I believe that both my male and female readers will be nodding their heads as they read through this post. The males will nod, thinking, “I know someone who does that.” The females will nod, thinking, “That’s me, and that’s me and that’s me, too.”
Let me paint a scenario to start:
A man receives, as a gift, the new and improved screwdriver kit he’s been talking about wanting to get. Within 48 hours of receiving that gift, he will be looking around for anything that might be loose so that he can get out one of his new screwdrivers and tighten it. He will tell his buddies about it, maybe even show it off.
A woman receives, as a gift, a beautiful pendant necklace, studded with diamonds and perhaps other precious gems she likes. Within 72 hours, after she’s looked at it many times, she will find a special and safe place for it, knowing that it’s valuable and not wanting anything to happen to it. In her mind, its beauty and value make it something to save for a “special occasion”.
For women, this is true about a lot of the belongings we cherish – a favorite scented candle, a bottle of favorite perfume, a frilly set of lingerie. In our minds, we don’t want to burn the candle or use the perfume because then it will be gone, and we believe that frilly lingerie is only for the most special and intimate occasions.
Okay, I’m 62 years old. I’m single and neither looking for or expecting for a special occasion for frilly lingerie. My favorite scented candle is only available in the springtime (blue hyacinth) and perfume tends to absorb into my pores after I’ve applied it. I don’t want to waste the (somewhat expensive) perfume, or burn the candle and then have to wait until the scent is available again. So they sit, on my dresser or on a shelf…. That was, they did, until I read the book Annie Freeman’s Fabulous Traveling Funeral , written by Kris Radish. I won’t spoil the story for anyone, but as a teaser, I will tell you that I no longer save my one black bra for a ‘special occasion’. I wear my perfume, but I do it because I like the scent – in other words, I do it for me. I burn the candle because the scent is so aromatic and relaxing to me, and I know I will eventually be able to get another one.
Why do we women not think that our lives themselves – even in the myriad of the daily grind – aren’t a special occasion? In a heartbeat, we’d spritz on that perfume so that someone else can smell it on us, but why not merely so we can smell it on us? And, for further contemplation, what if we save all of these things and NEVER have another special occasion worthy of them?
Trust me, that man in my scenario is going to use those screwdrivers every chance he gets! Yes, he’ll be careful with them, and moan (and maybe cuss) if one gets broken or lost, but he sees the joy in using the gift, not just looking at it and hoping a special occasion comes for him to use them. He will use them, and he will use them because it makes him feel good!
Why shouldn’t we women deserve the same?