Female Frustrations

I absolutely hate getting ready in the morning. Well, I actually generally get ready in the early afternoon since I work evenings, but I hate it. It takes forever. Generally an hour. 45 minutes if I cut out a few things.

I watched my husband today go up to get in the shower at 9:30 and walk out the door 20 minutes later. All he has to do is shower, shave a very small surface area, get dressed, and pull a comb through his hair. My version of getting ready is a long involved process. I treasure the weekends when I only wear powder and mascara and pull my hair into a ponytail. But, my job requires full, perfect makeup and blown-dry and styled hair every.....single....day. I can't just show up in a pony tail and chapstick. I can't tell you how tired I get of pulling out that blow dryer. If I could have two wishes, one would be to have that cool Jetsons machine where you try out different looks and then transform yourself with the click of a button. And the other would be teleportation. I can't stand traffic either.

Anyway, my point is I love being a woman, and most of the time I like getting dressed up and putting on makeup and wearing heels, and I am glad I get to be the one to have the baby, but geez, some mornings I just wish I was a dude. How much of my life has been spent shaving, tweezing, and mascara-applying?

T is going to a special assignment tomorrow to cover this massive anti-terrorism drill about four hours away. I will come in and work during the day while he goes to cover this big, cool story. I have mentioned this before, but I felt a twinge of it again. When we had Q, I lost a lot of the cool, fun parts of our job like going away for stories. T hasn't had to give much of this up. I am certainly willing to make sacrifices for our family, but I was a bit envious today. Sometimes you miss being able to go do something spectacular at the drop of a hat.

--MM