If only humpty dumpty had a sister

I don’t think humpty dumpty had a sister. Because if he did, I’m pretty sure she would have put him “back together again”.  Sitting in a coffee shop this weekend, in a foreign country with a foreign friend, reminded me once again of the power of the sisterhood.

And before all the cavemen start rolling their eyes and shaking their heads, this is not another piece about superwoman saving the world, because we all know she can. And it’s also not about the ra ra Lady Gaga in-your-face force of nature kind of power, because we all know that she is.  No, it’s about the intuitive, gentle and delicate kind of power.

It is the unconditional support, lending of an ear, what can I do for you, GIVING, kind of power that is found in the sisterhood.

And so it is, when superwoman’s mask has been ripped off and her pain exposed that she turns to the sisterhood. And so it is, when Lady Gaga’s stage has been ripped bare and her vulnerability exposed, that she turns to the sisterhood. And so it was, when I, like humpty dumpty, had a great fall, turned to the sisterhood, because all the kings’ horses and all the kings’ men couldn’t put me back together again.

And only the sisterhood can provide that femaleness that it takes to put a thousand shattered and fragile pieces back together again. And only a sister can look into your eyes as you tear up and FEEL your pain. And only a sister can UNDERSTAND you when the cavemen can’t.

And now I can hear my caveman in the background saying this is getting too soppy. So let me just say to MY sister and my sister’s, thank you for doing a better job than all the kings’ horses and all the kings’ men.  Thank you for listening, for the crying, for the advice but most importantly for the LOVE. And to my sisters in Korea, thank you for keeping me out of a straight jacket in a country where crazy is as crazy does.

As a side note, to my caveman, because we must give credit where credit is due, thank you too. For caring in your own special cavemanish way.

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What happens when you give a woman a comb and a bra!

I’ve heard that a while, while back when we lived in caves, we used to be Gatherers, and then a while back when caves became houses we used to Clean and Care For, and then at some point, back there, when we left the caves that became houses, we Worked, a little, apparently.

And I’ve also heard that one day, after the cavewoman combed her hair and tucked in her boobs, she got a little attitude and called herself a housewife.

And after the housewife cooked a casserole and baked a cake, polished the floor and dusted the furniture, nursed the child and balanced the budget, she got even more attitude, and even a little lip, and called herself a secretary.

And after the secretary made coffee and typed a few lines, answered the phone and wrote down some messages, arranged appointments and organised meetings she looked around the room and realised ………..

that if the cavemen disguised as businessmen, who surrounded her, who beat their chests and scratched their balls, could run a business, then so could she.

So, with her new attitude, manicured nails and little heels, she stepped out of line and sent her daughters to university, started her own business , bought her own car and started telling her caveman, who, where, what, why and how. Can you imagine? The cheek of her.

And now things are getting completely out of hand.  Her daughters are running countries, owning networks, managing corporations, starting businesses, buying property, investing money, becoming powerful and dare we say independent.

If you ask her daughter of the 21st century when she’s going to find a husband, her response is… “hus-band? What is that? A new type of hair accessory?” OR

Aren’t you worried about your biological clock going tick tock…..”Biological clock? Girl, please , that’s so yesteryear,  I’ll  just adopt” OR

Do you have a boyfriend?…. “I do actually, his name is Vibrator. When I talk, he listens. When I work late, he doesn’t call or complain, he understands.  When I get home and put my feet up after a long stressful day, he doesn’t ask what’s for dinner. And when I need a massage, he gives me one, willingly. Anyhoo, nice chatting, I’ve gotta run, run the World, that is. Bye ”

The caveman is sitting on his rock and shaking his head, wondering where and how it all went wrong. He had it under control for so long. See what happens when you give a woman a comb and a bra?  Tsk. Tsk.