Hard as it is to believe given that I am continually bleating about my lack of self esteem, I do consider myself to be quite an independent, intelligent woman. Until I am in the company of any men when regardless of their age or even attractiveness, I turn into a giant hair twirling, useless parking, girlie voiced twat.
Left up to my own devices I can navigate myself without getting into a twizz, can manage roundabouts without panicking about which lane I am in, can sort out the wireless connection on my laptop without launching it across the room and can check the oil in my car without getting covered in it. Add a man to any of those equations though and I go to pot resulting in baby voiced squeaking, puppy dog eyes, hair flicking and sometimes (often, let's be honest) out and out tantrums. It is as if something in my genes goes skewiff in the presence of a man and I resort to acting like a helpless damsel in distress.
I'm doing a disservice to myself and to the female of the species by caving when under the watchful eye of a man and it's about time I stood on my own two feet and started wearing my big girl panties however the men in my life (PG and CG particularly) have come to expect me to be reduced to a girlie mass of hormones whenever in their presence. Just the other day, I managed to get THREE wheels of my car onto the pavement whilst trying to reverse park outside our flat because one of my neighbours was stood watching me, trying to be helpful. I wanted to roll down the window and tell him to 'fuck off', but as he's the head honcho of the Resident's Association I thought it best to keep my expletives to myself and just carry on trying to ram a massive hole in our hedge.
I am famed for not having any common sense (recent examples, 1- asking if it was cheaper to post a letter from LDN to Brum than from Soton to Brum, 2- commenting on how sorry I felt for ducks being stuck outside in the rain, I didn't realise they were *waterproof* duh!) however I think I need to work on being able to ask for help. I dragged PG round three garages to help me check the air in my tyres because I'd never done it before however I could easily have gone and given it a go myself and if I managed to stuff it up entirely only then ask PG for his manly help.
The other problem is that the hair twirling, baby voiced, puppy dog eyed, sappy girl persona doesn't tend to fit when you're 6'2" and have a bottom the size of a Toyota Yaris! (Compact but still quite big and not as small and nippy as the Toyota IQ say). I don't want to go too much the other way however and become an independent, ball-breaking, rough tough female Scout leader type. Maybe a mix of the two? A hair twirling ball-breaker?