The Genetic Lottery

If I talk to the guy next door for long, I am looked upon with disgust.
If my best friend is a guy, it’s like cheating on a husband who doesn’t exist.
If I scream at a guy who was misbehaving with me, I have no manners.
If I smoke or drink, it’s more disgusting than people’s heads being chopped off.
If I wear the clothes I like, even though I’m an adult, and guys check me out and pass comments, I am shameless.
If I’m seen with a guy, (even if I meet him while passing by), I am the center piece for all rumors.
If I go on a bike with a guy, (be it for any work) I have sinned.
If I run away with the man I love, I have shamed my parents, I’m assured hell.
If I am kidnapped and get rapped brutally, I have lost all my pride.
If I can’t cook, I have no qualities at all.
If I’m not fair enough (white!), I’m hideous.
If my engagement breaks, the reason will always be me.
If my child turns out ugly or dull or dunce, it’s only my fault.
If my husband dies, I killed him.
If I’m a girl, I have lost the genetic lottery!