Author: Polina Sanaeva
This recognition spread throughout the Internet and collected thousands of likes and reposts on social networks.
People, I'm a woman. Only a woman. I have narrow wrists, narrow ankles and a big difference between the waist and the hips, not to mention the chest. It can be seen with the eyes, but even more true to the touch. What can you ask of me? What do you need to scold me for? I have everything the way nature has invented for women - where it is necessary narrow, where it is necessary wide, where it needs a hollow, where it needs a bump. This is for the man, this is for the children. I'm part of the puzzle. Everything is fitted and lubricated. You have to match, and it works. Just don't ask me for other functions. See how beautiful it is when I pin my hair up and one strand comes out. The perfume smells better on me than the perfumer thought, on me the bracelets ring like a promise of joy … And this promise is being fulfilled. What else do you need?
And I don’t need a salary, the same as that of men, I don’t want to work at all. I want to be at home, so that there is time to fry the meat and to look out the window. I have silk skin, hair, character. Nothing iron has been obtained from this for a year. It all just burns well. Burns, but is not hardened. Doesn't get harder. It will crackle, cool down, a new one will grow and again longs not for equal rights, but for silk sheets.
Well, there are no such materials and substances in me from which you can forge a strong disposition and a life full of accomplishments. I cannot be on my own. I'm made for someone. From the rib, collarbone, coccyx, spit, I don’t know. And I feel as if I have a lot less bones than I need to stand firmly, walk quickly, jump high and wave my arms: I! I!
I'd rather go to a chair under a blanket. Or kiss a child. Or hug a man.
I don't know how to fight, I only know how to retreat. When on time, when earlier than necessary. I am not a blacksmith of my own fortune, and I am not a blacksmith at all. What was taught there in Smolny? To cook languages, dances and jam? Now I want to make jam. Sometimes to be silent, sometimes to speak, sometimes to chat. Why do I need to know so much to live? !! Why is it not enough to feel talented, to be able to love, to be that soft, in which one can hide? Just be.
And I don’t want to say to myself or to others: “I can handle it, I can figure it out, I can stand it.” I want to panic, faint, switch off to wake up, and they told me: you shouldn't worry, you need to rest … And you really need to. And in general, horizontally I'm more comfortable. And I don't need a promotion, I need a new bra with thin lace spaghetti straps. And stockings with a seam.
I can be a wife and a mother. I can be honest. For happiness, it is enough for me to be loved. It is enough to sleep at night in that notch on his shoulder, which is also part of the puzzle.