I just might be a feminist . . .

World English Dictionary

feminist (ˈfɛmɪnɪst) — n

1. a person who advocates equal rights for women — adj

2. of, relating to, or advocating feminism

I'm not big on labels and certainly don't feel any need to label myself, but it occured to me today that if I were to label myself I might have to call myself a feminist.  Is that bad?
 
Today I went to get new tabs for my license plates on my car; they were actually due by August 30th but I was under the impression that you have 10 days past the due date before you were officially late.  As usual I procrastinated to Day 8 of my 10 day grace period, only to find out that the whole grace period thing is a myth.  Good thing I don't drive far to work and even better that I rarely see the police!
 
Living in a small town we don't have the long lines at the DMV that I hear about from city dwellers, meaning that if we end up SECOND in line we get irritated.  As I was crossing the street to enter the DMV a man literally ran from his vehicle to enter ahead of me.  So much for chivalry!  So there I was, SECOND in line and none too happy about it.  When it was finally (see what I mean?) my turn I was informed that this is the year I get not only tabs but new plates as well.  YAY me!  Not really, but I'm trying to stay positive.
 
Anyway, as the woman hands me my shiny new plates she says, "now you can have your husband put these on for you".  If thought bubbles were visible mine would have said, "Excuse me?"  Since I figured she couldn't read my mind I opted for a cold, hard stare as I spit out the words, "Actually I think I can do it myself" to which she replied, "oh".  I can only imagine what her thought bubble might have said.  That's when it occurred to me that I just might be a feminist.
 
These types of experiences always irritate me!  For years as a single woman I went to the same Accountant to have my taxes done.  The file had my name on it of course.  Then I got married and the next time I went in the file only had my husband's name on it.  When questioned, the woman gave me the old "that's the way we've always done it" speech which didn't help at all.  Then when it was time to sign our return I learned that my husband was to sign on the line for the taxpayer and I was simply the taxpayer's spouse.  Excuse me?  I mentioned to the woman at the counter that I sort of considered myself the taxpayer since I pay the bills, file all of the tax paperwork and spent a few hours preparing for the appointment while my husband simply tagged along to the appointment.  I let her hem and haw for a bit (can you imagine her thought bubble?) and then I just signed where they had typed my name.  Ok fine, I did the cold, hard stare bit too if you must know.
 
Last night I bought two 40 pound bags of softener salt, carried them into my house and down to the basement and then lifted them up and emptied them into the softener.  Last week I fashioned a ramp out of two boards and loaded our lawn mower into the trunk of my car so that I could take it to be repaired.  I do these types of things while making sure to follow my motto, "don't break a sweat or a nail".  However, the world just assumes that women need a man to do everything for them, and it never fails to irritate me.
 
I got my new plates on my car, and now I'm off to burn a few bras.