I’m a Grown-Ass Woman, Dammit

I am a grow-ass woman.

Recently, someone wanted me to do something. I didn’t want to do it. I tried to find different excuses. I politely demurred. They persisted. Exasperated, I turned to my husband and said, “I’m a grown-ass woman! I don’t have to do the Stupid Thing!” And I didn’t*.

Here’s a partial list of things I don’t have to do because I Am a Grow-Ass Woman and I am the boss of me:

  • Eat bread-and-butter pickles
  • Floss my teeth every night if I’m just too tired
  • Believe the faith I grew up in
  • Change my own oil because I can, instead of pay someone to do it
  • Eat dinner before dessert
  • Shovel the sidewalks/mow the yard
  • Maintain relationships with people who’ve betrayed or hurt me (even family)
  • Ironing
  • Go on vacation to see family when I’d rather go somewhere fun
  • Shave my legs every freaking day
  • Stop buying scifi/fantasy books, movies and collectibles

As you can see, this list is in no particular order. It changes from day to day, year to year. But the intent is the same. I get to choose how I spend my time and emotional energy. I get to decide how to live my one life, and what my priorities are. Because I am a Grown-Ass Woman.

* The Stupid Thing is on this list, but I’m not telling which item.

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