I like makeup and gettin' pretty.
I like doing my nails.
I like making things beautiful in my home - creating - willing something into being - watching the evolution of my thoughts take place right before my eyes.
I like girlfriends. I like connecting with a fellow WOMAN - that amazing bond that can happen - that deep, indescribable friendship that makes life worth living.
And I love that I get to be part of this amazing miracle called birth - to feel a human being inside me, to be there when he takes his first breath - and then to be an intimate witness to the development of a real person - with likes and dislikes and a whopping big personality.
To be a mother.
So yeah, this whole woman thing - I dig it.
What's with the up-down?
The up-down. The "oh-you-just-had-a-baby-let's-give-you-the-ole-up-down-to-see-exactly-how-fat-you-still-are"- that only other women do.
These are, of course, the same women who - when you lament that you are really sick of wearing maternity clothes, especially when you're not pregnant anymore - dutifully exclaim "it hasn't even been two weeks! Give yourself a break! You look great!"
And then - the up-down.
There's the blatant up-down, eyes traveling slowly but surely from your double chin to your still-swollen ankles. There's the covert up-down, checking out your potbelly when you think I'm not looking. There's the casual up-down, the quick journey just to assess that yes, my hips are still woefully six inches wider than they're supposed to be. It always makes me want to pirouette when I catch someone at it.
"You like what you see, baby?!"
Thing is, I'm guilty of the up-down myself. It's like this instinctual reflex that only a fellow estrogen junkie can comprehend. I don't mean anything by it - as I'm sure other females don't - I'm not judging - as I sincerely hope other females aren't - and yet, I can't help it. I can't blame them.
I'm a woman too.
(It still rocks.)