I've noticed that there are several things that used to bother me that inexplicably don't anymore. I'm not sure if that's a sign of growing maturity or growing callousness. Is there a difference?
So, over the last couple decades or so, I've been female, and have been rather enjoying it. Despite this fact, something about the general conception of feminism has always bothered/amused me more than it has prompted me to take it seriously, and I've finally figured out exactly why, thanks to a friend of mine and the wonders of blogging. Through those means I experienced an equality/anti-male chauvinism/sexism rant, followed by an entry dedicated to the cute outfits purchased at the mall and exactly how much weight and flab needs to be burned off an already perfectly trim figure in order to achieve that sexy anorexic look.
I'd be a hypocrite if I berated others for aspiring to impossible beauty ideals, but if nothing else one must appreciate the irony here. One day passionately venting about male dominance and forcing unattainable standards on women, and mourning over not being able to fit into size 0 jeans the next. Feminism, or more accurately, many who consider themselves feminist, irritates me because for the most part, it strikes me as so misguided. Respect and independence are earned through lifestyle, intelligence, and demeanor, not by arguing, insults, and generalizations (try to have a gender related conversation without being informed that all men and all women have conversely common traits).
For other extreme "feminism" examples, see Jessie Spano from Saved By The Bell. Is ridiculing your boyfriend every time he makes any sort of comment in appreciation of the female gender really necessary? Shouldn't you, as a female, be thankful for at least the occasional indication that he's not playing for the other team?
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