On Being a Woman

I believe womanhood starts earlier than most of us are ready for.

One of the first signs is the beginning of breasts. Maybe you get them early, too early, or maybe you fervently pray for them.

But they do show up and the first thing you are instructed to do is to cram them in a bra. And it's uncomfortable. And you really don't want to wear one but if you don't, you'll jiggle. That is something to be ashamed of.

You grow hair under your arms, another thing to be ashamed of. You must shave your underarms and your legs too.

The ultimate betrayal is the period. As if things couldn't get any worse, that comes along. And maybe your mother tells you, "Make sure to keep very clean down there, because boys can smell that and they know what it is."

Then you have something to be super ashamed of.

The obsessing begins. Your hair is too straight or curly or frizzy or the wrong color.

You're too short, too tall or too fat. You're embarrassed to eat at a restaurant because surely everyone is waiting to see what the fat girl will order.

The messages begin. Maybe they are unsaid or said out loud. But you receive them.

You can't say what you think because you might hurt someone's feelings.

You need a man to be happy.

You have to be thin to be desirable.

It's unfeminine to laugh too loud or act too smart.

Don't compliment yourself. That's bragging.

And maybe you buy into this and try to mold yourself into what society thinks you should be but you always feel inadequate.

You go on with life and meet that man, maybe.

You are so happy and you get married.

You buy the house. You have the kids.

How could life get much better? How could you love these children and this husband any more than you already do? You are truly happy.

You devote your life to taking care of them and meeting their needs until you wake up one day and realize you're not even good at that.

The house isn't clean enough. You don't put out enough. Not everybody likes what you cooked for dinner. Where's the clean laundry? How could you have forgotten open house? Why aren't you thin and pretty like so and so's Mom?

You keep running in your hamster wheel thinking if you run just a little bit faster you'll catch up. Life is blurring by while you run in that wheel.

But then you get resentful. You love the kids, you really do. You love your husband too. But you feel at times that they are vampires sucking the very life blood out of you.

And you realize it's your own fault, for buying into the myths of what a true woman is. It's your fault for devoting yourselves to them and forgetting who you were. And who were you really? You don't know. You were too busy obsessing over who you weren't.

You can't remember that last time you let out a belly laugh, the last time you found anything funny enough to laugh so hard about.

"Is this it?", you wonder. "Isn't there more?"

How do you rediscover yourself or find yourself or whatever the hell it is you need to do?

And how do you avoid that voice in the back of your mind that says you're selfish for even thinking about it?