It's taken me a fourth daughter to finally feel comfortable being "a girl."
Sin never makes sense--so this is weird to explain. Yet in my head there was a sharp division between being "a pretty girl" and being "a smart girl." I was totally on the side of being a "smart girl." I wore glasses. I didn't wear make-up. I didn't care about doing my hair. I wore a simple dress and simple, practical shoes everyday.
I was all about intelligence.
The frilly stuff about being a girl didn't hold my interest for long.
When my three older daughters rejoiced in being a girl--with their pink tulle skirts, and ropes of fake pearl necklaces and glittering nail polish--I rolled my eyes and said they took after their paternal grandmother!
Then came "Miss Chilipepper", my colicky fourth daughter.
I started living in a life of straight grey--the grey of sleeplessness, the grey of "utility"--I started craving something...
So I went shopping for lipstick
I went shopping for perfume
I went shopping for pretty nightgowns
I went shopping for flowers
I went shopping for the right curly hair products
Somehow in the middle of all of this dreary colic episodes, I started finding my inner girl--and discovered that I LOVE HER!
Now I'm in the middle of exploration of all things feminine and they are delightful!
I'm planting bulbs in my garden.
I'm learning how to arrange flowers from an elderly artist in my parish.
I've got pink peony lipstick in my medicine cabinet and a new giraffe print dress to hide my post-partum tummy.
I HAVE SIGNED A PEACE AGREEMENT WITH MY CURLY, SPUNKY HAIR!
It's a big change and I'm happy about it.