Yeah. I feel like I have to follow up my post this morning. Perhaps I came off as bitter? Yesterday I got a glimpse of what life will be like in a few weeks when I am the only female in my office. I had fun spending the day with the guys. Except for the moments when I was treated like one of the guys. Except for the moments when I was not. Crazy, I know. I can’t explain it. OK. I can. Sort of. But I feel like a dumb girl when I try to.
Generally I’m the strong girl. You know…the one who will carry speakers through an airport when you’re on a mission trip. The one who girl who is allowed to walk alone, at night, through a campground, when all other females must be in a group. When I was a kid, I split wood with my father for our fireplace. I learned how to use a hammer, a screwdriver, a drill. But it was not until recently that I learned how to apply makeup in an attractive way.
So, when I find myself in those moments when I am treated like a “girl,” when I am not allowed to carry heavy boxes because my wrist is acting up, I find myself in an identity crisis. “Why are you treating me like a girl?” Oh. Yeah. I. Yeah. Got it. But, when I am not treated like a girl, I wonder why I am the one who builds the bookshelf with little or no assistance. Or why I am called upon to clean up the table.
Why am I writing this? I am trying to flesh out what I’ve been going through. It’s noone’s fault that I want to be treated equally yet like a girl yet not like a girl. How can I expect others to understand what I am wrestling when I, myself, cannot wrap my head around it.
And then there is the underlying stuff that is going on. The nerves. The giggles. The weirdness that comes along with the stuff. I don’t do girly all that well. Yet I find myself being girly. I can’t stand the drop in IQ. Seriously. I hear myself saying things and I’m like, “What the heck was that?”
Now that I’ve dug myself a proper hole, I’m going to pass out. It is way past my bedtime.
Perhaps I will not be held responsible for what I have said under the influence of exhaustion.
Deneen White 