Excellent! Buy Me a Monkey

A friend, a few years back, affectionately nicknamed me, Amazonian Princess. This did not offend me, because 1) a friend named me and 2) it's appropriate. I am Amazonian. I am not a princess or any sort of the monarch royalty by birth, but I can act like one of the best of 'em - just ask the husband. He'll tell you, but he is my husband and he can say these things without the threat of death by sporking lying over his cute little face. And most times, the husband will say I'm justified. So there.

At least I know it and freely admit it.

However, there are times that I do not know what to do with it, especially when it comes from someone I barely, if even, know . . . .

tri-man-athl: you must've been a swimmer previously . . . or . . . you must lift weights, because you have back muscles just like a man. . .
me: uh. No. I never swam, but - uh - I do lift weights at least twice a week. *could the earth immediately please split open and swallow me whole*
tri-man-athl: really. You have huge back muscles! *astonishment*
me: you really know what to say to a woman to make her feel just like a woman, huh. *kill me now. just kill me*

Really. Is that a compliment? Is that just plain scary? Or is that just a scary statement about me? Should I be scared? Should I have sporked his face off? I feel as if I'm in a bit of a conundrum here.

You see, deep down I want to be pretty. I want to be smart. I want to be a lady. I want to be able get off the Titanic first. I want taxi's to stop for me. I like being assessed by my shoes. I like being a slave to fashion. Finally, I like my girlie parts of me. What I do not want is to have a. well. muscled. man's. back.

Do you think chocolate will solve this problem?

Being a woman is a terribly difficult task, since it consists principally in dealing with men.
~Joseph Conrad~