My Son Claims I'm A "Girly-girl"

A few weeks ago, my son took me to see Ray LaMontagne perform. It was an awfully nice thing of him to do and we had a good time. In the car, on the long drive home, we were talking about this woman he's been involved with. Apropos of I'm not sure what, he said: "Well, you don't really understand her. She's not a girly-girl like you.

My initial reaction to his comment was umbrage and knee jerk denial.

A few days later I was at home trying on a funky vintage dress with new to me used Ferragamo shoes I'd just bought for a happy song from someone on Ebay and I started laughing- at myself. And then I started thinking about why his remark had offended me.

When you hear the term girly-girl, I think it's safe to say that you don't think "tough, smart, capable woman". More likely you think pink frills, manicures and frivolous.

I have never had a manicure. I loath frills- on cushions or clothes, and though I can certainly be frivolous, I consider myself fairly intelligent. I can argue politics as well as any man. I love hardware stores almost as much as vintage clothes and rearranging stuff in my home. I read voraciously- and not romance novels. I'm athletic and physically pretty damn strong.

My son knows all this so I don't think he meant to imply that I'm not smart or strong.

If he meant to say "you're feminine and interested in things that are considered feminine pursuits, he's right. I love playing with clothes, for example- though my fingernails are (at least in spring and summer) rimmed with stubborn garden dirt and I think manicures for me would be a complete bust.

So on rethinking it, I'll own the girly-girl label. But only if I get to define what it means.