I got 99 problems... and they're all bitches.

I'm not good at being "girly." I clomp around like a Clydesdale drunk on Budweiser when I wear heels and frankly, I don't understand the point of them. I only wear dresses because I hate wearing pants. My head looks more like a rat's nest than long, streaming locks. And I only wear make up because it's kind of like art...on my face. So halfway decent make up and pretty awesome nails are the only "girly" things that I can actually claim to be good at...except for putting on an awkwardly high pitched "nice voice" whenever I actually want to dive over the counter and strangle the person.

I am a master of the liquid eye-liner. And you twitchy gals have to admit, it is somewhat difficult. So maybe I don't blame the somewhat older customer who asked me all about my eyeliner. And I mean- All. About. My Eyeliner. I had hoped that if I replied "Oh, it's the liquid liner from Sephora," it would be enough, especially since Sephora is directly in front of the register. Well, it wasn't exactly enough. The customer walked up to the make up counter, grabbed the eye liner, brought it back to the counter and asked me to show her how to put it on. Number one- the tester make up freaks me out, I sit there all day and watch small children painting themselves with it. You don't know where those children have been- you want to put what they touched on your face? Number two- I'd need a mirror. Number three- Holy awkwardness, Batman! So I just made a sweeping motion with my hands and said that the ladies in Sephora would be happy to show her how to work with the liquid eyeliner. She wanted to make sure that they could do it exactly like mine. I replied that I'm sure they could. So she went inside their little area and proudly walked out with a new pair of cat eye liner-ed eyes. At least my littlest hipster alter-ego now has a sidekick, the oldest hipster.

Being a not girly-girl, I don't care what I look like...much. My self esteem has started to dwindle

since random strangers comment on my appearance so much. This past Sunday though, I realized how lucky I am to have grown up with a mother who cares more about "what's inside" than how I look. I never went to school dances, except for the ones that didn't require a big poofy dress. She didn't care. I never cried over what size jeans I wore. She didn't care, I was still healthy. I never cared much for clothes shopping, I'd rather go to Best Buy. And, well, she did care about that one because she has no interest in electronics. She was never like the mother I encountered this past weekend.

The fitting room is a bit of a sanctuary for me. Quite often, I just take a lean against the wall and chill for a bit... or roast since it's hot as hell. Sometimes I even overhear some entertaining conversations coming from inside the rooms. There was a mother or aunt or guardian standing outside of one of the rooms who said "You're getting to be a big girl, it's time for big girl sizes." There was something off about the tone of her voice, but I still assumed that she was speaking to a small child. Then the girl walked out of the room and I saw she was maybe 14-15 and trying on ordinary jeans. "You're getting bigger, you have to wear big sizes now," the mother continued in her condescending tone. Then, nodding my way, stated, "That girl has big hips, ask her what kind of jeans she wears." The girl looked like she was about to cry so the only input that I could think to add was "The more appropriate word would be 'curvy.'" The mother looked aghast and claimed that she was just trying to get her daughter

used to her "womanly figure." More like trying to get her used to an eating disorder. Guess what, lady, the Marilyn Monroe figure is coming back. Healthy women with healthy curves. Just because we have hips, tits and an ass doesn't mean we're one step away from having to be airlifted out of a house. If anything, we're happier because we allow ourselves to have a damn cookie every once in awhile.

I don't understand people who are so preoccupied with other's appearances. Sure, sometimes I judge the girls who walk around with furry Ugg boots and a mini skirt, but I'm more concerned that they might be suffering from CIPA and are unable to tell what the temperature is outside. Or the ones that walk around with leggings as pants or a short tunic as a dress- but that is just public indecency. Can't we all just become a little more self-involved? And I don't mean rank yourself among other people, just be completely, totally 100% enamored with yourself. At least that way if someone does try to bring you down, your justified arrogance will be too great to even pay them any thought.