Women Day by Day

I don’t know many women who don’t enjoy showing off their stuff from time-to-time. We do it by having our “stuff” tattooed or pierced. We dress up. Try new make up. Have our hair styled every which way and try a new color now and then. In most species, the flamboyant colors and plumage belong to the male - as you know if you ever saw the play or movie, Hair.

Once upon a time, I was guilty of flagrant showing off - and it didn’t work out well. I was 16. A fine age to perfect the art of showing off. My brother’s best friend, Terry, was coming up the street. I was thoroughly in crush with Terry.

And I had a scathingly brilliant idea. I’d run upstairs, put on my new sundress and my new heels and make a grand entrance just as Terry came in the front door. My timing would have tobe impeccable.

I flew up the stairs to my room, slammed the door and, in record time threw the dress on, slicked my hair into a pony tailer, slip on those 2 inch heels I was just learning to balance on. As the doorbell rang,  I was headed for the stairs, visualising myself graceuflly gliding down and lighting at the bottom to smile demurely and walk past Terry with a cool nod.

I hit the stairs at a dead run, skidded to halt.

My heel - my tragic heel - caught in the shag carpet on the first stair.

My feet stuck but my knees went forward.

I collapsed to my knees, sundress skirt billowing around me like a cloud of silk. Over my head. As I slid ignominously all the way down to the bottom of the stairs - on my knees.

At Terry’s feet. I tugged and pushed my dress back down where it should have been.

“Er. Um. Hi.” I muttered. I skulked off to the family room, hid behind a newspaper and didn’t so much as look up again till Terry left.

Did I find myself cured of showing off?

No way.

 Want to see really worthwhile photos and images? Just phenominal pictures? I tripped over the International Museum of Women at flickr.com. Caution - some of the women are nude or partially nude. But tastefully naked - don’t freak. Open your mind and heart and enjoy the beauty of these images.

The first thing I saw was a series of photos of individual women, each holding a little sign with a single word on each sign. Words like motivated, strong, leader, transformative. Each woman tried to epitomize the word she held. I enjoyed it thoroughly.

I poked around and found links to a women’s answer gallery, film festival and motherhood pictures. Very worth your time, readers, very worth your time.

With full credit to flickr and to the artist, Christine Luksza-Paravicini, I’ve reproduced one of the nicest images - does this say “it takes a village”, or what? It brought me to tears - nice tears. See more of her work at Art of Pregnancy.

The collection is huge. There needs to be some way to use all these creative expressions and all this talent. As a weaker sex, we’re good, aren’t we?