourite pupil's language. You pick out the loopholes in my writing and capitalise on them, while ignoring all the good work I've turned in! You give me mediocre marks, marks that I believe I deserve more than! You can cite 'you phrased it differently' and that determines 2 marks for your bloody favourite students, and zero, zilch, nada, for me! I have risen up, and beaten you at your own game. I have scored well in the English and Lit examinations. Too bad for me that the daily work marks, those that you marked me down for, had to pull me down by approximately 3 marks. Freak you. Thoughts: this is an emotionally charged post! Please bear with me as I get everything out of my system!
And then, after you decide there's something wrong with me, you squash me into a box, taped up sealed shut stapled down and glued up. You post the box off to the Counselor's Conveyor Belt. At the first stop, they open the box and dissect everything. Nothing works against them. Emotional and thought barriers, nothing works. They dissect you and figure out what's where. Second stop. They link you up to this supercomputer and they figure out what's what. Like this is EQ and this is anger and this and that. Third stop, they take out one thing. Fourth, they take out another. They go on and on and on. They take out one item at a time, whatever they think is unsuitable. They just rid you of what they think is bad, what might 'harm' you, what is errible in their warped, twisted vision of 'perfect and normal', the 'circlish square'(refer to my previous post for this), what everyone else is and what you are not. Then they start putting things in. By now you're so broken that you don't evn recognise yourself. They put things in, like more social-ness and all. Until they deem you fine, perfect, a circlish square, and they dump you out of the conveyor belt. But I was fortunate. I pretended to be more social and all the counselor thought I should be, so she said I could stop till the exams ended. Then I was to call her after. I decided not to. My character doesn't need any more dissecting, picking apart, or breaking down! I like the way I am. I don't want any changes. I don't want to go back into the counselor's office. I don't want to do anything. Now all I feel like doing is staying in my room and fantasising about my world, writing fiction or fanfiction, drawing little sketches of imaginary people, and writing calligraphy. I'll have music blasting. I just wanna retreat into myself, lock up the key to my inner self and never let any 'concerned' teachers, or the counselor, to unravel the threads of my inner self and decode the codes of myself. I don't think I need the counselor.
Final thoughts: (By final I mean end of this post, not end of life.) How did this spin so far off what I first started? Never mind. Oh, and fantasising really helps to relieve pain. Psychological pain, that is. Unfortunately it's temporary. I go into my own world, only to have to come out and face the harsh reality of the world that I live in again. Sigh. ;(