BlogHer Bitches: Pretty Maids All In A Row

By "maids" I'm referring to the Eagles song off of the Hotel California album. I am in NO way suggesting that you bitches are professional house cleaners, although most of you probably ARE.

All this talk about BlogHer is making me crazy.

I know it's beginning to piss off those of you who aren't going, and I'm sorry about that - both for having to read about it and for the fact that you're not going. Truly.

But, since I am going, the talk is raising my anxiety level (that's just not right, ladies) because I'm reading about how all of you are primping and prepping your little hearts out to the tune of this one who is hairstyling, this one and this one who are shoe buying, this one and this one who are outfit coordinating, not to mention those of you who are mani-pedi-ing, waxing, shaving, and don't even get me started on this one who is fat-sucking (I kid you not, check it out for yourselves), a true original that girl.

I thought single women on dates went to all this trouble so they could get laid married a free meal. But the ones I'm referring to, and many others that remain nameless (for no reason other than I can't remember who you are and I don't have the patience to go back and search all the damn blogs on my reader), are married - SO WHAT GIVES?

Lest you think I'm criticizing, I am NOT. I like all of you. It's not you - it's me. I'm just not a girly girl. I never joined a sorority, though some of my best friends were members of the tribe. I admittedly never "got" this kind of girl behavior. I'm a bit of a rebel that way, not secure enough I guess to let women judge me and determine if I have value. Not that they don't do it anyway, I just pretend I don't care, is all.

So, I've never before experienced this make-myself-attractive-girl-on-girl frenzy and to be honest, it's kind of FREAKING ME OUT. I mean, unless you're going to try to kiss me (I've heard about some of you huggers), WTF?

So I have a message for all of you ladies... STOP! Please, STOP!

I CAN'T, I DON'T want to keep up. I dress okay. I'm no schlub. But I'm the type who figures out what I'm packing the night before, or even the morning of, and God help me if I don't have what I need 'cause then I'm shit out of luck and have to go with whatever isn't dirty or in need of tailoring.

That's my way and I'm sticking to it. But now my ways are making me think I'm going to show up there and all you guys are gonna be dolled up, well-coordinated, and smelling like fresh rain or tropical flowers, while I'll be my usual eye-make up smeared, t-shirt and jean wearing, smelling like laundry-soap self.

Whatev! Right? Be as I am, yeah, yeah. Okay. I will. But STOP TALKING ABOUT IT so I can be HAPPY about it, WILL YA?

Thank you.

This message was sponsored by merlotmom's high school insecurities