I am a self proclaimed slob.

It's not something that I should be proud of, but the fact remains. I. Am. A. Slob. (I would like to clarify that I am NOT unhygienic-just messy. There are no roaches in my home-just clutter.)

This is by far the biggest stain on the relationship between my gypsy mother and I. She and my aunts tried to raise me to be a "good housewife." Starting at age two they began teaching me how to dress like a proper woman, how to cook a good meal, and of course the proper way to clean.

"A good woman must clean every room every day. No man will want you if you cannot clean well. A clean home means a happy husband, which is what every woman should strive for."

Those were just the typical phrases that I would hear growing up. I hated them. I hated having to do all of the household chores while my older brother got to relax-I even had to cook him dinner and wash his dishes even though he is 6 years older than I am.

"Get used to it. You're a woman, and he is a man. This is how it is."

So, here I am. Twenty-seven years old, well educated, unmarried, and a slob. My own slob. A rebellious slob. A free slob. A happy slob.