The simple title is very graphic. But let me explain.
Females like me are done with the ritual of looking up through lashes and whispering behind fans with other lady friends. As a matter of fact, I don't like sharing stories with so-called girlfriends. And I don't like going into the powder room with other ladies. At all.
Hugh Jackman can lasso and Christian Bale can scream. But us females - we have a whole lot of other things in our own world. And it's not a totally friendly world at all.
DROP THE SHOP
Start with the boutique. You come in and you set your sights on a fetching red number hanging on an unassuming rod. You pick it up and you to try it on. As you go inside the fitting room, two women will be staring at you and the dress. It's as if like, what am I thinking?
When you emerge from the cramped space and you are returning the dress, another woman will snatch it from you and try it on herself. And if you end up buying it, another female will ask for that same blouse from the sales assistant.
And the mirrors in those boutiques! They are very cruel if they happen to be a big one by the wall. Never stand before a mirror! Or else you'll only end up either scrutinized by the bombshell at your left, or sneered at by the heavyweight at your right.
GET FIT FOR GYM? OR GYM TO GET FIT?
I used to spend two nights in a week dancing in the sports center nearest the house. But the gym has closed those dance sessions, so I proposed to a former acquaintance that we pursue our dance nights at the gym located in the commercial district instead. She voted no immediately.
She told me that the other women in that facility will gauge you by the brand of shoes or dance apparel you wear or the bottled water you drink or the gym bag you lug around. Heaven forbid if they categorize you by the sweat you manage to muster, not because of the exercise but because of the self-consciousness you try to hide.
And again! The gym mirrors! They are the most unforgiving of all! They could almost see your soul in there!
Whenever I go to salons for a hair trim, I often pick the corner seats to avoid the dames who feel like divas entering the place. You'd know them when you smell them, because you can sniff them the moment the door would open six meters away from you. Then they would drop their signature bags on the cozy chairs as they ask for their regular hair color.
WEAR YOUR PEARLS TO THE GROCER
Whenever I go to the grocery, I try to memorize the items I need to get and pick them as fast as possible. You don't want to reach out to your box of cereals with your chipped nails, while the woman beside you contemplate on the benefits of green tea and black tea and advises you that your preference for strawberry flavor is very juvenile.
Oh yes. It's played in a subtle fashion. But it's actually a bitch versus bitch world out there. Men no longer have the monopoly of complaining that it's such a competition and the next guy is out for your neck.
DRIVING LIKE A GIRL
So let's bring the animosity to the highway. Driving comfortably in my 60km per hour speed, I look down upon female drivers who cannot decide on which lane to take. Following a car one day, I thought it was high time I play my own battle and I honked.
She was swerving left and right at the merciful speed of 30, and cannot even keep an intersection open! When the lights were green, she stopped to let people cross the street and the red light caught us. I honked again in desperation.
Then I maneuvered my SUV beside her car and I looked at her the way my first grade teacher had looked at me when I couldn't spell the word "happy". If looks could kill. Then I tossed my hair at her and I put on my big sunglasses.
Ah, I fight too. Without claws for the meantime.