The Women's Club

I can't be the only one...

***DISCLAIMER:  I DO NOT AND HAVE NOT EVER ADVOCATED PYSICAL VIOLENCE.  THE PIECE IS SATIRE, SARCASIC AND SELF-DEPRECATING.  JUST HAD A “DAY” ONE TIME AND POUNDED THIS OUT.***

 

The Real Women’s Club

 

Before you put your soft, emolient-enriched hand up to politely stifle that yawn, let me make myself clear:  I am not talking about a group of expensive and delicately scented perfumed, expensive salon cut, standing nail-appointment, expensively (even tailored!) clothed, name-brand nyloned women with a common interest.  I’m talking about a club"a big stick"a baseball bat-shaped object used to clobber certain perfumed, manicured name-brand nyloned women.

 

You know the ones I mean.  While you’re trying to match up underwear by light or dark color, they have lingerie sets.  When you have to try to remember if you washed your hands at the last bathroom break, they manage to maintain fresh Merle Norman make-up all day.  When the hair style you spent forty five minutes on is gone by 9:30 am, even when protected by the Aqua Net Helmet,  their hair will immediately fall into salon perfection when they step in from the howling blizzard outside.  These women will openly mock you by moaning about the seven ounces they gained over the holidays, describe their horror upon discovery of a pore the size of germ - right on their cheek, for God’s sake!- and they will enchant you for hours relating their hilarious escapades while trying to find just the right outfit for the Hobo’s Ball.  They always spot the safety pin holding your clothes together and offer to let you borrow their little travel sewing kit they keep in their Louis Vuitton tote.  They write checks using fountain pens with teal blue or purple ink in distinct cursive scripts and calligraphy.  The soles of their shoes are clean.  They were born with perfect pitch, even when they laugh and tears make their eyes luminous, never racoonish -which I would trade any day for the black tracks that run down my face making even hard-core Goths cringe.   I sometimes wonder if they even have snot when they cry - all I’ve ever observed are delicate sniffs and never any kind of liquid seeping from their straight, small, perfectly symmetrical noses.

 

My theory is maybe it’s an aberrant mutant gene or something of that nature.   I mean, my friends all admit to having at least one pair of cotton “mawmaw” panties with the elastic half separated in the back we claim to keep for those “heavy” days, and yes, with full knowledge that the fastest way to be in an automobile accident where you are rendered unconscious and unable to hide, I mean defend, yourself is to have a safety pin holding some part of your clothing together and mawmaw drawers on.  It’s the universal signal for every drunk driver or legally blind adolescent driving on a permit within a five mile radius to zero in on you.   And I have no problem tellin’ it that I have used a colored marker to hide the chips my nails are sporting from the polish I hastily applied before bed.  I’ve used a binder clip to hold unruly and obstinate hair.  I’ve taped and stapled rips that were invisible to the naked eye when dressing, but have neon arrows pointin’ straight at ‘em when I arrive at my workplace.  I’ve clutched files and papers previously headed for the garbage like CIA secrets to avoid shaking hands with my calloused and chipped nail polished hands.  I knew a woman that still used iodine and baby oil (it was a ‘70’s thing) to tan her legs if hose was not dress code. I’ve laughed so hard that I had to walk around to avoid sitting for a few minutes or risk leaving a wet spot. I’ve worn my bra inside out because the underwire was warped and it actually looked better than before.  That’s right, you can forget that part of your “empowerment” seminar where you realized life was about takin’ risks -some of us could tell ya a few things. 

 

I swear these women could cross the Rockies barefoot, and arrive on the other side with soles as soft as a baby’s butt.  They were born with the exact number of hairs on their eyebrows to form perfect arches over their lilac and emerald green eyes.  They always remove their rings before applying hand lotion, which they are able to do a minimum of ten times daily.  I, on the other hand, and in the real world,  have to scrounge in the back of the bathroom closet for some lotion to put on my fingers so as not to snag my bargain brand panty hose.  They have never applied fingernail polish anywhere but on their nails.   My peers and I have too many days that we pray we don’t have to remove our shoes and expose the network of run repairs hastily applied and peeled from our feet at the end of the day.  I should  add that clear polish is not necessarily the only color you will find on these ingeniously shellacked and reinforced sandal-footed toes.  But those are high times:  we’ve all pulled up to sixteen inches of hose under our foot to eliminate that annoying busted-out toe feeling.  Of course, you can always twist the runned section to a hidden area, but with the new control top lycra-spandex panties (with cotton crotch) you may end up feeling like you’re walking sideways all day.  It’s a matter of preference...

 

 

These days, twenty-something singles go clubbing and support groups for women are flourishing on the interconnected webs.  Well, my friends and I have decided we’re up for it -we’re all still young enough to swing, but all far enough into menopausal madness to have a viable defense, especially if it’s a true jury of our peers:  cracked cuticles, cowlicks, lipstick-ed teeth, smeared mascara, a safety pin (or staples) somewhere on their clothing, fingernail polish on at least one busted-out toe of pantyhose worn so many times they could pass for chenille, and of course, the pre-requisite pair of stretched-elastic mawmaw drawers.  Don’t judge us because we know it’s about survival of the fittest…or the fattest…no, no, let’s stick with “the fittest” - we’ve earned it. 

 

Author's Note

This was written when I worked in a professional setting that required hose at all times, no open-toed shoes and no sleeveless garments. I. Hated. It.

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

I think those mawmaw drawers might the same thing as granny drawers? A thing to be scorned these days, I can tell you for sure that li'l Sammy dug the heck out of them when he hid behind the barn and scanned those Sears catalogs. This one's full of laughs, Carol.

[Carol Cashes]

Yes! Granny drawers are the same. That's too, too funny about the Sears catalog. Norman Rockwell really should have included that picture in his Americana series.

[olla]

OMG... you made me spit my coffee all over my keyboard.. I learned to tie great knots both for broken straps and escaping toes.. and it never mattered if I tore a piece of my petticoat for an emergency tourniquet or not... it was already hanging anyway..

[Carol Cashes]

Too, too funny! Knots?! Lordy, I'd have walked with a limp if I had tied a knot to contain escaping toes! Hanging slip? *snort* In the South, we'd whisper to a friend - "It's snowing down south" to alert them to that predicament.

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

Enjoyed this was great
You are refreshing

[Carol Cashes]

I'm glad you liked it. I'm a little surprised at the number of men who also relate to this. Guess we all have a little doubt about how we're perceived by others - male or female.

[Nigel Newman]

Carol this is very refreshing. On one level it's reassuring for all 'normal' folk to realise that these super elegant polished people are not the norm ... and very probably have feet of clay in other ways, e.g. lack of empathy or compassion, less intuitive, less likely to be a good friend or long term partner.

However, there was another strand going through my thoughts as I read this - am I actually trying less hard, coasting, not making the best of myself, etc, i.e. the idea that at least in some respects these wonderful people have skills or attributes to which I could aspire.

It's comforting and truly helpful for one's self esteem to know that everyone messes up, worries, s***s farts swears sweats etc and that it's potentially harmful to one's long term happiness to place some on pedestals. To this day there are some folk with whom I feel intimidated and I know it's rubbish to feel it, but it's very embedded and almost impossible to overcome.

Bravo for this Carol.

BRs Nigel

[Carol Cashes]

It is important to remember that those seemingly perfect bodies in perfectly tailored clothing are hidin' a pimple on their butt! As for trying less hard? I like to think (convince?) that I'm older and need to spend my energy on doing my job and caring for my spouse and critters. Clean body, clean clothes and brushed teeth - well, some days, that's all the energy I can spare on "appearance". Thanks for reading - I had fun writing it at the time and it made me feel better after a day of encountering "perfect" women all day.

[Ken Simm.]

I made notes all through this. Are there male equivalents. I suppose there are. My ex brother in law could walk through a midden in white trainers and come out without a mark on them. On the other side I once worked with a very mysoginistic Principal who said that he always wanted his ladies to look like ladies. Hated him and one day during a training day the head of Religious studies of all things got all the male members of staff to drag up and all the female to come dressed in suits and ties.
However, I digress. This was witty, no, downright laugh out loud funny with just the right amount of subtle innuendo to keep it rolling in all the right directions.
I don't think however those of us who know your writing and wicked humour require the disclaimer here.

[Carol Cashes]

Male equivalents? Like while they stride purposely forward, you step in gum...or dog s**t? Even straight men stare at their porn star..."status" in the locker room? Their shirts are always crisply ironed and fresh...while you attempted to wipe down the front with wet hands to smooth the "main" wrinkles? Something like that?

[Ken Simm.]

Thats the one.

[Chris]

THIS was a "fun" read - good 'tude and relevancy.

[Carol Cashes]

Thanks, Chris, I'm glad that you got the "relevant" part - the struggle is real...

[Great Aunt Astri]

Well, I sometimes wonder what those perfect woman look like without their props. As for us mere mortals, my motto is 'if you have got it ,flaunt it,' ... droopy b***s, fat tum, big bum, split nails and all! Of course it is best to be the way nature intended us to be ... fit, healthy and good looking. But then, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, not so?

[Carol Cashes]

It's expensive to be salon-fresh haired, fresh manicured, silhouette-sculpted and designer-label clothed. I believe THAT is the primary reason the majority of us are real...and in thinking of their beauty that way, I'd rather have calloused hands and a midriff bulge and use that money to travel or oh, who am I kidding...EAT. I would rather spend money on lunch at a local bistro or family style buffet than a manicure. Hello, my name is Carol and I would rather eat than buy quality products that would improve my skin's elasticity and increase the collagen in my neck!

[Great Aunt Astri]

Quite so. But eating, as long as the food is not full of hormones, chemicals and fertilisers, is probably the best way to beauty. I go for a walk every day, to keep my weight down and enjoy my surroundings. And I can't stand hose or wired bras!

[Great Aunt Astri]

ps In England English the word 'flaunt' means 'show proudly'. Is this the same in American English?

[DIVYA]

We don't wear hose here but do use safety pins, a lot. As for the underwear, I guess unflattering underwear is a universal issue. So relatable, this could be about me, though I have tried all my life to be the fashionista, never could really get there. You are right, they are born not made. The best humor I came across on WC.

[Carol Cashes]

So glad you could relate. I, too, like looking "put together" and still mumble and brood when nothing fits right or I just don't like any of my clothes that day. I tried to write something that every woman - wait, let me qualify that - every one who identifies as a woman - can relate to.
The "best" humor? I am completely humbled by that. I know I think I'm funny, I crack myself up everyday, but it is gratifying to know that others can "feel my pain".

[DIVYA]

There are good days and there are bad days. Its a blessing to be able to laugh at oneself on the bad ones since as women we are expected to fit in all our roles perfectly AND look good and that's quite cumbersome anyway. Humor is a difficult genre and you are great at it.

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

I bow, I truly bow to your greatness!! So wicked good- "mawmaw drawers"and reversed underwires stand up & be counted! I was a Director of Nursing & had to dress befitting that role- how about: Michelin-Man looking uniforms;NO:nail-polish,jewelry, shoulder-bearing, non-rubber soles, dress-down Fridays; but ALWAYS pantyhose- while all around me were fashionistas, designeristas, couteuristas- well Excuse Me! I really work and get my hands dirty, thank you very much...and by the way, that IS scotch tape holding the neck of my blouse closed from the inside! Ha!!:))

[Carol Cashes]

Real women know the struggle...

Pantyhose was conceived by Satan and I'm positive our government has used them in secret testing on unsuspecting young soldiers as possible weapons of torture.

The surprise is how many men have read this and truly "get" it. Bless their shaggy-haired, roomy boxer wearing pointy heads! (no offense, guys!)

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

Absolutely! Yes, bless the empathetic men, but unless they cross-dress, they'll never really understand.:))

[Carol Cashes]

Maybe a woman will invent a flat underwire for men to experience - like the belt that simulates labor?

[Carol Cashes]

I forgot the Michelin-Man uniforms! *snort* Yeah, at least I got pick what inferior clothing I would wear each day...

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

Rock on with your 'bad' self Carol! Sequel! Sequel! :)

[Joshua Carl Cruz]

remember dolly parton in 9 to 5? this reminded me of her in a way. or that part in dolly when dustin hoffman riffed on being a woman as he stood in drag becoming the strong woman his character demanded. i digress. what i mean to say is this sums up what an independent woman really is, not some poodle packing princess but a flesh and blood person with 4 dimensions. i thought a lot about who these "ladies" were and it made me laugh with complete understanding of how bad it must have felt to be around them.

[Carol Cashes]

I have mostly men responding to this, suggesting they live with, or have lived with, a woman or women. This is encouraging in that apparently when we (women) cry because there's a super model that works in our office that is really snarky, you have sincere and genuine sympathy. Yea! You! And if you didn't understand before, maybe this piece will help you keep the "peace".