Last updated on August 31st, 2026 at 11:25 am
I should continue with French immersion because it’d be lovely to start having full conversations in French outside of my conversation classes. Ask me when I last attended a conversation class.
It’s just about overcoming that mental “block.” It’s about understanding that, for me to get there, I need to start here and simply… continue. I’m now watching the Tour de France, and I am wondering if I am still learning French or getting sidetracked. These are the issues.
I just Googled why cyclists have skinny arms. I couldn’t help but notice their arms. I read that they are intentionally slight. It’s a job requirement! I probably would be rich if my job had that requirement. The thing with cycling is that your body directly bears any impact from a collision or accident. I should know. I ride for almost 30 minutes to work once every two weeks. That gives me enough experience to be able to write about this. I am an experienced rider with a bruise on my elbow to show for it.
They also have supportive wives. They sure do. It must be a job requirement too. At this point, I don’t think I’m watching this to improve my French speaking anymore, but this is really important. Cyclists leave home for long periods, and someone holds the fort. This is my business; let’s forget French for a while.
I would think that in life, you get to choose. Demanding career? Then relationships have to be put on hold. Some things require that we choose. Maybe I am just a woman who has always been taught to choose. Maybe it’s what makes sense to me.
To want it all? And to want it all at once? Of course, that requires a lot of help. Someone has to do the grunt work. Someone has to put certain aspects of their life on hold. I think that person is called a wife. A wife is the person who potentially pauses everything, including her dreams, to support her husband.
This indoctrination of self-sacrifice, of stepping in, of anticipating, of doing the invisible labour, sometimes stays dormant until it’s triggered by a romantic relationship (and, tbh, almost any relationship with the opposite sex).
I read a relationship book one time that spoke about compromise in relationships. The author said we can all achieve things in the relationship, but it has to be one after the other. So, one partner goes to school, the other waits. Then the other partner gets to do what they want while the other waits and supports. It sort of made sense at the time. But guess who would be doing the bulk of the waiting, of the supporting? Guess who probably earns more and, as such, whose decision will always be favoured? Guess who got pregnant just at the time that they were supposed to do their thing, and as such, the other person has to continue with their own thing? I just want to do my thing.
…
I’ve lost my beard. The single strand that popped out almost two years ago—I woke up this morning and it’s no longer on my jaw. Some nights ago, she was there, the beard, strong and longer. This morning, my jaw is clean. Quelle honte!
Another day of slaving away for the capitalist system and asking why? Why do I spend so much time working to afford to rent a house that I don’t even have enough time to enjoy? I work hard to put food on my table, and I am too busy, too rushed, to savour the food. Why?
I digress. The most exciting hobby for a woman is dating. The highest pursuit is marriage. The dream is a family. Only that these things didn’t happen in a vacuum. Bridgerton brings to mind how women were raised, and actually taught, to seek male attention. Today, we call it dressing for the male gaze. The beauty standards will always be a problem when our looks are quite literally a currency and our desperation for male validation is still strong.
The most exciting time of your life as an unmarried woman is when you have men showing interest in you, whether or not you like the man. The idea of being considered desirable is enough. The book you’re reading is interesting, but not as interesting as when he drops you a message. Your most interesting hobby pales in comparison to the dating activity. And when a group of people are raised to be paraded before another group, in hopes of being chosen, it blurs the line of consent.
…
I got some mini orchids the other day, and I expected them to be blooming by now. Is it too early? It’s now mid-August, and I think that I have had them for about four months. One of them keeps growing aerial roots. My wildflowers are not wild at all. These plants are barely making it. I wonder if they’re thriving.
How can you fully understand consent when the whole goal was to call attention? How can one understand that awkward feeling as pure disinterest when the only feeling one has been taught to expect is interest? On the hill of romantic love is where every woman risks potentially losing herself the most.
After the parade comes the sacrifice to build him.
But even if he wasn’t busy being an Olympian, a gold medalist, even if he was only waking up like the average person, you still hold the fort. Women, for now, do the unfairly larger share of parenting, even with the most involved partners, because women already have an inbuilt programming that is susceptible to triggers. When it comes to raising your kid, your partner wouldn’t get triggered because there’s nothing preprogrammed. In more ways than one, you’re not new to this. Even if you’ve never handled a child, even if you’ve never run a home, you’re not new to this. Your parents have drilled this into your head; others around you have alluded to the fact that this is someday going to be your duty, your job, so stay prepared. All your friends are even excited about it.
Very rarely do we get to peel back the layers of what is truly involved. We know about the potential sacrifices, but it doesn’t hit until one is deep into it. For many men, on average, it’s their first time. You’re in it together, but guess who has more indirect experience than the other?
But what incentive does the less experienced partner have to want to pick up the slack? Yet women’s experience is mostly abstract—a social conditioning that makes us want to put into practice that which we think we know. Years into the relationship, we now have hands-on practice after many years of theoretical training. The practice reveals the true and unpleasant reality that the theory didn’t reveal.
Yet again, men get to dream and hope that they can have it all because they don’t know how much work goes into it. Many would never know because, before they can get into the practice, those (read: women) who have received theoretical training are ready and feeling more equipped.
