Holy hell it’s March already and with that we are blessed with the warm hug that is Women’s History Month.
As I sit here on my toilet with my best friend straightening my hair for me (because I’m pathetic when it comes to styling my own hair) I can’t help but get a little sad about my birthday that will be here in a few weeks. I had a lot of big plans immediately after turning nineteen. As I inch closer and closer to entering my twenties, really all I want to do is cry. What have I done? What have I accomplished? If the smaller, day-to-day things are the only accomplishments I’ve made this year I’ll scream. But that’s when perspective marches in or your friends slaps you around into feeling better because there’s really no reason to pity yourself for turning a year older. Don’t get me wrong, there are much better things to pity yourself for- I am a large proponent for pitying one’s self once in a while.
One of the biggest inspirations for me when beginning to allow this self pity (in moderation) was Jen Gotch, the founder of Ban.do. Let me tell you, that woman has been through some shit, but still radiates sunshine. However, she’s very transparent on the internet which can be hard to find nowadays. Seeing her selfies of smeared mascara and lipstick from anxiety attacks or depression that resulted in tears forms a sense of camaraderie with her followers and fans that’s hard to describe. It doesn’t make me feel better seeing someone else battling something, but it does lighten a bit of the load of “SHIT I’m the only one.” But maybe it’s really just me. I should definitely take being on the Forbes 30 under 30 list off of my 2018 agenda, right? Maybe.
But this month is about the birds and the damn bees. Not in the sense of your mom placing a pamphlet on your pillow or a misinformed high school sex education class, but more of a “hey, maybe it’s time to experience new things!” Speaking on new things that border on the topic of sex, I recently discovered that I, a proponent of female power and pleasure, have never experienced an orgasm. I have only come to this realization by conversing with my aforementioned, hair-straightening best friend about my previous promiscuities. I guess I’ve been lying to myself my whole young adult life. But there she sat, my best friend laughing at me over FaceTime while I cried in my bathrobe about my lack of experience and sexual discovery. Who am I to write advice, opinions, etc. to a group of young people if I, myself, have never orgasmed? I’ve read the pamphlets, but I guess nothing stuck.
So here I am, in a month entitled “the birds and the bees” without ever really meeting the bird or the bee. How damn ironic is this? Happy freaking women’s month to me! I truly found out last night and am still reeling. It’s only as she brushes my newly flat hair saying “incredible”, “beautiful” and “love of my life” that I know I’m going to be okay.
See you grrls when I’m old, wrinkly and twenty!