I’d like to think of myself as every woman. I try to be, but I think it’s impossible to be every woman all the time. I have my moments. I have a few alter egos, June Clever being one of them, but except for my anal tidiness, the other aspects of her don’t reflect through me as often as I would like. For example. I HATE TO COOK. Well…let me say that another way. I HATE TO COOK WHEN IT IS EXPECTED OF ME. Cooking can be a very enjoyable experience when I’m in the mood, otherwise it’s nothing more than a chore. It’s one of the parts of being a wife, that still after 5 years of marriage, I am not used to it. I fully expect to be very rich someday, so I anticipate us eating out a lot, ordering in, or hiring someone to do it. 😀 . In the mean time, I am forced to shake the shit outta June every now and again to wake her up, and cook up a storm, to remind my husband that I AM every woman. Sometimes.
Now, I remember growing up, the women in my family slaving over stoves to please their men, and I swore that would never be me. Cooking seemed to be in direct cahoots with love, and it was one of the greatest gestures you could do for your man, yadda yadda yadda. I remember hearing my grandmother tell my mom and my aunts when they were growing up, ‘man a go bang are you’ or ‘man nar go want are you’, if they ever expressed displeasure in having to prepare a meal. Maybe that’s where the saying, “The way to a man’s heart is his stomach” comes from. Notice it says ‘the’ way, not ‘a’ way.
I may hate to cook most times, but every now and again I will knock up a lil sumthin’ sumthin’. Though unlike June Clever, I am not well washed and powdered in heels humming a happy tune, I’m in slippers and a towel, ready for the bath after I’m done sweatin’ up a storm, creating the magic. 😀