Guess it is time to admit to something. It isn’t really fashionable these days. It isn’t something a lot of women want to talk about. I am sort of embarrassed to go too far into the subject. I am one of these and I have been one of these since birth. Throughout my life I have had to push this condition to the very back of my mind while pretending to my children and some employers and employees and often to the world that I am something I am not. I have had to standup to strong men and some women and bullies pretending … and pretending again. I guess you could say I’m finally coming out of the closet.
Well, I guess I will just have to come out and say it. I am as feminine, as a feminine woman, can be. I have hidden this fact often because I have had to support my children. I pretended not to be afraid of anything so that they could look up to a mother who would be strong and stand up for them no matter what. They had to believe that I wasn’t afraid of snakes and spiders and mountain lions, and bears, and skunks, and mean dogs, and bullies, and teachers and ghosts and monsters under the bed, and storms and lightning, and thunder and turbulence when sitting on a very bumpy plane, the school principal and job interviews, and doctors and dentists. The list goes on and on. I was and am the person they look to, to keep things going, to pay the bills and most of all; to be there for them when things aren’t going smoothly, which unfortunately can be a lot of the time.
So, I have had to very often pretend to be something I’m not. I often had to be the mother and father and strong protector. Can I just say that in reality, I am the girl or woman in all of the early Disney movies… oh no, not the girls or women that are portrayed in the movies these days who are often seen slaying the dragon and saving the male hero, no, not me. I am the Disney girl who is singing while walking down the road with birds chirping flying ahead of her to make sure she is safe. I am the girl with long blond hair, smiling as little chipmunks dance around her feet. Oh my, see that hole up ahead with muddy water that could possibly dirty my shoes? Well the birds found a cape that they placed before my feet so I didn’t have to step in the mud and dirty my slippers. Did I wait for a prince to come and carry me away to his castle … no, I didn’t think that would happen, however, I did think everything in life would work out beautifully, eventually.
I’m mad about jewelry and velvet and ruffles. I love men who walk on the street side of the sidewalk so that dust or dirt or water doesn’t splash up on me. I adore receiving, flowers, or cards or any thoughtful gesture from a man. I blush and stammer when complimented. Now I will admit that I just adore a man who can take charge when I am flustered or frightened or cornered. In romance, I am not going to kiss you first. It isn’t going to happen. I love to flirt and tease and make subtle romantic gestures. I love a man the holds the door open for me and pulls out the chair. Love a man that calls on the phone to make a date for dinner and he picks you up and he pays the bill at the end of dinner. I know, I know, this is all old stuff and women make the dates and they often pay the bill or they split the bill. This is fine if this is a friend or a customer or it is a man you know from work. If a man really wants to win my heart you can’t go wrong by being a thoughtful, romantic, man who brings flowers and pays for dinner.
Even as a little girl I would play dress up wearing mounds of petticoats. I longed to put on lipstick and mascara as soon as it was allowed. I love sparkles, and sequins and pearls and diamonds and rubies; real or faux. Right now, in front of my mirror, there are ten bottles of the best fragrances waiting for me to layer the fragrances before I leave my apartment. I do not leave my apartment without my hair brushed and at the very least, light makeup applied, wearing earrings and jewelry … not too much, not too little.
Are there times when I show different sides to my personality? Occasionally, I will play the sexy vixen. Sure, and as I mentioned before, I have had to play the strong, powerful woman. I played it so often that now it IS a part of my personality. I have carried a tarantula spider out of my house in Arizona and tossed it over the wall to the unsuspecting neighbor’s lawn. I have confronted not one, not two, but four poisonous snakes in one night, in the front and the back of my house. I shooed away two bears and frightened a sleeping mountain lion. I stood up to a nasty teacher or two who had shamed my son and I told off a principal who was mistreating my child. I threatened a group of boys that were bullying my son. I talked back to an alcoholic boss and quit a job when I was being abused. I stared down a mugger who was trying to kill me. He didn’t.
As a woman and a single woman most of my life, it can be hard and a challenge to say the least. I can do it, I have done it and yes, if necessary, I guess I can be and stay the strong one, trying to survive and making all the decisions until the end of my life. However, lately, I was made aware of how very, very, nice and comforting it is to have some moments where I can feel like my REAL feminine self. Just to have someone else to make a decision, or pick you up when you are down and someone who cares if you are feeling blue, is actually a blissful experience. It would feel very good to be able to lean, just for a moment or two or three, on someone else, what a nice feminine feeling that would be for a little while.
Until Next Week …
2 thoughts on “The Girly, Girl”
This was really an interesting reflective memoir and it makes you three-dimensional in a very honest way. Note: where you wanted to say “lion”, I believe, you typed “loin” instead, which is a very different image, Sue.
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Thank you. I try to write the truth. I will change the Loin to lion.
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