When any woman is in a glorified, high and honored position, she should be a lot of things.
Graceful. Intelligent. Quiet (when the moment calls for it). A leader. Strong. Mature.
I have my moments. Moments I walk into a room and exercise momentary restraint by not screaming “whoo does it STINK in here! Do you SMELL that? No really. Do you smell that?” and proceeding then, in an undertone, to lean over to my neighbor and murmur, “who do you think did it?”
Then I have my moments of complete and utter failure. Moments I look back on, tilt my head, and think: maybe that’s why I wouldn’t make a good first lady. . .
