So, I woke up wedged between 2 bums this morning.
A 40 something bum and a 4 year old bum. Both belonged to lads.
Reinforcing what I have been feeling over the last few weeks – Sometimes I feel a little out of place. And lost in a man’s world.
This morning, I’d been pushed up from the covers. Like a banana squooshed up from it’s skin. My head crooked and my chest cold. The lad’s bums had snuggled down in the blankets. Into the warmth. In the comfort of the doona, the 40 something bum farted.
The room filled with red wine, onion and meat.
None of which I ate.
Yet now seemed full of.
Laying wedged in the man’s world, I know that if the heads of those 2 bums were awake, they would be high fiving each other while trying to cupcake me.
Sometimes it can be suffocating – living in a man’s world.
Like walking into a room full of dirty the linen in room 3. Like smiling through teeth at the bloke who questions you about his wife’s menopause. Like listening to the musings of a 30 something chap regarding the state of his underwear as he prepares to pull his pants down in front of you.
Because you see, I don’t give a shit what kind of underwear you wear – I’m here to assess your knee.
Not your arse.
Now I don’t want to burn my bra. After all, my lingerie is imported, co-ordinated and expensive.
And I paid for it myself.
But I’ve been wondering – How does a woman get a little bit more street cred in a man’s world? Why do I feel like I’m being cupcaked by a boy’s club all the time?
Should I tone down the patchouli? Stop with the chakra crystals? Swap the frock for pants?
And then one of my beautiful students said – “If you can’t beat ’em, teach ’em.”
Think goddess pranayama, deep hip opening squats and core work.
There is an inner feminine energy that is quietly collectively building. I can feel the soft strength and power of her as my crew emerge from their sleep deprived baby days. I can feel my mind re-sharpen as I reclaim my body back as my own. Walking taller. Standing broader. Speaking clearer.
When we can recognise that we are connected to a larger rhythm, we can deeply understand the Divinity within. The cyclic nature of women means that sometimes we will withdraw and breathe alone.
But sometimes we will expand and breathe together. And with this collective breath, celebrate a fire of transformation. As we step up to ourselves. Honour ourselves. Love ourselves.
I will continue to embrace my femininity at home and at work. What a woman places on her body does not define her intelligence. And I will teach those boys who wedge me in with their bums – you had better not cupcake me anymore.
Because mixing fire and gas can be dangerous.