Sugar & Spice

I may not be the girliest girl there is. I love beer and football, but I also love going shopping and girl talk. I think I strike a nice balance.

But there are some girly things that are just ridiculous. Absurd things. And you know what? We girls know this. I know this. But I participate in them, anyway.

Take GOOP, for instance. GOOP, for the uninitiated and unfamiliar, is potential worst person ever Gwyneth Paltrow’s e-newsletter in which she attempts to foster her image as the Martha Stewart of the new generation, only, like, prettier. Week after week I open this vapid monstrosity to find recipes for searing whitefish, or tummy-toning workout routines from Gwynnie’s personal trainer, or instructions on how to make a cheery holiday wreath from stray socks plucked from the dryer. Week after week my eyes roll back into my head as I hover my cursor over the “Unsubscribe” link, vacillating. And week after week, my subscription to GOOP lives to see another day. What if next week is the week she (or, more likely, her minions) writes about something useful to me? What if I miss it? It’s a thought I cannot bear.

Which brings me, of course, to another girly trait that I recognize as ridiculous but cannot seem to shake—the art of over-thinking. My mind is a mess of worst-case-scenarios, including the fresh hell in which Gwyneth Paltrow writes about the key to existence and I miss out on enlightenment. The normal part of my brain can identify my faulty reasoning but does nothing to stop the girly lizard-brain part from picking apart every worry, every scenario, every text message, every “We need to talk about something,” every “Can you come into my office for a second?” It’s truly exhausting. And yet it persists.

But not every girlish absurdity I embrace, whether intentionally or not, is a fatal flaw. When I turn on the TV, there’s a 33.3% chance that whatever I flip to will be near embarrassing. My DVR knows better than to miss a week of Gossip Girl or Grey’s Anatomy, and woe be the work that needed to get done before I stumbled upon a marathon of ANTM. I may be rotting my brain but I simply can’t help myself.

And then there’s the girly-girl things I could help, but why bother? Like getting dressed up in cute party dresses even when the occasion and the weather don't warrant it. Sometimes a girl just wants to look pretty, okay? And freezing toes and chattering teeth aren't standing in my way.

For the most part, I’m not complaining. We all have our guilty pleasures and peccadilloes. I think that one of these days I’m going to need to do something about GOOP, though. I just don’t think I’m buying what Gwynnie’s selling.