Feminism and Solidarity: I’m all for female empowerment, sisters doing it for themselves, and the like -- but I must confess, watching countless, Kathy-mandated hours of the crazy bitches on Real Housewives, Mob Wives, My Big Fat American Gypsy Wedding, Dance Moms, Say Yes to the Dress (shall I go on?) makes it hard to want to gather ‘round the sharing circle and sing the praises of womanhood in all its infinite magic and mystery. Also, not to call you out, random female member of the studio Grammar Police, but if you’re gonna get snarky about the poorly written flyers in the ladies’ restroom, you might want to consult spellcheck.
Safety Concerns: I took a self-defense class in college; so clearly, I’m prepared for any shady characters I may run into in the parking lot. Our aforementioned ladies’ room is another story. The lights are on a motion sensor, so if you’re in the office late, you shove the door open into absolute darkness and wait as the fluorescents slowly flicker to a dim glow, then nervously peer under the stall doors checking for rapist and/or zombie legs. It’s frankly difficult to pee when your heart is pounding like Tori Spelling’s in a Lifetime movie in which she either sleeps with or awakes to danger.
All obstacles aside though, I’m learning so much about womanhood from Kathy that it’s all been worth it. I now know that I shouldn’t get straight-married; it’s OK to give your most precious gift to a man if he provides you with freshly-fried donuts; and flashing your boobs is not just fun, it’s your birthright.