Brand new everyday underwear if he calls us and when I quit, resigned, never called, calls to go out running with what we’re wearing and uppers because the next day, he goes hunting with the Zulus Indians or going to dinner with his MOM; and so, we left fired with lingerie more marred by custom, we have. Love calls from our mothers who do not resist our emancipation, although long ago are of legal age, that can be recorded on the answering machine: clear, you you don’t care if I die as if one collecting outside the lifetime mothers substitute and not happy with that, added: if not call me, I can die waiting for a call yours. Impossible to explain machine, at least, because with our mothers an eternity we desist, that it makes the mother in question cannot be called it in the siesta hours, because it makes your break as much cleaning and food to Pope and errands, from the warehouse to the pharmacy that leave it exhausted. That very late at night do not. That mid-morning either, because he meditates, among things kill us and that look like an accident.

Or how to endure the same husband more than forty years which already endure each other without dying or killing in the attempt. Impossible to leave this on the answering machine of her, that if we previnimos to do cold and the creature who is his grandson fervent to the North Pole, that can stay quiet and other domestic minutiae involving the welfare of the poor little angels that dicense her grandchildren but crazy her daughter, at the time of their beloved mother and victims of their grandchildren. How to tell still in therapy, we could not overcome his heritage of being bipolar. From distress to the laughter of laughter to the anguish. It is inherently female, be bitter multifuncionalistas.

MOM, wives, sisters, daughters, friends, sisters, nieces, aunts and so on. Several. And suffer and enjoy the different Polyphonies of motherhood, each one to his style; own and very personal, to suit the consumer: mother hen, mama gansa, liberal, conservative, classic, cyber MOM, cyber anti, manuelita turtle or the Bionic Woman, but MOM finally. Between the task of home to a mother you do not forget, remind the spawn is not good business leaving a Sunday until dawn after Monday we charged everyone equally. Against the closet, wide opened its doors, there is no woman who with arms in jarrra, don’t tell: the rigor and the million question: what should I wear? The woman has a problem that have no solution: is fixing, that blisters, that’s me prees, which too me boy, which remains large, which always has a good pair of shoes that tame for me. Furthermore is insoslayablemente female, Allergy and hysteria, for stains and prefer to stay without the garment but not with the stain. And we harness a war cry: La mancha who bore them. That have learned to touch, and memory to the rush of either bath creme rinse eyes, when we would like to use shampoo, is the shampoo and conditioner, both that we acquired it as a reflex effect. But in spite of everything, we insist and pucha that we like to be a woman. Original author and source of the article.