Limited Choices

by prettybluebirds

In my earlier years, I never minded being born a female. I was born the tenth child of twelve, following four boys, so you can bet I was somewhat spoiled. My mother put my hair up in rags every night so my hair would be curly and dressed me in girly clothes. I put up with Mom's fussing until I decided I preferred wearing jeans and doing boy things, like playing baseball and helping Dad and my brothers around the farm. If Mom was disappointed, she didn't say so, and Dad could always use another hand to bale hay and pick cherries. Still, in certain situations, I was very much aware that I was female and, therefore, could not do some of the things my brothers were allowed to do. My brothers could go roller skating or to the movies by themselves, but Dad insisted I must have one of my brothers as a chaperone if I went somewhere. It didn't seem fair to me, but my father was old-fashioned and didn't believe girls should go to public places unchaperoned, even if my best friend was with me.

Sometimes, I found myself wishing I had been born a boy, especially after I told my dad I wanted to be a veterinarian, and he said it was no career for a girl. He seemed shocked that I would even consider such a thing, as he felt work of that nature was inappropriate for a woman. This was the man who wouldn't allow his daughters in the barn when he put a cow in with the bull. Dad approved of my older sister, Carol, becoming a nurse, and he was glad my eldest sister, Mary, had married and had already started her family. For my dad, the choices narrowed down to getting married and raising a family (Dad's number one choice), becoming a secretary until you met a nice man and married (Dad again), or a career as a nurse until you decided to settle down and get married. None of those mentioned above sparked my interest at the time.

However, I did follow Dad's advice and married shortly after leaving high school, but the guy I chose turned out to be a party boy and a womanizer. After twelve years, our marriage ended in divorce. It was a sad time for my son and me, but things were about to improve.

In the late seventies, I met and married a dairy farmer, and life became much more to my liking. While I did a lot of cooking for my husband and the hired help, I also learned to milk and care for cows. I assisted cows when they calved and gave them shots and other medication. I learned to raise calves and keep them healthy. I took control of the cat population, caring for the sick ones, getting them spayed and neutered, and finding homes for several cats to lower the number on the farm. I coerced my husband into helping save abused horses and found homes for many animals abandoned near our farm. It was as close to being a veterinarian as I could get, and I was content.

Now, there are as many female veterinarians as there are male. I'm sure that if I had been a boy, my father would have been proud to send me to college to become a veterinarian, and I would have been more than delighted to go. I have no hard feelings towards my dad. It was just how things were and how differently people thought in the fifties. Women were the homemakers, and men were the providers. Besides, all's well that ends well.

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Being Female contest entry