I Ain't June Cleaver, Yo

When I heard the topic of the blog exchange, ‘what it means to be a woman,’ my first thought was somewhere along the lines of “oh lord in heaven, I’m SO not the person to write about what it means to be a woman.” I spent a couple of days pondering what I thought it meant to be a woman - and all the typical womanly issues came up. I thought of words like feminism, strength, dedication and soul. I wrote out a couple of lovely drafts, discussing how, despite our differences, we are all one in our feminism. Then I read those drafts and thought “Ugh - what a load of crap!”

So I thought I’d introduce myself to you all with what being a woman means to me. First of all, I’ve never once said the word ‘feminism’ out loud. I own the company I work for, which is a construction-based company, so I know all about making my own way in a male-dominated world, but I’m certainly not a burn-my-bra type of person. (If you saw my boobs, you’d know I NEED that bra.) I don’t do lipstick (gloss only, please), I don’t wear make-up most days, I will NOT wear pantyhose, I’d rather bite my nails than clip them, I prefer wearing ball caps, and I can’t remember the last time I put on a dress.

When our mothers were young – when I was young, you didn’t hear women saying they didn’t care about the frilly stuff. Because, really, they did. They wanted the newly painted house in ‘burbs, the three polished kids, the always-ironed skirt, the perfect hairdo. Nay, they needed those things – they were supposed to have those things. Heck, to this day, my grandmother irons everything everyday like a good little housewife – even her and her hubby’s pajamas. Because that’s what women do. And, how does my grandmother feel about the fact that I’m not married and don’t have kids at 30? Yeah, we won’t even go there.

The more women I hear open up, the more I find they, more often than not, feel the same way I do – and the more this whole ‘typical’ thing is becoming less and less. I find a lot of women now who don’t want the whole marriage-and-kids thing. And women who are married and have children are losing the Betty Crockerness that used to be, thank goodness. Heck, we admit now that we fart, we don’t shave everyday, we have ingrown toenails, and we pick gunk out of our teeth with our fingernails and don’t think twice about wiping it on our pants!

To me, this is what it means to be a woman – it means being real. It means being a human with flaws and annoying habits and smelly feet and uneven boobs. It means laughing at ourselves because at least we think we’re funny. It means not looking our best all the time and being just fine with that. And it certainly means not ironing our pajamas because we’re just going to pass out in them with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s on our lap anyway.

But mostly, being a woman means being truly honest about who we are, not who others think we need to be. But…um…don’t tell my grandma I said that other stuff, ok? She’s still upset about the kids thing.

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Written by C.M.Chase at www.tastetheworld.org.