Why Don't You Have Your Man Doing That For You?

I was just outside mowing the lawn, you know, like people do. A man walking by stopped on the sidewalk and was yelling something at me that I couldn't hear over the whir of the motor in the incredibly manly machine I was wielding.

It looks a lot like this. Can't you feel the testosterone glowing off the screen. 

I, figuring that someone must surely have something important to say if you're stopping me from mowing (hey, maybe I'm about to run over a nest of kittens; I'd want to know that), stop the mower and look up, sweat dripping into my eyes, pretty clearly annoyed, "What?"

"Why don't you have your man doing that for you?"

I was thrown off. Now I was annoyed, confused, and insulted. "He's at work," I said, which was the truth, then turned back to re-starting the mower. 

The guy now looked confused, too. (What was he expecting me to say, I wonder.) "Oh, um, I guess you gotta work, huh?" But then he saw that I didn't get the mower started on the first pull (it's old, and it doesn't like being stopped mid-job for no reason) and his machismo perked right back up as he took a few steps toward me. "Looks like you need some help with that!" he gleefully declared, clearly feeling he had won this little "debate." 

Just then, thankfully, the engine roared to life, and I said, "Nope. Got it!" and started mowing again. Then the man seriously stood there watching me for a good minute. I heard him yell, "He's at work, huh?" one more time before he finally turned around and walked on. 

As I finished the methodical task of mowing my front lawn, I thought of all the other responses I could or should have given him:

1) I just spent two grand on this damn bionic ankle. You better believe I'm going to put it to use. 

2) I enjoy yard work way, way, way more than I enjoy housework. 

3) Oh, I'm sorry, do you mow your lawn with your penis where you're from? We use hands. Different strokes for different folks. 

But one of the main things I thought about was this: if that man was that impressed with my ability to walk back and forth in a line for the eleven minutes it takes to mow my postage stamp-sized front yard, what would he think of my mother, a woman who has mowed five acres of land by herself for decades?

Here's the bottom line, if my "man" didn't have enough respect for me to know that I could walk back and forth while pushing a wheeled hunk of metal in front of me without his help, I wouldn't have much use for him. Thankfully, that's not the case. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go do something really amazing like unclog a drain or take out the trash. 

Photo: M01229