Weddings & Marriage…I wonder…

Having reached that age where all my friends are starting to get married is a bit of an annoying thing. Mostly because everyone assumes I want it too and secretly can’t fucking wait to be tied down with a brick on my finger.

Here is a conversation I have probably every other week (with either men or women – some of these women even good friends of mine that I would expect better from):

Person: how long have you been with your boyfriend? When are you getting married?

Me: uhm a while, but no, don’t think we’re getting married. I’m not sure I want to, or he wants to, I don’t either one of us want to.

Person: Aaawww, come on, you’re just saying that now – as soon as he gives you a ring you’ll change your mind.

Me: I don’t think so, he can also just give a ring – he already has actually – everybody is different you know.

Person: Nah, trust me, deep inside you really want to get married – all girls do – as soon as he proposes you’ll totally change your mind.

Me: Well, in that case I guess I’ll find out…**awkward smile**

Person: **desperately looks for a new conversation partner**

So we now live in a world where we totally accept gay and lesbian relationships and couples – but we can’t believe or accept that a straight girl might not have it as her one-and-only ultimate life goal to get married? Really?

My Facebook newsfeed is full of engagement photos and close-ups of engagements rings of various sizes, shapes and colours (though mostly all in the same colourless colour), a selection of pregnant weekly bump-progress pictures, baby pictures and birth announcements… photos of people at weddings, professional wedding photos, first anniversaries being celebrated with photos of the wedding that was on my newsfeed a year ago…etc. etc.

I wonder how long it will be till my wider circle of friends and acquaintances hit the first divorce? I wonder who it will be?

Am I cynical? Yes. I probably am very cynical when it comes to weddings and marriage. I tend to think it’s all a big fat happy lie to make everyone involved feel better for 24 hours – maybe a bit longer, but not that much longer. I’m all for people living together, having children and being happy ever after – but do you really need to get married for that?

And I think this is thanks to a combination of reasons – but probably not purely limited to:

This I think is the main biggest reason: my parents had an awful marriage. Their marriage was literally soaked in unhappiness. Dripping unhappiness. As far as I can remember they hardly spoke to each other. When they did it was usually about who would drive me somewhere or pick me up from somewhere. The only time they pretended to get along was if either one of them has guests and then we’d all sit at the dinner table and dinner together pretending like this was a normal thing we did all the time. We did not. We never had dinner together. My parents also slept in separate bedrooms on different floors of the house. He would whine to me about her not understanding him. She would whine to me about him being weak and useless. They would both whine to their respective friends in my presence. As an only child, you often end up being a confidant to your parents and have no brothers and sisters to just be stupid kids with so you get to listen to lame shit. And no, I don’t think it was just harmless whinging and yes I was around 6-10 years old. I think at some point they agreed (for some bizarre reason) to get married and then felt trapped in it and genuinely hated it but were unable to get out – probably also thanks to the existence of moi. Whereas all along I would’ve preferred for them to have never been together in the first place. Luckily they often weren’t in the same house as my father travelled a lot for work so it was quite easy for them to avoid each other.

Sooo yeah, if that’s the beautiful state of being married…are you surprised I wouldn’t mind passing on it?

The second big reason: My Uncle & Aunt – now they are not married and have never bee married – and they have the most awesome, most beautiful, most amazing relationship ever. They are my absolute role model when it comes to relationships (and pretty much anything else in life). I do not know any other two people who love each other as much, would do anything and everything and go through fire for the other and are each others’ best friend. He will always put her first and she will always put him first. And they’re not married. They don’t need to be married. They have more happiness and love than 99% of married couples probably have and they do it all without a spectacle or a big show – no big dresses, rings or bullshit about last names – just pure love and all of the daily hardships, stresses, bickering and annoyances that come with it. Their shit is real.

Third reason: as I look around me, I see way too many people getting engaged and getting married for the wrong reasons. Things like: “we’ve been together so long, we might as well, it’s expected of us.” – Boredom/ Apathy. Or “if I don’t propose to her she is going to break up with me.” – Fear/ Blackmail. Or: “OMG, my sister and three of my friends are engaged, I can’t be the last one!!” – whatever that is? “I want to have the biggest wedding that everyone will remember and talk about” – are you on Gypsy Weddings?! – “I don’t really trust him, need to lock him down” – if you need to lock him down you’re fucked anyway. I don’t want to be one of these people, I would hate to be one of these people.

How can any of this be a good reason to get married?? Surely if you love someone so much that you want to spend the rest of your life with them, then you just go ahead and do just that: spend the rest of your life with them. Do you need to turn it into such a spectacle and a show? Is it really some kind of weird competition? What century do we live in where “all girls really want this” and I’m somehow not a “real” girl if I don’t want this? Stop telling me what I want and how I think. You don’t know what and how I think and you don’t know why.



I just got fat-shamed by a magazine

I love magazines. I’m talking women’s fashion magazines, the glossy monthly kind.

I used to be very much obsessed with them – I used to read them, collect them, cut them out, stick pages on my walls and doors, make collages out of them. From the ages of 16 to about 21 I used to live and breathe fashion magazines. They were my one consistent interest.

Lately, I have developed my favourites – mainly Tatler. I also read a lot of articles and magazines online and only tend to really purchase them in print to have something to read in Dutch or German when I’m travelling and passing through airports. I also absolutely despise and boycott some – mainly Stylist.

Until now magazines have always been a positive thing to me – I read articles about interesting people, things and places. I discover new designers, brands and products. I admire beautiful photography. I’ve never really had a negative experience with a glossy magazine before – if anything, they’ve always cheered me up – a bit of lightweight entertainment that can at times also be educational, nothing wrong with that.

So this changed this week – the other day my dear friend Alice posted a thing on her Facebook about how awful it is that magazine covers reduce people to just a number – to a dress size. The celebrity in the example was Nigella. Now Nigella is an incredibly sexy, attractive 55 year old who has given birth to two children. Nigella seems to nonetheless still be a size smaller than me. Wow, I immediately felt a bit sick. Just a little bit nauseous. I felt fat and ugly. This is exactly what Alice meant that magazines do and something that she is so much against, but it had never happened to me before and here it just had for the first time. At age 29, I felt awful, fat, ugly and had failed the body comparison to a 55 year old.  I felt fat-shamed  by a magazine.

It’s been a strange feeling, it happened about  3 days ago and I still can’t figure out exactly how I feel about this. On the one hand I’m annoyed with myself for falling for it…and on the other hand, I really do fucking need to lose some weight. Hmmm…

Weight gain…not my friend. Food, my enemy?

I have come to the realisation that my weight gain over the past months is much worse than I thought it was. I am fat. I do not fit into my clothes. I feel tired all the time. I can’t even walk up 3 flights of stairs without getting completely out of breath. I am hungry all the time but then eat so much it makes me actually feel sick from eating too much. I seem to have developed some kind of weird twisted emotional-eating habit that I can’t seem to snap out of. It has happened at least about 3 times in the past month that I have broken down crying because I feel so fat and disgusted and hate what I see in the mirror…and then I go out and stuff my face…and then I hate myself even more all over again for doing that. I don’t want to go out any more, I don’t want to meet new people, I’m afraid everyone looks at me and thinks I’m a disgusting slob.