Wow, what a busy week it has been here at Blogdamnit headquarters. People are even calling me about all of the posts on here, not to mention the additional debating going on at happy hour. "To each his own" and "live and let live" seem to be the theme. Some think it is the god-given right for Southern Belles to live in their 1940's style of ignorance assuming those that don't live like they do are awful people and should git thy-self to church ASAP. The master manipulators that they are, they must be exhausted trying to make this world a better place while looking so darn perfect at the same time. I may just start a national "wear white shoes in October" day to drive them nuts. Pushing those Belle's buttons is irresistible!
All of this bickering made me think back to the all-women triathlon I finished this past summer. Let me first remind you of how hard a triathlon is to begin with. It takes about 2 hours to finish sprint distance if you train for it. I was shocked to see sooooo many women there on race day. There were bionic types to couch potatoes. Most were there to start this race and become an entirely different person when they finished. I was amazed at how supportive the female species was to each other. Women were helping and cheering each other on during the swim, and as I started out on the run I realized that most men would NEVER support each other this way. That's what's so great about women, we rally for each other. The "strength in numbers" theme of the labor unions is instinctual to us. The bionic women who finished the race in an hour looped back around to run with women who were struggling and needed some cheerleading. It was simply amazing. Those that finished the race cheered on all the women who were still going. Women also did this when I was violently ill during my pregnancy. They would discover why I had a vacant stare on my face due to the extensive nausea I suffered from and they would help, immediately. Puking in public is humiliating and I remember this lady, a complete stranger getting out of her car and bringing me a warm washcloth to clean up with. Women are nurturers in many, many ways. All of their actions an expression of themselves.