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In doing an online Dictionary search for the word “girl,” a minimum of nine possible definitions are produced, followed by a usage note:

Just as many mature men, even young men, resent being referred to as boys, many adult women today are offended if referred to as girls, or the less formal gals. In business and professional offices, the practice of referring to one’s secretary as the girl or my girl, as in “I’ll have my girl look it up and call you back,” has decreased but not disappeared entirely. Such terms as the girls in reference to a group of women, girl or gal Friday in reference to a female secretary or assistant, and bachelor girl in reference to an unmarried woman are increasingly regarded as offensive, and working girl in the sense “a woman who works” is declining in use.

Photo: Retrocactus on Flickr

As for me, I am quite happy being referred to as a girl, thank you very much. In fact, I love hanging out with “my girls,” I love being girlie, I love using the phrase “just being a girl” as an excuse for countless offenses and I love that everything “girlie” is just a little bit more fabulous.

My modest sweater kittens aside, there are more than a manicured handful of things that make me a delicious debutante: my bathroom is awash in a sea of Mac, Clinique, Bumble and Bumble, Bloom, OPI, Smashbox, Lancome and Kiehl’s; I often cry during commercials; I often cry for no reason; my CD collection contains nothing short of Jewel, Hanson, John Mayer and Jann Arden records and I’m rather proud of it; I own every season of Sex and the City on DVD; I take pride in knowing that my bras and panties always match each morning; my toenails are never without pretty polish; my skin smells delicate 24/7; I have more jewelry than I have room for; my bed sheets are a lovely fusion of navy and fuchsia and they’re always clean; I buy new pairs of shoes for special occasions and sometimes for no reason at all; and yes, I too at one time fantasized about being “Baby Houseman.”

There is one thing I will admit to…for the life of me, I cannot understand why any girl for the life of her would resort to the “bend and snap.” Can someone explain that one to me?

In recent weeks, I’ve given much thought about what it means to be a girl. Sometimes it’s much more difficult than men realize. What their logical brains can’t figure out is how we girls can be so illogical at times. And truth be told, sometimes we girls don’t realize it ourselves until the calm has come after the storm. Every girl is unique in her make-up, and I’m certainly not talking mascara and blush brushes anymore. What we’re comprised of, inside and out, is completely different than the girl next to us and the girl next to her. The real challenge lies in uncovering that for ourselves, rather than having someone tell us.

Last week I went for coffee with a friend of mine. He’s someone who is good at giving tough love and telling things as they are. “You’re smart, sweet, sexy, caring and articulate,” he told me. “And you deserve to hear those things every single day.” I couldn’t look him in the eye as he rattled off his laundry list. I looked anywhere else. “It makes you uncomfortable to hear those things, doesn’t it?” he asked. And the truth was, it did.

I find it so easy for me to internalize what other people see as my shortcomings that when the instances come about in which I’m praised, it doesn’t seem at all real. I believe that sometimes, we ladies are capable of wearing many different masks - perhaps not to ourselves but to others. There are times at which I feel as though maybe I’m too high maintenance in many regards. My strong will and independence could be seen as something to fear. Perhaps Carrie Bradshaw summed it up best:

“Maybe some women aren’t meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free til they find someone just as wild to run with them.”

Sometimes I think that’s me - the girl who is too good of a catch for many men to deal with. I’m not someone that they can easily tame and submit to their will. However, I don’t think that’s entirely true. Then there are the men that will never see me as enough: skin that’s not tanned enough, boobs that aren’t big enough, hair that’s not blonde enough and a handbag that’s not designer enough. I hope to God that will never be true either.

What I do know is who I am under those masks…

You know what’s the best part about being a girl? I’m sure some of you are crossing your fingers, hoping I’m about to say “panty-clad pillow fights with my girlfriends.” Well, no, but stay tuned for that soon enough…

What I like best about being a girl is taking all that I know which I just shared, and knowing that that’s enough. That for the people in my life that love me unconditionally that I am enough just as I am. The good hair days and the bad hair days, the good moods and the bad moods - the good and the bad. It’s best to know that I am who I am and that I’m someone who is unique, individual, special and yes, even rather stunning in her own right.

I hope that you can all find that within yourselves too, man or woman.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a bubble bath to run and toenails to paint.