Why do women have to pretend to be something that they’re not? Why do we have to pretend to be stupid when we’re not stupid? Why do we have to pretend to be helpless when we’re not helpless? Why do we have to pretend to be sorry when we have nothing to be sorry about? Why do we have to pretend we’re not hungry when we’re hungry?
All that applause for me? What am I, putting out after? One standing ovation, everyone goes home pregnant.
You ever rehearse an argument you plan on having with someone in your head, and during the rehearsal you’re perfectly reasonable and they’re a jerk? And then the argument actually happens and they’re reasonable but that’s not how you rehearsed it, so you become the jerk?
It’s the bras. And the girdles and the corsets, all designed to cut off the circulation to your brain, so you walk around on the verge of passing out, and you look at your husband, and he tells you things, and you just believe them.
Is it really necessary to be that beautiful? Because frankly, it’s incredibly unfair. It’s not enough that women have to compete with other women, now men are getting in the mix? You can’t have it all. You can’t run the world and have all the pretty underwear, too. The competition wasn’t stiff enough with the hoards of slutty secretaries roaming the Earth?
I don’t want to wear champagne. It’s not a color. It’s what happens when white gets sad.[about her second wedding]
You know how there are times in your life when things seem to be going great? And then suddenly, out of nowhere, you round the corner, and bam, someone steps in and f***s it the f*** up? And you never saw it coming because you were too busy being happy. And I know, that’s life. S*** happens. You should be a bigger man and just let it go. Well, I’m a woman, so f*** that.
There’s the saying often attributed to our great prophet Abraham: “Anything you can do… isn’t all that interesting to me.”