Something Has To Be Woman Only

As everyone knows, I live in a house of males; even the cat is male.  I have often pondered if this is some sort of cosmic joke because I am such an ardent womanist.  There are certain things that I thought I could assume because I am the lone female in house.  I never thought I would have to line them up and yell at them about missing tampons.  It seems they make great bumpers for dinky cars, never mind that they have another purpose.   I have given up on the idea that the bath tub is an inviting place, after constantly hearing MOM in a shrill whiny tone, every time  they can’t find something, have engaged in a licking war, or are hungry. (Why oh why must they lick each other and why should I care?) I won’t even tell you about the fracas after I finally insisted on a working lock on the bathroom door.   Some would say that I should be pleased because my men clearly find me necessary in their day to day lives, however; the multiplying grey hair on my head tell another story.

I recently discovered these really awesome vegan soaps.



Taking a bath with these is absolutely luxurious.  You only need the smallest amount to come up with the most delightful bubbles.  I turned to them because the men would never give me enough peace to sustain a wonderful bath.  It seems that seeing the jars in the shower has just become to tempting for them.  I went to use my pumpkin pie one, when I discovered HUGE CHUNKS taken out of it.  It seems that the men like to smell pretty as well.   I should have known that if messing with tampons was an irresistible urge, that they would not leave my precious vegan soaps alone.

I just ordered a few more jars and I intend to hide them when they come in.  Something in this house has to belong to me.  I am worried that no matter where I choose to hide them they will hunt them down.  You see, the men are crafty.  Just recently the baby poured a glass of water on his bed so that he could sleep with us for the night.  He knew we would not make him sleep in a wet bed or force him on his brother and he is is only four.  He climbed in like he was the king of the castle, stretching and smiling like a cheshire cat the whole time.  See what I am up against….Someone somewhere has to feel my suffering.

They are lucky I think each one of them is adorable and that I am outnumbered.  In this battle of the sexes I fear that I have already lost.  From tampon thievery to requesting that I lift the toilet seat when I am done (yes you read that right) the men have run amok. I shall have to marshal all of my available strength to guard my precious soap.  Perhaps yelling I am woman hear me roar will distract them long enough for me to go on the offensive, rather than continually playing defence.  War has been declared and I may not emerge unscathed but something in this house has to woman only.

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