Indubitabil, Nu Conteaza.

Woman like to pity themselves publicly or deprive themselves of friends, pulling down the curtains on a sunny day and quarantining on ice-cream, chocolate and cry-me-a-river soap-operas until their neighbors call 112, alerted by the dubious odors emerging from the “prison-cell” (a.k.a. apartment).

Thousands of girls like you and me (excuse me, guys!) wearing tanks, shorts & flip-flops or (worse!) jimmy-legs, accessorized with messed-up-straight-from-bed hair and armed with jars of goodies (chocolate, jam, peanut butter, fruit-jello, u name it…) and spoons, instead of heading out for battle in the outside world, stay in-house for days, in a world of their own, un-trained to facing the monsters of depression, stress, anorexia / bulimia, lost BFs etc, etc, etc.

Are these the independent women of tomorrow or just a horde of emotionally unstable chicks? Could it be that men are right sometimes, that women are still an unknown species they cannot commit to?