Woman tax

Yesterday I had a series of mundane errands to run, which included a stop at Rite-Aid to pick up a fresh pack of Tri-Sprintec, or whatever the generic fell-off-a-truck birth control Anthem/BC has me on this week is called. In the two-and-a-half years I've been with Anthem they've changed my brand of birth control three times. It's always the same formula, but the packaging looks increasingly dubious, to the point that I wouldn't be shocked if one day the pharmacist just handed me a fistful of mismatched pills and sent me on my way.

Birth control runs me $15 a month with my health insurance. That's not unreasonable, but if you think about the fact that I already pay them $200 a month for basically nothing (including a super-fun $3,000 deductible that I often think about when tempted to run red lights or engage in other high-risk activities, such as breathing LA air) and the fact that the price doesn't go down when they switch me to what is obviously a cheaper generic, it's kind of a rip-off. Personally, I think birth control should be free to all comers; while $15 isn't much for someone with a comfy middle-class job, it's plenty to some people. Whenever I read about these teabagging morons complaining about paying taxes to support "welfare moms," I always wonder why there isn't an accompanying outcry over the cost of birth control. (Or why it's always "welfare moms," as if it's only women with children who receive government support, or as if women with children are the only group that doesn't deserve government support, when if anyone deserves a little help it's them.)

I think the government should be handing out birth control on every street corner. It's just another little cost associated with being a woman, another expense we have to pay because we happen to be the gender with all the uteruses. And it's not just birth control I feel this way about. Lately I have spent a bunch of money on being a woman, and I'm not even referring to the expensive moisturizer that I irrationally feel I need in order to function; I mean tampons, and nice bras, and a $150 Pap smear, and all the other stuff I need to shell out for to keep my lady business operating in a way that doesn't interfere with modern existence.

What do guys have that's equivalent in any way? I asked my Personal Consultant on All Things Male, Henry, this question, and he didn't have an answer. "Jock straps?" I asked hopefully. "Shaving cream?" It turns out both jock straps and shaving cream are relatively optional. In fact, everything is pretty much optional for guys, which really bugs the crap out of me because I am one of those people who won't leave the house without at least putting on some mascara. I know that I've bought into something here: there's no law requiring me to put on mascara before going to the grocery store, and it's not as if the cashier is going to take one look at my foreshortened, undarkened eyelashes and go, "You disgust me, lady. We don't want your damn money here."

But I have grown up as a girl in this country, and just because I have the vocabulary to refute sexism doesn't mean I have the strength to resist it. After the 47 zillionth time you hear a guy who is otherwise a thoughtful, liberal individual say something along the lines of, "I like a woman who takes care of herself -- nothing too crazy, but pays attention to how she looks," the indoctrination just sinks in. I mean, how hard can it possibly be merely to "take care of yourself"? How hard is it to shave your legs and underarms and bikini line, blow-dry and style your hair and apply a full face of makeup every day? To be sure you have your fingernails and toenails neatly manicured and your eyebrows waxed? All the other ladies do it! It can't be that difficult! It reminds me of this joke a friend of mine from high school always used to tell: "Why do girls wear makeup and perfume? Because they're ugly and they smell bad."

The sad truth is that I'm so used to putting in the time for all this crap that I don't even notice it anymore -- I know it will take me an hour start-to-finish to shower, dress, do my hair and get my face on, and I don't care. I especially don't care because my experiences in the ladies' locker room at my gym indicate that I have the process remarkably streamlined. When I used to hit the pool on the way to work in the morning, every day there'd be this girl who was putting on her makeup while I was changing into my suit and was still at it when I came back 40 minutes later. She had a whole trunk of shit, all these different little creams and powders and things, and every one had a corresponding brush or tool. For a solid hour she'd be posted in front of the mirror, working on herself like Michelangelo at the Sistine Chapel. And that was just the makeup portion of her routine.

So I'm not too bitter about the time investment. What I am bitter about is how much all this stuff costs. I don't even wear much makeup, at least compared to my friend the Renaissance face artist -- and for context, by that I mean I have it down to mascara, two shades of eye shadow, eyeliner, concealer, blush and lip gloss. Seven products I use every day, and they only represent the tip of the cosmetic iceberg. Did you know that there's a product out there called eye primer? Did you? It's a primer. For EYELIDS. In fact, if you really give a shit about makeup, there's a separate line of products for just about every pore on your face. Each of which needs to be applied with a very specific instrument that -- you guessed it -- is sold separately. For even more money.

There's a bigger point to be made here, one about how our culture is deeply committed to eroding women's newfound economic authority by suggesting there's no better way to spend our hard-earned money than on beauty products (because we're so UGLY WITHOUT THEM!), but I don't feel like getting into all that. I just want men to start purchasing and wearing concealer. Because guess what, bros? We don't like looking at your zits either.