Feministic Fraud?

I haven’t gone to school or work for 26 days. A few years ago, Greenhorn Christine would’ve been considered parallel to experiencing death. What to do? How to be productive? How to keep doing something at all times?

But Modern-Day Christine enjoys it. Completely. I wake up, work out, eat breakfast, kinda hang out, run an errand or two in the afternoon, walk the dog, have dinner, and loaf around until bed. Wait, what was it that I did before December 14th? The last 53 months have dissolved from my memory (in terms of the workload amount, not relationships).

Which gets my brain thinking, “Oh this must what it’s like to be a stay-at-home wife. I could totally do this. It’s fun. I’ve learned to make a day out of nothing. I should get married soon.”

Then the feminist inside me screams and brutally shanks the first voice saying “WHAT is wrong with you? You didn’t work hard in high school/college and get this internship for nothing. You didn’t put in those extra hours for nothing! Put all that effort to good use! Get your arse moving and BE PRODUCTIVE!” This voice usually fades in a loud shrill that incites visions of the original Daughters of the Alamo and hippie bra-burners.

A friend recently described me a feminist (in a completely non-lesbian way, thanks!), which I won’t deny, because I am a feminist. That’s cool. I dig labels. But I feel informed as a feminist. I did my homework. I read the Feminine Mystique like Amazon’s Reading Recommendations told me to and I enjoyed it, learned a lot, reflected a lot. I probably told too many people about it (in order to comfort them about the less-than-perfect dating situation at Baylor), but that’s not the point.

Trying to balance those two voices is a pain. Ug. Multiple voices. Those are the worst. Whatchagonnado?

I’ll be in for a reality check on Monday when I start work, that’s for sure. No doubt in my mind that 8-5 (or in Monday’s case, 7:15-5ish) on Monday will check me into the real world, real quick. But I think I am ready. I’ve rested, realized, and refocused to wear I can learn, absorb, and work the dickens out of my body to earn this certification (Registered Dietitian).

I can do this, I know that, but starting is always the hardest part.


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