It’s funny, isn’t it, how you have to be a certain size, a certain weight, have a certain hair colour, a certain status, a certain number of friends just to be accepted into society. Okay, well, today, there were some idiots on my bus who kept wolf-whistling at me and my friends – not seriously, oh no, jokingly. And to be honest, it’s pathetic because if they actually stopped, talked to me and go to know me, then they wouldn’t be such arses in the first place. Just because I’m not blonde, thin as a stick and caked in make up doesn’t mean that I’m worthless as a person. And sometimes people seem to give this impression to me.
No, I don’t get drunk and I don’t go out to parties in a skirt that reveals your breakfast every week, but I actually have a personality and for some of those dumbass ‘boys’ out there – yes boys, not men – I’m a person just like everyone else.
I’m not saying that I’m unhappy with who I am, because I am happy with myself. It just annoys me something terrible when people think that they’re better than everybody else because they’re in a group where everyone is the same – same clothes, same hair, same taste in music blah blah blah. Me and my friends are completely different – one is bordering on chav, the other is bordering on goth. I would hate to be in a group of friends where they’re all the same because the group gets attention from everyone, not the individuals. That’s sad.