Colorado. Runner. Yogi. Fucking hilarious, like, 17% of the time.

I'm a feminist. That label isn't one that women of my generation are as apt to apply to ourselves as previous generations were, but I am definitely a feminist. Also? I'm a girl. If one were prone to labeling women as such, one could consider me a low-maintenance girl. By that I mean I contribute equally to the expenses in a relationship and I don't fret unduly about my appearance (shutUP Crockett, I don't), but I do like presents and having pretty hair.  My father has pointed out that if we're talking about emotional maintenance, I'm the equivalent of... um... a space shuttle (they require a lot of maintenance, right?), but that's not what I'm talking about.

The point that I'm trying to make is that while I worry about my gender affecting how I'm perceived and dealt with in day to day life, I also enjoy the fun parts of being a girl. Clothes, hair, flirting, a complete and total disregard for automotive care, etc. I don't think that embracing those things makes me less of a feminist, because I made the conscious and personal decision that they work for me, vagina or no. I'm happy with the balance I've struck.

What I'm a little confused about is my apparently bone deep conviction that as a girl, I shouldn't be sweaty or .... constipated (I can barely say it!) or let Crockett see me pee or any one of a number of other things. Not that I am ever sweaty or constipated, those were just examples - but I'm serious about the pee thing. I've shared a bed with the man regularly for over a year. We shower together. I sat next to him in the hospital while a nurse asked him about his intestinal health. And yet, if I get even a hint that he's going to peek at me while I'm peeing, I freak the fuck out.

I have no idea what my problem is. I PEE, ALRIGHT WORLD? I don't do anything else though. Just pee. And look pretty.

True story.

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mrs. peel, we're needed