The Feminine Ideal

I have a secret. I fart. Are you shocked? I have, on occasion, been known to burp as well. I sneeze, I sometimes snort when I laugh, when I have a cold, my nose runs. I am guilty of biting my fingernails more than once in my lifetime...I have even done so in front of other people.

I know. You've lost all respect for me now, haven't you? I just couldn't keep it from you any longer. I felt like a fraud. Here I was pretending to be a woman and all the things that go with it and in fact, I was, well, human. Now you know the ugly truth.

I don't always shave my legs, or my armpits for that matter. Sometimes I go days....DAYS...without putting makeup on. I have been seen, in public mind you, wearing the same pair of jeans I wore the day before. I have committed the awful sin of peeing with the bathroom door open and poor, poor Russ has had to witness this. Thankfully, he forgives me these faults.

At this point I'm sure you're thinking, "Could this get any worse?" But it does. I have scars. There are scars from where I picked at scabs, despite the warnings of my mother, as a child. There are scabs from wounds I received as a result of actual physical labor as an adult, even though I know real women don't do that kind of thing. I even have some emotional scars that rear their ugly heads and make me say things that are less than, well, less than feminine.

I find myself wishing that there were someplace, a clinic or a hospital, that I could go to to get help for these glaring faults. Someone that could help me be more of a woman. Alas, all I have are articles like this: Surprising Sex-Appeal Deflators I promise that I will study hard and try to be a better example of everything a woman should be.