All in a name

January 21, 2008 at 2:26 pm (feminism, love, sexist) (, , , )

Should a woman take her husband’s name when she marries?

This is one of those questions that can evoke so many emotions – irritations, anger, despair, amusement. . . it all depends on which side you’re on.

It’s fine for women who want it but I won’t take someone else’s surname. I know many of my married friends have taken their husband’s surnames and they’re all independent, intelligent women so it doesn’t mean that if you do take his name that you suddenly become braindead.

But I can’t see why I should do it to if I ever decide to take that step.

Usually any discussion about this ends in an argument. My dad (with whom I had this argument yesterday) believes your marriage will never be a union if you don’t take your husband’s name. I of course think that’s crap.

Why should your bond be defined by whose name you have? Why does not having your husband’s surname make your marriage any less solid? And why should you be the one who has to change your name?

My argument is that I am not the property of any man so why should I take his name? I know many women don’t see it that way (and that’s fine) but I already have a name and don’t need another, thank you very much.

If the whole ‘sharing one life’ thing is so important why can’t he take your surname? Because we’re still a patriarchal, male-dominated society and that kind of thing would never happen, that’s why. And in my mind that’s just another reason to not do it – the sheer sexism in this way of thinking is simply too much for me.

My partner, fortunately, understands. But my dad and others like him just don’t get it. It’s not just about a name; it’s about a way of thinking and an attitude towards your life.

What do you think?

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What I love about my body

May 15, 2007 at 8:07 am (brag, diets, ego, fat rolls, hormones, love, nice girls, private personal space)

Usually when you ask a woman what she loves about her body she’ll list all the things she hates. My ass is fat; I hate my thighs; My skin is bad, etc. She could go on. Because women are conditioned to be modest; to think a celebration of their bodies is a bad characteristic, they’ll always find something wrong. Well enough is enough.
Let’s think about what we love about our bodies. There must be at least one thing. Just one. Once you’ve identified it, think of another, and another and another until you have at least five.
I’ve sat long and hard thinking of what I like about my body. It was difficult to get five but here goes:
1. My hands. They’re slim with long fingers. They look graceful when I wave and they can type a document in very little time.
2. My legs. They’re long and beautifully shaped.
3. My eyes are a boring brown but have a lovely shape and sparkle prettily when I’m happy.
4. My feet are smaller than the average person of my height. They’re kinda quirky.
5. My cleavage is not too big and not too small. Perfect.
What do you like about yours?

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What kinda friendships have you?

May 11, 2007 at 6:14 pm (family, friends, love)

There are a few things in life you should always be grateful for. One of those things is the presence of good friends. It doesn’t matter if they’ve been with you for life or if they’ve been with you for a few years. If they’re there, they care (cheesy ne?). Some I hardly see and only occasionally email, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about them.
Seriously though – I have cut out all the people who pretended to be my friends because they were taking too much of my spirit. Poisonous friends, I call them. They’re the ones who sap your strength, your energy and your goodwill. And not to mention your wallet.
No matter how bad you feel or how guilty they make you feel (manipulation is one of their key characteristics), you need to cut them loose. Let them go. Clear your space because they’ll just bring you down.
Once you’ve cut away the dead wood you’ll have the ones who love you, care about you and will help you wipe away the snot when you’re too weak to lift your hand.
They’re the ones who will tell your man he’s a doos but support you if you stay with him. They’re the ones who will appreciate your inner beauty – because that’s what makes you special. Not the size of your boobs or the colour of your eyes or the length of your legs.
These are the friends you should treasure because they’ll be there no matter what. Mountains, oceans, Mango flights and frequent flyer miles doesn’t matter to them because when they’re with you in spirit, that’s all that counts.
To all my friends: thanks for being in my life and making it all worth it.

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Just a little drop

April 20, 2007 at 2:51 pm (longing, love, private personal space, relax)

I bawled like mad last night after watching Sweet November for the bazillionth time. Every time I watch that film it gets me. I know what’s going to happen yet the tears just can’t stop flowing. How sad is that?
Same thing happens with Someone Like You…the Ashley Judd/Hugh Jackman combo just triggers the tear ducts.
But instead of feeling bad about it I’m treating it like a little me-time. I get to go bonkers for a small bit of time and just let it all out. Crying is, after all, therapeutic even if it makes your eyes look like swollen balloons afterward (cucumber really does help but it must be cold).
And if I ever have to watch King Kong in public, I’ll be sure to wear dark glasses…(yes, really).

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March 22, 2007 at 2:56 pm (longing, love, missing, poem, separation)

This is for a friend who is really missing her other half. It’s my absolute favourite poem in the world, followed closely by Robert E Frost’s The Road Less Travelled.

Mrs M, this is for you.

Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.
– WS Merwin

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