in my ear. “You suffer from an affliction most the females in America suffer from, though yours seems worse, so it’s essential you learn this from me now. You aren’t Superwoman.”
“I know. I’m getting tha—”
Essence spoke over me.
“They have a baby, in months they fight their way to a size two again so their husband won’t step out on them. Or their girlfriends won’t talk behind their backs. Or whatever fool thing makes them think they can pretend they didn’t give birth to a child. A woman’s body changes when she has a child. I know. I’ve had three. My hips got wider so I could push them out. My boobs got bigger so I could nurture them. It’s as nature intended. It’s the order of things. It’s the way it is so human beings can remain on this earth, for the Goddess’s sake,” she lectured. “And guess what? All curvy, she looks like a woman. What’s wrong with that?”
I had no idea why she was talking about women having babies, but it was clear she was going on a tangent, probably because she was flipped out (my fault), so I had to talk her down and soothe her flip out.
“I know, honey, but—”
My attempt at soothing failed.
She kept talking over me.
“And if a man steps out on her because she’s had his child and lost what he thinks was her figure, good riddance. I mean, if he has that in him, bad choice from the start, but how would she know? But that happens, she’s better off without him because he’s just a plain old asshat.”
She’d get no argument from me on that.
“Right, Essence, but—”
“She gets a job, and she has kids, she busts her hump to be all she can be at work, then at home, and still she’s probably expected to make dinner and buy all the Christmas presents and wrap them. Topping that, she puts up with the judgment of the women who stay at home and raise their kids. If she decides to stay home and look after her children, she feels she has to be Supermom to prove to the women who decided to work that she made the right decision. ‘Look how great I am, I made a birthday cake in the shape of a tyrannosaurus rex and it’s so lifelike.’”
Oh God.
Now she was talking about T-rex cakes.
Before I could slide in there while Essence let out a disgusted snort, she kept right on talking.
“Who cares? All that matters is that it tastes good. Kids care for about two seconds their cake looks like a stupid dinosaur. Then they want to eat it. The woman made that cake to prove to her friends how great a mom she is. She’s a size two and makes a dinosaur cake and that means she’s a great mom? A worthy woman? It’s ludicrous.”
Okay, she’d clearly been wound up about all this on behalf of womankind for a long time.
Still.
“You’re so right. So, right, Ess—”
“You know who doesn’t worry about all that stuff?” she interrupted me to ask.
She didn’t wait for my answer.
“Men!” she exclaimed.
“Right,” I muttered, grabbing my beer, taking a sip and finding Rush’s gaze.
He lifted his brows.
I gave him big eyes.
He turned his head, but I still didn’t miss his smile.
I took another tug of beer so I wouldn’t throw the bottle at him.
I also settled in.
I bought this. I had to take it.
Even Rush’s amusement.
“You know what’s important to a kid?” she asked.
I had a few guesses.
I still said, “What?”
“That they get love and guidance and time. That’s what’s important to a kid. And Rebel, part of that love you give a kid is you teach them how to self-love. You do not run around trying to make everyone else’s life easier and better and just right without looking after yourself. Women find themselves at a time when their kids don’t need them, and working or stay-at-home, they don’t know who the hell they are. They don’t have any clue where the last fifteen years have gone. They’ve been so damned busy trying to prove that they can do it all, they forgot to do one of the most important things in their life. Live it.”
Okay.
I was beginning to see her point.
Suffice it to say, I’d known Essence a long time. I loved her. I admired how she lived her life how she wanted to live it and didn’t give a damn what anyone thought. I knew her children. I knew her grandchildren.