Getting Lost...

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to work out that I feel pretty lost as a woman right now.

(rocket scientists supposedly know a lot)

It is true - Im confused.

I guess when I was younger I felt pretty clear that I was a feminist. Equal rights, and all that. Get a career, get married at 30, buy a house with a garden, have some babies. There seemed to be a plan... to Have it All.

To be honest, I am post feminist and I am pissed off. This goal seems way bigger than Im capable of. I have no idea how to find balance amongst all these things. I think Having it All can go and get stuffed.

Im tired.

I want a break from it All. I would like to go on a holiday for post feminists, where I can eat what I want, wear what I want, point at my cellulite and pinch it lovingly saying 'arent you cute little hail damage'.

Id like to go on a tropical cruise where I drink pina coladas with little umbrellas in them. And wear big sunglasses. Id like to go into Post Feminism retirement, where the sun is always setting.

Does anyone have a roadmap here?

My Bra is Burning

There's all sorts of bras on the market these days. Ultra support, serious padding, ones that stick on with glue, and the ever faithful nipple tape for when you want to go out just in your undies.

But at the moment my bra is burning, and not because Im a raving feminist from 1968.

Take a look at these photos on the right. See those sisters up the top from the 1970's rallying to make abortion legal, and to fight the system for more women's rights, I wonder how they feel about Girls Gone Wild?

And check out the ladies down the bottom. Bless them. Lining the streets with their fancy hats, corsets and cotton gloves. Holding up signs for Votes For Women. Baking scones on their way home.

But my personal favourite is the one in the middle. I do wish I knew her name. Just take a look. She's being arrested for protesting for women's sufferage. Probably spent more than one night in a dark, cold prison cell on less than bread and water. All for our liberation.

My bra is burning.

Come on Girls. Wake Up. Its all about how we sell our booty.

YOU CANT ASK YOUR MAN TO DEFINE YOUR WOMANHOOD YOU MUST DO IT YOURSELF.

BOOTY BOX

According to history a woman's reproductive organs had the nickname 'the Money Box'. As the urban myth goes, this is how we got our booty, with our sex.

That is, your husband chose you based on your social status & your beauty. And this would determine how lucrative your career would be.

Ive been thinking about this. Im wondering how much the story has actually changed. Ok, so we are three to four decades down the trail since women's liberation, yet despite the fact that a woman can choose not to become an instant 50's housewife, do we still use our sex to get us through life?

More importantly, I am asking, is this how we make a living, is our sex for sale?