The whole idea of “womanhood” has been a dilemma for me. Perhaps this is because I find myself often on the male edge of thinking. Not logistically, of course- since “‘Brittany’ [Ahab] never thinks, she [he] just feels, feels, feels”- but I guess more on the desensitized, indelicate side of male thinking. I attribute this to my dear father and uncles, who, though I love them with every beating of my heart, have an amazing talent for making even the most crass and crude of commentary seem apropos for the moment. Whether it’s a talent, or just a lack of, what’s that word again? Oh yeah- tact- we may never know. But regardless, my being born with estrogenical phenotypes has done nothing to sway this brand of synapses from propagating in my female mind. And I welcome them! Because having that dad and those uncles and brothers who you’ve epitomized as the definition of humor, applaud your humor, is the kind of compliment worth writing home about. This is all fine and dandy, but… I can’t help but feel like it is a sort of betrayal to the womanly virtues I’ve been granted, too. “What the world needs is a return to sweetness and decency…” (-Princess Ann, Roman Holiday). What of tenderness, and grace, and eloquence?

In the last week, I’ve managed to prioritize six Audrey films into my schedule. If one were to paint the portrait of a lady, I would say that my beloved Ms. Hepburn is the epitome of what a lady should be. Some characteristics of Lady Aud that come to mind: class, eloquence, style, grace, serene sense of humor, kindness, concern for her fellow man. Audrey and all her essence are indeed the receivers of many an admiring eye, both male and female alike. No man can admit that she isn’t refreshingly and flawlessly lovely, and no woman cannot admire her. I doubt Audrey ever voiced a crass or harsh thought toward another living creature.

It would be absolutely divine to be able to effortlessly exude such poise and grace, but I just don’t think it’s in the stars for me. Channeling my inner Audrey- my inner lady- takes a conscious, strained effort… I would imagine it’s much like a paraplegic trying to walk. It’s not that I’m (totally) white trash or vulgar or anything. It’s just that I happen to love It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia just as much as I love Pride and Prejudice. (Maybe not AS much… But I do quite enjoy it far more than any woman venturing to call herself a lady ever should.) I’ve decided my quest for 2011 is to acquiesce to my feminine proclivities and hone those propensities for the opposite with which I’ve seemingly been graced. In order to prepare for this quest, I have to consider those ladies who inspire me the most, both real and fictionary…

Carol Calhoun – Grandmother. Once described in my journal as, “possessing a formula of the tenderness and intelligence and wisdom and humor that makes for a perfect person. And she’s beautiful.” I can honestly say I’ve never heard one profane word exit her mouth. That might be the most inspiring thing of all.