I Love Being a Woman

Today I decided to start a blog. If you read my first posting then you know why I am blogging. But, aside from my friend who encouraged me, I really decided to because of six women I don’t even know.

I was having brunch with a friend today and she left the table to use the restroom. I was facing a table of six women, all chatting happily and loudly with one another. Now, normally I would feel a bit of jealousy because I was not a part of a group...but how silly would that be since I didn’t even know them?  But today, I smiled as I watched this group of women—one in a black tank top, one with a multi-colored designer purse, one with the color of blond hair I wish I had, one with a cell phone making arrangements to pick up her child from preschool. Each different but all sharing the same secrets of being a woman that no man will ever have the joy of knowing. And, oh, I loved what I saw and thought to myself how much I love being a woman! The psalmist says in Psalm 139:13 “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.” How awesome it is that God created me as a woman and that I would so enjoy everything about the feminine world!

I love being a woman. I have loved being a girl ever since I knew I was a girl--I mean, not a boy. I grew up in a home with two sisters, one older and one younger. My mom, of course, was a girl and I had a boy dad. That is just the way things were...there were no same-sex parent families (that I knew of and still actually don't) and each parent had a well-defined role. Mom was the caregiver...she bathed us, fed us, clothed us, told us when to take a nap, when to get up for school, decided when we needed new shoes, bought the birthday presents. Mom took us to doctor when we were sick, to apologize to the neighbor for picking her flowers without permission, to Vacation Bible school, to the grocery store to buy our first feminine hygiene products. She soothed an upset tummy, a broken heart, and tension between father and daughter after driving lessons. She taught us how to be a friend, a mommy, and a cook.

Daddy had a much different role. He was the provider of all. He went to work, fixed the car, roto-rootered the drains, paid the bills, and planted the garden. He is the one who ate the leftovers, cleaned the gutters, tin-foiled the bunny ears, and always, always ate bread and butter with supper. He also taught me math and how to drive, you know, those non-mom tasks.

Although I have the deepest respect and love for both of my parents and the "things" they did for our family, I have never wanted to be male, the dad, the provider, the strong . I don't like plaid shirts, power tools, back-pocket wallets, driving the crappy car of the family, or getting the lawn chairs down from the top of the garage. I don't like opening the super-glue-stuck pickle jar or un-jamming the garbage disposer. I don't like deodorant soap, calf-high socks, or carrying my keys in my front pocket. I don’t like golf on TV, wing tips, or color choices narrowed to blue, black, and brown. And I don't like getting any bugs out of the house...which we all know, of course, is the man's job.

No, being female is so much more pleasant and gratifying. I love the colors and smells and choices of being female. I love having every choice of color and pattern in everything...shirts, shoes, furniture, checkbook covers. Floral, stripes, abstract, modern, traditional, bling, belted, scrunched, flouncy, casual. Pink, red, teal, green, and colors that sound like food like plumberry, bagel, cinnamon, pumpkin, lime (especially lime), and lasagna (just kidding!) I love perfumes and powders and lotions and candles and soft soap and bubble bath and body cream, mousse, butter, and balm. I love flip-flops, high heels, tennis shoes, flats, sandals, clogs, and boots. I love any kind of purse which also comes in any of the above combinations of patterns and colors...not to mention style--clutch, hobo, satchel, with or without a long strap, some with lights inside, some with zippers, magnet closings, flaps, and all with a cell phone place.

But more than the things I like about being female are, well, other kinds of things. I like the door opened for me and knowing that most men, no matter where you are, will always open a door for you as you enter a public place. I like the traditional American option of being the stay-at-home parent and that that is completely "normal." I love several conversations with lots women around a table all taking place at the same time and being able to keep an ear on all of them and being able jump in and out of any one of them and not lose a beat. I like that I am the one who gets to be pregnant and bring new life into this world. I like to cry when I need to and that that is OK. I like chick flicks, shopping all day, having morning coffee with a friend that lasts until after lunch, wearing a nightgown, getting flowers, writing thank you notes. I love being the one my child wants most in the world when they are sick or sad. I love the range of emotions that I have and knowing that my girlfriends have them too and we all "get it" when you are crushed your husband doesn't notice that the house is dirty when you need him to or your daughter didn't get invited to a birthday party.

Yes, I love being a woman. The colorful, multi-faceted, emotional, fragrant, life-giving thrill of being a woman!