“Welcome to womanhood!” they always tell me. They never mean it as a welcome. More like, since I already got in, they’ll try to show me exactly why I got into the wrong club.

Welcome to womanhood.

It is based in pain. In shame. In repression. In body issues. In abuse or harassment. In not being heard or seen. Or seen too much. Or not enough.

Welcome to womanhood.

I just ripped the hair out of my body, with an electronic, tweezing epilator. It took three and a half hours.

I have to wait in line to use the bathroom.

Comfortable clothing is not comfortable.

Make up takes forever.

Shoes no longer serve a practical purpose.



Being hit on.

Being flashed.

Being ignored.

Being stared at.


Welcome to womanhood.

The mockery.

The misunderstandings.

The hatred.

The disgust.

The comments.

The laughs.

The gossip.

Needing acceptance.

Needing love.

Needing family.

Needing friendship.

Needing safety.

Needing money.

Needing work.

Needing surgery.



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