breathe…

I gather my thoughts

focus inward

center myself…

For well do I know, my response to hearing the phrase, is my responsibility.

No two ways about it. The subject bugs me.

Every time it’s brought up, I feel like I have to sit on my hands, so they don’t start typing anything. Duct tape my mouth shut, too, so nothing comes out that way, either.

My eyes narrow to little slits, my nostrils flare and, energy crackles around me.

I know this mood. It’s stubborn. I also know my resistance is futile. No matter how much distraction I find, the subject will always come up, again. Until I face the issue and transform the charge it has for me surrounding it.

The subject inspires annoyance within me.

I’m not going to pretend and project, I know I’m annoyed at myself.

Because I don’t know how to say, what could use being said.  We keep denying our own Power, as women, choosing instead to compete with men, over who is the better man.  I mean, just look at us.  We dress like we imagine men would dress if they were women.  And look at the runway models, the images of ‘beauty’ we see paraded past our eyes…ever noticed the image closely resembles an adolescent boy?   Take two ice cream scoops of silicone and, presto, a ‘woman’. 

There is a saying that I keep hearing:

“A woman has to do twice as much to be recognized as half as good as a man.”

Every time I hear it, I keep wondering what happened to the second line of it:

“Fortunately, it isn’t difficult.”

And maybe that one line, so often forgotten, makes a great deal of difference?