Um…I’m one of THOSE girls.

Yep. It’s true. I am one of those girls. I do some really stereotypically feminine things that I really should be euthanised for, despite my best efforts not to.

I try really hard to be less annoyingly girly. I yell at football players on the telly even though they can’t even hear me. I know some stuff about cars (admittedly I’m no awesome expert but I have some interest). I like to leave piles of clothes all over my bedroom and bathroom so it doesn’t look like I care too much about cleanliness. I burp. I make other noises that perhaps aren’t so ladylike. I like a good beer. I swear like a trooper. I hoon around in my car when the hubby’s not with me (can’t wreck the image he has of me as a grandma driver that reserves the right to nag him to slow down). I will happily eat with my fingers, choosing to forego cutlery wherever possible. If I can get away with walking around the house without pants on, I will.

But sometimes I slip up and I get really… well, sometimes I act like a damn pussy!

• I cry when I watch chick flicks and if I’ve convinced the hubby to stay and watch one with me, I will give him dirty looks whenever a guy mistreats a lady in the movie, as if he – my lovely husband – is responsible for all the wrongs ever committed by mankind. And then I get upset when the hubby (for some strange reason) refuses to watch “those movies that make you angry” – his words.
• Before going out I will stomp around the house announcing that I’m so fat and nothing fits me. Yep. Then I’ll try on five outfits, returning eventually to the first one while glaring at the hubby for not agreeing with me that I’m fat even though if he really did that would bring him a whole world of pain. You’re really considering my euthanasia idea aren’t you.
• My car is a shoe closet. The other week I got pulled over by a policeman because I was driving a tad over the speed limit (OK so it was 19km an hour over). He took my license, checked it over, wrote out my fine ($150) and glanced into the back of my sedan. He then laughed in that wanky, smug way and said “You should slow down. You could have bought a pair of shoes with that money.”
  Yep. Thanks a lot, Officer.
  Oh and that day the hubby wasn’t in the car of course
• When I see photos of puppies or babies I get all squealy and say, “AWWW MY GAWWWD. That is sooooooo cute!!!! I love it!!!!”
• When I see girlfriends that I have not seen in a long time, I yell and jump up and down and flutter about like I’m having a seizure. Men are generally not amused by this type of behaviour. Lucky my man is locked in for life. Life!
• I cry during any type of televised marriage proposal. No matter how cheesy it is. No matter how wrong the couple is for each other (fictional or on a reality show). Once that dude (or chick) is on bended knee, I become an emotional wreck.
• When a lightbulb blows, I will wait an entire week if I have to, for the hubby to come home from work and change it for me. Sure, I could get the new globe, use a stepladder and fix it myself, but I decide he should do it anyway.

So yeah…it’s all out in the open now. Sympathy letters can be made out to the hubby.