Lady Balls: Finding strength in the past & food
It was a Wednesday night and alright, maybe I shouldn’t have been out, but it was hot outside and my sticky skin was begging for a breezy patio and a cold glass of Pinot. As I gabbed with girlfriends about their sexcapades, career moves and gossip, a table of guys just over yonder began to get increasingly loud. A pack of three 15 year olds trapped in a group of 30 somethin’ year old bodies started to get under my skin. Their consistent use of “buddy” and lack of vocabulary rolled my eyes to the back of my head and their creeping stares over inaudible parts of my upper body made me cringe as I pictured their slow Oedipus death. They then began to talk about the size of their balls…yes their cajones. Somehow this intrigued me not because I cared but because I began to wonder: if beer, muscles and testosterone create a decent set of sacks, then what would make up ours as women?
I would like to think that the first would be a good dose of life experience because the past, depending on what you want to do with it makes up a good dose of what constructs us as women and in general people. Did we fall, take accountability for our roles in varying situations, get back up and most importantly, did we learn? Because who says we’re a victim, there’s hero in this composition.
Then I would say there’s food. Now this is the part that a lot of people glaze over. What makes for strength doesn’t come from a box, but rather from the same place we should be rooted from – the Earth. By disconnecting from our food by eating the packaged shit, we begin to disconnect from ourselves, lose touch and lose control. That’s not strength for now or the future. So I figured I’d list several foods that give me strength…or balls so to speak.
– umeboshi filled rice balls which gives me super charges me mid day.
– watch the f@#! people, I’m coming through and it’s 3pm.
– just call me superwoman after my workouts while others may be taking a snooze.
So while the beer guzzlering boys gnawed on a 1lb of chicken wings, I thought about their expanding waistlines, their decline in energy and likely a regression of sexual stamina that I can only imagine they suffer from.
Oh, but THEY have balls.
What about us? Wait…I think I got it. Maybe we have a passion that’s ingrained in ourselves as women that we’re given the power to cultivate it into something indefinable that bursts of immeasurable strength. Yet the key is not to let it slip or we’ll be left unsatisfied, which is not only unattractive but weak.
So maybe if we can say forget having balls, we have ovaries! Then mix in a little moxie and a shit load of heart and ladies and gentlemen, you have one powerful combination.
Now that’s strength…buddy.