Dear Diary,
Being a woman is very difficult for me. I'm not completely upset with being a woman, I like having boobs (as stretched and pancaked as they are) But I have an extra amount of dysfunction when it comes to relating to woman.
I'll start by listing all the things I love about women.
1) I love their bodies. All shapes, all sizes. How they carry themselves. How they accentuate. How they compensate.
2) I love their comfort. Through looks. Through food. Through snuggles.
3) I love their ability to be honest, when asked.
4) I love their vulnerability.
5) I love their hope.
6) And I love that they were created, because life, the world, was incomplete without her.
"Given the way creation unfolds, how it builds to ever higher and higher works of art, can there be any doubt that Eve is the crown of creation? Not an afterthought. Not a nice addition like an ornament on a tree. She is God's final touch.....She fills a place in the world nothing and no once else can fill. . . . . . The whole vast world is incomplete without (you) . . . ."
(An excerpt from Captivating. One of my favorite books)
And now I will list why being a woman is mind numbing and awful for me.
1) I can not handle all the crying. Sobbing. Whimpering. Snuffling. That occurs. And I'm not talking about legitimate crying. Because there is such a thing.
2) I can not handle the fakeness, the putting on aires. The wanting to be liked and accepted by all. The need to lie in order to not hurt feelings, to keep up reputations, to answer a question the way you think the other person wants the question answered. Not wanting to appear less than holy.
3) I can not handle the blatant inseccurities. The nonacceptance of who women are. Not knowing what type of love they deserve. And the inability to act like a lady.
I feel I relate better with men. But as you know, married women don't like their husbands hanging out with a lady girl. Which has left me to flounder in search of lady girl friends, since that's the appropriate thing to do. The socially acceptable thing. (Blah and gag)
. . . . . . .
Which has led me to try new things.
I walked into a death trap last night.
I would have rather gone to 3 baby showers and 1 mother daughter banquet. (Which is saying a lot - if you know me.)
Now I'm not dissing lady groups. A lot of lady girls benefit from such events. But put me in one of those *ahem* situations, and I get a little desperate with A LOT of excited. Nothing makes me start searching for excuses of some sort, to disappear. Or a weapon of deadly force to end the agony of my poor, nonlady girl self.
I will say, I was lead blindly into the death trap. And as soon as I walked in - to the intimate sized room with a large conference table, round robined with ladies . . . .I gagged. And if I were smart enough, I would have just excused myself right then and there announcing my diarrhea condition.
But I had hope. And I was feeling hopeful. And I wanted to extend myself in hope. That maybe. Maybe there would be something grand. I do want more connection. More intimacy with the lady types, since this is my lot in life. Being a lady, that is.
I will not go into details. But my night consisted of hearing and watching A LOT of sobbing and wiping of tears. Doodling on paper with colored pencils. Praying which included touching. A lot of touching. And sighing. And giggles. And more giggles. And more crying. And more touching. And tissue grabbing.
I do want to say again, nothing wrong with any of that. It just happens to be the part of ladyness that I get very nervous about. (I use the word nervous, lightly.)
Take Aways
1) If you know yourself well and thoroughly, stay away from things that make you hurl dinner chunks.
2) God knows the personality you have, be free in who you are.
3) Don't fit to the form of who you're not.
4) Because that's what somebody says you're suppose to do.
5) Ed likes to spit, so it all runs down his tum tum. And then he smears it into his belly button.
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