Thursday, August 16, 2012

The Moment

Someone asked me once (rhetorically in a book, I think) when I first felt like a woman. I wasn't sure. I mean, aren't I still a girl? No, that doesn't quite fit. I know I'm a grown-up and not a teenager. I scared myself when I realized I don't qualify for my own category of "young mom," which I apply to moms who have at least one youngster too young for school. So how did I miss the memo that I'm here, in womanhood? 

It doesn't help that people think I'm younger than I am. I blame my height and chest-size for that. But there is one time I feel like a woman. It's when I wear heels so high, I can see the top of Brian's shoulder. I'm fivish feet tall and he's six two, so when I hold his hand, my arm's at a right angle, which feels very kid-like. Once at the pharmacy, I wondered why the lady was directing all the questions to Brian about Kendra, until she asked if Kendra was his daughter. This was a while ago and I probably shouldn't wear pigtails anymore, but still. I think we all feel like posers sometimes, worried we don't have what it takes. 

So it's pure bliss to stroll along shoulder to upper-arm with Brian, feeling all equal and help-mate-ish. Being grown-up seems like being a force to reckon with. Powerful and valid. Respected and strong. Admirable, even.

We all know being grown doesn't always play out that way, but when I'm within kissing distance of my husband, being grown-up can feel like being loved. 

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