A Super Sexist Birthday Card For 13-Year-Old Girls
Even if I do decide to one day get married, which is a thing that has yet to particularly appeal to me, I certainly don’t want to wait for that kind of ideological tectonic brain shift to occur before I get some bling of my very ownzies.
I’ve recently decided that it’s total horseshit that from an early age, girls are indoctrinated with the belief that we are supposed to mind our manners, consult Dr. 90210, and invest every ounce of energy towards the achievement of The Prize, aka, a big, shiny, “There’s nothing I couldn’t give you, Rose. There’s nothing I’d deny you” diamond of eternal love. I don’t think at this point we really need to delve into why that’s a sincerely unhealthy, morally damaging thing to instill in developing ladyminds.
Okay, I haven’t just now decided that’s horseshit, but I have just decided to do something about it, meaning, buy my own stupid diamond ring. (Hey, I didn’t say this was an especially important realization.) Because I hate the idea of waiting for a man to give me anything I want (aside from an orgasm, and even that is highly negotiable), but holy shit, do I love shiny things. Especially shiny things that are hard as rocks and amp up the ferocity of my fightin’ fist (says the girl who has never fought anyone ever.)
Even if I do decide to one day get married, which is a thing that has yet to particularly appeal to me, I certainly don’t want to wait for that kind of ideological tectonic brain shift to occur before I get some bling of my very ownzies. Plus, I would have to start dating men with real jobs that make real money and I usual opt for the ones who are available for weekday make-out seshes. And boys who are available to make out on weekday mornings are never the kind to be able to afford massive diamonds, unless they’re trust fund twats and then I want nothing to do with that prissy, entitled mess, so AS YOU CAN SEE, fuckin’ conundrums all around that essentially boil down to me having to buy my own goddamn diamonds. Besides, I’m pretty sure Destiny’s Child tried to tell us to do this years ago.
(Oh, also, this card is some real sexist, paternalistic bullshit. Cheers to its author for making it so blatant that I don’t even have to bother writing some tedious rant about its wrongness.) 
