need to eat more soy

I don't claim to be many things. Not many things at all. In fact, I frequently abjure self-portraiture opting to retain an undefinable aura... or I just keep to myself because I'm a Molly Ringwald type wallflower. 


Living in a big city, after a move from a big-little city, brings change. From that change brings a new sense of awareness.
Case in point: I live with three boys. Even with a quart of soy milk in the fridge and some tofu from the Vietnamese place on Washington, estrogen is the underdog in this house. Granted, one of the males is a neutered dog, so it's not quite out of balance as I'm making it out to be, but still. 

He might not have balls, but that doesn't make him any less of a man.

Generally, it's enjoyable. They're entertaining. I learn about angry nerds, new video games, and other ridiculous pop culture reportage. Things I would otherwise be completely left out of the loop. Boys, I genuinely appreciate these contributions to my knowledge stores. 


Thank you for demonstrating the latest RPGs. 
Thank you for sharing your gratifying Japanese rice/mayo concoctions. [Trust me, there's nothing better at 2am than a steamy bowl of sticky rice, piled like Mt. Fuji, with rivulets of kewpie mayo, sriracha, and eel sauce, sprinkled with that fish-food-like rice topping.]
Thank you for forcing me to learn where all the trash cans in the neighborhood are. [Cleaning up after your pooch is harder than it should be when there exist no receptacles in a 3 block radius.]


I am glad to be the recipient of such testosterone-laden philanthropy. I embrace the responsibility of moving the toilet seat to a more usable position. I can deal with dodging karate chops in the hallway and stepping on chewed-on tennis balls in the middle of the night.


Nonetheless, there's a dearth of femininity around these parts. Having spent the last year as a single woman living alone, there must have been a point when I forgot how the other half lives. Evidently, for the male lifeform, it is not necessary to have any counter space in the bathroom. I've never contemplated the complexity of toothpaste storage before - it was never an issue.


Which demonstrates my point precisely. Though I've never characterized myself as exceedingly feminine, or of the high-maintenance persuasion, I suppose I am. Reluctant to point out life differences based on gender, they're out there. 


And that's ok.


I pee sitting down.
I need room to stash hair products.
I require a mirror to leave the house.


And that's ok.


Embracing femininity isn't a weakness. It's not giving in to vanity or a reduction to materialism. In this household, it's part of a balance. Inasmuch as I have learned from the boys I'm shacked up with, I like to think they're learning from me. [If nothing else, I know they're bogarting my hairspray.] 


And if I find things get too out of balance, I'll just make them eat a ton of soy.