Yes, I can still call myself a girl. I’m learning that’s a Southern thing.
I love being a girl because of sundresses and sparkly flipflops.
Ponytails, messy buns, and yoga pants.
Make-up, especially what hides my dark circles.
Always getting to be the passenger when in a car with Hubs.*
Not being expected to lift super-heavy things.*
Not having to deal with icky things.*
Having an excuse to cry at sad movies and books.
Having amazing girlfriends.
Getting to be called “mom.”
Oh yes, I like being a girl.
I’ve always been a girly girl and all that implies.
But, once a month, I’d give anything to give up my girl parts and be an ignorant man who has no clue just how much that time of the month completely and totally sucks. Please send chocolate.
*Yes, I play the helpless female card sometimes with Hubs. It’s my right as a girl. Shhhh.