I am a woman. And like every woman, I have my good and PMS-y days. I get emotional, irrational and I even overreact sometimes. When it’s all too much, I have a good cry and when am through, I am as good as new and it’s on to the next one…
Staying faithful to womanhood, I take a minute or two to work on my nails, hair, face, you know… my appearance. So I file my nails and apply a nail hardener to keep them long (woe unto the woman who loses a finger nail in her ‘line of duty’), I paint my toenails and oil my legs. I give my face an exfoliating scrub once in a while and I pay the hairdresser a visit frequently enough to avoid birds building nests and laying eggs inside my weave. All in the spirit of keeping up with womanhood.
I enjoy being a woman. I love being a woman. And I embrace all the quirks and perks that come with it. But the truth of the matter is, sometimes my womanity gets in the way of my writing.
Here I was this Thursday afternoon, playing around with ideas in my head on what to write about in this week’s blog post. One sentence stared at me from the computer. One sentence that I had typed as the story started weaving itself together inside my head. It began;
“I have decided to cut my hair…”
Just when I was about to get into it and write to tell you about this decision, I got a phone call. On the other end was a disgruntled friend, who was not so pleased with me for something I did, or said (the details are still unclear) I picked up the phone when it rang and without any niceties, we got right into it. My friend expressed her disappointment in me, as I defended myself stating that I was entitled to an opinion, palatable or not. Barely two minutes into the conversation, we realized that we were not getting anywhere and so we hang up. No, she actually hang up first, and I had no choice really.
Through with this very unproductive conversation, I got back to the blank Microsoft Word page that was looking at me, begging me to fill it up. But I could not do it because I was not in the mood anymore. My train of thought had been interrupted (moodus interruptus?) I lost my mojo. Not that I was angry. I was just ‘out of it’. So I decided to go for lunch instead. Have some food (pun) for thought perhaps?
The beauty of being a woman is that you do not have to put a word, or an explanation to every emotion you go through. You only have to feel it. Be it something close to pain or disappointment, happiness or ecstasy. You only experience true womanhood when you can allow yourself to be you-a woman, without feeling the need to apologize for it.
Maybe I am stubborn and complicated, but I am also a woman. So it is perfectly fine. It’s perfectly normal. It’s perfectly woman.
If I get my mojo back in good time, I will complete the story that I had started telling about this decision to cut my hair. Will you think of me as less of a woman if I don a bald head? Mmmm….more food. For thought, that is.