The Feminist Club

Dress like a Woman. Act like a Lady. Think like a Man. Work like a Boss.

Think like a Man? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Think like a Man... pfft....

When did Feminism become a secret society? Either you're in, or you're out. You either are, or aren't. You're either a Feminist, or a Chauvinist.

Wait. First, do we even know what the hell we're talking about? Let's check the dictionary.

Feminist: advocating social, political, legal, and economic rights for women equal to those of men.
Chauvinist: a person who believes one gender is superior to the other.

(Let it be stated for the record that according to the definition, Feminists can also be Chauvinists. For now, we'll just put that little tidbit on the side.)

 So a Feminist wants equality with men. It's no secret that in America, women are not equal with men. In fact, in America, the perfect person is a white male (again, so as not to ruffle any feathers and start a different debate, let's just put this comment over on the side with the Feminist Chauvinists).  Women get paid less for the same work. We have fewer opportunities or have to work extra hard for the same opportunities. With all of this, we are expected to bear and raise children and run households just like our ancestors.

If you don't believe this is true, then you've become an expert at turning a blind eye. If you don't want to believe this is true, stop reading.

Women really are the superior sex. Yes, I am biased because I am woman. If you need to ask why (hint: do so with caution), my main point is that we can bleed for a week straight, once a month, and not die. We have the ability to grow another human being. ANOTHER HUMAN BEING. That comes from us. Not only that, but we can then nourish said human being with nothing but our own bodies in the form of milk. I, for one, am willing to take a pay cut in order to have those facts on my resume. You may take my salary, but you'll never take my biological awesomeness.

Does this make me a Feminist? Ha! I'm a Midwestern housewife. I spend my time raising my three babies, cooking, and cleaning. I've been barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen more than a few times. Does this make me the opposite of a Feminist? Is anyone else sick of hearing that word?

Almost every young woman, in the course of her life, will have to make a choice. Either children and family or career. I had to make the choice. I'd like to say that's why I'm not a doctor, but the truth behind that is that I'm not smart enough, dedicated enough or focused enough for a career like that. However, I knew that I wanted a family and that I couldn't have the best of both worlds, so I made a choice.

Now before I get any more eye rolls, I made a choice. This is not to say that every single woman has to either be a housewife or have a career. Most women have the career and children and do it all (I'd say this is another reason for us being the superior sex, but most men do this too). I knew that I couldn't do it all and have it all. It just wasn't in me. I have limited focus, and I had to choose where to put that focus. 

When I was working, the statement that started this whole little ditty was my motto. And I got a lot of flack for it but never really understood why. After working in a field where the upper tiers were primarily composed of men, here is my defense.

Dress like a Woman. Marilyn Monroe is quoted as saying "You're clothes should be tight enough to show you're a woman but loose enough to show you're a lady." How a person dresses says a lot about them. I like myself, so I want to dress myself to look nice. It just turns out that I also have hips and boobs and calf muscles that look awesome in heels. I'm a woman, so I'm going to dress like a woman and not have any shame in it. If a woman - scratch that - if a Person walks into a board meeting in sweat pants, no one will take them seriously. Put that person in business attire and people pay attention. Appearances matter, people, whether you have ovaries or not.

Act like a Lady. A lady is refined, polite and well spoken. She is quiet and knows how to get her point across without raising her voice. Being a lady is an art form. It doesn't mean you take any crap just because of your gender. It means you can give the crap back in tenfold and leave the other person wondering what just happened. Winston Churchill once said "Tact is the ability to tell someone to go to hell in such a way that they look forward to the trip." Being a lady is being chock full of tact.

Think like a Man. This is the one that gets all the Feminists our there blazing. Think like a Man. What the... No really. Think like a man. Try it. It's liberating. Why? They don't care about emotions. Okay, they care, just not in the same way women do. Scientifically, men and women are different when it comes to emotions. This isn't society talking, it's brain structure and chemicals. The statement simply means to take the emotion out of an equation. Look at the facts. When making a decision, a woman will take another persons emotions into consideration. Men generally don't, at least not to the extent that women do. I was best at my management job when I wasn't pregnant. I was able to take an unbiased approach and look at situations without crying. When I was pregnant and surging with hormones, everything was based on feeling. Not good.

Work like a Boss. Now we've all had that kind of boss that doesn't seem to do much work. These aren't the bosses we're talking about. We're talking about the kind of bosses that lead by example, that have worked their way into their position and not forgotten the journey. The ones that are first to roll up their sleeves and get to work. That is the type of boss we all should strive to be. Work like a boss means to work the hardest because you have the biggest plate of anyone to fill.

Women really are the superior sex. Maybe not in the corporate world or the political world or the financial world. Yes, we have to work twice as hard sometimes and make sacrifices. And that is why we are superior. We work twice as hard, we make the sacrifices, we take the pay cut and we keep going. We are women. We are resilient. We keep going.

Marilyn Monroe also said that "Women who seek to be equal with men lack ambition." Such a true statement on so many levels. We are not equal with men. We have the ability for so much more, and we show that in so many ways on a daily basis.

Am I a Feminist? A Chauvinist? Are they the same thing?

I am woman.

Now here me roar.

 



 

A Little Help From My Friend

Ever heard of premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD)? It's like PMS, only waaaaaay worse. Like, sit in bed and let your head spin around while green puke spews everywhere worse. Like, ugly cry because you're the worst parent on earth just because the grilled cheese got a little too dark worse. Or in my case, smash a perfectly good plate on the floor just because someone said "mommy" one too many times in that specific tone worse.

I joke (because it's a coping method), but seriously, PMDD is serious. It's not just regular PMS. Sure, all that fun stuff is also included. But then add a heaping teaspoon of psychotic with about a half cup of unstable emotions, put it all on a giant bloated roller coaster and watch the fun begin. If you want a scientific and actually information description, visit here: http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/premenstrual-syndrome/basics/symptoms/con-20020003.

Like I said, it's serious. Serious enough for me that I knew something was wrong, that freaking out on the kids for being kids was not just normal PMS. My mood swings were starting to impact my daily life. I didn't want to do anything. Literally. All I wanted to do was sit on the couch all day and watch TV - in silence, alone. By the way, I'm a stay at home mom. Silence and Alone are two words that have entirely vacated my vocabulary. I didn't want to feed my kids let alone play with them. I sure as hell wasn't about to put pants on and bring them to the library, of all places.

But that wasn't the worst of it. The violent outbursts were the worst. My son started acting them out, throwing his toys across the room and screaming over the slightest inconvenience. My daughter would run, hide and cry if I stood  up off the couch too fast. My husband would yell back and we would get into such heated arguments that I would declare I didn't want to be his stupid wife anymore. It was hell, and my family was paying the price.

It had progressively gotten worse. I could feel it. I could tell that this wasn't normal. I didn't want to be like this, but no matter what I did, I couldn't control it. I did an online search, found a few links for PMDD, took a few self-assessments and came to a startling yet comforting resolution: its not me, it's the hormones.

I wasn't a bad person, a bad mother or a bad wife. I had a disorder, one I couldn't simply control with positive thinking and willpower.

The exact cause for PMDD and PMS isn't known, but there are theories as to what some contributing factors might be. Had I always had this? Probably, to an extent, but never this bad. I'm thinking it has something to do with the fact that I've had three children and am nearing my 30s. That's just my theory, however.

I went to my doctor. I mentioned PMDD and how I have violent outbursts. The conversation pretty much went like this:

Me: I think I have PMDD. I've taken some self-tests and I have a majority of the symptoms.
Dr.: Well, it's normal to have mood swings with PMS...
Me: I throw plates.
Dr.: You need Prozac.

I stared at him. Wow. That was quick. In my research, certain anti-depressants were listed as a treatment option, but so were lifestyle changes and birth control.

Picking up quickly on my hesitation, my doctor explained that many studies have been done and that when it comes to PMDD and severe forms of PMS, only a low-dose form of Prozac (known as fluoxetine) has been shown to help. I asked about birth control, but he explained that the birth control fluctuates with the menstrual cycle, so it wouldn't help even out the mood swings.

I was hesitant - very hesitant. Prozac? An anti-depressant? I was one of those mothers? I imagined myself in a 1950s ensemble (complete with pumps and sunglasses), sitting on my deck with a long cigarette in one hand and a martini in the other. It's one in the afternoon while the children play in the yard. I would be oblivious to their wants and needs and go about my life in a drug-induced haze.

My doctor made it clear that it really was my only option, and that he didn't have any doubts that it was what I needed and that it would work. I trusted him. This is the man that had been with me through all of my pregnancies (including two miscarriages). He's delivered all three of my babies. He wouldn't tell me this if it wasn't what I needed to hear. And I'd rather have to pop a pill every day than have my kids live in fear of me and ruin their childhood.

So pop a pill I did. And after a week, I already notice a difference. True, it could have been the placebo effect and I was actually more calm because I was using this little white pill as a crutch. But the other night I read stories to my kids before bed. I mean, I wanted to read them stories before bed. Like, they told me no more stories mom, we're tired and want to go to sleep now. I hadn't done that in months. So even if it was the placebo effect, I was okay with it, and so were my kids.

I waited it out, since it usually takes 5-6 weeks to be fully effective. Forward to 6 weeks later. The yelling has decreased. I haven't slammed a door or thrown a toy or screamed so loud my throat hurts in at least three weeks. I have more energy. I have more focus. I see my kids now, hear them laughing and playing and giggling instead of just hearing noise that used to irritate me. I love my children all over again. I feel like the mother that I once was, that I always wanted to be, but this time with a reflection in the mirror instead of a guilt-trip in that scary little head of mine.

Do I still get angry, upset or lose my patience? Yes, because I'm a mom, not a robot. It hasn't turned me into a zombie like I feared. Not everything is seen through fuzzy rose-colored glasses. Some days aren't so good, but I have many more great days that not-so-good-days. At least now I feel like I have control over my emotions and actions. If I act out, it's because of me, and that's something I can fix.

I don't want to be on an anti-depressant and face all the stigma that comes with it. Am I crazy? Probably, but my friends and family already knew that. I'm still me, just a little better. A little brighter.

I've decided that I'm not going to be ashamed of it, which is why I'm writing this. My children and husband will thank me one day. The first rule of parenthood is to ask for help. So I did, because I needed help. I wanted help.

And I got it.

Note: Please, don't be ashamed of talking to your doctor about your emotions. We all want to be super parents, but caring for others all the time is hard on a person - physically, mentally and emotionally. If you feel angry or sad or violent, tell someone. 

To My Daughters For When Someone Breaks Your Heart

"I have looked at you in millions of ways and I have loved you in each."

Please, when you say this, I beg that you are looking at your own reflection and not some poor schmuck that you think will solve all your problems.

Love is real. Love is amazing. This morning I looked at your father and realized that even after 11 years and 3 kids and all the fights that I love him, that I am in love with him, probably more now than ever before.

But this saying does not apply to us, and I don't want you to grow up thinking that love is all unicorns and butterflies and some form of royalty on a white horse. I don't want you to think that your sole purpose in any relationship is to be wholly and entirely in love all the freakin' time. Because it's not.

Your role in a relationship is to love, yes, but by means of support and honesty and a deep caring for the other person's well being. You might not always like them. Hell, you might not always love them. And that's okay. Sometimes that will mean that it's over. Sometimes it won't.

Here's the secret that most people don't admit: they don't always love their partner. I've looked at your father before and not loved him. I know, shocking. In fact, there's been a level of despise, a level of "what the hell was I thinking?" There's been a wandering eye, but never a wandering heart. Because the simple truth of the matter is that we are better together. Not always great together. But I know that I am better when I am with him. He doesn't complete me, and he doesn't make life worth living, but I'd hate to live a life without him.

What I'm saying is, if you hinge your entire aspect of happiness on someone else or the idea of love, you will forever be continually disappointed. Be a willing participant in the throngs of love and all the amazing heart-skipping moments it can offer. But never, ever think that you are not worthy just because someone doesn't love you back.

Don't ever feel like you have to compromise yourself for the sake of love. Remember that you hold the cards. You make the decisions. What's right will be right and what ends up being wrong will be a powerful lesson. People will break your heart. You will end up making someone cry. Sometimes you will care. Sometimes you won't. Love is something that happens. There is no magical situation, no fairy godmother with a wand, no prince waiting for his princess.

There is you, a bright and beautiful human being, capable of giving and taking and feeling and kindness and above all, being smart about the human nature and forgiving of it's consequences. Fall in love. Fall out of love. Do it with grace or with a sickening bone-cracking thud. Don't be afraid of getting hurt or learning lessons, and don't be fooled by the sly creatures that prey on you.

Because when it happens, it will happen, slowly and all at once (to quote the infamous John Green). Most times, it will fade, but when the time comes, it will last. You will have your doubts, but at the end of the day, you will love. Love is about meeting the right person at the right time in the right circumstances and when you are in the right frame of mind. Love is scary, it's sad, it's angry. But it's beautiful.

Love is something you already have in you. It's a part of who you are. It's an ever evolving universe inside your soul. When you meet that person, you will end up loving their flaws, their quirks. You'll even love that they make you mad and will miss this when they are not around.

But before any of this can happen, you have to love yourself. Look at yourself in a million ways and love each and every one of them. Without this, love is not possible.

And never, for one split second, let anyone convince you that even one of those million ways is not worth loving.