Why girls hate girls (and why they shouldn’t).
Words by Michelle Andrews.
Greetings, lady friends. I have MANY A BONE to pick with you. It’s no secret that we have transformed into a bunch of haters. I know it, you know it, your Mum’s work-friend Glenda and her creepy son Stephan know it. And I think it’s time we sort our shit out. Like, right now.
So welcome to our mothertrucking intervention.
Now I know for a fact that you, yes YOU, are sitting behind your laptop sweetly twisting your hair around your finger thinking “oh, she’s talking about all those other girls, I’m so not a hater”… but let me assure you, you are wrong. It is you. It’s me too. We’re all contaminated with the hating disease. And we are in desperate need of antibiotics, or some white-witchcraft-wingardium-leviosa shit. Probably both.
Until I find us a white witch (hit me up if you are one) here are four servings of ice-cold truth to slap some sense into you:
1. Hating your ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend is dumb.
I’m just gonna state the fact that your ex’s new girlfriend is not inherently evil. Why? Because unless she was ‘the other woman’ in your relationship, or is affiliated with some sort of death cult, or is 1/7th hyena, she’s done nothing wrong. You look like a desperate sociopath when you try to meddle in her life. You have no excuse to send her nasty hate-filled messages or even friend her on Facebook, just as you have no right to “chat” with her when you see her at a club. Stop stalking her Instagram page. And stop criticising her hair. It isn’t ratty whatsoever; it actually looks like it belongs in a Schwarskopf commercial and we both know it. Just leave the poor girl alone and move on.
Is it her fault that your relationship broke up? No, it’s not. It’s not at all. You hating her only makes you look vindictive, and to be honest, pretty damn ugly. Realise how ridiculous you’re being before your inner-crazy takes complete control and decides to key the word ‘whore’ into her new Volkswagon Golf (because vandalism will really send the message to your ex that you’re ‘the one who got away’, huh? I’m sure he just rues the day he let you go now…)
2. Hating the same girl you hated in high school is immature.
Let me ask you one question: are you still the same person you were in high school? If you answered ‘no’ – along with every other mature adult on this planet – then for the love of Ruby Rose’s bone structure, let go of the hate you’ve held onto since year 11. Understand that people change, and often it’s for the better. Sure, she macked-on with your crush at your sweet 16th, but you went through the kiss-anything-with-a-pulse phase too, remember? Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten what you did when you were 18, because I will have no hesitation in reminding you.
Cut the bitchy high school antics – you’re so much better than that. Next time you see your school-nemesis, compliment her eyebrows, or let her borrow your pawpaw ointment, I double dog dare you.
3. Hating the girl from Instagram is just jealousy.
Ah, this old chestnut. The hate we spew-out about the girls we find on Instagram is ridiculous… and, yes, I am also 110% guilty of it. We criticise ‘insta-famous’ girls to no end. And why? Because we are jealous. We are so jealous. We envy the fact that they get sent free body butter and freaking jojoba oil for a career. Like come on, why wasn’t I born a solid 13/10? Why don’t I have 50 thousand people telling me I have jizztastic legs and radiant skin? Why insta-gods WHY?!
So obviously our coping mechanism is to say anything we can to bring these girls down. Their boobs are either small (otherwise they’re fake), they’re ‘too skinny’, or they have a slightly asymmetrical face. Whilst self-righteously sipping on skinny chai lattes, we make comments to each other like ‘I seriously don’t see it, I think she’s so overrated’… despite the fact that we secretly follow the girl and drool at her photos on a daily basis.
Basically, we just struggle with our own deep-seated insecurities and the knowledge that, really, that girl is just more attractive than us. We need to remember that Goddess-Insta-girl is a person, and doesn’t deserve to have every element of her physical appearance scrutinised.
Anyway, being ‘the prettiest’ isn’t the first thing we should strive to be. What about being the smartest, the funniest, the most likely to befriend Ruby Rose? (yes she earned the double mention, because Ruby Rose is life #lez4rubes.)
Major snaps to the girls who literally get paid for being stunning. You go, 13s. Without you, who would sell bullshit overpriced products like ‘Diet Tea’ and Frank Bod to us oh so effectively? I sure as shit know my bank balance would be healthier if it wasn’t for Brooke Hogan (damn you Brooke Hogan and your flawless skin tone for selling me moisturisers I do not need and cannot afford).
4. Hating the girl dancing on the podium at the club is judgmental.
Stop greasing the poor girl off, and go drink your soda-vodka-lemon-whatever-the-fuck-you drink in a toilet cubicle or something. Your attitude is depressing. For all you know that girl’s asshole boyfriend Jeremy (or Kyle… let’s call him Kyle because I feel that’s the universal asshole name) broke up with her last night. He started messaging Micaela or whatever again (what an asshole, I hate that guy). That girl on the podium has had a rough week, okay? So her dancing on that podium is cathartic, IT’S A RELEASE OF PURE RAW EMOTION.
You heard me, that ass-shaking is practically interpretive dance. Plus, I bet she did a lot of squats to look so great in those shorts, so in the name of nutella and all that is holy, let the girl wiggle and artistically express herself in peace. Stop being a hater, go up to that girl and tell her how great she is and how
Jeremy Kyle is a jerk for letting a free-spirit like her go.
Dance on, podium girl, dance on.
Girls, hating fellow members of the sisterhood is just not on. We have so many other important things to devote our precious time to (like that whole running-the-world thing we do, and, you know, chastising guys like Kyle). Hating each other is something we simply cannot afford to do.
It is my greatest wish that we can one day co-exist in harmony and bond over our collective love for popcorn, power and pretty undies. I know this is some serious ‘Sisterhood of The Travelling Pants’ shit right here, but hey, let’s spread the love.
I officially apologise to every girl I have been nasty to. You are all fabulous. You all have amazing qualities and each of you smell like a meadow. I’m sorry. I love you. You’re all invited to my place for an Orange is the New Black or House of Cards marathon, your choice. Let’s cheek-kiss it out. Mwa mwa mwa!