This is another tough one for me.  I feel torn.  Part of me hears this word and I’m instantly wrapped in cashmere and wearing pearls with big loose curls in my hair swaggering with a sparkle in my eye and a knowing smile on my face.  My feet are adorned with stilettos while I carry a tall, delicate glass of champagne to my bubble bath where there are strawberries and candles waiting.


Walking down the hall in that slow deliberate way…the way a woman moves always feels feminine to me. It’s something we, as a sex, own.  I know a lot of men and I’ve never seen one move the way I know a woman can. I love purposefully moving in that way, like my life is a dance, when only my husband is watching.  It makes me feel like a woman.  I love the way it feels, and I love the reaction.  There is power in this kind of femininity and I revel in it.


However, the other part of me wants to scream that my sweaty yoga pants (or muddy everything from my soccer goalie days) and dirty hair and strong muscles are the most feminine part about me.  My strength, my resilience, my ability to create life and make those lives a priority.  I birthed babies.  I’m a badass!  My curves that were shaped by bearing these beautiful souls (ok, and the wine and chocolate… my kids can’t take all the credit) and my edges are what make me feminine.


So what DOES it mean to be feminine? I think it means truly loving yourself for all of these facets and embracing all of you.


Being a woman is awesome.  I mean, really “freegan,” kick-ass awesome.  I feel proud and strong and like I can do anything.  I am the one who holds my family up and also envelops them in my arms when they are down.  Femininity is whatever it means to you.  It can mean being a mom, it can mean being a CEO, it can mean being a boxer, it can mean all of those things combined.


To me femininity has always meant soft.  Soft voices, soft skin, soft curves.  George’s favorite thing about me is that I’m “squishy”… he actually asked Santa for me to be more squishy for Christmas.  That was his wish.  I’m not kidding.  He loves that I’m soft and there for him whenever he needs to squeeze my belly or the part of my arm that I’d love to call my triceps, but really, let’s not lie, it’s a little squishy.  If you ever see him, he will be grabbing my arms with the biggest smile on his face.  And you know what, I love it.


So yes, it took me some time, but I embrace the softness, because I know that underneath is a resolve that is stronger than steel and a woman you don’t want to mess with.  You don’t mess with Mama!


Happy Mother’s Day…  My you be every kind of woman your heart desires.