Hello my DEAR, my son
This is a special day, it’s your Birthday. This is not just day special for you, it is special day for all of us. I’m writing this letter to you… I could have just pulled you on the couch and tell you all, but I know that you will dismiss me too fast by saying “I know”. It’s funny when every time I say “Do you know how much I love you?” you quickly reply “ I know”, and I laugh, I laugh, because I don’t think you do, I don’t think you can comprehend how much I’m trying to say with this “I love you” (thingy mugigy) to you. Because when I think about you, I always compare you to myself …. At the same age… and now I know, I did not understand it when my mom was saying to me “I love you” I knew that I was the “premium” person in her live, but I did not know how much she was trying to tell me. At the same time who am I to decide what you know or not, you are the most intelligent young men I ever knew!
And today I want to tell it all , be ready….. just kidding (there will be some mushy stuff though). Mishen’ka, way before you came to this world, there was a decision to be made, if I try to have you I would be playing with my life, otherwise I would have no children at all. I knew, I knew there was something amazing there… there.. inside of me… I knew that it was YOU, even before you were born…. And it was worth it.
My dear Misha, when you were little I used to call your name, just for you to raise your eyes at me, it meant the world… I would drown in your eyes. You are the most sagacious and smart person I’ve ever met.
If everyone is born to the sole purpose as to give something back to this world, with bringing you to this world , I feel I’ve given it something extraordinary, YOU!. You are the most genuine person I’ve ever knew, the size of your heart can cover the whole world.
My love, even when I reprimand you ( I don’t want to do it, but..) I’m not trying to point at any faults of your, no, not at all… I just want you to avoid some of the painful situations that I directly used to go into, and getting over it was not too easy. You are perfect the way you are. You have the most genuine heart, it is bigger than the world. You are one of the best people I’ve ever met and I’m not talking as your mother, I’m talking to you as a friend. Anything you decide to do with your life, I will be behind you, I will support your decisions. This will come easy to me, because I trust you, because I know what it is inside of you. Just always know how much I love you. It’s that overwhelming feeling that is very hard to contain, it’s bigger than the world. And I’m very proud of you and of who you are becomming!
To blonde or not to blonde…
My dear blondes, are you tired of hearing blonde remarks?
Let’s do something about it.
Are men just trying to make themselves feel better by alluding to their superiority with blonde references? Should we come up with “brunette” jokes? “Look at him, he is such a brunette” or “it’s a brunette thing”. Do we even need to drop to this level? We are confident enough not to.
Don’t get me wrong I’m not an extreme feminist. I still like being treated like a woman; having a door opened for me and being allowed to walk through first. It seems like a very natural thing to me.
But let me explain myself with an example:
A couple of years ago as I was driving along a busy, well-known local highway, my mind was extremely preoccupied with my new job (I’m in the IT field, in a high-profile corporation. Needless to say, my position carries a lot of responsibility.).
After stopping at a rest area, I got back on the road and realized that I was not sure if I was traveling in the right direction anymore.
Let me digress a little bit. There has been a study performed at one American university that showed that people with high levels of progesterone (female hormones) are less likely to have a good sense of direction. After reading this article I said to my mother, “Congratulations, we both are not just females, but very much women as well”. You get the point.
Let’s get back to my story. I pull over at the nearest gas station and there he was. I mean HE… with a face lacking the slightest spark of intellect, five o’clock shadow (from three days before), a toothpick in the corner of his mouth. His butt crack was completely seen above the waistline of his jeans – I mean, I could even spot hair on this butt – and to complete the picture, he looked sweaty and was definitely greasy.
As I politely asked for directions, he SLOWLY approached the car with a smug smile on his face, leaned towards the window as if he knew everything, and said pointing with his sausage finger at my head “Babe, if you continue with this blonde thing here, next time you’ll not even find your car, and not just South/North”. Shock and a slap in the face is what I felt. The worst part was it was received from a guy who’s IQ is obviously in the low double digits, if not single digits. His tone was so demeaning that the cat’s still got my tongue. He used the fact that I’m blonde as his platform to be condescending… to show his “superiority”.
I’m not saying women are much better than men… just stop labeling us… us “BLONDES”. Otherwise we can pick a fight with you, too… and you might not like it.
Dear men, before you start throwing rotten tomatoes at me, just sit back and think, but be honest with yourself. Do those jokes make you feel even a little bit better knowing there is no one around to hear you say it? And I’ll be as candid as I can. I do find blonde jokes funny, but not when it’s in direct reference to me.
From one of history’s most famous blondes, Marilyn Monroe, “men love blondes”. We make ourselves blonde because we love it. So do you. We do it for you, just as much as we do it for ourselves. Appreciate it, or your world might become surprisingly monogamous. Every time that I’m on my way to get highlights I think, “To blonde or not to blonde.” It’s like marking myself with a big red cross saying “here is the target”. Guys, discard this cliché image, we are intelligent, strong, beautiful women/wives/mothers/daughters, etc. JUST DEAL WITH IT (and love us for who we are).
P.S. This is my first post, and it’s not the biggest issue I have… it seemed the easiest to write about. Now you can tear this post apart and I’ll deal with that. I’m strong.
