Thursday, April 23, 2009


I am openly... conflicted.

There. At least I admit it.

I grew up in the 60's and 70's - the whole woman's lib, going bra-less (yeah, I used to be able to get away with it, can you believe it?), wearing jeans, equal jobs, equal pay...

Well, we are still working on the last two, right?

But I was a feminist.

I wouldn't let guys open doors for me - I would ask them to dance rather than wait to be asked (which, at least at high school dances, guaranteed a lot of time dancing) - I at least three times got hired for jobs that were supposed to be 'male' jobs (and had to go through a whole lot of convincing, all three times).

I had to re-train my husband when we first began dating; he had been taught that the girl/woman should wait in the car until the guy came around to open the car door for her.

Yeah, that happened. Once.

I have no problem with politeness - my sole objection was being treated in a different manner because I was female.

Now, fast forward about 35 years.

I am at that age where I am not quite ready to be given a senior discount... but I'll ask for one. I'm proud to be a grandmother... but I secretly enjoy it when people say, "No! You're not old enough to be a grandmother!" and all those polite expressions that are used.

And I admit that I enjoy being, well, mistaken for a MATURE individual - someone who has had experience. I have enough gray hairs that I can b.s. my way through a WHOLE lot of stuff.

So when a man opens a door for me NOW, I now take it as a sign of RESPECT, not sexism rearing its ugly head.

And, I must admit, that when I have 1,050 lbs. of hay to unload from my pickup and into a hay shed...

I would like a man to at least OFFER to help.