Samantha Brick, because why not?

I'm going to talk about about Samantha Brick. Why? Well, why not? She's trending on Twitter like crazy, defending her article (which f you don't know who this is, you'll have to at least skim the link to understand this post), and her unbelievable delusional perspective blows my mind.

I think I'll do this in point form.

1. When women don't like you, odds are it's because you're an ass, not because you're pretty.  I never trust any woman who says other women don't like her. Women are astute. All of them can't be wrong about a person.

Samantha Brick lookin' like
Samantha Brick

2. This woman is not even beautiful. Pretty and cute? Sure. I'd put her about 6/10 on the attractive scale. Above average, not too plain. She has some more unfortunate features, such as her lips, which are kind of ugly when she smiles, and her eyes are asymmetrical and too far apart. But she still manages to be a pretty sort of lady. Nice skin, nice hair, good nose, pleasant figure. She's probably one of the nicer looking women around the workplace, and she's held up well in her 40s. But that's about it. Her looks are not significantly above par to generate mass envy or admiration.

3. Women can feel threatened by attractive women, sure, but I have found that beautiful women who are kind or unassuming or modest tend to be incredibly popular with other women. Reason? If you've got something amazing, you don't throw it in other people's faces. If you're wealthy, for example, bragging about it will garner you no friends. If you're mellow about what is awesome about you or your life and you allow other people the time to shine too, you'll be well liked. Brag at your own peril. Other people are great, too.

4. And if you pretend to have something you don't (Wealth, connections, educational background) and people find out you were padding your prestige with lies and exaggerations, they won't like you. Now, since people can see your face, if you act like you have the best face ever and you don't, the jig is already up. Bam. People won't like you.

5. This woman likely goes through life with the belief she's better looking than all the women she knows (I base this on her article and the sort of mindset one would have to have in order to write such a thing for the world to read), and this is easily understood by all the women around her, who probably find it obnoxious and unpleasant to be around. As an additional eye-roll factor, it not even being true makes it more infuriating. Normal people find delusional thinking unpalatable, generally.

6. My guess is she does flirt with other men or carries herself in an overtly sexual way. That would easily explain male attention, why women don't like her talking to their partners, and in combination with point number 5 in particular, is why she hasn't got many if any female friends. All of which is far more believable than her assertion she's too beautiful to have female friends, which again, see point 2.

Sorry, lady. I think, though, that this will really sink in when women still don't like you when you're 50+ and your looks are all gone. It's your personality that's the problem. Tough pill to swallow, but there you are. Best of luck to you.

Musings

Sometimes I think about the world we live in and I get scared. I mean, not scared in the way you get if you live in the wrong part of Los Angeles. I don't fear I'll die or be mugged at gunpoint.

I'm scared about where we're headed as a species and as a civilization.

We're overpopulated. There's only so much space for humans to live, for agriculture to feed us, and for all the other deserving species of animal and plant to grow and thrive. And we've hit that mark. I want a child and I feel significant guilt about it because I don't want to inflate the numbers even a little.

We're whipping through petroleum, which is responsible for, frankly, our entire way of life, which has been unevenly distributed for the past 100 years, and now we're running out and there seems to be no contingency plan. I mean, there's finite resources and we're burning through them. And economists are calling for growth! Growth! Growth! Why? What about maintenance? Maintenance! Maintenance!

We're overpopulated and powerful influences like the Catholic church are warring against contraception, despite the fact nearly all Catholics use it. American politicians are doing all they can to remove a woman's right to choose, to actually declare an embryo a person.

Which would make miscarriages a homicide investigation. You could arrest a pregnant woman for drinking. Plan B would be illegal, as well as in-vitro-fertilization. They're already forcing women to undergo ultrasounds, whether the doctor deems it necessary or not, and the doctors have to describe the fetus. There was a bill mandating a vaginal probe ultrasound prior to getting an abortion, never mind what the doctor thinks is needed, just to punish the woman, basically.

We have all these human beings in the world who can't eat, who have inadequate care, and they're trying to ensure all possible pregnancies result in babies, whether the mother in question wants to or not? One fucker wants to mandate women carry dead fetuses until their wombs expel the remains, because that's what livestock does. Because women are livestock.

I always knew these types didn't look at women as people, but it's less common that you get such flagrant evidence of it.

The world is totally different than it was when I was a kid. So in 20 more years, it should be totally different yet again. I'm not a doomsayer, but I can't help but feel a sense of impending calamity. Toronto was warm and snowless this winter. In the last 65 years it's never been so dry and warm. It's unnatural. Between what feels like a collapsing understanding of rights for women, overpopulation becoming a problem, growth depleting our resources and the climate altering into god knows what, I'm feeling nervous.

Maybe this is why The Walking Dead is popular right now. It's like everyone else is feeling a sense of the end of an era of time. When I was a kid, the United States was the world superpower, I grew up in the affluent '90s, and snow covered the ground. Things are changing. People are more aware of that, too, I think thanks to the internet.

I know I'm not alone here.

To be a woman.

Sometimes I complain about being a woman. And rightly so, I think. I don't care what anyone says, having a female body, whilst beautiful and lovely and all that jazz, is a pain the cervix.

Risking TMI Land, and now that I've issued a warning I no longer care about causing offense, I have had a rough couple of days. It began with a moderate cramp in my abdomen, continued with a moon time that arrived a wee bit late, allowed me to pass through the day yesterday with nausea and blessed me, and especially the Dude, with severe moon swings.

I cried pathetically on three separate occasions. Something was amiss, that I know. Inside my head I was going, "WTF? What is wrong with me?" But on the outside I could not stop weeping.

So a call to Telehealth the night it began was in order, first off, and a nurse tells me I need to go to an urgent care centre in 24 hours. I wait 48. I have this paranoia that as soon as I get to the clinic, my symptoms will pass and I'll look like a faker who's wasting public resources and doctors' time.

So I get there at 3:45 today. They take my blood pressure, blood, urine, all that exciting stuff. They really seem to think I might be pregnant. Because my moon time is different this round, they think it might be a pregnancy symptom. So that's pretty much all I can think about for the next two hours. Turns out I'm not. Excellent.

I also must submit to two pelvic exams while I'm there. And this is why being a woman is ass. I don't care how medically necessary it is. I don't even care how many vaginas a doctor has seen. I don't give one sweet fiddler's fart how impersonal it's supposed to be. All that is irrelevant in the face of a strange man I don't know getting up close and personal with my box. Another woman in the room was all well and good, but it's just another witness to my discomfort and cringing.

They both praised me the way you encourage a two-year-old learning to potty and I got it over with. The doctor was able to determine that I was uncomfortable in my lower abdomen when his fingers were manhandling my special area, and that this warrants an ultrasound on Monday to check my ovaries. I don't know how that is not supposed to be uncomfortable, and what sort of test is that? Obviously it's going to feel bad. He wanted to know which pressure point was worse and I wasn't sure if it was the first shock of what he was doing or the second shock that he wasn't done.

Thinking on it, the only thing I'm happy about is that I'm a Canadian and I didn't have to pay for that experience. No, sir, here in Canada medical men will feel you up for free.

I'm not looking forward to Monday. It's to be a vaginal ultrasound. May God have mercy on my soul, and my junk.

The end.