Sit with your legs crossed, don’t burp in public, pull out that wedgie, be polite, wait patiently, smile and oh, behave like a lady. Isn’t that what this damsel in distress gender is reminded of unceasingly, to be moulded into ‘a lady’ from birth? Thank God I wasn’t born in the era where women practiced their prance with books seesawing on their heads. The weight of that literature would have been hurled at the trainer’s temple.
The first time I heard of a ‘thigh gap’ I asked myself “do I have one?”. My question was answered after one quick look in the mirror. I never quite understood the desire for it. Was it because I didn’t have it or was it because no-one would ever squat down between my knees with a measuring tape to build the next record breaking (short) zipline from one wiggly thigh to another?
If napping or being a Netflix marathoning couch potato, I would only answer the door for Santa. Well, also the pizza delivery guy. But as I have been on Santa’s naughty girls’ list since puberty hit; as early as age 9 for me, the pizza delivery guy has been bumped up to first in line. I would like to meet Santa once though, just so I’m in a room with someone whose belly is bigger than mine.
Research shows that if consuming the same number of drinks, women are more prone to a hangover than men. It wasn’t bad enough that we menstruate, painfully push 3.5 kgs of a tiny human out and endure hot-flashy menopause, now the whiny women have something else to complain about, bad hangovers. No wonder the movie had an all-male main cast; except the monkey.
Google ‘what are daddy issues?’. An array of nonintellectual urban definitions pop-up, ranging from younger women chasing older men or a selection of inapt suitors, seeking mistreatment, to being heavy alcohol indulgers. One particularly infuriating example I found was ‘how to use daddy issues in a sentence’:
Guy one: “Bro, she sent nudes after 10 minutes of talking! Score!”.
Guy two: It’s the daddy issues…. #easy #nodad #father
Never had the patience or money to train to become a wine connoisseur. But a dedication to hangovers, followed by fast-food-binge-eating recovery weekends have made me a successful Carbohydrate Connoisseur.
The term ‘hair of the dog’ has been around since the 16th century. So, no my dear millennials, you did not invent it. Currently meaning the idea of lessening the effects of a hangover by further intoxication, it had a different meaning when it originated. It all started with the belief that if bitten by a rabid dog, applying the same dog’s hair on the affected area would cure it. The association with alcohol proposes that, though beverage intake is to blame for the hangover (as is the dog for the attack), another serving of the same will; perplexingly, act as a cure. And so, an old Scottish saying goes:
‘If this dog do you bite, soon as out of your bed, take a hair of the tail the next day.’
