“Woman, Make My Dinner!”

I’m pretty cool with being domestic.

I wouldn’t mind staying home with children, cleaning and cooking. I really wouldn’t.

I know the new and fashionable thing is to be a ‘strong and independent woman of career’, but I’m kinda iffy about it, honestly. I’ve never been a strong advocate of feminism outside of the legal realm. I mean, if that’s what you want to do, work and be career minded, go for it. As long as I make the same amount of money as my male counterparts, I’m all good.

I also understand that you don’t have to choose between one or another, that you can have a career and a family. I just feel like socially and culturally it’s implied that women should let men take care of children and make dinner while women go to work, ect.  It’s becoming the norm.

I, however, am a firm believer in having dinner cooked and clothes washed and clean children, when ever my hypothetical husband comes home.

Not because women are inferior to men and are only good for chores, but because I do things to show my love.

If I love you, I’ll make you food. I’ll clean your clothes. I’ll make you CD’s or change your oil. To me, words are great and nice, but it’s not what you say but what you do.

“I love you, but you can cook your own damn dinner.”

No.

Also, there is this weird maternal radar in my body. I love to take care of people. I think I am built to be a housewife.

All of this is coming from the girl that still expects boys to open doors, pay for dates, and not try to have sex with her every time she blinks.

Honestly, I get excited about new appliances, cooking dinner, cookies that don’t turn out flat, ect. I asked for a rice cooker and a new vacuum last Christmas, and I’m expecting a wok for my birthday. I got jealous when my best friend got a new sewing machine. I love running errands. And decorating rooms.

I am a social freak.