As a child I had no interest in dolls. Yup, when all my friends played with their ceramic, stuffed or plastic family, combing, washing, feeding, changing, burping I watched and thought ..ugh. I had my share of these, even one as tall as me, in a wedding dress, Walking Doll, and found their company boring. I envied my brothers their Meccano Sets with the nuts and bolts and wrenches.
At about three I had a miniature tea set and table and chairs and my grandmother would visit and we would have ‘tea’. It was a good way to learn proper table manners but I remember my three year old brain wondering why anyone would pretend to pour tea and pretend to drink it. No satisfaction there.
Books were my big interest and instead of imaginary friends I daydreamed of being in the far east with Pearl S. Buck’s characters, thinking I would make a pretty good missionary or geisha girl, or working as a nurse with Dr. Tom Dooley in the jungles of Africa healing the sick and stamping out disease. I also lapped up all information on martyrs and considered that like Joan of Arc I could go out in flames. I just knew martyrdom was my destiny (that goodness I was wrong on that one). For a long time I was an archeologist having adventured with Howard Carter in finding King Tut’s tomb and the curse of course. I wasn’t that crazy about Nancy Drew but could not get enough of Trixie Belden.
I had crushes on boys but not in that sighing lovey way, I wanted to be on their team while they skated in our backyard in the winter and dove on the high diving board in the summer.
As an adult when at parties with other couples I had no interest in sitting with a group of women chatting about style, hair, or gossip. I wanted to be swimming, climbing, laughing with the boys/men and I usually did. When visiting in England once, following tea the men said, “Well we are off to the pub.” I don’t think my female hostesses were too pleased when I jumped up and said, “Great! I’m going too.” And I did.
I am not a shopper and it seems almost blasphemous to admit it when I have dear friends and loved one who LOVE to shop and will do so for hours at a time. My SIL calls it retail therapy and can even go for hours, not buy anything and come home feeling satisfied. I just don’t get it. If I need something I shop and hope the stars and the universe are aligned so I can find what I need quickly and painlessly. I do have to say I envy their results in finding great deals but everything I like at a particular moment is not on sale.
This one I think is probably the biggest sin in ‘girl world’ and I hope none of you scorn me for it but…. I just cannot see what the fuss is about purses, handbags, pocketbooks, bags… well you get the idea. Now I know men can carry them too, but an inner voice keeps telling me they must have been invented by men to keep women subservient and dependent upon their protection. With our arms full we cannot defend ourselves or move freely. Think about it, men generally walk free, while we tote a thing, which to my mind slow us down, weighs us down, and stops us from freedom. And why do we want to subject ourselves to that? You can imagine my horror when women began craving not only the dreaded purse but bags that cost hundreds of dollars. Just to be able to say the words – Coach Bag.
***I have given in somewhat to purses large enough to hold my computer or tablet as these are definitely important but oh my I do feel like a genetic outcast because I cannot embrace ‘The Bag’
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming ... Theodore Roosevelt