While visiting the historic homes in Denver this past summer, I commented on how some of them reminded me of an Archie Bunker neighborhood, which led me to being stuck with the lyrics of the title song from that show floating around in my head all day.
Later while in line at the amusement park, the particular words, "And we knew who we were then, girls were girls and men were men" gave me reason to pause as I listened to the young ladies around me, who had obviously gone to great lengths making sure that they looked lovely on the outside, swear like sailors. Not pretty. Not pretty at all. I felt bad for these girls who had sadly lost the art of femininity, but relieved that at least I still know what it means to be a girl. Femininity is not a weakness. On the contrary, it holds great power.
After all what man doesn't like a nicely dressed, sweet smelling, eyelash batting, cookie baking (that one's optional, but very powerful) encouraging word talking, soft, smooth female by his side? I'm not talking about the fragile, cry all of the time, I need someone to do everything for me, kind of softness. We CAN bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan and we are certainly tough enough to put a swing set together all by our own selves if we feel so inclined, but while doing these things we can maintain a level of femininity that'll drive our menfolk wild. We're powerful I tells ya. Power-ful.
But swearing like sailors does not power make, my fellow ladies. Swearing like sailors is manly, swearing like sailors is ugly, swearing like sailors will put hair on your chest and who wants a gal with hair on her chest? Who?
Most men don't as I recently learned from my own Mr. Landon...
Mr. Landon comes from a long line of poopie mouthed, swear like sailors, hairy chested men. Not a proud part of his lineage, but a part of it just the same. Because of this, Landon has picked up the colorful language of his forefathers, a trait that I his mother have sadly never been able to combat (what do you do when dad talks that way?) In his younger years I tried soap, Tabasco sauce, timeouts and guilt trips (the same tactics I use with little Waylon today. I'm telling you this thing is a virus that attacks all male members of our family) but to no avail. I had all but given up, when just the other night I finally made a break through.
When Landon cussed in front of me I simply repeated what he had said right back at him. I cussed with clarity and finesse and got a reaction much like this...
The boy grew weak in the knees, he reeled in pain and felt as though he might throw-up. It turns out that the boy is quite offended by the sound of the fairer sex speaking in such an unbecoming manner. The boy doesn't like it. No not at all.