The Thing All Women Do That You Don’t Know About

Kaley Belakovich:

This is an amazing read.

Originally posted on Drifting Through My Open Mind:

image: Shutterstock image: Shutterstock

There’s this thing that happens whenever I speak about or write about women’s issues. Things like dress codes, rape culture and sexism. I get the comments: Aren’t there more important things to worry about? Is this really that big of a deal? Aren’t you being overly sensitive? Are you sure you’re being rational about this?

Every. Single. Time.

And every single time I get frustrated. Why don’t they get it?

I think I’ve figured out why.

They don’t know.

They don’t know about de-escalation. Minimizing. Quietly acquiescing.

Hell, even though women live it, we are not always aware of it. But we have all done it.

We have all learned, either by instinct or by trial and error, how to minimize a situation that makes us uncomfortable. How to avoid angering a man or endangering ourselves. We have all, on many occasions, ignored an offensive comment. We’ve all…

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November, the Month of Change

It’s time to turn my life around in more ways than one. There are some things about my life I absolute love and would not change. For example, in regards to my love life, I’ve never been happier. I don’t believe in people being perfect, but I do believe in people being perfect for each other, and that’s just what my boyfriend is to me. So I’m incredibly happy in that regard.

But there are some things I could be happier about. So starting now, I am making some changes.

In my professional life

I love writing. I love writing so much. And I don’t really get to do it anymore. But anyone who knows me well knows I want to write a novel. (Or a bunch of novels.) So it’s time to do that. It’s time to buckle down and get that novel written. Luckily for me, November is the time of NaNoWriMo. If you don’t know what that is, it’s where you write 50,000 words in a month. It’s tough. I’ve “participated” for several years, and I’ve never won. I fizzle out after a few thousand words. But I’m sick of having a non-answer for when people ask me when I’m going to write my novel. So this year, I’m buckling down. (If you’re a fellow NaNo-er, add me as a writing buddy and make sure I hit my word count!)

50 by 25

Today is November 1, meaning it’s my half birthday. I am 6 months away from turning 25. I’ve been telling myself for a while I need to turn my fitness around. But I’ve done nothing to it. So I’m giving myself a new challenge. 50 by 25. I’m going to lose 50 pounds by the time I’m 25.

It’s a big number. But I’m a big girl. So really, it shouldn’t be that unattainable for me. I just need to make some serious diet and exercise changes. But I need to do it. Not for anyone else. But for me.

Changes, Promises, Empty Words

You’re just like a politician, always making promises you can’t keep.

“I know you’re not happy the way things are. But don’t worry. I’m going to make a change. Just stick with me. It’s going to get better.”

I do. And it doesn’t.

You speak of changes like the word means something to you.

“Things will change. I promise.”

You don’t even know what a promise is.

Lies. It’s all lies you tell to keep me hanging on, hanging around.

If I just hold on, it will all be OK. It will change. It will get better.

Weeks turn into months. Months turn into years. There’s no change. You promised me change.

Like a lost puppy dog, I follow you blindly. I do what you ask. I don’t complain. I believe in you.

I sit quiet, hopeful that one day the change will come.

I’m still waiting.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

My arms hurt. For as long as I can remember I’ve been doing the same thing.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

My hands fumble with the bottle, pouring shampoo into my hand. I raise my hands to my head.


My hands travel ferociously across my scalp. I tilt my head back, the cool water hitting me.


I pick up the bottle again.


I pour shampoo into my hand, and lift my hands to my head.


Why am I doing this?

My hands continue to move as my brain fights against the repetitive actions. As I tilt my head back into the stream of water once more.


And that’s when I notice them. The strings. Pulling my hands toward the bottle.


The grips on each finger forcing me to pour the shampoo into my hands. The strings then tugging my arms upward toward my hair.


The strap jerking my head backward to force my head into the water.


I’m stuck in a never-ending cycle of nonsense.


“Are You Sad?”

Am I sad? What do you want me to say? If I say no, I’ll look heartless. And it would be a lie.

But do I say yes? Saying yes brings on the pity. The “awwwww”s. The sad looks. And I don’t want that, either.

Am I sad? Am I sad that the two people I see more often than almost anyone else are moving 10 hours away? The people I spend the drive to work with, spend the work day talking to, and ride home from work with? The people who live right across the hall, who between work and living in the same place I see almost every single day? Who I have worked with for years between college and professional life? Who I pet sit for, and who pet sit for me? Who I’ve often hung out with, both going places or just ordering pizza and watching TV and movies? The people whose wedding I was just in two months ago?

Why would I be sad about that?


You’re so negative

You know that person no one likes being around because she just complains all the time?

You’re starting to sound like her.

You’re so negative.


Switch places with me. I want to see anyone take this on with a positive attitude.

Because even the most positive people can’t. Trust me. I’ve seen it.

Internet comments

Oh, internet comments. Possibly the worst thing to come out of the internet (well, besides the health sites that basically tell you you’re dying if you Google your symptoms – guilty).

For some reason, today I was reading through comments on an article on Facebook, and it’s just baffling some of the comments you see out there for somewhat harmless things.

If you want to leave hate comments for someone like, say, Walter Palmer, I certainly won’t stop you. He broke the law and killed an innocent animal for no reason other than to brag that he could. Whooo, you killed a lion that was doing absolutely nothing to you. Good job, bro.

But other things, like…for example…Buzzfeed articles?

Whoever wrote this article should be fired and have their hands removed so they can never type such utter shite again as long as they live.

That was on Facebook after Buzzfeed posted one of their articles about how Harry Potter was actually kind of a sucky character.

I can understand being upset. When someone disses something I love and I don’t agree with it, it’s understandable to become upset. But to suggest actual physical violence toward someone who wrote an article? What the hell, Internet commenters? Why so harsh?

I can’t say I’ve never negatively commented on something. But I’m pretty sure I’ve never wished physical harm to someone writing an article about their own harmless opinion. Keep in mind, this is a harmless opinion. It’s not someone saying we should murder people who don’t agree with us, eliminate races, etc. It’s an opinion about a work of fiction.

So before you start spreading hate, consider that the person who wrote the article is an actual person with actual feelings. They probably will see your comment. Their families may see your comment. Their friends may see your comment.

I do actually know the girl who wrote the article in question. I wouldn’t consider us friends, but we went to college together and had the same major, so we had some classes together. And all I could think was how glad I am that I’m not her. Because at least people aren’t telling me I should have my hands removed for expressing this opinion.