I. Am. WONDER WOMAN.

Lately, I’ve been obsessed with Wonder Woman. I even got a fake Wonder Woman tattoo and put it on my tricep. (Still not willing to get a real one.) I loved the Wonder Woman TV show when I was a kid, though to be honest I can’t remember the plot of a single specific episode. My memories come in flashes, of Diana Prince spinning around and suddenly being Wonder Woman, of the bracelets deflecting bullets, and the wonderful, wonderful golden lasso which wrapped up bad guys and made them tell the truth.

I like the idea of Wonder Woman as much as Wonder Woman herself. I mean, her clothes are really not practical at all. I live in the deep south, and even here she’d catch a deathly chill. Cover up, dearie. No one needs to see that much cleavage. And to do all the athletics she does, it seems like she’d need a little more support for the girls than anything strapless could provide.

Aside from the fact that I am a Caucasian female with dark hair and light eyes and an hourglass figure, I don’t look much like Lynda Carter at all. Ok, now that I type that, maybe I look exactly like Lynda Carter, even if there are a few more hours in my hourglass than she had, and my eyes are green instead of blue, and my skin is kind of mottled and bumpy and…ok, well, I don’t look like Lynda Carter at all. But I like the idea of being Wonder Woman.

I have an apron that my crafty mother made me several years ago that looks like a headless Wonder Woman. I love it unreasonably. A few years ago I went to a Halloween party as “Wonder Woman after she turned 40 and had a couple of kids.” I wore the apron, a bandana in my hair, and topped the whole thing off with a leopard print bathrobe and house shoes.

My obsession makes gift giving easy for me. For my birthday, I got a pair of insulated Wonder Woman travel mugs. For Hanukkah this year, I got the absolute coolest Wonder Woman watch. It looks like a bracelet, but then you push a button and BAM the time magically swirls into being. I mean, watch this 8 second video, and ignore the trash can in the background, and, while you’re at it, be totally impressed that I not only managed to upload it on YouTube but managed to EMBED IT IN THIS POST because I am Wonder Freaking Woman.

I have a Wonder Woman cuff bracelet, Wonder Woman earrings, a Wonder Woman journal, multiple Wonder Woman t-shirts, and Wonder Woman pens, which I always use to take notes with in Court because heck yeah, you don’t just have any lawyer representing you, you have Wonder Woman.

Heck yeah. I am a woman. And I am wonderous.

This is true. Two perfect human beings who make the world a better place simply by existing incubated inside my body. I can run a law firm and a family and still manage to squeeze out times to write these ridiculous blog posts. The fact that I wake up (most) mornings and have the strength to slap on relatively clean clothes and a bit of mascara is a testament to my awesomeness. A lesser woman would have pulled the covers over her head and blocked out all sound.

I shouldn’t say a lesser woman. There is nothing lesser about women who suffer from depression or whose burdens outweigh their essential awesomeness. The world is a harsh, nasty place, difficult for the best of us to face.

I’m not claiming to be the best of us, or even the best of me on many (ok, most) days. I run out of patience, I forget birthdays, I don’t always try as hard as I can, and I’m a big time sinner like all flawed humans. But for all the people who put me down – for the people in 2012 who actually said out loud when I ran for office “I can’t vote for a woman;” for every time the men in the room get addressed by their last names, and I get addressed by my first name; for every time I’ve been the highest ranking person in the room and still asked to run make copies or get coffee — for you guys? I am bullet proof – look at my bracelet! I know the truth – check out my golden lasso.

And the truth is, it is wonderful.

Don’t miss anything! Sign up below for bi-weekly emails with exclusive content.