Every Cool Girl is Half a Boy

When I first saw this quote (now title of this post) on Insta I screenshotted it in a heartbeat as I’ve always identified myself with being a bit ‘boy-ish’.FYI: I also think I’m cool af...JK hahah            However, truth be told, I've always felt that the cooler side of me always matches the more manly aspects of my personality.               
But hold it, what on earth does that mean?                                                                                                      
I mean, we just can’t say that one sex is the master of the coolness right?
The topic has been circling my head for months now. For that same reason I decided to start from the beginning
*Smart, right?*
I’ve never even doubted myself in this matter, but in the sake of a well done research I started with a simple inquiry:
What is gender?
Gender refers to the state of being male or female (typically used with reference to social and cultural differences rather than biological ones).

So yeah, I asked myself that question and in a second came to the conclusion that I’m Cysgender; which basically means that I identify as a girl, while biologically being a girl who as a girl likes boys.  
Still, growing up I generally surrounded myself with members of the opposite sex in the form of friends.
I’ve always find it easier to hang out with them. And even though I have always had a really close circle of girls by my side, the majority of my friends have always been boys, which has always made me feel a bit tomboy-ish.
It’s not like I’m not girly, because believe me… I am.
But there’s a complexity to it. I somehow feel stronger.                 

I’m not in props of cultural and social stereotypes.                           
Quite the contrary; I’m a firm believer that you don’t have to like pink to be a girl. Case in point I f*ing hated the color when I was little. 
Yes, I had every single Barbie there was in the market, but I never wore a tutu. I loved horseback riding instead, my favourite colour was bright-lemon-green and even though I hated playing football, I always preferred to play to be a spy much more than the mom or big sister in the family.         
It was simply much more interesting, dynamic and fun, but is was predominantly male as well. 

Boys have certain attitudes that are appealing, not only because I find them attractive in a man, but because I try or in some cases can’t but would love to adopt.
For example, well dress men carry with them an allure of superiority very few can equal.

A man with confidence walks as if the world was his. If a man is a frequent guest in a restaurant, the captain will always greet him with great respect and will try to have things ready to please him once he arrives. Even if a girl goes to the same place to brunch every day, people will happily greet her and treat her right but she won't receive the same treatment.

There is a weird paradox at play — an undercurrent superiority that is in ways uncomfortable to admit because it must therefore assume that the female gender is inferior, right?

But there’s something to it. We’ve been raised with this cultural believes even if we consider ourselves feminists.
I’m great at being ‘feminine’ and I know it.  I absolutely love and enjoy wearing make-up. I never leave the house without earring and a purse.  But I think that wearing a tux to a red carpet is a MAJOR STATEMENT and one of my dream outfits. 
There’s something to being a woman who drinks dry martinis instead of cosmos.                                                                           There’s something rebel in a woman smoking a cigar and drinking whiskey neat.
In many ways, I even think that femme fatales are much more masculine than a normal woman. They have this sense of empowerment, fieriness and seductiveness based on an embraced and unapologetic sexuality we mostly see in rockstars, rappers, playboys and old school movie lead actors.
*I MEAN, what’s up with Humphrey Bogart and Clark Gable…              Am I right?*
As much as I’d like one of those to swept me of my feet, I kind of like their suits and hats as well.
Even though I don’t identify as a boy just because of these behaviours. There’s a part of me that feels really comfortable and would actually like to be much more like them.
Most of my friends say that I literally do a runway walk every where I go. But as much as I’d love me some Cindy or Linda, my walk is more of a Naomi-horselike-grandstep-open shoulder-men-like- strut.
*I dare you to read that out loud 3 times*
In the end, all I’m trying to say it’s not that you have to be a boy to be cool, you don’t have to feel, act or think like one either. But presenting a little gender dysphoria ain’t bad either.                                     In the end, your personality is built on the thinks you love; so if it turn out that wearing a suit makes you’re happier than wearing a dress…. YOU DO YOU BABE!
If there’s something I’ve learned in the past few months is that the world is not as black and white as we’ would like it to be.
It doesn't matter if we are taking feelings, clothes, accesories, friendships or sexuality into account.

But that’s alright, because it gives us a great margin of grey to experiment… And If I’m correct the main goal in life, is to live.       So do it. 
Roberta Woodworth


Un*apologetic: that you refuse to say you're sorry or to express any regret.
And it is exacly what I entend to do from now on.

I've been trying to write the way I feel right now for quite some time. But I haven't been able to explain these moments of "soul searching" or growth that I'm going through.

I do not know if it happens to you, but I feel that my life up to this moment has developed in cycles.
Some are extremely good and happy and others are confusing and difficult to digest.
As Holly Golightly would say

Some days are blue and some are red

The blue days are those in which it is raining, you put up a little weight or you failed a test.
But the reds are those days when you do not have an answer for anything. Those in which you feel that you can not handle life and just want to give up. 
The red days are days when you are scared and simply not know what the next step is.
That's exactly where I am right now.
It's been a winter of red days. Rare days ... Days in which any little thing out of the ordinary unleashes a thousand thoughts in which I question what I feel, what I do and the reasons why; whether it is right or wrong and what it says about me.
It all started with something that happened months ago, which I never thought would happen, because I was nothing but a little girl who believed that life could only be black or white, and that if I did something outside of what I've been taught that was held as correct, that would change me as a person.
I did not regret it, I did not care. I did what I wanted to do and that's it. But a part of me started to wonder if I had stopped being the person I think I am.
In this spiral of thought, it was when I discovered .. or rather became aware of my masks. I told you about them in an article.
Masks that now I realize are much more deeper than just a way of coping with uncertainty but a defense mechanisms born out of repression. 
The repression of a traumatic event as it could have been the death of my father when I was 9 years old.

Was I aware of it? No.
Have I blamed it for my demons? Not at all.

But at this moment it is becoming clear to me that the longing for control and perfection that I manage, is not given to prove something, nor try to make his memory proud of me, but it is a way to have power over mundane situations, because when it came to him, I wasn't given a choice. His death was completely beyond my jurisdiction.
So therefore, from then on I have tried to control what I can. From a task, to my interpersonal relationships. I try to do everything in my power to make them work; which I now realize makes me attached and protective to a level that sometimes streaks in jealousy.

Because I do not want to lose anyone. Because I do not tolerate when people leave my life just like that. Because it happened once and I do not want it to happen again.

However I think all this is very good, at least becoming aware of it, but sometimes, when it comes out in a very cheesy gesture or an attack of jealousy, I tend to feel ashamed.
Because it is really uncomfortable when someone sees you vulnerable or realizes that you are a little broken.
I know that we are all human and every single soul goes through similar situations.
But to realize it ... To reach the point where I am realizing that I am what I am and I do what I do for all this ... It's overwhelming.

Because then ...
Who am I without my sadness?

Who am I without all this masks and mechanisms even traits of my personality born out of those dark moments,  that have taken me so far?

I do not have the faintest idea. 
But I'm coming to the conclusion that I do not even care anymore.
Making mistakes, having no control over every little detail, partying it out, letting loose, kissing a stranger, saying something you shouldn't say or wearing an outfit that your mother considers inappropriate a few times in your life time does not change you as a person. Nor does it make you irresponsible, drunk, nor vulgar (specifically speaking of these last three examples)

They make you human, and they make you grow into knowing who you are, leaving people's opinions and prejudices aside.
I'm tired of feeling the way I feel.

Developing awareness and improving as a human being is very complicated to keep apologizing for it. 

So, it is decided.
I will stop apologizing. 
Anyone who loves me and wants to be in my life will know this facet and I suppose that they'll have to accept it, because I will no longer apologize for being who I am.
This doesn't mean I'm strong-willed or overconfident. I want to be unapologetic because this is literally my life. There is nothing I can do about it nor anyone I have to please.
For better or worse. I'm just a person with a strong sense of being, that is all.

Roberta Woodworth

Nota 209

Tengo el corazón bajo llave
Temeroso, cansado y derrotado, confinado en una cueva.
Debe ser el cansancio de tanto exponerse.

Tengo la fe un poco rota, y no quiero que nadie llegue y simplemente pegue los pedazos. Quiero que alguien la restaure.

Ha pasado mucho tiempo y me he alejado

Me he alejado para tomarme un tiempo y conocer las curiosidades que se forman en mi mente, en mis entrañas; las mas escondidas, las que no sabia que existían e incluso las que me apenan, y sin embargo gracias a todo esto, me he llegado a querer…

Pero carajo, no es lo mismo mirarse al espejo y amar lo que ves, a que alguien te mire, te acaricie y te diga “eres hermosa”.

Es verdad, y soy consciente de que mi existencia es un entero que no requiere de mitades; pero aun así necesita de otro entero. 
Si no fuera así, si estuviéramos destinados a vivir la vida como uno individual, entonces ni las odas ni las mas grandes tragedias estarían escritas sobre amor.

Pero resulta difícil

Recorro las calles, escuchando las voces de mi soledad y su eco que emana del mismo sentimiento en el cuerpo de otros buscando confort, mientras exclaman al unísono: "estamos mejor así" "es tiempo de disfrutar" "ya llegará" " dejemos de pensar en eso" 

Y si JODER, ya dejemos de pensar en eso porque nos consume... Pero al mismo tiempo quiero pensar. 
Quiero sentir
Quiero que alguien quiera pelear contra el mismo infierno si es necesario con tal de estar conmigo.
Que esté dispuesto a dar todo lo que yo puedo dar.
Quiero a alguien que vea más allá de mi cara y mi cuerpo para ver a través de mi piel.
Quiero a alguien que se embriague con el olor de mi perfume, que encuentre su droga en mis labios y ame mi sonrisa.

Una persona que se enamore de mi con ganas, con locura, sin mesura, sin pudor, sin prejuicios y sin dudas.
Alguien que se aventure a conocer mis caras mas ocultas

Alguien que escuche cuando llore, que me sostenga cuando esté apunto de caer, que encuentre en mi un pilar, que me haga entender el mundo, y no me haga falta.

Pero verán…
Han pasado días, meses, incluso creo que ya son años, y sigo sin encontrar a alguien que me haga escribir de un amor que no sea fruto de mi fantasía.

¡Qué frustración y ridiculez! 

Que digan que merezco todo, que valgo el mundo entero, que soy hermosa y sin embargo sigo deambulando como mercenario por las dunas de la vida, sin compañía.

No tiene coherencia que te digan que mereces el universo entero y aún así, que nunca nadie se atreva a quedarse.
Por ende, aquí estoy, entre la espada y la pared, entre resignarme y  seguir creyendo que tal vez alguien allá afuera es para mi.

Porque todos dicen que llegará “el indicado”

Y también dicen que toma tiempo.
Dicen que deje de buscar pero igual dicen que salga a encontrarlo.
Dicen que el amor no existe y después se van y se enamoran.

¡Cuánta contradicción!

Tengo el corazón herido, por entregarlo a quien no ha sabido querer.
Tengo el alma medio rota, por abrirme demasiado a quien no ha sabido quedarse.
Pero dicen que eventualmente, algún día, cuando menos lo espere, cuando menos lo piense, llegará.

Dicen que valdrá la pena.
¿Entonces qué hago vagando entre nubes grises con tormentos internos, tristezas incomprendidas y preguntas sin respuesta?


Me acabo de encontrar este texto en una nota en mi celular. 
Lo escribí hace un par de meses en una especie de crisis y me la encontré ayer mientras buscaba textos incompletos para escribir.
Es curioso leer estas cosas cuando estas en una etapa emocional distinta. 
Por un lado me da miedo la vulnerabilidad del texto, por otra me alegra haberlo superado. 
En estos momentos siento todo lo contrario. 
Estoy feliz, disfrutando la vida y la compañía de las personas a las que quiero y que hacen de mis días algo muy divertido.

También dejé de buscar la felicidad de afuera hacia adentro. 
Mucha gente se pregunta por que el amor no le llega de alguien mas, pero nunca nos preguntamos ¿Hay alguien que yo quiera que se acerque?
O sea literalmente, ¿quien quieres que salga contigo?
Si no hay nadie en concreto y solo esperas que literalmente cualquier desconocido se acerque con tal de salir de la monotonía, estas poniéndole demasiado valor a lo que hay allá afuera en lugar de volverte dueño de tus sentimientos.
Una vez que cambias la perspectiva, todo en tu vida se vuelve mejor, literalmente es cuestión de buscar el lado de la plenitud.

Roberta Woodworth

[Femme Fatale]

Femme Fa-tale
/fem-fə-ˈtal(z), ˌfam-, -ˈtäl(z)\
- A woman who attracts men for her aura of charm and mystery 
- An attractive and seductive woman who will ultimately be the destruction of any man who engages her. 
I asked you guys the other day what you though control meant. 
The answer was basically that control is based on logistics, planning and some sort of strenght to impose your will over others. 
So I thought, well... then it is a good thing that I myself am a control freak, right?
Because under that definition it seamed that if you manage to have control, you have everything figured out.

Well, I don't

Until a few weeks ago I have alway thought that being in control of the things I could control, would assure me the results I wanted. But that's wrong. Really, really, wrong. 
Over-obsessing over details, trying to be always perfect, planning every second of every day and having everything figured out is as much a blessing as it is a curse.

You enclose yourself in a bubble in your comfort zone and repel everything that seems a little too out of place whether that means experiences, people or even emotions.

"So... What's next? Without control wouldn't we be living in complete anarchy?"
-exclaimed my brain in distress

Well, not exactly. 
Control should serve as a base for a bit of order in life. Nevertheless, to avoid anarchy, one must learn how to cope with the unexpected; how to NOT crumble under pressure, stress, fear and uncertainty.

The only way to do so is through power

Because power, unlike control, is all about your inside. 
It is about protecting your heart and soul, as corny as that may sound. 
It is about having the strength to get around troubles without compromising your internal well-being.
Power means that you are ok with your actions and have no regrets; not because of what people may think, but because it won't make you feel uncomfortable later. 
Drinks, kisses, statements or confessions you name it... 
You'll have the power as long as it doesn't make you question your integrity the next day.

Exactly at that point in my analysis is where my association with the femme fatale-ness comes in. 
Speaking as a girl, I usually feel that we are often submitted to hard judgement from society. 
Everyone can be a victim of prejudice, but thousands of years of patriarchy can't be washed away in a second to make us forget that we are usually the ones portrayed as the delicate beings in the eternal wait for a prince, who in the mean time tends to get across cruel dragons who easily mess with her heart.
But it doesn't stop there. She might be submitted to this same pressure among her friends too, if she doesn't agree with everything they say... 
At the end, from every angle you'll see the ultimate image of a girl who surrenders her power to the willing of someone else in the hopes of receiving something, in this case, love or acceptance.

But that's never going to happen, is it? Giving up yourself will end up turning into dependency or coexistence and a complete loss of your persona.

I've always considered myself someone who does things by the book. 

So, dealing with unexpected variables and attitudes has become a little bit of a problem, specially when it involves situation that make me become vulnerable such as relationships.

And that's were I feel that the femme fatale must be evoke, not with the goal of destruction, but as the guardian of your - self.

That's what I liked about the newest Rouge Interdit collection. 
It is not based on portraying utter sensuality, but the power that comes from withing making you completely irresistible.
I'm not sure if it was the den-like underground club we were into, the red lights, the lipstick or the sexiest LBD I've ever worn in my life. 
But that night, it became clear to me that power emanates from within. And that if you manage to find it, underneath the doubts, the judgmental voices and insecurities, you'll be ok.

I've always said that clothing is powerful and I feel like fashion is an umbrella where everybody finds shelter and comfort; but it is ground zero to experiment as well. 
I must confess that I was a little nervous, because I don't usually play with my sensuality that much while dressing up, but that night, I wasn't just wearing a black dress. 
I was letting the glamazon come out and shine. It was exhilarating. 
I felt in command of myself and the aura I was projecting. 
It was somehow proof that the good girl whose ego had been smashed a few months ago for being too naive could turn into someone stronger, bolder and much more confident.
They say that you have to burn first to be able to rise from the ashes.
I say, don't be a phoenix, become a Femme Fatale
Roberta Woodworth

Chanel Couture SS'17

Mi mejor amiga dice que mi estilo es de refined business woman y por mucho que quisiera contestarle que no porque por alguna razón se escucha como si me vistiera como viejita, la verdad es que entre una falda de cuero un saco de tweed con jeans, no cambiaría la segunda opción por nada.
Por eso me gusta Chanel, porque renueva los clásicos sin que estos pierdan su elegancia.
Me emocionó mucho esta colección con siluetas suaves y estrcturadas que le dan ese toque extra pero muy sutil a la ropa y que siento que es lo caracteriza a una mujer elegante; aquella que levanta miradas por ese je ne se quoi  que encanta.
No hay nada que se le compare a un buen saco. Puedes taer jeans, un vestido, tener una cena o un brunch con amigas pero un saco sieeeeeeempre será la opción por ese innegable aire effortless chic.  

 Este es ÉL Little Black Dress que faltaba en nuestras vidas. Es muy sencillo pero tiene un escote descarado que casi sin que nos demos cuenta lo vuelte muy sexy.


Hay 3 cosas en las que no hay que llevar la cuenta en esta vida: Champagne, lentejuelas, y plumas.

De repente tengo ganas de ir a una fiesta estilo Gatsby...

o a un baile...
Nadie me quiere invitar?
 Roberta Woodworth