Friday, July 15, 2011
An Open Letter To My Ex - continued
The birthday present wasn't that great. Thou hast failed to redeem thyself.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
An Open Letter To My Ex
Husband #2:
Today you sent me a text message: Address please
I replied with my address.
You: I'm right around the corner
!!!!!!!
My heart dropped and began to pound right out of my chest. My hands were shaking. I thought I was going to throw up. So I dialed your number.
"What do you mean, you're right around the corner?" I exclaimed, my voice shaky, nearly breaking.
"Ha, ha ha," you said. "I'm just sending you a late birthday present."
"That isn't funny! I just almost puked in my trash can" I said.
"Oh, then it WAS funny!" you replied, laughing still. LAUGHING. At my pain!
I hung up. I couldn't stop shaking and I started to cry. It really wasn't funny. Do you not realize what you did to me? Do you STILL not realize, after all the times I've explained to you that you DEVASTATED me when you left me for another woman? My daily attempt at forgiveness is a concerted effort on my part and if I were to see you again, I would need days of mental preparation just to be able to deal with being in your presence while the memory of the pain and shock and anger came to the surface again, making me feel worthless and discarded all over again. Why do you laugh when I express to you that it wasn't a funny joke and I do not ever want to be surprised like that? Why is your betrayal and infidelity so far removed from your awareness that you don't realize that jokes like that are completely lost on me? What kind of reaction did you really expect?
I dragged a friend and confidant into my office to cry on and he just shook his head and looked disgusted, that someone who already (practically, and for awhile) ruined my life and tore down any semblance of self-esteem I had would stoop so low as to stab me in the back again. You seem to be the only one who thought it was funny.
You just don't get it and it's apparent that you never will. You can't do that kind of damage and expect for me to ever laugh about it. In trying to leave the pain behind, keeping you in my life in any form just makes it harder. Still, I am trying to forgive. But don't expect me to forget.
However, I am a Barbie girl. I can re-invent myself and be better off in the end. I can fly my pink, sparkly flag and I no longer care if you love and appreciate me. I can create a new world and a new life where I surround myself with people who build me up instead of tear me down. But can you take it easy on me? Haven't you caused enough pain? You better be sending me a really nice present.
Sincerely,
The One You Threw Away
Today you sent me a text message: Address please
I replied with my address.
You: I'm right around the corner
!!!!!!!
My heart dropped and began to pound right out of my chest. My hands were shaking. I thought I was going to throw up. So I dialed your number.
"What do you mean, you're right around the corner?" I exclaimed, my voice shaky, nearly breaking.
"Ha, ha ha," you said. "I'm just sending you a late birthday present."
"That isn't funny! I just almost puked in my trash can" I said.
"Oh, then it WAS funny!" you replied, laughing still. LAUGHING. At my pain!
I hung up. I couldn't stop shaking and I started to cry. It really wasn't funny. Do you not realize what you did to me? Do you STILL not realize, after all the times I've explained to you that you DEVASTATED me when you left me for another woman? My daily attempt at forgiveness is a concerted effort on my part and if I were to see you again, I would need days of mental preparation just to be able to deal with being in your presence while the memory of the pain and shock and anger came to the surface again, making me feel worthless and discarded all over again. Why do you laugh when I express to you that it wasn't a funny joke and I do not ever want to be surprised like that? Why is your betrayal and infidelity so far removed from your awareness that you don't realize that jokes like that are completely lost on me? What kind of reaction did you really expect?
I dragged a friend and confidant into my office to cry on and he just shook his head and looked disgusted, that someone who already (practically, and for awhile) ruined my life and tore down any semblance of self-esteem I had would stoop so low as to stab me in the back again. You seem to be the only one who thought it was funny.
You just don't get it and it's apparent that you never will. You can't do that kind of damage and expect for me to ever laugh about it. In trying to leave the pain behind, keeping you in my life in any form just makes it harder. Still, I am trying to forgive. But don't expect me to forget.
However, I am a Barbie girl. I can re-invent myself and be better off in the end. I can fly my pink, sparkly flag and I no longer care if you love and appreciate me. I can create a new world and a new life where I surround myself with people who build me up instead of tear me down. But can you take it easy on me? Haven't you caused enough pain? You better be sending me a really nice present.
Sincerely,
The One You Threw Away
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
My ideal man
I was asked to compile a list of pre-requisites for my ideal man. I guess my Blogger friend wanted a woman’s point of view on the subject for his own Blog. I decided to re-post it here, although I must give him credit as my muse. He really got me thinking. I can only speak for myself, but I have been married twice and I have about 25 years’ worth of relationship experience to reflect on and I have learned a thing or two about what I do and do not want. Here is what I require:
First of all, we must have the same beliefs about God, life and the reason why we are here. There are just too many instances in life when these beliefs dictate our actions and to disagree on such heavy matters can only cause dissention. From the way one treats his neighbor to the way one decides not to stress about the challenges in life; faith is a determining factor in how we behave.
Second, I prefer someone of a diverse cultural background. The differences are more interesting to me and I find men of color more aesthetically & sexually attractive. I have long given up on analyzing why, it is simply my preference. Besides, my experiences with men of my own race and cultural background have made me grow tired. I want a man who enhances my life, not a man who sucks me dry because he is so empty to begin with.
He must love music and he must have an open mind as well as his own passionate love for what moves him. In this department, the diversity factor is truly engaging for me.
One quality that is a priority to me is intelligence. I hate having to dumb down for a man. I am very socially aware and much keyed in to pop culture. I like to be able to converse about current events without having to explain too much. I especially like to be able to use all of my extensive vocabulary without getting a blank stare because the word I just used was just too big with too many syllables. I want a man who knows who I am referring to when I mention Steinbeck, Maya Angelou, Sinead O’Connor or Lil Wayne.
I don’t care if he loves animals. This is irrelevant to me. Compassion for life is essential, but if he sends 10% of his paycheck to PETA, we are going to have a problem. The same goes for environmentalists. There are people starving and suffering in this world and money spent on saving the trees or the Mexican Gray Wolf is money wasted, in my opinion. I would rather save one baby from starvation than rescue an entire rain forest. If human life is what the Lord laid down his life for, then that is an indication to me that God places a priority on saving His children, so this comes back to item one: Mutual faith in the same God.
He needs to be clean. I’m not obsessive-compulsive about cleanliness, but if I see a man who doesn’t take care of himself, his clothes, his home or his vehicle, I see a man who simply doesn’t know how to take care of things. I like order. It keeps things uncomplicated, it saves money, it’s healthier and quite honestly, it’s sexy. Basically, if you want it to be kissed, wash it. I don’t want to get near it if it smells bad, be it your house, your body or your car. If you want me to be able to live in it, I better be able to walk barefoot through it without hurting myself or grossing out. I have a sign on my refrigerator – the same one my mother had on hers when I was growing up. It reads: MY HOUSE IS CLEAN ENOUGH TO BE HEALTHY, DIRTY ENOUGH TO BE HAPPY. Words to live by.
He’s gotta like kids. Even if he doesn’t want to have any, he’s gotta be impressed by how funny and cute and innocent they are. I think the reason our Maker gave us the power to create life and sustain it is because children are some of the best teachers we will ever have. I never knew my capacity to love until I bore a child. I never knew unconditional love directed at me until I saw the love in the eyes of my baby as he looked at me and smiled while he breast fed, milk-faced and darling. He doesn’t remember loving me then, but he loves me still. And if a man thinks that children have nothing to contribute to his life, there is something cold and dead and damaged inside of him that is going to get in the way eventually.
Last, he must be able to achieve that delicate balance between sensitivity and masculinity. He has to be able to be ‘all man’ while still being comfortable with normal, human qualities like sadness, elation and humility. I don’t ever want to think that if it weren’t for me, my man would simply be unable to manage. Need me, but handle things without me if need be.
So there you have it. These are qualities that a man either has, or he hasn’t. They are part of his DNA or they are alien to him. I do know that if a woman thinks she can teach these qualities, or force them, she is sadly mistaken. Men are who they are.
“The only time a woman really succeeds in changing a man is when he is a baby.” – Natalie Wood
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Dressing Barbie....
I have a tendency towards digression. I am easily distracted. I have to sleep in quiet, watch movies in silence, work with earphones in and sit in a room alone when I'm on the phone. And every time I am in Wal-Mart or Target and I'm cruising down the aisles scanning for the department I'm seeking, I pass that one aisle. I pass it too quickly and when I flash by it and it glows that rosy, silvery glow, I have to backtrack and digress....again.
So, the last time I sneaked down "the pink aisle" to see what Barbie had goin on this season, I was actually sad. As it turns out, this season, Barbie is slutty. Well, let's be fair, it's not just Barbie. Most of our American Icons who are female dress like prostitutes. Fashion has taken a downturn and Mattel has followed suit. The Bratz dolls (I call them Slutz dolls) are worse, along with their knock-off counterparts. But that's not the saddest thing, it's the little girls I see running around scantily clad and completely unaware of what they are doing. I'm talking about little girls, too. Some of these girls are so young that I know their fathers would punch a man for leering at his child, yet they allow their daughters to leave the house dressed like they're ten years older than they are. These children don't have JOBS, someone is buying them these clothes. Why are parents so out of control? Is it generational? Are their mothers young and still dressing like teenagers? I see it everywhere...even at church. Little girls with short, tight, low-cut tops and low hung jeans and worse. It makes me sad to think of how unprepared some of these girls will be in the situations they will find themselves in from this lack of judgment. Or lack of guidance. They should be home playing with dolls.
I grew up in a home with strict rules about modesty and what we were allowed to wear in public. I didn't always like the rules, but I can say that the problems I encountered once I left home and started to dress however I wanted were problems that I was right not to inflict on my parents under their roof and on their dime. And they were real problems at times.
There are so many possibilities with fashion that create an individual statement. With so many characters available, why not choose a classy one? You can be feminine and beautiful and strong and self-assured as Adventure Barbie, Executive Barbie, Musician Barbie, Poet Barbie....be all of them. Change it up. But make choices that will make you stronger and enable you to encourage the little girls in your life to raise their standards for themselves.
Like a gold ring in a pig's snout is a beautiful woman without discretion. - Proverbs 11:22
So, the last time I sneaked down "the pink aisle" to see what Barbie had goin on this season, I was actually sad. As it turns out, this season, Barbie is slutty. Well, let's be fair, it's not just Barbie. Most of our American Icons who are female dress like prostitutes. Fashion has taken a downturn and Mattel has followed suit. The Bratz dolls (I call them Slutz dolls) are worse, along with their knock-off counterparts. But that's not the saddest thing, it's the little girls I see running around scantily clad and completely unaware of what they are doing. I'm talking about little girls, too. Some of these girls are so young that I know their fathers would punch a man for leering at his child, yet they allow their daughters to leave the house dressed like they're ten years older than they are. These children don't have JOBS, someone is buying them these clothes. Why are parents so out of control? Is it generational? Are their mothers young and still dressing like teenagers? I see it everywhere...even at church. Little girls with short, tight, low-cut tops and low hung jeans and worse. It makes me sad to think of how unprepared some of these girls will be in the situations they will find themselves in from this lack of judgment. Or lack of guidance. They should be home playing with dolls.
I grew up in a home with strict rules about modesty and what we were allowed to wear in public. I didn't always like the rules, but I can say that the problems I encountered once I left home and started to dress however I wanted were problems that I was right not to inflict on my parents under their roof and on their dime. And they were real problems at times.
There are so many possibilities with fashion that create an individual statement. With so many characters available, why not choose a classy one? You can be feminine and beautiful and strong and self-assured as Adventure Barbie, Executive Barbie, Musician Barbie, Poet Barbie....be all of them. Change it up. But make choices that will make you stronger and enable you to encourage the little girls in your life to raise their standards for themselves.
Like a gold ring in a pig's snout is a beautiful woman without discretion. - Proverbs 11:22
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Defining the girl in me...
Growing up, I knew my Mom was kind of a hippie. But she was really girly, too, and she liked girly things. She had rollers for her hair, a really cool hairdryer you wore on your head, a manicure/pedicure box full of fun stuff, lipstick, Chanel No. 5 for special occasions.....I'm telling you, she was a ton of fun for 4 little girls. But she also built a Navajo loom in the master bedroom so she could also teach herself to weave on it. She built a flagstone patio outside her bedroom door. She did all our laundry in a clawfoot tub on the deck when the washing machine was broken. She gardened and baked bread and made tofu and sprouted seeds on the window sill.
She was also a dance teacher and I remember my first couple of revues, at a very young age, being so excited to wear my costumes because my mother had designed them with ribbons and gold sparklies and feathers....oh my! (And I knew I was probably going to get to put on some lipstick for it, too.) My Mom has been known to sit at the sewing machine for HOURS on rainy days with fabric remnants out of her scrap-bag making clothes for our dolls. And I mean, the cutest little clothes. Flannel nighties, jeans, hippie caftans...my Barbies were stylin'. She sewed my favorite Halloween fairy princess costume of all time out of some gauzy curtains and a pink negligee she found in a thrift store. My mom was the perfect balance, to me, of frilly and earthy. She was not always comfortable with all her facets, but I think that she has learned what I have learned by watching her; we do not have to define ourselves so that we wind up in a box. I'm glad I had that role model....a mom who was a total Barbie girl but who would also teach me how to build and cook on a campfire and pitch an umbrella tent.
My friend made the comment recently that Americans should 'own your parenting'. Because my mother was so active in our upbringing and available as a role model, It's not likely that I ever would have seen Barbie as an example of unattainable perfection. I could see first-hand that just because you come in a shining pink box, prefectly wrapped, doesn't mean that one day you aren't going to wake up in the dirt with tangled hair, grateful that your mother taught you how to dig a proper latrine. The Dreamhouse is fun, but it's a real adventure when you can fit everything you need for 4 days in your backpack, spend some real money on the best shoes you can find for the occasion and head out into the wilderness. (And don't think for a second that you aren't going to need a plan for how to wear your hair after 3 days of no showers.)
I woke up to a foot of new snow on the ground this morning. I'm not a lover of snow, although I have hiked in it and I have dug myself out of my driveway a number of times. I will do what I have to do. My first HAPPY thought when it snows? "Yay, today I get to wear my pink snowboots!" I did all my grocery shopping yesterday and there's pot roast in the crock pot. We can hunker down and not go out at all if we don't want to. But maybe I'll go outside later just to wear my boots.
Proverbs 31
15 She gets up while it is still night;
she provides food for her family
and portions for her female servants.
16 She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
17 She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.
18 She sees that her trading is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night.
19 In her hand she holds the distaff
and grasps the spindle with her fingers.
20 She opens her arms to the poor
and extends her hands to the needy.
21 When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
for all of them are clothed in scarlet.
22 She makes coverings for her bed;
she is clothed in fine linen and purple.
She was also a dance teacher and I remember my first couple of revues, at a very young age, being so excited to wear my costumes because my mother had designed them with ribbons and gold sparklies and feathers....oh my! (And I knew I was probably going to get to put on some lipstick for it, too.) My Mom has been known to sit at the sewing machine for HOURS on rainy days with fabric remnants out of her scrap-bag making clothes for our dolls. And I mean, the cutest little clothes. Flannel nighties, jeans, hippie caftans...my Barbies were stylin'. She sewed my favorite Halloween fairy princess costume of all time out of some gauzy curtains and a pink negligee she found in a thrift store. My mom was the perfect balance, to me, of frilly and earthy. She was not always comfortable with all her facets, but I think that she has learned what I have learned by watching her; we do not have to define ourselves so that we wind up in a box. I'm glad I had that role model....a mom who was a total Barbie girl but who would also teach me how to build and cook on a campfire and pitch an umbrella tent.
My friend made the comment recently that Americans should 'own your parenting'. Because my mother was so active in our upbringing and available as a role model, It's not likely that I ever would have seen Barbie as an example of unattainable perfection. I could see first-hand that just because you come in a shining pink box, prefectly wrapped, doesn't mean that one day you aren't going to wake up in the dirt with tangled hair, grateful that your mother taught you how to dig a proper latrine. The Dreamhouse is fun, but it's a real adventure when you can fit everything you need for 4 days in your backpack, spend some real money on the best shoes you can find for the occasion and head out into the wilderness. (And don't think for a second that you aren't going to need a plan for how to wear your hair after 3 days of no showers.)
I woke up to a foot of new snow on the ground this morning. I'm not a lover of snow, although I have hiked in it and I have dug myself out of my driveway a number of times. I will do what I have to do. My first HAPPY thought when it snows? "Yay, today I get to wear my pink snowboots!" I did all my grocery shopping yesterday and there's pot roast in the crock pot. We can hunker down and not go out at all if we don't want to. But maybe I'll go outside later just to wear my boots.
Proverbs 31
15 She gets up while it is still night;
she provides food for her family
and portions for her female servants.
16 She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
17 She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.
18 She sees that her trading is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night.
19 In her hand she holds the distaff
and grasps the spindle with her fingers.
20 She opens her arms to the poor
and extends her hands to the needy.
21 When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
for all of them are clothed in scarlet.
22 She makes coverings for her bed;
she is clothed in fine linen and purple.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Social Disproportion
If scaled into real life proportions, Barbie would be 5 feet, 9 inches, (1.75 m) measuring 36-18-33. According to research by the University Central Hospital in Helsinki, Finland, she would lack the requisite 17 to 22 percent of body fat required to menstruate.
Source(s): Lord, M.G. Forever Barbie: The Unauthorized Biography of a Real Doll. New York: William Morrow and Company,
Inc., 1994.
It has come to my attention over the past 10 years or so that there are parents who have decided not to allow their daughters to own and play with Barbie dolls. I've heard several apologetics for this decision and they have all left me scratching my head. It seems the majority of parents are concerned about their daughters adopting a distorted idea of how their bodies should look and then feel inadequate by comparison to Barbie. Really? Barbie? Barbie is cute and girly and pink, but let's face it; the poor girl is proportionately imbalanced and if she were real, would probably be suffering from some health problems. BUT Barbie has managed to overcome this handicap, or deformity, and represents a life of adventure, diversity and femininity in spite of her shortcomings.
Barbie has all the right gear for every occasion. Over the years I have seen Barbie play sets with every imaginable type of sporting, recreational, holiday or social event played out with all the accessories and the things that make the most of every experience. Many hours were spent with my Barbies fixing their hair, sewing new clothes, hunting for "the other shoe to this pair" or the right boots or bag "to go with this jacket." It was hours of imaginary fun with lots of daydreaming about what kind of wardrobe I would have when I could buy my own clothes someday. Barbie inspired me to draw my own paper dolls and design pages and pages of clothes for them with matching accessories. Just me, my colored pencils, my scissors and some glue and cardboard and I would be obsessed for hours. Barbie inspired me to clean my room and organize my closet and dresser drawers. She inspired me to smell good and wear things that went together and to dress appropriately for the occasion. She inspired me to do my own hair.
She also taught me that just because you do not have a perfect body or a good hair day every day or the right shoes for your outfit because one got sucked into the Hoover last Saturday does NOT mean that you can't leave the house smiling with some sparkle. I leave the house in the morning with a "TO DO" list in my head and I don't care if it sounds childish, I feel more vibrant and energetic if I'm wearing pink or something that has a little sparkle to it because I have learned that pink MAKES ME HAPPY. I feel like I can accomplish whatever I need to that day because I ROCK at being the unique woman I was created to be.
I don't have a daughter, but if I did, I would talk to her about why it is AWESOME being a girl and how much fun it can be to find something that really takes your breath away because it's SO BEAUTIFUL. In American society it is completely acceptable for girls to wear pink at any age, to cry in public, to go nuts over flowers and sunsets and to skip and do cartwheels whenever moved to do so. Boys have a much harder time socially with that kind of expressiveness without having their sexuality questioned. Girls are also allowed to go nuts over a football team, their favorite sports car, a great pair of athletic shoes and their dogs. We get the best of both worlds, so why not celebrate that? The possibilities for enjoying life are endless. I would want my daughter to know that she can accomplish anything she sets her mind to as a woman and if she ever starts to believe otherwise, she is buying into a lie.
I strongly disagree with Barbie being a negative role model. She is an American icon and has gone on to make an impression on the world. There is something to be said for Barbie's longevity and popularity. Girls of all ages are attracted to role models who give them permission to dream. If you give your daughter a Barbie and tell her that doll is the most beautiful girl ever made and force her to make a comparison between Barbie and herself, you will have hurt your daughter, not Mattel Corporation. Barbie is not a stereotype. Barbie dispels the stereotype. She's just a girl who isn't afraid to play up her strong points and grab life by the horns. Maybe she knows one thing for certain.....the men aren't going to make it all happen by themselves.
But for Adam, no suitable helper was found. So the Lord God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man's ribs and closed up the place with flesh. Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man.
The man said, "This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called woman, for she was taken out of man."
Source(s): Lord, M.G. Forever Barbie: The Unauthorized Biography of a Real Doll. New York: William Morrow and Company,
Inc., 1994.
It has come to my attention over the past 10 years or so that there are parents who have decided not to allow their daughters to own and play with Barbie dolls. I've heard several apologetics for this decision and they have all left me scratching my head. It seems the majority of parents are concerned about their daughters adopting a distorted idea of how their bodies should look and then feel inadequate by comparison to Barbie. Really? Barbie? Barbie is cute and girly and pink, but let's face it; the poor girl is proportionately imbalanced and if she were real, would probably be suffering from some health problems. BUT Barbie has managed to overcome this handicap, or deformity, and represents a life of adventure, diversity and femininity in spite of her shortcomings.
Barbie has all the right gear for every occasion. Over the years I have seen Barbie play sets with every imaginable type of sporting, recreational, holiday or social event played out with all the accessories and the things that make the most of every experience. Many hours were spent with my Barbies fixing their hair, sewing new clothes, hunting for "the other shoe to this pair" or the right boots or bag "to go with this jacket." It was hours of imaginary fun with lots of daydreaming about what kind of wardrobe I would have when I could buy my own clothes someday. Barbie inspired me to draw my own paper dolls and design pages and pages of clothes for them with matching accessories. Just me, my colored pencils, my scissors and some glue and cardboard and I would be obsessed for hours. Barbie inspired me to clean my room and organize my closet and dresser drawers. She inspired me to smell good and wear things that went together and to dress appropriately for the occasion. She inspired me to do my own hair.
She also taught me that just because you do not have a perfect body or a good hair day every day or the right shoes for your outfit because one got sucked into the Hoover last Saturday does NOT mean that you can't leave the house smiling with some sparkle. I leave the house in the morning with a "TO DO" list in my head and I don't care if it sounds childish, I feel more vibrant and energetic if I'm wearing pink or something that has a little sparkle to it because I have learned that pink MAKES ME HAPPY. I feel like I can accomplish whatever I need to that day because I ROCK at being the unique woman I was created to be.
I don't have a daughter, but if I did, I would talk to her about why it is AWESOME being a girl and how much fun it can be to find something that really takes your breath away because it's SO BEAUTIFUL. In American society it is completely acceptable for girls to wear pink at any age, to cry in public, to go nuts over flowers and sunsets and to skip and do cartwheels whenever moved to do so. Boys have a much harder time socially with that kind of expressiveness without having their sexuality questioned. Girls are also allowed to go nuts over a football team, their favorite sports car, a great pair of athletic shoes and their dogs. We get the best of both worlds, so why not celebrate that? The possibilities for enjoying life are endless. I would want my daughter to know that she can accomplish anything she sets her mind to as a woman and if she ever starts to believe otherwise, she is buying into a lie.
I strongly disagree with Barbie being a negative role model. She is an American icon and has gone on to make an impression on the world. There is something to be said for Barbie's longevity and popularity. Girls of all ages are attracted to role models who give them permission to dream. If you give your daughter a Barbie and tell her that doll is the most beautiful girl ever made and force her to make a comparison between Barbie and herself, you will have hurt your daughter, not Mattel Corporation. Barbie is not a stereotype. Barbie dispels the stereotype. She's just a girl who isn't afraid to play up her strong points and grab life by the horns. Maybe she knows one thing for certain.....the men aren't going to make it all happen by themselves.
But for Adam, no suitable helper was found. So the Lord God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man's ribs and closed up the place with flesh. Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man.
The man said, "This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called woman, for she was taken out of man."
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