Feminism · Life

Pride Cometh before a Fall and Subsequent Drinking of a Bottle of Wine

I had a flat tire today… massively flat. As in, nope you are not going to put air in this and drive it to the shop. You are going to make an emergency stop in a church parking lot and call your husband for help and then try and change the tire yourself. In the freezing cold. In your dress clothes. At 7 in the morning.

But gripping about my spectacularly terrible morning is not actually the point of this blog post. The point of this blog post is that sometimes I make terrible choices and have no one to blame but myself. Why, you ask? Let me tell you.

After I called Z. and realized it was going to be 45 minutes before he got there and after I could tell he was quite unhappy about leaving work, I decided to change the tire myself. I know how, so I set about to doing it. The problem was I wasn’t quite strong enough to actually do a lot of the work. At least not in an efficient manner.

20 minutes in this very nice man stopped to offer to help me. I let him help me with one of the nuts, but then thanked him and told him not to worry, I could handle the rest. Why did I do this? Why?


I wanted to prove to Z. I could do it. I wanted to be able to say at work that I did it myself. Are you picturing a toddler stomping her foot and demanding that she can do it? That’s a pretty good picture of my mental self at that moment. I almost immediately regretted my decision.

The truth is that I could do it. I knew how and I would have eventually got it done. But so slowly and inefficiently. It was so cold and heels and dress pants were not the ideal apparel. It was all around a miserable, miserable experience.

Initially, I blamed my feminism. Like why did I let my feminist side control me? But that wasn’t feminism. Feminism is not and has never been not admitting you need help or rejecting the kindness of people. I didn’t do this to prove some feminist point or to prove that women were capable. I did it because I was too proud to get help from a stranger and I blamed my feminism because it was more convenient than admitting the truth. I was proud. Too proud to accept help. Too proud to let someone be kind to me, to let someone offer human generosity to me.

It was a bitterly cold and painful lesson to learn. Hopefully I got it.

In the meantime, I am going to have a bottle of wine for dinner and try to get grease stains out of my favorite dress pants. #winefordinner

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