Why Cows Mooove Me

I had been running in and out of a meeting with great confidence, preparing to give my presentation. Minutes before I was to stand in front of the executive audience, a female manager asked if I would step outside for a moment.

“Donna, I’m not sure if it’s just the cut of your pants, but your zipper might be down.” I was sure my my pants were loose due to my dieting. Unfortunately, they were merely unzipped, providing a little extra breathing room. Politely, she saved me from a day of humiliation.

I looked that female leader in the eye and thanked her profusely. I then walked into the room all zipped up, prepared to give an informative and less risque presentation.

That story illustrates why I love being female. Yes, there are times that we want to rip each other’s eyes out, but when one of us might be in the position of being hurt or embarrassed, we surround each other.

I am reminded of the time I saw a cow giving birth. My family was driving by a field near Sequim, Washington (probably lost because of my dad’s latest shortcut). We got out of the car quietly and stood at the fence to observe. The other cows noticed our movement and surrounded the cow giving birth, blocking our view. Once the calf was born, several of them helped clean it up and stand it on Bambi legs.

How many times have you seen bulls doing that for each other? Okay, they don’t give birth, but if one bull is hurt it’s likely the other bull might just attack it to eliminate a competitor. Or they’d ignore the hurt bull and keep eating.

Regardless, most women can’t resist helping each other when the chips are down. Even if it’s your worst enemy and it’s only for a moment, they show up in the moment when they are most needed.

So, here’s my commitment to you. If I notice your zipper is down, I will tell you. If you’re giving birth in a field, I will surround you (although licking the baby clean is not going to happen). And if you’re ever in any pain, let me know and I will support you. And I know you will do the same for me.

Because that’s what Dames do.