If you take a young man and woman and they both tell a stranger that they work in the same restaurant, it’s very likely that they will assume that the woman is the waitress, and the young man a cook.
But I thought a woman’s place was in the kitchen? Not when she’s being paid for it. I can’t believe it took me this long to realize the implication of this. A woman’s place is one of servitude.
Do you ever, all of a sudden, get this overwhelming wave of self hatred? Like suddenly you hate your body, every inch, your face, your voice, your smile, your laugh, your personality… you just want to disappear because you can’t stand to be yourself.