Charlotte
I'm a Heartless Bitch because I have had it with emotional vampires and pathetic whiners who actually use the words "but he loves me!! Or "but I love him!" as an excuse to stay in a perma-shit relationship. Does he love you when he is screwing another woman? When slagging you off to his mates? When he hits you? Stand up for yourself; you don't need him (or her for that matter. I've labeled my abuser as male, but that isn't necessarily so). Sometimes, it is very difficult to get away from an abusive partner; especially if you are married to him/her but it is possible for the vast majority of people.
A further thing that gets to me is the tendency of certain women (I've yet to see a man do this) to define their life by their spawn. I am a member of several e-groups and on a couple of them is a woman known only as mom2alex. Do you not have a personality of your own? Is everything you do related to your child? It seems terribly selfish and manipulative (not to mention sad) of these women who use their children to define their existence. It's just as bad as women who define their lives by whatever piece of flesh they are fucking this week. How often do these girls have to change their e-mail addresses?
Another point is that of women's magazines. I visibly shudder when walking past these magazines at newsagents. There's a limit to the saccharine I can take. I can feel my brain running scared when I have to analyse them in class. All the magazines I read are classified under "mens". When did music, even heavy music become solely the province of men? If I can scream along to Tarrie B, Aimee Echo and Jessika and be inspired to pick up and learn base guitar by women like Val Ium, Rayna, Meghan and Nadia, why the hell should I not read the magazines that have these strong, powerful women splashed across the front? I cannot take seriously magazines that advertise features like "Why Men Think Big is Beautiful" under a larger heading of "Lose 1 Stone in a Week!!!" Why should I?
I like stomping around in my Doc Marten's and trousers, sans makeup. Heels cripple you. I would like to be able to walk when I'm in my old age, thanks. I'll gag at Britney Spears (Hit Me Baby One More Time? What kind of message is that sending out?) When I dance, I have no inhibitions. Who cares if you think I look stupid jumping around to a song? I let fly, I have fun and a disapproving look is more likely to make me grin inanely than upset me. I like me and I like being me.
Yes! I want to read more from Real Life Heartless Bitches
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