I’d like to present an up-close-and-personal look at the inequitable differences between my life as a woman and my husband’s life as a man.
He does not color his hair.
He does not wear high heels.
He does not wear makeup.
Let’s break it down.
Hair. I have a hair stylist who consistently delivers what I request; I schedule my three-hour appointments for a cut, color, and blowout every six weeks. While her fee is reasonable, it’s still 10 times what my husband pays for a haircut. He will randomly announce he’s going to the barbershop for a trim, no appointment necessary. Fourteen dollars and 30 minutes later, he emerges looking like Cary Grant (without the cleft chin). Even more annoying, he shaves, showers, and styles that hair under 16 minutes every morning. I have timed this; my stats are accurate. Not fair.
Shoes. The heels on my husband’s shoes are a half-inch high. The last time I wore high heels was at a lawn wedding eight years ago when I stepped into a veritable sinkhole and my heel fell off my platform sandals, injuring the peroneal tendon wrapping around my outer ankle bone. Like any respectable nurse, I turned to Dr. Google before seeking a real physician’s diagnosis three years later. Dr. Real-Deal halfheartedly offered surgery with a no-guarantee outcome for tendon repair and its arduous recovery. I settled for I-can’t-walk pain when........