For a long time, I think that I have taken a lot of pride in being my husband’s trophy wife, so to speak. Not by that specific definition, but I enjoyed the fact that I could play his arm piece, that he was proud to show me off. Maybe it is because I have always stayed home with the kids, and I haven’t had a career before I finally embraced my writing and began to define myself as something besides my children’s mother and my husband’s wife.
I am going through a bit of a struggle right now, because I have finally hit the point where I am no longer that woman, and I know that I cannot pretend to be that woman anymore. Of course, I will always be his wife, and I will always be a mother to my children, but it is a bit frightening to consider the fact that none of them will likely want to show me off anymore, because I am on the cusp of becoming completely socially unacceptable.
I remember the first time that my friends and I helped my kids to dye their hair in crazy colors. I told my husband that I thought I would like to dye my hair as well. He asked me please not to, his reasoning being that his new boss might see me and have a problem with it, he even had some concerns about his boss possibly seeing the kids and being bothered by their hair. My husband is a wonderful and incredibly respectful man, and he asked me very nicely, and I had no problem complying with his wishes at that time. That was two years ago though, and I have changed.
My dream is to succeed where my parent’s generation failed. My dream is to follow through on my ideals and to do what is right no matter what society likes, and that pretty much means that I am going to have to make a lot of people uncomfortable along the way, even the people that I care about. I don’t like making people uncomfortable at all, I like making people happy, but not living up to who I really am just isn’t serving me anymore. I’m not old enough yet that people will just discount me as a silly old crazy lady, and that is the very reason that I have the power to do so much good.
My appearance and my manner of speech have begun to strongly reflect the person that I have become. I am beginning to appear unfashionably muscular, and this is only going to increase. I have stopped wearing a bra because I believe that not only are bras a health risk for women, but that they truly are oppressive as well. I was talking to a friend of mine yesterday, and she said that she would absolutely hate not wearing a bra because boobs look so much better with one on. I laughed to myself when she said that, because that’s not true at all. We are simply trained to believe that they look better that way. The only good reason that I can see any sense in wearing one is so that I don’t put an eye out when I exercise. And yet, the boobs and the muscles are more noticeable than the nails that I always refused to have done, or the designer bags that I never carried, or the diamonds that I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing.
I have an old friend who recently came out as being transgendered. I haven’t spoken with this person in a long time, so I don’t understand his specific reasons for deciding that he no longer wanted to be a woman, but I do honestly wonder if he would feel this way if we lived in a better world, where being a woman didn’t mean that you had to pretend that you wanted to be a Barbie doll to fit in. I love being a woman, but I sure as hell am sick and tired of all of the plasticized garbage that comes along with the title.
I guess that I am coming out as well, slowly but surely, as myself. It isn’t easy, but then nothing worth doing ever is. At points it might be fun as well; I am sort of looking forward to cleaning out my closet and trashing all of my high heels. It is a challenge though. On one side I am angry and passionate enough to want to scream out my opinions, and on the other I am still left feeling like I don’t want to upset anyone with my logic and knowledge…because lord knows, there is nothing more offensive than logic and knowledge. Except for maybe women…and that needs to change.