I kid that I have more man tendencies than I should, me being a girl. I’m no butch, but I do do some things that really remind me of how guys function.
I think babies are boring. I want to think that they’re cute. But they just don’t DO anything.
I have a high tolerance for messiness and untidiness.
I like to have answers.
Last night, my dearest friend admitted some personal stew in her pot that was making her sadly. And I opened my mouth and unleashed a torrent of blather about why it was all really fine. I can’t even remember what it was I was trying to say, because I think it was all nonsense. Or just noises to try and solve it all up, shove it in a box, and put it on the top shelf of the closet under an old blanket. When maybe I could have just said that I was sorry. Or to tell me if it develops further. Or that it’s ok to feel worried.
I like pink and purple and I buy unreasonable high heeled shoes that are too hurty to wear and I like flowers for no reason. But I just had a very shameful manly moment and I might need to regroup my girl goodness to recover.
margaret edith 