My battle with feminism.

A couple nights ago was another one of those turning point moments that I love sharing with all. It started as a typical night, as most nights do. I was chatting with my man before bedtime, but I was falling asleep as the day took it's toll on me. So I said good night and hung up.
I then made a last trip to the bathroom to abate the call of all creatures.
But relief didn't come that night.
(I know Kimmy is flinching right now, she might not get past this point.)
As I turned on the light and stepped into the room, my body lurched backward as my eyes caught a spider in the sink.
I promise it wasn't your ordinary house dwelling, fly eating spider.
This spider had chest hair.
This spider growled.
This fucker would take the newspaper you tried to kill it with and throw it back at you.
I can't describe it. Here's a picture.

(I put a smaller picture so that those of weaker constitution can continue to the deeper themes I have in store for this article.) This, my friends is a female giant house spider. Yes, that's their name; giant house spider. Aptly named, I might add. They are often confused with hobo spiders which yes, are poisonous, but GHSs are horrifying in their own rights. Unlike their hobo cousins, these puppies can climb and actually get much bigger. So when you have a GHS infestation, literately nowhere is safe.
Anyway, back to my story.
I see this beast in my sink and the first thoughts I have are, "Oh God, oh God, oh God!" Without a second thought, I run into my room to grab something to kill it with. I take hold of my favorite flip in a set of flip flops and re-enter the chamber of the monster.
A horrible thought occurs. This spider is literately TOO BIG to be killed by my flop.
"Oh God..."
So I try again. This time I get the left shoe I wear to work. It's got much more substance (and is slip-free, I might add) and I feel much more safe behind this sole.
I inch nearer to the sink and peer into the basin. I see it trying to climb the walls and I realize, it's trapped.
It can't scale the slipper slope of my sink.
This thing can whistle, it can hunt eagles, but it can't climb out of the bathroom sink.
I've never had anything more cornered. I've never been in such a prime position to kill, besides ants that hang out where I walk. Stupid ants.
I stand there, staring at this creature of the night.
"You can do it. You're 50 times bigger than this thing. It's more scared of you than you are of it."
None of the usual methods of encouragement were working. I was paralyzed. I could hear the thing taunting me.
"You're too scared, you can't do it."
So I lean over the sink and pull up the nobby thing that plugs up the drain. If I couldn't squish it, I was going to drown it.
I was so close! I leaned over that thing in my sink and pulled up the nobby thing and what does the bastard do? Flip out, and run around the bottom of the sink! So fast, I could barely keep my eyes on it. I leapt back like I haven't leapt since high school track.
I couldn't bring myself to lean over one more time to turn on the actual sink.
What was wrong with me?
I continued to ask myself this over, and over again.
Finally I said, "I'm just not being creative enough."
I went to the laundry room, where I grabbed a duster. I stuck the head of the duster into my shoe and tried to use it as a shoe killer, from a distance.
That idea was quickly discarded. I would not have been able to provide the right pressure in the right spots on the shoe to kill the monster in one fell move.
And so I thought, "What else is large and relatively flat on one end and is so long I don't have to come within two feet of the victim?"
Why I thought this, I don't know. Adrenaline does some crazy things to people. Anyway, I immediately thought, "Plunger!"...
Well, I find out that my step dad got us a new plunger that has a weird bottom that would not allow me to crush the GHS. Also, when I was examining the end in question, another spider popped out from the plunger. I'm trying really hard to kill one spider, two is simply asking too much of me in one night. The tool was promptly thrown to the other side of the garage in which it is housed.
I was mentally trapped!
The shoe seemed to remain my best bet, so round two commenced.
Although this spider was probably as aware of me as an athiest is of divine intervention, I was sweating bullets over it's presence.
My thoughts shifted to my boy and his wasp killing abilities and his knack for squelching out the lives of insignificant and creepy beings. I thought, "If only my Will was here to kill this thing. If only I had him here to help me."
And then something came over me.
I pushed my shoulders back and picked my chin up and said to myself, "Will will not always be near to help me, just as he isn't now. If I can't help myself, I'll become weak and one of those girls I make fun of. If I want to face the world and be proud of my self, I should be able to kill my own bugs. Nobody should lean on another for that much security.
Especially I who was once strong and could hold a slug and eat dirt!
I once dug feet to hold teh tongue of a gooey duck.
I once had holes in the knees of every pair of tights I owned because
I was fearless!"
I look at this spider with new eyes.
I am a strong and independent woman. I need no man to rescue me from any perilous task. I am (in)Diana Jones! I can engage a spider ten times this size in a battle of swords or wits!
I stare a second longer at this beast who held me in fear for hours and I jumped once more.
Not for any reason belonging to the GHS.
I actually heard someone walking about in the house.
Trying to look into the dark hallway, I see my mom come out. She asks me what the hell I'm doing and I tell her of the spider.
She takes on look, doesn't think twice and says, "Oh yeah, wake Craig up. He'll take care of it."
Interesting, right?
Has she completely given up on that part of a woman that might open a pickle jar or squish a spider? I believe so because there was no doubt in her mind that she and I had no choice but to hire her husband in this mercenary act.
But I was tired, and I knew that my fearless side would have another chance to prove itself, so I woke up my stepdad.
He got up, went to the garage and grabbed his fly swatter.
He whacked the life out of the now sad and fragile creature and dropped it's curled body into the toilet.
And then he went back to bed.
I spent an hour, mentally grappling with this eight legged dog.
He spent one minute awake.
How does a man stifle any act of recoil? How do they appear fearless?
Are they actually terrified, but pressured into seeming brave? Are they actually just born brave?
I have yet to come across another one of these spiders and not scream or flee in the passed few days. (I've had far too many opportunities these days.)
I'm sure that someday I'll be able to call forth the champion in me and prove my worth.
But for now, I'm checking every corner before using the bathroom and shaking out my bed before crawling in.
For now, I will hide behind the backs of my men to protect me from the harmless but terrifying.
For now, I will be a little girl.