On Being Female

From Sarah (This was written while Sarah was still hiking. She has since made it home to Nevada and is back at her teaching job.):

Boardwalk through a swamp

Being a woman hiker has its perks. I can cover up a week of bad hair days with a buff, and I don't have to take it off when going into a deli. When I slip and fall in front of a shelter full of young males, I am treated with touching concern and sympathy instead of bad jokes. Being smaller, I eat less, which means my pack is lighter. Plus my wide hips keep my center of gravity lower which can help me balance on rocks and roots.

A few days ago a hiker asked if I carried a mirror. He wanted to see how badly his face had broken out. "I can feel the zits; I just want to see how bad I look," he explained. I suppose he asked me for the mirror because I was the only woman at the campsite. He figured he had a higher chance of success with his request to a female than to any of the young males in camp. After digging deep into my pack, I pulled out a tiny 1" x 2 1/2" silver-backed piece of glass. "Will this do?" I asked, handing it over. The hiker solemnly took the miniature mirror and began examining his face, portion by portion, exclaiming in dismay as he discovered each new bump.



Sarah in front of the Delaware River.
Pennsylvania in the background.

It was only after stowing the mirror back into the depths of my pack that I realized I had not bothered looking at myself. I reckon my inner vision of myself is so strong that I don't want to cloud it with reality.