Oh the joy of stumbling out of bed, and with eyes still closed, throwing on whatever pair of jeans my hand happened to find first in my messy closet.
How wonderfully joyous it must be to not have to wash my hair every second day and then go through the tedious procedure of blow-drying and straightening it on days when I'd prefer it not to look like bird's nest.
Imagine being able to let fast food supplement my 3 meals each day with the calories never accumulating ,and then being able to get ripped abs and killer biceps from just a week's worth of time in the gym.
Oh the joy!
With this being said however, I would never trade life as a girl for anything, especially not life as a male.
I could never dream of giving up sleepovers jam-packed with girly 'deep and meaningful' conversations and more fits of hysterical giggling than you could count on one hand.
I love the sight of my bedroom looking like the aftermath of a tornado when friends and I get ready together for a night out on the town. There are stilettos strewn across the floor, make-up and nail polish cover every available surface and the smell of hairspray lingers thickly in the air like a cloud. Things become dangerous when having to navigate your way from one end of the room to another through a maze of clothes and underwear whilst trying to make it to the other side having escaped third degree burns from the GHD that somebody forgot to unplug.
It would be blasphemy to have to ever think of giving up summer dresses and tea parties or pedicures and facials for a life of sweaty armpits and greasy hair. Ugh.
The photos below are ones that I think just ooze femininity, and I thought they seemed very fitting to the title of this pretty pointless post.
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