I got these gorgeous flowers as a very generous but unnecessary thank you for the baby shower we threw the other week. Have I mentioned that we have the best friends here in Asheville?
I love how FTD sends flowers in their budding stage so they last longer. Over the past three days, I’ve literally watched them bloom before my eyes. So pretty! Getting flowers as a thank you was a wonderful surprise. And finding out how much I truly love getting them was a nice surprise, too.
When I first wrote this post, it was simply about the fact that I loved these flowers and the surprise of getting them. But after I hit “publish”, I started thinking about why I’ve been so resistant to embrace things such as flowers and chocolate. Why do I cringe every time I even come close to resembling a cliché? At first, I chided myself for being pretentious and self-centered. Perhaps I thought I was too special for things that were so obvious and bourgeois. But then I realized that’s the eight seasons of Frasier reruns I’ve been watching on Netflix talking, not me. I wouldn’t turn my nose up at a gesture because it wasn’t good enough for me. If I like something a little different it’s only because I’m a little different… some might even say quirky. Some have flat out said weird (which I take as a compliment). And then I realized why I resist the joy of flowers and resent the housework that rightfully comes with the territory of being a stay-at-home mom.
I love wearing skirts, reading chic lit, eating ice cream in my sweatpants and drinking too much wine with my girlfriends, but I’ve come to the realization that I (albeit subconsciously) earmark certain female stereotypes as signs of weakness. I never wanted to be the blushing girl at her desk getting a dozen roses on Valentine’s Day. When’s the last time you saw a man get flowers at his desk? Men and women shouldn’t be viewed differently, but they are, and flowers or a mousepad that says “You Say I’m a Bitch Like It’s a Bad Thing” doesn’t help blur that line.
I supposed this threshold is different for everyone. I know there are people a lot less neurotic and “quirky” than I am who don’t even have a semi-feminist threshold.
I also know flowers delivered from friends to your home is not the same thing as getting a bouquet from your hubby at work. And perhaps that’s where my line lies. I can be a blubbery PMS-ing housewife in my “Head Bitch” t-shirt* guzzling wine and ice cream** by the gallon at home, while putting on a strong, put-together face for the world. Like a superhero with two identities… or an everyday woman trying to balance work and life without going crazy. Potato, po-tah-toe…
All this from flowers. No wonder I don’t get them often:)
*T-shirt description is for dramatic effect. I do not own said shirt.
**Ice cream is used here for stereotypical purposes. In my case this would be replaced with cheese, which I wish was sold by the gallon.
Raveled 