You Win Nature. I'm a Female

How I first viewed my life:  My existence up until this point has been a conglomeration of events that have proven that I am pretty much the worst female on this earth when it comes to living up (or down) to the stereotypes. I defy the stereotype.

Supporting evidence:

-I cannot cook. Once I tried to cook easy mac without putting the water in. Yes, that happened, and no, I am not proud of this aspect of my anti-female persona.  I'm totally into being an independent hard-ass intelligent chick who defies stereotypes, but a girl's gotta eat.

It would be one thing if my horrendous cooking led to a thin and emaciated frame due to lack of consumption. Then I'd be all for it. However I have overcome this adversity by replacing meals with pints of Ben and Jerry's. Alejandro, my food baby, lives on. Meanwhile, my cooking skills remain unborn. 

 (PS- Ben & Jerry's new "core" icecream should be put in the same category as crack cocaine. Seriously, this is not okay http://www.benjerry.com/flavors/cores)

-I will kick your ass in any and every sport whether you have a penis or not. I'm 2-0 in tennis matches against ex-boyfriends (maybe that's why there's an ex). Embarrassing you in soccer is a given, and I can drive a golf ball 250 yards after practicing maybe once a year. Am I bragging? Yes. Do I take it back? No. It's all in the name of proving a point.

-My friends ask me to talk about my emotions on a given relationship/situation and I sit there staring blankly. Those are the moments I wish most that I was a turtle. Nothing would be greater than a neck that could just retract me back into my shell.

When people ask me about emotions my brain drifts towards either Starbucks or idle objects swimming about in my head (like soccer balls, Steve Maddens, a character from the real housewives, etc). On the other hand, if I'm angry, there will be fireworks and explosions. I will talk for days. Other than that, my heart is about as tender and caring as fossilized lava from a volcano. Good luck cracking that.

 Then I got to New York: There was a series of events that led to my realization that I am indeed suffering from stereotypical female syndrome- I've just been in denial this entire time. This series of events all happened today, so you are getting a fresh description.

-I arrived at my dorm in NYC and immediately went on a hunt for both a Whole Foods and a Starbucks. As neither of these dining options turned up, I became more and more flustered thinking about my fridge at home because John keeps it stocked with all of my favorite fresh produce.

My initial reaction was to call "daddy" to fix the situation, but when I realized that option was off the table, I spiraled into a deeper misery. Images of the colossal whale-version of me wheezing through the city at the end of a summer of eating only takeout haunted my conscience. The panic attack was eminent when I at the last minute found Ben & Jerry's froyo at the Deli across the street. The crisis was averted. But I had a sneaking suspicion that I was acting like a complete and utter pansy.

-Next, my friend told me he'd show me around the city. I was supposed to meet him at Union Square, which is 2 subway stops away, or about 10 blocks. It took us approximately 1 hour to find each other after thirty minutes of me vigorously studying a map to no avail, and then calling him four times. We finally find each other after he walked 5 blocks to get me, at which point in time I was walking West which I thought was East.

Ask me to point up, and I will debatably point to the right. I wish they had testing criteria for legal retardation in certain aspects of life so I could just wave a card and prove to everyone that my horrible sense of direction is an actual medical condition.

But then I realized it was called being a girl. 

-So the no sense of direction means I'm a girl realization led me to a reflection. I usually announce to any male that gets in the car with me not to worry because I am a good female driver. It's part of the obnoxious anti-female persona I have created after envisioning this "defying all stereotypes" version of myself for the past 21 years. Then I called BS on myself when I remembered that just two months ago, I was backing out of my friends driveway and got stuck on a boulder that I didn't see. The boulder proceeded to mangle the entire left panel of my car to the point where the doors were jammed in and wouldn't open. I had to climb FBI-agent style out of the car because I had messed it up so badly.

It's not like I ran over a nail and popped a tire. I mean, I ran over a massive freaking rock. Instead of exiting the situation as smoothly as possible. I kept pulling forward and backwards trying to figure out how to get unstuck, all while breaking the side of my car even more. Nationwide insurance finally came through with the accident forgiveness. Keep advertising for them Liz- with my driving we apparently need it.

So all in all, I just wanted to write this blog post to apologize for what a douche I've been these past 21 years. I mean the evidence speaks for itself- I really am a female. In fact, I've learned how to bake cakes as well, so it's all just really there.

While I won't be your smiling charming housewife, nature is speaking loud and clear. I will be hours late due to getting lost, wreck your cars, and have absolute meltdowns if my sugar cravings aren't satisfied. Meanwhile, I will obsess over the 3-5 pound constant weight fluctuations I suffer from that literally no one notices.

That being said, if you didn't think I was a complete weirdo before this blog post- here you are. Personality, femininity, and all. While I can't keep you updated on the day to day of my internship (damn confidentiality agreements- I'm not even allowed to take selfies with hot celebrity guests #evil) I'll be sure to keep you all updated on my random exploits living in NYC.

Until next time,

-F