Thursday, November 10, 2005

A Girl's Life

[Bare with me. I’ve been bumped from a constant flow of Mountain Dew and Marlboro Mediums down to Lipton Iced-Tea and Camel Lights.]

To quote one of my favorite movies (which just happens to be about a high-paid, fancy-pants whore in the midst of war and The Spanish Inquisition)…

“In a girl’s voice lies temptation. Known fact, eloquence in a woman means promiscuity. Promiscuity of the mind leads to promiscuity of the body. She doesn’t believe her yet, but she will. She’ll grow up like her mother did. She’ll marry, bare children and honor her family, spend her youth in needlepoint and rue the day she was born a girl. And when she dies, she’ll wonder why she obeyed all the rules of God and country because no biblical hell could ever be worse than a state of perpetual inconsequence.”

This is a quote from the movie ‘Dangerous Beauty’, said by Moira Kelly’s character Beatrice Venier, when she is trying to convince main character, Veronica Franco to take her daughter when she’s old enough and make her a courtesan so she can live a real life and be free of all she was expected to do.

Veronica’s response, “My cage may seem bigger than yours, but it’s still a cage.”

She was right. She had all the freedom a woman could have asked for and access to libraries filled with books and knowledge. She was free to speak her mind and write her poetry. She could have any man she wanted even if only for the night with a pretty pay-off in the morning.

But she couldn’t have the one thing she wanted most of all. Marco Venier, Beatrice’s brother who could not marry her although he loved her because she was poor and he needed to marry well. As a courtesan, she could have Marco, but she couldn’t really have him.

Beatrice’s life was a life of loyalty, order and quiet. She was tempted by her friend’s freedom and wanted it for her daughter because it was already too lat for her.

Veronica’s life was free, open and chaotic. She lived a fancy life, but it was filled with sacrifice.

Beatrice longed for freedom. Veronica longed for order and monogamy.

Unfortunately, these are roughly the same choices women have today. Society frowns on the whores of today (Unless you’re Paris Hilton), but the basics still ring true. And unfortunately, it doesn’t matter which path you choose.

Option 1.) Get married, have babies and maybe die happy.
Option 2.) Take care of yourself, do what you want, die happy.

Chicks get a bad rap no matter if they’re perfect angels or the skankiest of whores. It doesn’t matter. No matter what you choose there’s still always going to be someone frowning down on you and someone else who would rather be you.

We know this. We learn at very young ages what’s expected of us. We know for all intents and purposes that in the end, we are expected to be good girls, get married, bare children and just basically keep our mouths shut until we die. Even if we choose the other direction, we’re still expected to be well-behaved and do what we do without making a ruckus, in sort of the if we don’t hear it or see it then it just isn’t there kind of fashion.

C’mon, no mother wants to know her daughter sleeps around. No father wants to hear it either. It’s offensive to the choices they made themselves. It riles them up and breeds disdain. And no daughter wants her parents to hate her.

We’re expected to be saints, but when we are, it’s too much or not good enough. And when we’re not fulfilling our womanly goodness quota, we’re like these strange secondary kind of humans let to live to both amuse and enrage those around us, court jesters, if you will.

I got married. I got the big house and all that comes with it. But I follow mine is a different life and hubby knows that.

I am not settling for either of the options. I don’t like boundaries. I don’t like being told what to do. I don’t like expectations. And I really don’t have any inclination to live a life filled with regret for things I never did, so I’m gonna do them. And if they end badly, I’m not gonna make excuses.

There will be no babies tying me down (I was married barely two hours when the demands for grandchildren started). I will not stand in front of a hot stove, cooking from sun-up to sundown just to please my man, nor will I make friends with my monster-in-law. There will be no needlepoint (Well, there might be needlepoint, but not because I’m expected to do it).

If I wanna scream, I’m gonna scream (Same applies to singing, dancing and generally frolic activity). If I wanna throw plates, trust that I’ll throw them (It was hella exciting when the large Corelle bowl smashed against the ceramic floor and shattered all over my kitchen). And if I want to flirt and torture some poor, unsuspecting boy until he just can’t take it anymore, I’ll do that too!

I am an intelligent, adult female. I can handle and take care of myself. And I’m entitled to just as much freedom as any man. I am no one’s property.

I’m not going to rue the day I was born a girl. Instead, I’m going to revel in it!

Tequila shots anyone?


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