Some things in life are just universal among women, and one of them is sheer, unwavering stubbornness—especially when it comes to everyday habits, beauty routines, and personal quirks. If you’re a girl, you’ll instantly relate to these little signs of determination that seem to be built into your DNA. And yes, if you’ve ever used a lipstick down to the very last possible swipe (like the image above suggests), then you definitely know what we’re talking about!
The Lipstick That Refuses to Die
Let’s start with the most iconic form of stubbornness: refusing to throw away a lipstick, no matter how tiny it gets. That little plastic casing at the bottom? Yeah, there’s still product in there, and you will dig it out with your fingernail, a brush, or even a bobby pin before declaring it finished. Why? Because every last bit of that shade is precious.
Men might not understand, but every girl knows that finding the perfect lipstick color is rare. Once you find the one, there’s no way you’re letting a single speck go to waste.
Wearing Heels Even When It Feels Like Foot Torture
Blisters? Sore arches? Toes screaming in agony? None of it matters when those heels make your outfit look 🔥. Every girl has had at least one night where she’s powered through the pain because she refused to let discomfort win. The stubbornness to “make it work” leads to countless nights of wobbling, carrying flats in a purse just in case, and even using band-aids as a desperate attempt to keep going.
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And let’s be honest—when someone asks, “Are you okay?” while you’re limping, the automatic response is always, “I’m fine.”
Holding On to That One Bra That Has Seen Better Days
You know the one—the straps are barely hanging on, the underwire is poking through (but somehow, it doesn’t hurt that much), and it has stretched out beyond recognition. Yet, it’s the comfiest bra you own, and you refuse to part with it.
Sure, you have newer, fancier ones sitting in your drawer, but nothing feels quite as right as this well-worn, slightly battle-scarred piece of lingerie.
Convincing Yourself You Can Carry Everything in One Trip
Why make two trips when you can nearly break your arms trying to carry it all at once? Whether it’s bringing in grocery bags, carrying a pile of laundry, or juggling way too many shopping bags, there’s something about making one epic trip that feels like a personal achievement.
Does it matter if your fingers are turning purple from the weight? Nope. Does it matter if you drop half of it and have to go back anyway? Still no. It’s the principle of it all.
“I Don’t Need a Jacket” – Famous Last Words
How many times has someone told you to bring a jacket, and you confidently said, “No, I’ll be fine,” only to spend the next few hours freezing and regretting every life decision? But instead of admitting defeat, you’ll cross your arms, shiver in silence, and pretend you’re not cold.
Borrowing someone else’s jacket? That’s an option—but stubbornness wins every time.
Not Washing Your Hair Because “It Still Looks Fine”
Dry shampoo exists for a reason, and girls have mastered the art of stretching a hair wash as long as possible. Day three? It’s still fine. Day four? Maybe a ponytail. Day five? A messy bun totally counts as a hairstyle.
It’s not laziness—it’s about preserving the natural oils and making sure you don’t strip your hair of its moisture… or at least, that’s what we tell ourselves.
Refusing to Ask for Help Until It’s Absolutely Necessary
Whether it’s assembling furniture, opening a jar, or lifting something heavy, there’s a certain level of stubborn pride in trying to do it alone first. The jar lid might require 10 minutes of struggling and gritted teeth, but victory tastes sweeter when you finally pop it open without assistance.
And if someone offers to help? The automatic response is, “I got it.”
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Keeping Clothes You Haven’t Worn in Years – Just in Case
That dress from five years ago that you might need for a special occasion? The jeans that haven’t fit in ages but could fit again one day? Every girl has a closet full of “just in case” outfits that never actually get worn—but getting rid of them? Impossible.
Because the moment you do, you’ll suddenly find the perfect occasion where you wish you still had it. And that’s a regret no one wants.
Using Every Last Drop of a Beauty Product
It doesn’t matter if squeezing out that last bit of foundation requires full upper-body strength or if your mascara is practically dry—you paid for it, so you’re using it to the bitter end. Cutting open lotion bottles, scooping out the last remains of a face cream, or even adding a little water to shampoo just to make it last longer? Classic signs of beauty-product stubbornness.
Final Thoughts
Stubbornness isn’t just a personality trait—it’s a survival skill. From refusing to waste a single swipe of lipstick to convincing ourselves we don’t need a jacket, every girl has her own set of determined quirks. It’s not about being difficult; it’s about maximizing what we have, standing our ground, and proving (mostly to ourselves) that we can make it work.
Because at the end of the day, being a little stubborn just makes life more interesting.
I Married My Father’s Friend – I Was Stunned When I Saw What He Started Doing on Our Wedding Night
I Married My Father’s Friend – I Was Stunned When I Saw What He Started Doing on Our Wedding Night
Amber had given up on love but sparks fly when she meets her father’s old friend, Steve, at a BBQ. As their whirlwind romance leads to marriage, everything seems perfect. But on their wedding night, Amber discovers Steve has an unsettling secret that changes everything.
I pulled up to my parents’ house and stared at the line of cars parked across the lawn.
“What’s this all about?” I muttered, already bracing myself for whatever family surprise was waiting inside.
A woman in her car | Source: Midjourney
I grabbed my purse, locked the car, and headed toward the house, hoping it was nothing too chaotic.
As soon as I opened the door, the smell of grilled meat hit me, along with the sound of my dad’s booming laugh. I walked into the living room and peeked out the back window.
Of course, Dad was hosting some kind of impromptu BBQ. The whole backyard was filled with people, most of them from his auto repair shop.
People at a BBQ | Source: Pexels
“Amber!” Dad’s voice cut through my thoughts as he flipped a burger with that same apron he’s had for years. “C’mon, grab a drink and join us. It’s just the guys from work.”
I tried not to groan. “Looks like the whole town’s here,” I mumbled, slipping off my shoes.
Before I could join in the familiar, chaotic atmosphere, the doorbell rang. Dad tossed the spatula down and wiped his hands on his apron.
A man walking into a house | Source: Midjourney
“That must be Steve,” he said, almost to himself. He glanced at me as he reached for the doorknob. “You haven’t met him yet, right?”
Before I could even answer, Dad had already flung the door open.
“Steve!” he boomed, giving the guy a solid clap on the back. “Come on in, you’re just in time. Oh, and meet my daughter, Amber.”
I looked up, and my heart skipped a beat.
A man standing on a doorstep | Source: Midjourney
Steve was tall and a little rough around the edges in a ruggedly handsome way, with graying hair and eyes that somehow managed to be both warm and deep. He smiled at me, and I felt this strange flutter in my chest that I wasn’t prepared for.
“Nice to meet you, Amber,” he said, offering his hand.
His voice was calm and steady. I shook his hand, a little self-conscious about how I must look after driving for hours.
“Nice to meet you, too.”
A woman | Source: Midjourney
From that point on, I couldn’t stop glancing at him. He was the kind of man who made everyone around him comfortable, always listening more than talking. I tried to focus on the conversations around me, but every time our eyes met, I felt this pull.
It was ridiculous. I hadn’t even been thinking about love or relationships for ages. Not after everything I’d been through.
I’d pretty much given up on finding “the one” and was more focused on work and family. But something about Steve made me want to reconsider, even though I wasn’t ready to admit it.
A thoughtful woman | Source: Midjourney
As the day wound down, I finally said my goodbyes and headed to my car. Of course, when I tried to start it, the engine sputtered and died.
“Great,” I groaned, slumping back in my seat. I considered going back inside to ask Dad for help, but before I could, there was a knock on my window.
It was Steve.
“Car trouble?” he asked, smiling as if this kind of thing happened every day.
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
I sighed. “Yeah, it’s not starting. I was just going to get my dad, but…”
“Don’t worry about it. Let me take a look,” he offered, already rolling up his sleeves.
I watched him work, his hands moving with practiced ease. Within a few minutes, my car roared back to life. I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath until I exhaled.
A car engine | Source: Pexels
“There you go,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag. “Should be good now.”
I smiled, genuinely grateful. “Thanks, Steve. I guess I owe you one.”
He shrugged and gave me a look that made my stomach flip. “How about dinner? We can call it even.”
I froze for a second. Dinner? Was he asking me out?
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
I felt that familiar flicker of doubt, the little voice in the back of my head reminding me of all the reasons I shouldn’t say yes. But something in Steve’s eyes made me want to take the chance.
“Yeah, dinner sounds good.”
And just like that, I agreed. I never would’ve imagined then that Steve was exactly the man I needed to heal my wounded heart… or how deeply he’d hurt me, either.
A woman | Source: Midjourney
Six months later, I stood in front of the mirror in my childhood bedroom, staring at myself in a wedding dress. It was surreal, honestly. After everything I’d been through, I didn’t think this day would ever come.
I was 39 years old, and I’d given up on the whole fairy tale, but here I was — about to marry Steve.
The wedding was small, just close family and a few friends, exactly what we wanted.
A wedding venue | Source: Pexels
I remember standing at the altar, looking into Steve’s eyes, and feeling this overwhelming sense of calm. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t second-guessing anything.
“I do,” I whispered, barely able to keep the tears from spilling over.
“I do,” Steve said back, his voice thick with emotion.
And just like that, we were husband and wife.
A newlywed couple | Source: Pexels
That night, after all the congratulations and hugs, we finally got some alone time. Steve’s house, our house now, was quiet, the rooms still unfamiliar to me. I slipped into the bathroom to change into something more comfortable, my heart full and light.
But the minute I slipped back into the bedroom, I was greeted by a shocking sight.
Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to me, talking softly to someone… a someone who wasn’t there!
A man speaking to someone | Source: Midjourney
My heart skipped a beat.
“I wanted you to see this, Stace. Today was perfect… I just wish you could’ve been here.” His voice was soft, full of emotion.
I stood frozen in the doorway, trying to make sense of what I was hearing.
“Steve?” My voice sounded small, unsure.
He turned around slowly, guilt flickering across his face.
A startled man | Source: Midjourney
“Amber, I—”
I stepped closer, the air between us thick with unspoken words. “Who… who were you talking to?”
He took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping. “I was talking to Stacy. My daughter.”
I stared at him, the weight of his words slowly sinking in. He’d told me he’d had a daughter. I knew she had died. But I didn’t know about… this.
A concerned woman | Source: Midjourney
“She died in a car accident, with her mom,” he continued, his voice strained. “But sometimes I talk to her. I know it sounds crazy, but I just… I feel like she’s still here with me. Especially today. I wanted her to know about you. I wanted her to see how happy I am.”
I didn’t know what to say. My chest felt tight and I couldn’t quite catch my breath. Steve’s grief was raw, a living thing between us, and it made everything feel heavy.
But I didn’t feel scared. I didn’t feel angry. Just… so sad. Sad for him, for everything he’d lost, and the way he’d been carrying it all alone. His grief hurt me as though it were my own.
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