There is something that detonates inside me every time I hear the word ‘Ladies’. It irks me and it makes me angry. Supremely angry and overly irritated. Yes, that is what that word does to me. Above all, I loathe being referred to as a lady. I am not a lady.
A ‘lady’ they say is a refined woman. She is a level or two more virtuous than an ordinary woman and has a more structured and courteous behaviour pattern. If anything, she is a better and much elegant avatar of this miserably faulty thing called ‘woman’. I am not a lady.
It vexes me every time I am part of a crowd which is addressed to as ‘Ladies and Gentlemen’. To say the least, I even abhor reading the term ‘LADIES’ outside the urinal. I need this word out of my life. I am not a lady.
I make mistakes and I sometimes repeat those mistakes for quite a many times. I say things without considering what the takers would think of me as a person. I do not cover my mouth while laughing and sometimes noises escape my mouth while eating. Sometimes I forget to comb my hair properly as I rush to work and most of the times I were different socks. I can gleefully wipe the bread crumbs off my hands onto my shirt as I lean in close to hug you and I do snort while laughing. My nails are always chipped and most of the times the nail colour on my hands differ from the ones on my toes because why bother bending low to paint your toes when you can hide them inside dirty combat shoes. I brush just ones a day and sometimes I do not even floss. I won’t bend a knee while kissing the man I love and I might just pull him closer than wait for him to do so. I like to blow bubbles through the straw into my can of coke. I will tell the man about my fantasies and get the satisfaction I need, than anticipate him to read my mind. I am not refined. I am not a lady.
And if anything I do not want a gentleman in my life. I need a man. I do not want someone to pull a chair for me unless my hands are hurt or paralysed. I do not want a gentleman to run forward to open a car door for me and I definitely do not want him to lend me his jacket. I am sure winter affects both sexes equally. I want a man who acknowledges that I am no lesser than him and allows me to make my own decisions. I want a man who doesn't feel that his male ego requires him to never let his woman pay. Split the bill with me and sometimes when I want to pay it all, do not tell me that it is your destined duty not mine. I want a man who doesn't tell me to choose a Virgin Mojito over rum because I am a lady. I don’t need a gentleman. I am not a lady.
So the next time you ask me to ‘Behave like a lady’, remember that I have blatantly accepted I am not a lady. I am a woman, imperfectly perfect that needs no fine tuning. A woman, that is all I am.
P.S- How many of you actually like a guy pulling the chair out of you ? Tell me that I am not the only one who doesn't .
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