There was a question put to me in comments that I shall answer here, although I must admit, Amber has already done a pretty good job on answering this. The whole of the comment was

Wait, if you "have so much to do" with yourself, why do you have to make dinner as well? Why doesn't Mac help you? Or, better yet, why doesn't he make it?

The answer is quite simple really. It is my job to cook dinner. When I say I have so much to do, dinner, cleaning the house, washing, ironing, preparing and serving meals, just the general everyday housework, is all a part of that "so much to do". These things are work, these things take up my time, and they are all in my personal job description of stay at home wife. I take them seriously. When I worked, when I had the 'minimum of 10 hours a day career' I was miserable, tired, and emotionally exhausted and I was completely wrung out by the work I was doing. Mac offered (yes He offered, never demanded, never forced, but offered) me a chance not to do that anymore. He said He could take care of the financial side of things if I wanted to try something different.

So I took Him up on the offer and I quit my paid job and with a lot of encouragement from Mac I started selling some of my paintings. Of course, if I tried to live on what I earn, I would be on the street, eating from garbage cans and showering once a month. Mac is the one that has kept a roof over our heads (and a mighty fine roof it is too), paid for our holidays (and yeah, we have spoilt ourselves with quite a few of those), put food on our table (we never go hungry) and I even have a sink in my little work room that the money Mac earned paid for.

And Mac has never, not even once, begrudged me anything I have spent the money He earns on. As far as both of us are concerned, it is our money. He earns it for us. As long as the bills are paid and the savings account keeps getting bigger, Mac pretty much lets me have whatever I think is reasonable. When I suggested to Him that it would be easier on me and on the bathroom if I had my own sink in the room that I paint in, the only thing He asked was to get a report on how much permanent damage might be done to the house when it was installed.

In return for this, and completely of my own doing, I decided that I should make our home as comfortable for us both as it can be. I am here all day most days, so the cleanliness of the house and our clothes, and the buying and preparation of our food is my responsibility. I love our home being tidy, I love knowing Mac is coming home to a cooked meal, I love taking care of this side of our lives. Having lived alone without time for housework or cooking Mac understands the value of the things I do. In our house 'domestic drudgery' is as valued as any amount of paid work I could do.

As for that particular day, the one where I went to a friend's office and actually did a nine to five job, Mac had left for work at 6am, two hours before I did. I spent the day sitting on my bottom stuffing envelopes with a cheery Christmas note of thanks. Mac spent the day inspecting smelly factories in an effort to make sure His company gets the best quality. He beat me home by all of ten minutes. There is no doubt in my mind which of us should have cooked the meal.

Besides all of that, whenever Mac cooks, He makes me very uncomfortable. He never puts things back where they belong. He uses every single pot and pan He can lay His hands on (including some I have never seen before!) and He manages to leave splotches all over my benches. I cringe when I walk into my kitchen and see what He has done. He has come up with some delicious food through our years together. He is quite capable of cooking for us at any time but I prefer Him out of my kitchen thank you.

Oh I know Mac really can put things back where they came from. I have a feeling He doesn't try too hard because I might actually expect Him to cook for us more often if He did. But that's ok with me, because Mac knows I actually could start a lawn mower if I really tried to. I have no intention of trying. That's His job around here.

So here I am, repressed into a life of domestic drudgery by being offered a chance to try something different and belittled by antiquated acts of chivalry because my Husband treats me like a princess. Not only do I cook, but I clean as well and not only does He offer His seat to women on crowded busses, but He helps them carry heavy bags. He always walks on the curb side of the sidewalk. He always opens doors for me. He seats me at restaurants and He goes to the bar to get us drinks. He precedes me downstairs and follows me up them. He leads me through crowds, He convinces drunken over-amorous men to move along, He stands between me and any trouble He feels is about to occur. He does all that and probably many other things that we both just assume should be done. We are equal. We treat each other with the same amount of respect, we both do our best to give each other the things we want, without either of us, this way of life, our way of life, ceases to exist for us, but that doesn't make us the same.

I don't want to be the same as Him. I want to be allowed to embrace all things that are seen as girlie and feminine. I want to wear sheer lacy bras and almost non-existent underwear. I want to wear stockings and high heels with short skirts. I want to wear pretty flowing blouses in pinks and purples and light blues. I want to spend 10 minutes on my make up and 20 minutes on my hair. I want to blush and hide behind my hair when I tell Him something rude. I want to wear lipstick and lip gloss and paint my fingernails. Sometimes I even want my purse to match my outfit and match my shoes as well. I want to be pretty and act pretty and be gentle and kind. I don't want to have to pretend I am a man to get the things I want. I want to be who I am.

I married a Man that will treat me as His slut in the bedroom and His princess on His arm. He may hold me against the wall and throw a fuck into me when He feels like it but then He will hold me close and tell me how special I am to Him. He appreciates all that I do whether that is bring home a day's pay, or serve Him bangers and mash for dinner. Having His clothes clean and pressed ready for work is as important to Him as me handing over an extra paycheck each week. He gave up that money because He wanted me to be happy. Think about that for a moment. If I had stayed at the job I was doing, Mac and I would be further ahead in our mortgage and have twice as much money in our savings account. We could have enjoyed longer holidays, bigger presents and Mac would not have waited an extra year for His new car. He wouldn't need to work as hard as He does if I had stayed at work too. But He was willing to give all of that up and take on the responsibility of earning enough for both of us because He valued my happiness over anything else. He loves me. He protects me. He cherishes me for being who I am. He appreciates me. He respects me. He keeps my innermost secrets. He trusts me with His heart. He believes in me. He praises my accomplishments. He tells me and shows me how proud He is of me. He takes care of the things I need. God. And people want to question why I should make dinner for Him?

It's just one simple thing I can do.

Now this blog is called Submissive Reflections for a reason, being that these are the thoughts of a submissive female. Don't come here and expect to see me bashing men and waving feminist flags because it isn't going to happen. I have no intention of changing to suit those who think I am letting women down because I feel that you are the ones letting women down by trying to force us into your mould. The feminist movement should have been about allowing women choices, not about forcing them to choose the feminist way. I have chosen to be His. I have chosen to look after our house and hopefully in the future I will have children to raise as well. I have chosen to look like a woman, dress like a woman and behave in what I consider to be womanly ways. This is what women were supposed to be fighting for, the right to be who we want to be. We do not need to give up being female to be equal to men. We do not need to be the same as men to receive an equal amount of respect.

Each and everyday I celebrate being a woman. Everyday I thank my God for giving me Mac. Mac brings a fullness to my life that I never thought was possible. You will never convince me I am less because I submit to Him. I am never going to give up being who I am.

So I will leave you today with some wise words from Joan Crawford who when asked why she never left the house in less than an immaculate state said "You want to see the girl next door? Then go next door."

When you come here, what you are going to see, is me.