Barefoot and in the kitchen.

I am a stay-at-home wife.

I even go barefoot a lot in my kitchen when I cook, and I do not mind keeping this house I live in clean while my husband goes out and earns our paycheck. This is my choice–this is how I chose to live my life. It is what makes me happy and I do not expect others to do the same.

What boils my delicious yukon gold potatoes are the women that apparently come out of no where with their angry noises and stylish heels to inform me, oh-so-snarkily, that I am some sort of set back to the sex and that I should be ashamed. Ashamed? Of what?

Should I be ashamed of the women who worked hard years before me in order to allow me to have the choice of staying home or having a career? Or should I be ashamed that I do not force this outlook or my lifestyle on anyone? Or, maybe, they mean that I should some how be ashamed about something that works well for me? I am confused, really, over this hair pulling full-lung bellowing in my–and other women who chose to stay home–direction. I’m not sure what the women out there so upset with this are thinking. Am I torn up over their life choices? Of course not, in fact, I am glad for them. I admire the women who are trying, everyday, to ensure equality in all that they do from the courtroom to the stock room. If it were not for them and so many others, we wouldn’t be half as far as we are today.

But I’ve always thought that feminism was always about having the right to choose.

I have chosen, and I have until now, been rather quietly happy with my lot in life, it works for me.

What works for me won’t necessarily work for the woman down the line–but I’m not going to put her on a roasting spit because our ideas don’t align.  I am content in what I am doing in my life, I thank you ladies who have disagreed with it for your concern, but shouldn’t you be worrying about your own lives?