On Being a Woman

Being a woman is hard work. I think most women would agree with that statement. And, just so we’re clear, I’m not saying that it’s easy to be a man. I just think that sometimes it’s harder to be a woman.

Look at us. I think each of us has earned the title of “Super Woman”.

If having beautiful, well-behaved, kind children, a lovely home, and ethereal beauty are marks of being a Super Woman, then Sister #1 definitely has that title. I ask myself all the time…how does she do it? Has she invented some kind of Super Mommy elixir that makes her so gentle and wonderful with her children? And is there some kind of Patience Potion that she takes so she doesn’t totally freak out when her husband decides to “fix up” a room and it turns into something that should really be showcased on Extreme Makeover: Home Edition? I mean, hello?? Who wouldn’t want to show off that fireplace, right? And blonde hair and porcelain skin are things that I thought only existed in fairy tales. On top of that, Sister #1 has the genes that make her talented and artsy-crafty-scrapbooky-look-at-my-home-isn’t-the-décor-so-perfect. Lucky woman.

Sister #2 (that’s me!) has earned the Super Woman title by being crazy enough to balance a full-time job with being a full-time mom and making baby food (and now healthy toddler food) and making home-cooked dinners almost every night and teaching part-time and now going back to school for a doctorate and cleaning the bathrooms and kitchen 2-3 times per week and managing a painful medical condition that sometimes leads to a strong desire to let out an ear-splitting scream and making curtains for the bedroom because all the curtains in the stores are too ugly and too expensive to go on the windows in my house and…(gasp, gasp, pant, pant, pant)...perhaps it’s not really a Super Woman title, but more of a Crazy Woman title. Hmmmmm.

Sister #3 has earned the Super Woman title, too. Going to school and working in Washington, D.C. is nothing to scoff at. How does she manage the demands of graduate school and work and politics and all kinds of activities and looking for a full-time job for post-graduation and being a good friend to everyone (even people she would sometimes like to strangle) and still manage to hold it together? It must be Super Woman powers. Or, well, wait a minute…how much wine do you keep in your apartment?

And Sister #4, though just embarking on the journey of adult life, is a Super Woman, too. She juggles school, work, friendships, relationships, comes over to baby-sit, helps me plot revenge, deals with the craziness of living at home…all those things that are required as the basic foundation of Super Woman-dom. Good job, kiddo!

We are Super Women. All of us. And I think that most women have no idea how super they are. That hit me today while I was driving to work this morning, and a woman in a minivan pulled up next to me at a stoplight.

She had no hair. None. Zip. Zilch. And I did a double-take. I know it wasn’t polite, but for a brief moment, I stared. She was sitting behind the wheel, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel to whatever music she was listening to, occasionally glancing in the backseat and smiling at the two little children sitting back there. And I saw where the seatbelt crossed over her, that there was no division. She had no breasts.

No breasts. No hair. Two things (three, if you count breasts as two separate things) that most women use to define themselves and their femininity…and this woman had neither. And she was driving along, presumably taking her kids to school, smiling like she didn’t have a care in the world, like it didn’t matter that the sun was glinting off her bald head. Like she was thinking, who needs hair when you’ve got fabulous earrings like these?

Even if she was faking the smile for the sake of her children, it doesn’t make her any less of a Super Woman. If anything, it makes her more of a Super Woman. So often, I get all whiny about how chaotic my life is and how I wish I had more time, more money, less work, blah, blah, blah. But this woman…whoever she is…she may not have time. And looking at her face, and finally meeting her eyes when she caught me looking at her, I realized that I can learn from her example. I can smile more often in the face adversity. I don’t have to wait for some kind of crisis to make me appreciate what I have in my life. I can do everything that I’m capable of doing, and at least try things I’m not sure I’m capable of doing. We can all do that. And I see now that we are doing it. We do it every single day. Sure, sometimes we get a little down, but each and every one of us shows the true mark of a Super Woman—hitting the ground when life gives us a swift kick right where it hurts, but never staying on the ground for very long.

We are women. Super Women.