Laundry sits in baskets, unfolded. Mail gathers on the counter, unread.
People are hungry, food begs to be cooked. The bathroom’s dirty. There are dishes to be washed.
Is this a woman’s world?
No wonder we suffer from depression twice as much as men.
Why do our lives need to play the role of savior?
Who will be our savior?
Why should we feel like a failure if the laundry piles up or the bed is unmade?
We shouldn’t, but I know we do.
Is our mission as a woman any less complete if we’d rather read a magazine and order a pizza one night as opposed to vacuum and cook?
What is our mission as a woman?
Just because a woman can do everything (and she can, ok?), doesn’t mean she wants to.
A woman, first, is a human.
She has feelings and needs and thoughts and dreams and aspirations.
She may want to be a mother, but she may want to be a mother also, along with other goals.
She may never want to have babies, so stop assuming.
She may want to have them, but be scared of losing herself, so stop asking.
What if we just want to fall in love with the idea of being in love, but forget what love really is because we get caught up in the mundane, woman’s world?
What if, as women, we want to see in color and dance and eat late and buy new underwear instead of washing old, boring ones?
What if we want to make rash decisions and scream when we should be “ladylike?”
Can we do this? Can we??
I know we can, but will we be judged? Maybe.
Should we care? HELL NO.