**Hey kids, it's time to vote for the 2010 Black Weblog Awards. Go vote Blackie Collins as The Blog To Watch (too bad they don't have a category for your favorite bitch of all time). It's easy! Just go to this link and nominate B by putting in http://thatbitchstolemyline.com in the proper categories, especially Blog to Watch. Don't let these b*tches steal our award!!**
There are some things women do that men will never quite comprehend. Some puzzles that are about as hard to understand as brail on a freeway billboard. The holy grails of women. The codes we live by. Instilled in us before we're even born, just little spirits floating around in the place unborn babies hang out. Whoever's in charge, we'll say God, gathers us all altogether before we shoot down to earth and tells us all the things girls need to know/do. Boys have their own little conference, I'm sure, but they have no idea what happens in ours. So once we're all on earth, they just don't get it, but once again B to the rescue. I'm gonna keep it short and sweet on this lovely hump day. So without further adieu, the things women do for themselves but sort of do for boys, but swear they do it for themselves:
Wax. Probably thee single most detested, yet most desired practices for a woman. Somehow along the way, someone decided that women weren't allowed to have hair anywhere beyond their arms, if that. So instead, we started shaving, plucking, and snatching the hairs off our bodies. Especially our bikini lines. Painful? Not so much if you're lucky. No, painful isn't the right word. Uncomfortable is better. Awkward at best. Whenever, I'm getting snatched, I giggle at the absurdity of this funny, middle-aged lady with my leg up over her head, staring into my hoo-ha, as she waxes my vadge, so I essentially look like a ten year old child. All because at some point, I realized that having hair down there just sucked for myself and all involved. I often wonder, if the social construct changed, would women go back to the hippy era and stop waxing? I've seen what it looks like when a chick doesn't weed wack. My vote is no.
Diet. Nobody likes a fatty, but women slave over flat stomachs and toned arms and legs because we care about our health and self-esteem...not. We like boys and boys like girls with dope bodies. The end.
Cook, clean, and all things domestic. No woman likes to clean. Except those weird type A, OCD one's like Monica on Friends and I don't think they like it either. They just can't help it. Women cook and twitpic their food, so that some guy will say, "Wow, she can throw down. I gotta wife her." Somehow, when we were younger, sitting on our grandmother's porches, we were taught that a woman had to cook and keep a clean house in order to get a man, so we followed suit. We swear we do it for ourselves, and some of us are delusional enough to believe that, but let's be honest. It's a bit for the boys too...well, mostly.
Freakum Dressed. When girls get all gussied up to head out on the town or just go to the market as we're prone to do in NYC, we're doing it for the fans. Now on this issue, fans can be comprised of both men and women. Women get dressed generally for men, specifically for women. Women recognize labels, colors, patterns, trends, sizes, all of it. Men do not. They say, "Damn, she looks fine. She is wearing that sundress." Women say, "Wow, I love that Zac Posen floral print dress with the sweetheart neckline. It makes her look so skinny, too! I have to get it. It'll totally look better on me." Another perfect example? Leggings. We love them, they're comfortable, they work with everything, but guess what? Leggings are a man's dream come true. So we wear them even more.
Give head. I've never heard of an act that so many women swear/pretend they don't like. If that's actually true, which is crazy (and I've covered this topic endlessly), there's a ton of women out there speaking into the mic specifically because her dude likes it. In fact, if you won't, you're either single or getting cheated on.
I'm gonna end there, but by all means, add your own. I know there are many more. What do you do for yourself, but honestly because of all the hims in the world? And moreover, why do we do it? Why do we even care?
That bitch stole my line,