The Recently Married Feminist

I just got married two weeks
ago and for any female who has been married (spoiler alert to those we are about to tie the knot) the next question society throws at you once you answered the first one (you know, the marriage one)  sounds a little something like “Soooooo when are you two having kids?!?”. This line is usually said with a winking expression and a little too excitement.  As if I did not get enough angry car ride talks from my own mother my entire adult life I now get it from the random Great aunt I didn’t know I had, the random Facebook stalker and even worse, the coworkers you have to face on a daily basis. Today, a random Wednesday, I got the stomach flu at work. Yep the horrible “I don’t think I can make it though the rest of the day” kind of stomach bug. So, after a quick exit and a few too many episodes of shark week on the couch I get a phone call from my work ally and bff. She informed me that everyone at work was practically giddy once I left claiming that they knew all along that I must be pregnant. I mean clearly a stomach flu, food poising or  just being sick was completely out of the question. The last time I had the stomach flu nothing was thought of it but, then again I wasn’t, wait for it….. married. Since I am now married apparently the only option for me is to be with child. Its literally been two weeks and in the words of my husband “I mean I know I’m Latin but even if we were trying I’m not that good.” It literally blows my mind that such sexist and stereotypical thoughts are coming from WOMEN. That all I must want to do is get hitched and knocked up asap. Now, for this next part you may want to find a chair and sit down because it is a bit out there.
I want to finish my degree. I want a career. I want a downtown apartment with a fast paced life and bright lights. I want long flights to different places and lots and lots of read books filling my walls. I want meaningful tattoos and super late Sunday brunches. And, as of this moment I do not want children. If you are still breathing congratulations, you are one of few. The other day I was wearing a new outfit and my classic red lips when someone came up to me and said “wow you look really nice you must have a hot date with your new husband”. Innocent yes, until I really saw the look on their face when I said “no” and meant it. Why is it such a far fetched idea that I may look absolutely fabulous simply for myself. I wore that red lipstick because I felt good. I bought that new outfit and rocked it because I wanted to. While I love my husband more than anything he is not just my husband and I am just his wife. We are friends and partners and confidants. He doesn’t get asked if the reason he chose his outfit today was because his hot wife was taking him out. He doesn’t leave work early with the stomach flu to come back the next day having to explain that no, he isn’t pregnant he simply ate something bad. The idea of him being married does not consume his public identity. He is not seen as a “husband” in the outside world he is seen as himself. His career self, his friend self, his home self; none of which are affected by his new role of husband. I do not believe it to be fair that all my roles have vanished in society and I have been left with one role. Wife. Along with this role I have expected actions and much like the child who does not complete their homework I am punished for my inability to live up to this out of date role. I am independent and a wife. I am a full time student and madly in love. I dress for myself and I like being taken care of. There is more to me than the title society has recently bestowed upon me and, so are you.

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The Day I Forgot to Wear Makeup

If you made it through the title (a little lengthy l I know) then you will know what your lovely little eyes are about to read. I decided not to go with a moody, could be something but not sure title and stick right with the point. Trust me I took AP English in high school, I know what its like to spend hours having to decipher what the author possibly, probably meant by using that one word melodramatic title line. But, back to the point. This was one hell of a week may I add. Most people would simply blow through this title and mumble quietly to themselves “get some real problems lady”, but you didn’t, go you. While this problem may seem like something small in a world filled with violence and mass corruption lets remember, I am a Type A perfectionist and if you are unfortunately there with me then you get the heaviness of this problem. This problem also taught me an important lesson, funny how the world does that to you isn’t it? Lets start at the beginning shall we?

Well lets begin with the ‘forgetting to wear makeup’ thing. As a young women, who goes to school and holds down a job one would expect that you wear makeup on a regular basis as to not look ‘tired’ or I don’t know, like a 15 year old maybe. Forgetting to come into work wearing makeup is a mountain I had yet to climb, until last week that is. I came in to open work at 8 am and upon stepping across a mirror, realized that I had failed upon leaving the house to apply even a drop of makeup. Yep you heard me right, early morning on the job, sans makeup. Quite a scene that sets. I instantly went into a deep panic and when I say panic I mean I freaked out. I didn’t bring anything with me except lipstick and that wouldn’t help a sister at the moment. I immediately messaged by fiance and asked how on this precious earth had he forgotten to remind me that ‘hey you are leaving the house looking all sorts of crazy’? To which he simply replied that it wasn’t a big deal, that I was pretty and he hadn’t noticed. Which sounded like a lot of blah blah blah to a women who had just walked into her place of employment looking like a bag lady. Until I could run out and grab some drugstore eyeliner I knew I would be fresh faced and hiding my face. About a steady hour into hiding my unmascaraed face with my hair and computer, I started thinking. And, this is where the life lesson comes in. Why in the literal world was I so scared of not wearing makeup when this is how I look. And, no amount of makeup would ever change how I look when I take it off and lay my head down to sleep each night (quick side note to all my ladies, make sure you take that makeup off at night unless you want to wake up with those dreaded raccoon eyes or even worse…..a pimple).These beady blue/green eyes, transparent eyelids and naturally rosy cheeks belonged to me. I sound like a real knockout don’t I? But, this was the way I was made, this is the face I have been given and we must live in a pretty messed up society if I felt ashamed of it. If I literally spiraled into a mid morning panic thinking that GASP, someone would see my real face. That begs the question of what the heck is wrong with the world? Well there is too many things to really put down here in words but something that we can start to do is stop loosing our minds about looking done up and perfect. Because frankly we aren’t. We have pimples and bags under our eyes and scars with long stories. We have too curly hair, too straight hair, too wavy hair. But hey, that is what makes us ourselves, our unique uneven skin toned selves.Think about it, can you to leave the house without makeup and still think, I may not look like Americas next top model, but I am myself and that is a great thing to be? If you are a mother then don’t let makeup rule your idea of beauty, children will latch onto that. A day never really went by when I didn’t see my mother putting on at least eyeliner before we went anywhere and upon forgetting hear the ‘OMG I AM NOT WEARING ANY MAKEUP’ panic we all know and love. Unfortunately the society we live in pressures women of all ages to a obtain an unrealistic expectation of beauty. From young teens to women in their sixty’s, there is some sort of pressure. We all think to ourselves, well hey those celebrities are 14 but look 20. Or, those sixty year olds look 40.Which is not realistic. Those celebrities don’t even look like those celebrities. By the time makeup artists, Photoshop, fans and airbrushing gets done with them they become the poster child of an unrealistic and way out of control beauty system.Embrace that  no matter how many times you try your eyelashes will never curl properly and, no matter how much contouring you do, you in fact still have a round face. Embrace that you have freckles (if any of you want some, I have plenty to go around) and embrace the fact that you will never be able to tan. Embrace your big nose or your small nose or your long nose. Embrace the color of your eyes and the way that your skin is never perfect. I challenge everyone to take a step outside their comfort zone regarding appreciating your natural beauty. Whether that be not putting on makeup to go to the gym or taking a #nofilter, no makeup selfie, do something. You are beautiful and stunning and all the other adjectives your little heart can think of. Be proud of who you are, rosy cheeks and all. 

Just you and I

I lay here on this leather couch, the sun just set, the stars are rising in the sky. The light from the moon begins to slowly spill through the open shutters and the room becomes filled, ocean deep in a soft glow. We lay together, you and me, just the way it works best. There we are, smothered in moonlight in that quiet room clinging to each other,  too afraid of what would happen if we let go. If I open my eyes will you have just been a sweet and perfect dream? The kind of dream that leaves you breathless, the kind that takes you hours to separate from? Will the long walks by the river and the warm summer sunsets drift away like all my other dreams. If I breathe too loudly will I blow all of this away like a child blows a freshly picked dandelion in the summer time, will you have just been my single wish? If I blink will our lives flash before me too rapidly for me to stop it? Will I flash forward and miss all this life has to offer us? If I fall asleep will I wake to us in our old age laying in the warn in, butter cream sheets in the home we have had for 50 years? We cling to each other because we are too afraid of what would happen if we let go. My breath begins to quicken and I feel your grasp on me grow tighter, are you thinking of this too? I want to sink in the cold,crisp ocean with you, and drink the tartest wine in Italy, I want to get a sunburn in the Caribbean and never stop holding your hand. I want to fall asleep under the perfect set of stars, and dance in the middle of the street, no street in particular, just about all of them. I want to smell your cologne on your neck and run away to Paris for awhile. I want our laughter to fill the quiet streets on a cold night, I want to get lost in the jungle and, meet every member of your family. I want to build a million tents and see a million places and be with only you.  I have a full life planned for you and I, don’t let me go.

Memories

Have you ever wondered why you remember little tiny details from your life, usually lasting only a few moments and that seem to hold no real value? Because, if you are like me, I cant seem to remember what I had for breakfast yesterday, was it toast or, maybe cheerios. I mean its rather clear why I can graphically recall flipping over my handlebars and skidding down the drive way at the ripe age of four or the moment when I was eleven and my mother sat us down to tell us she had cancer, but what about the tiny, seemingly random moments that you can not seem to forget. Why do I remember being six and my brother being three and “riding” our magic carpets (our blankies laying on the floor of my childhood house). Why do I perfectly recall sitting in the passenger seat of my grandparents old, roughly worn truck seat and singing a christmas song with my grandfather. Its so clear that I can picture sitting there, my small hands covered in white mittens and riding the smooth country road to his house. Why do I recount the smell of buttery popcorn being made on the stove of our tiny house. I can see my beautiful mother standing there telling us it’s almost ready and her laughing about a joke that has drifted along with my memory.  Why can I see myself riding down the block, wind in my hair, pink handlebars and all, on my way to my very best childhood friends house. Why do I remember laying in the backyard, the sun hitting us just right as my brother and I lay in the warm green grass. These random things I can not forget. Will they show me something about myself in the future, did I do something life changing without knowing, will I be shown these moments five people you meet in heaven style. Maybe we all remember these tiny moments because, while they were small, they were perfect. Maybe we felt an enormous amount of love, or happiness, or just flat out joy. As I grow older I cant think of a better afternoon than laying in the grass with my brother, and what I wouldn’t give to be sitting in that cold, old truck with my warm, perfect grandfather. Memories are all we have, as we get older. People leave us, you move away from home, and the world never ceases to change. Memories are what ground us, what inspire us and what makes us feel at home. While most are random and seem to hold no true value, if you think about it, most of these memories are perfect. Simple, short, and perfect.

Time.

Aside

Even after all this time,

I crave you like the crackling soil of earth craves water after the summer of no rain,

I miss you like the sun will forever miss the stars,

I long for you like the trees long for the warmth only spring can wrap them in,

I need you like the wind needs a forest, because after all, if it wasn’t for the shuffling of the trees on a cool autumn day how would anyone know that the pure existence of a breeze,

I desire you like the soft arms of the ocean desire the rough hands of land,

and I thirst for your soul like the poor lad that has gotten lost in the desert searching for anything to quench his undying thirst,

Even after all this time.