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Man, I feel like a woman!

Oh, oh, oh, go totally crazy, forget I'm a lady
Men's shirts, short skirts
Oh, oh, oh really go wild yeah, doin' it in style
Oh, oh, oh get in the action, feel the attraction
Color my hair, doing my nails
Oh, oh, oh I want to be free, do you what I dar
Man! I feel like a woman! -Shania Twain


I’ll admit it.  I am kind of high maintenance.  Not as high as some, but I do put in some work and though into the way that I look.  The older I get the more I think I need it---little gloss makes me feel womanly.  Let’s face it none of us are 20 anymore.  It takes work to feel as though I am looking my best.  When I’m home it’s not a big deal---I have all my stuff at my disposal.  However, when traveling it can become a bit of a hassle. I’ve got lotions, creams, and hair product and make up. I also am a woman who believes in costume changes and I tend to over pack.  It never fails, I go on vacation, over estimate what I need and end up not wearing/using some of the stuff I take with me.  I won’t lie, there is a part of me that doesn’t care, I like knowing that if I want and need is there if I need it. 

My boyfriend however is NOT high maintenance when it comes to his appearance.  He is bare bones—soap and deodorant sort of guy.  During the week he makes a modicum of effort and wears a fresh shirt and pants everyday, the weekend however he’ll wear the same tee shirt and shorts. I usually have to give him a nudge.  “Sugar—please enough with ratty shorts and tee.  He’ll give in eventually, but it is accompanied with a lot sighing and complaining.

Every year, for the past 20 years, my boyfriend and his family have rented a house in Cape May, NJ for a week.  Last year I went for the first time and he was annoyed at the amount of stuff I took. "Why do you need so much stuff?"  This year, we had an extra person in the car so he was on me about “packing light”. Pack light. Pack light.  Ok fine. I was ruthless with myself. I eliminated a bunch of stuff and it was hard.  Anyway, yours truly packs light and feels [relatively] good about it.  The plan was for me to drive up to his place and we would leave from there. I get to his place and notice the nice pants and shirt waiting to be packed.

Me: (Because I know my man) Why do you have real pants and a nice shirt out?
Him: Because of the dinner. (Looking scared and nervous)
Me: What dinner?
(His daughter looking at us back and forth because she knows what's about happen)
Him: I told you...?
Me: No you did not.
Him: I didn't?
Me: No.
Him: I'll take you shopping.
Me: Yeah you will.


Next time I’m packing what I want.

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