Along with ta-ta's and lady bits, being a woman comes with a few other accessories. Well, usually.
For me, these include crying at the slightest thing gone wrong, crying at anything that reminds me of Mr. Superman, and... oh yeah, crying at just about anything else. I posted this to Mr. Superman a few days ago after returning to Arizona from my two week trip in Utah.
"Soooo, as I was going through security today before my flight, I saw a flash of digital camo. I looked up and my heart stuttered because it was an A1C fully decked out. He was right behind me and he probably thought I was a freak because I could not, for the life of me, stop staring. Cue the tears right? Throw in that line from your email about not caring the next time you fly for 18 hours because it'll mean you're coming home to me and then mix it with my quick mental math and the realization we are barely a third of the way done and I was bawling like a baby. In public. Thank God for waterproof mascara.
Love you baby."
I will mention that I left out all the other incidents of waterworks that day.
When I was asked why I was traveling alone, they brimmed over in about 2.5 seconds.
When I was complimented on my ring and asked where my "lovely husband" was, my voice actually shook and clearing my throat did not convince that old lady it was because I had a cold.
Oh, how about as we were in the air, when I started thinking about the last time I was on a plane from Utah to Arizona, it was with Mr. Superman by my side. He was rubbing my back, convincing me to not puke because it would be horribly embarrassing and make the plane smell funky. I actually was sniffling for 5 minutes before the terrified 19 year old kid next to me asked if I was okay.
You are making me even more erratically emotional and its truly startin' to bug.