Three months ago I was reduced. Not in size (too much wine and pizza), not in money (although possible because again…too much wine and pizza), but in worth. I was handed the title of “Just a Girl”. In that moment I felt my entire being beginning to unravel. Years of self-reflection, self-awareness, and yes, much-needed selfishness flew out the window, and I was merely “just” a girl. I did not meet the expectations of the one who so carelessly handed out this title, and therefore I was reduced. I stumbled through the next set of 24 hour periods as if this title had been tattooed on my forehead. I felt exposed. Vulnerable. Every bit of it sucked. And then, it happened. An ember that had been flickering deep inside of me was now burning fiercely. Ideas were racing through my mind, spreading to my fingertips, and leaving marks on blank pages all with the common theme of what it means to be “just” a girl. My passion had a focus. And so begins my journey with other women who have felt the internal burn of being branded a “just”. Whether you’re a middle finger sticker-upper, a hold everything in-er, or a get out of my way while I git ur done-er…this is for you. Grab that bottle (yes, I said bottle) of wine while you read our stories…and by the end of that bottle, you just may be submitting your own. Anyone who says liquid courage is not a real thing is a damn liar. Cheers!
“Once in a while blow your own damn mind.” – Unknown, but obviously awesome
She's Just a Girl 