What It Feels Like To Be a Woman

My senior year in high school I rode the bus to school on Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. But not on Tuesdays. On that one day of the week, my friend Michelle was allowed to drive her parents' car to school. She'd pick up me and a couple of our other friends (both of whom were named Jen), and we'd head over to the local greasy spoon for breakfast before driving to school.
 
One morning as we waited for our check to arrive we began distractedly creating a pile from various things from the table, while simultaneously continuing to be engrossed in our conversation. We started with the large, metal-topped sugar container and then added knives and forks, packets of jam, etc., until we had created a "sculpture" of sorts in the center of our table. We pronounced it a work of art and decided it needed a title. Someone suggested "What It Feels Like To Be a Woman," and we all laughed.
 

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