Hen... pecker

Ok, so the keeda is running amok these days and since the avenues for expression are rather limited, I will resort to the English language and the words that make me think. 

Henpecked for one.

Henpecked is defined as, ‘(of a woman) continually criticize and order about (her husband or other male partner). Synonyms: browbeaten, downtrodden, bullied, dominated, nagged, subjugated, oppressed, repressed, intimidated, ground down, without a mind of one's own, tied to someone's apron strings, under someone's heel.

Living in a multicultural environment and conversing with people of different nationalities, most being non-native speakers of the English language I’m constantly amused by the words used by Indian speakers. Henpecked is common jargon used superciliously.

Quite different from ‘cuckolded’ which means ‘a man whose wife has sexual relations with other men’. While both words are derogatory towards a man, I would think henpecked is the lesser evil.

The female version of both words are ‘cockpecked’ (I know… I know! The wiring in my head is running amok with puns) and ‘cuckquean’. Quean incidentally means hussy or prostitute.  

Now comes the quintessential question… why aren’t these words commonplace?

Going by statistics, I’d think that these words should have a wider representation. Interesting isn’t it that when a woman is ‘cockpecked’ (aiyyo! this word, this word!) the man is considered the epitome of manhood, alpha if you please and when she is ‘cuckqueaned’, the man is simply being a man! Nature of the beast and all.

Interesting no, cock and cuck, peckered and queaned. How phallic the fallacy. 

Me no pause...

I was asked whether I would choose to be reborn as a woman if I believed in reincarnation and mindlessly I said, of course! What do you think!

As always motor mouth sprints like Bolt before the brain can actually assimilate rational thought.

Struggling with menstruating once in two months and then twice a month, chafed thighs, volatile mood swings, hot flushes, bloating like a decomposing corpse, copious weight gain… would I still answer with the same nonchalance?

I know I am on the brink of the dreaded menopause (yeah I said it and it’s not a dirty word, except when the men in question pause when you’re almost at the apogee) and I’m morphing into a creature I do not recognize.

While traditional stereotypes are not who I aspire to be, I mean, Sita and Esther… good for them but they do not titillate my twat, I’m pretty clear of who I do not want to be!

I do not want to be jaded and vitriolic, disenchanted and inorganic, defeated and bummed out as I grow older.

I do not want to believe that the flush of my youth has ended and I have to behave ‘like a lady’ and act my age, I mean, even my body is telling me that apparently.

I do not want to quit yearning for adrenaline rushes, sinful blushes and some action behind the bushes.

Then again, the very question gets my panties into a knot, being reborn as a woman. WTF. Interesting though, the religions that do believe in reincarnation edict that being born as a woman is some sort of a punishment as the souls refines itself through karma and towards nirvana.

Bad karma apparently leads a soul to be reborn as a woman and is an obstacle towards attaining moksha. Forget the panties, my gut just did a Korbut flip and include the bloody uterus percolating crimson too, it just jiggled like hooters sans silicon. You get the drift.

No matter how excruciating the cramp and agonizing this teetering on the brink of mania, I’d do this over and over again. Be a woman that is.

Not extolling the virtues of womanhood, penning this has been exhausting enough and one could give free reign to their bent imagination.

However I will say this, I love the fact that I can allow myself to feel deeply with the core my being and experience emotions that at times threaten to sear me as well as embalm. To girdle my loins with steel while sporting a gossamer garter. To walk away from the unnecessary drama and watch life go by as I chill with  some hooch. To nurture and nourish, protect and cherish and sponge away the blues of those who are mine.

Yup, coming back as a woman. God help us all. I'm on a roll...

Me no pause...