Gentlewoman

Fourth post of the year, here it is. The theme? Being a woman. It’s tough. It’s awesome. Equal parts difficult to awesome. Do men feel the same? I think I’d like being a man. I tend to think like one.

If I were a man, I’d miss being a woman. Assuming it was a scenario where I went to bed a chick and woke up a dude. Hopefully, I could grow a dense beard.

Being a woman is difficult in terms of one thousand things starting with; societal boundaries, social expectations, lack of pockets in clothing, and being inundated with anti-aging products while men are free to look like leather couches that have been baking in the sun for a decade and they are still be cast in favorable light. Here I sit with golden collagen under eye masks and a murder documentary playing in the background. Ready to talk about my life as a lady.

What really bugs me is the confusion. I don’t really know how to do it, how to fulfill what is expected of me as a female. What are the guidelines, exactly? Who made them? Why must we follow them? What if they don’t fit me, like most shoes? What kind of woman should I be then? What kind of woman do I want to be?

Available on Amazon and Audible.

Another thing that itches, other than denim shorts, is the unavoidable pile of spaghetti that is the female pattern of thinking. All is connected and I don’t know why. A thought that begins with wanting chicken and waffles could end in wondering why someone I met years ago wasn’t into me. I just wanted to go to Denny’s, now I’m having a brief existential crisis feeling like Billie Eilish when she wrote Wish You Were Gay while the waitress innocently asks what I would like to drink. “Did he not think I was hot?”

“What?” She asked.

“Hot tea, with lemon.” My goodness. Relax and eat your waffles. You can’t repeat the past. Gatsby believed it could be done. Gatsby had ample resources and he was also disillusioned by time itself. 2020 will be a good year, maybe even a great one. Maybe even, dare I say, the best one yet. Those I know inexplicably believe so. Their hope is ferocious and not just for the future in general but for my future. I am hopeful for theirs as well. To hope is to be brave.

Bravery is a significant part of being a woman. It takes bravery to confront situations while being acutely aware and empathetic towards the feelings of others. It takes bravery and finesse to stick to one’s gun when making a point while of course, being nice. Why aren’t men told to be nice just as much as women? If niceness were stressed to the male gender like it is with the female, we would avoid a world of problems. It takes bravery to carry on despite being repetitively underestimated. It takes bravery to wear white jeans. It takes even more bravery to wear white with purple hair. Then it takes a washing machine and stain remover.

It’s okay to be confused. It’s okay to be tangled in spaghetti thoughts. It’s okay to be brave. It’s not okay to do it alone. Get yourself a group of women or at least one good one that can help keep you in check. People need people. Where are my people? Seriously, I need some friends.

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