WOMANING DONE RIGHT

Do you ever have those moments when you realize you just aren’t cut out for basic and widely adhered to traditions and that it might mean you’re a bit on the sorry side? I hope it isn’t just me. While messaging a friend on Facebook today, I had to acknowledge I still owe her a wedding and baby shower gift. By the time I get around to these things, she and her husband will be well into the “leather” year, which sounds oddly kinky and like a winner to me, when I should have been there with my present on their wedding day. The baby will have all his teeth, a full ride scholarship, and his first car before I get her a gift for the shower that took place whilst he was still in the womb. At times, I think I just might not be good at old school “womaning.” Posh-52-dot-com

Now don’t get me wrong, I do think I’m a good woman overall, whatever that means, but when it comes to the traditional behaviors of women, I seem to be failing on all fronts. My wedding gifts are almost always late, I hate every kind of shower that doesn’t involve hot water, massaging jets, a loofah, and maybe a handsome and muscular co-bather, and I’m always trying to find ways to make baby/kid birthday parties bearable with things I need – like a flask or a couple Vicodin. I know it’s 2015 and these aren’t necessarily as weighty as they once were in determining a woman’s “ladylikeness”, but still some seemingly antiquated part of me feels the ghost of one of my prim and proper ancestors is looking down on me, shaking her head, pursing her lips, and wondering if my womaning shortcomings are a result of the Suffrage Movement.

I have been functionally and happily single for a very long time. I live alone with just my solace to keep me warm and home life sans someone to whom I’m accountable has been a dream. But what am I supposed to do if I get serious with some man? Like, what happens if he’s over, says he’s hungry, asks me if I’m cooking, tells me he’s willing to eat whatever I am going to have and I inform him the night’s culinary delight is baked chicken and Rice Chex? Does that mean something bad? I mean, I’m the type of woman to get a dress out of screen-shot-2013-10-28-at-12-40-41-pmthe hamper and rinse out the armpits in the interest of restoring freshness followed by blow drying it back to crispness. Surely, some publication should be knocking my door down to interview me about how a woman can really have it all – providing “all” means several new pairs of panties because I hate doing laundry, several boxes of cereal for culinary emergencies, and a drawer full of old dresses used as nightgowns. Yes, I am a winner.

I suppose if I really based my idea of who I am as a woman and how I measure up on those very traditional ideals, I would be a sad sap all the time. Fortunately, my talents, wit, sense of humor, writing abilities, and hall closet full of clean bath towels tells me I still have every right to hold my head up – even if I didn’t buy any of those towels as a wedding gift.

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