Yet no one sees... Bashny.Net

Today we have guests. Average people of average achievements. They began to talk about his employee, and crept to her old age. Sat and neighed, spreading beer bellies glistening plump faces. For some reason I thought she was about 70, but still asked about the age. It turned out that she...... a total of 35. And it's the old woman? They continued to drink wine. I went into the bedroom, and just sat and cried injustice. For her, for himself, for us, for women.



I'm fit to curse the day when I was a woman. Already the fact of his birth all I need. I should be independent, not a kept woman. Have to stand on his feet. Must be willing to pay, if anything, should not have to beg for money from her husband, and even better to demand anything.

At the same time I have to learn along with the boys, spinning on a par with boys, earn on par with boys. But only you know what's the catch? You know what global injustice? I have to do it all "heels".

Not the fact that I always have to wear high-heeled shoes, but if I'm not going to do that, I would call "unladylike". Scary to think what would happen if I allowed the vegetation on the legs. I must keep in order your hands, care for face facial, it is advisable to dissolve the figure. I have to put on makeup in the morning, put on nice clothes and clean the house in order. Better to get up an hour earlier to get it all the time.

I have to do it all on your money, because if I borrow the beauty from her man, I'm a kept woman. At the same time I need to not spend too much like cosmetologists work for free, and makes a manicure once you caught the leprechaun. And in the hall if let so, only in the struggle for the idea.

If my house was a mess, I'm guilty, because the girl needs to monitor the cleanliness. If I get sick and look bad, I can't seem to people like this, because the girl needs to be beautiful. If I spend a little time baby, I'm a bad mother, and the girl needs... the List is endless.

Many men don't take me seriously Baba. They treat me with mild disdain, at best.

They are meticulously studying me, as if under a magnifying glass. Look at the teeth, check the condition of the skin and triceps. Decide for yourself fuckable I have, or have not. They constantly compare me with someone younger and tell me about it. And I can't Bang his fist on the table, to drunk to fight. I'm a girl. Need to be discreet, to forgive.

Nasty fat Hari will laugh with me, not noticing its shortcomings. They will consider my every wrinkle, but will not see his belly, weighing a quintal. They meticulously analyze my ass, but most will not overcome without a car and 500 metres. If suddenly my achievements will be more significant than they have, they tell me – sucked. Responsibilities I have been on a par with men. Privileges – a stinking Cup of coffee in the restaurant. And if I'm fuckable

Remembered anecdote. "... Heavy BABSKII share — brains must be male, the hands — delicate, look young, work like a horse and smile at that, smile!"

I run in high heels, in tight lace dress, with long nails, the same distance that the men fled in sneakers and sweatpants. A cold wind blows through my lace. Wearing high heels hurt your feet. My thin stockings are not warm. I run...

I run, carrying the burden of life's problems by dividing it fair and square, dividing evenly.

I run in obviously unfavorable conditions, but I'm smiling. I was born in the era of equality.

I am a woman, the most powerful being on earth. But, what the hell, I want to cry. published

Author: Morena-morana P. S. And remember, just changing your mind — together we change the world! © Join us at Facebook , Vkontakte, Odnoklassniki

Source: morena-morana.livejournal.com/493944.html