Maybe you thought you'd come a long way, baby, back in 1968 when you first got your own cigarette, Virginia Slims, allowing women to smoke while feeling both feminine and liberated.
Maybe you started feeling truly empowered with the advent of "television for women," starting in 1984 with Lifetime, though it aired mostly made-for-TV movies about women smitten, battered or bothered by men.
The truth is, baby, it wasn't until 2000 that, no matter how far you thought you had come, you finally arrived.
That is the year you got your own oatmeal.
It was a watershed moment, for although Quaker's Nutrition for Women instant oatmeal was by no means the first product aimed at women - nor the first food with "for women" on the label (Luna Bars premiered in 1999) - it was the first gender-specific, hot and hearty meal in itself.
Since then, General Mills has introduced a cold cereal for women, called "Harmony"; at least two more companies have launched female nutrition bars; Odwalla debuted a new juice called Femme Vitale; and a Minnesota bakery has begun manufacturing "women's bread."
It almost seems that corporate America is starting to care about women - not just about their increased spending power and how best to tap it - but in a genuine way, a respectful way, maybe even enough to stop calling you "baby."
For the first time, here in the 21st century, products that are good for you - not just your hair - are being made, packaged and marketed specifically to women. Advertisers are appealing to something other than your vanity (keep in mind, this hasn't happened for men yet) and big food companies are portraying themselves as being as in tune with your womanhood as they want you to be.
Never mind that Quaker Oats is also the company that sells pancake mixes and syrup under the Aunt Jemima label, possibly the most outdated and least politically correct female stereotype to be found in the grocery store aisles. Never mind that the 35 percent of the daily requirement of folic acid contained in a single bowl of Nutrition for Women is eclipsed by the 100 percent contained in a single bowl of Cap'n Crunch. Never mind that Rogaine for Women, except for the packaging, is the exact same thing as Rogaine for Men.
A cynic might think that what's going on here is simply slick marketing: repackaging the same old stuff, maybe injecting it with soy or calcium or folic acid, and selling it to the gender that, in their view, actually cares about its health; not to mention the one that (so much for equality) still does 80 percent of the grocery shopping.
An even bigger cynic, especially one who's male, might wonder, hey, are these for-women products better for men as well? Should we all be eating them? Is it really necessary to assign genders to foods? And will continuing to do so only widen the chasm between the sexes?
One thing's for sure, at least in the marketplace, where going after niches is all the rage nowadays: It's becoming more and more a his and hers world.
What's in it for men?
You can rent a chick flick or a guy movie; read Cosmo or Maxim, watch The Man Show or The View, roll on Secret or Right Guard. We've even been assigned our own planets, Mars and Venus.
But do we really require different oatmeals?
Isn't what's good for women, by and large, good for men as well? Would a male consumer - one secure enough in his manhood to buy a product called Nutrition for Women - suffer any ill effects from its added calcium, iron, folic acid, soy protein isolate, vitamin D, E, B6 and B12?
Not to diminish the hugely empowering step that women's oatmeal represents, but oatmeal is not a panacea. It comes close, but not quite. It may promote regularity, but it doesn't erase the injustices of past and present. Women, despite having their own oatmeal, still can't join the Augusta National Golf Club.
Men, on the other hand - while we can hit tiny balls with sticks in our all-male sanctums - may be receiving the short end when it comes to corporations caring about our nutrition.
Women get three flavors of gender-specific oatmeal (apple spice, vanilla cinnamon and brown sugar), a cold cereal, nutrition bars and special teas to soothe them and make them "balanced." Nobody cares if we men are balanced. They want to sell us, mainly, beer. Men's health concerns - judging from the products corporations aim at us - seem to be limited to hairline and erections.
What products have they made especially for men, outside the area of grooming (where we can buy the same hair dye women use, but in a box labeled something like "Just for Men")? La-Z-Boy recliners? Hungry Man Dinners?
While women are getting extra nutrients injected into their female foodstuffs, we seem to be getting this message: "Be lethargic, drink another brewski, settle back with a good TV show and enjoy some extra large portions of these foods that weren't very good for you even before they were frozen many years ago."
If men and women truly have different nutritional needs, it begs the question:
Where's the dude food?
Where's our pre-packaged, oh-so-nutritious, warm and comforting, prostate-friendly, just-for-us-guys food item?
Search the food aisles. You won't find it.
You will find women's products, some blatantly "for women"; others disguised with words like "calcium fortified" and "soy-enhanced" - nutrients most women know they need, but whose presence probably won't preclude men, who have no clue what they need, from buying them.
Crest, for example, has just come out with Rejuvenating Effects, a vanilla- and cinnamon-flavored toothpaste aimed at women, but not outwardly identified that way on the box. Its Web site provides helpful information on what "women" can do to prevent tooth decay, gum disease and discoloration, which basically includes brushing, flossing and going to the dentist - not too vastly different from how men prevent tooth decay.
I would buy Rejuvenating Effects - who, male or female, doesn't want a younger mouth? - but only assuming it's safe for men.
Just as I would not want to suffer hallucinations from overdosing on the folic acid in women's oatmeal, I would not want my mouth to become so young and feminine from Rejuvenating Effects that I start saying "Whatever" whenever I'm at a loss of words - a common occurrence that could probably be corrected with a product like Ginkgo Chee-tos for Men.
Is ailment-specific next?
But, in this option-laden world, men don't have those food choices, unlike women - or even dogs.
Procter & Gamble, which makes Crest, also sells Eukanuba pet foods. That brand - and this is just its dry dog food selection - offers the following:
Eukanuba Puppy Weaning Diet Formula (three types for small, medium and large breeds), Lamb and Rice Formula (for puppies with an intolerance to soy or wheat, and pregnant and nursing dogs), Low Residue Puppy Formula, Adult Maintenance Formula, Premium Performance Formula, Reduced Fat Formula, Senior Maintenance Formula, Senior Plus (for dogs with joint concerns), Nutritional Kidney Formula (early and advanced stage), Response KO (contains kangaroo meat as a protein source for healthy skin and coat), Maximum Calorie, Restricted Calorie and Glucose Control.
Nowhere in the list, however, is a gender-specific dog food, which can only mean that male and female dogs, unlike male and female humans, do not have "unique nutritional needs"; either that, or the vice president for canine niche marketing just hasn't thought of it yet.
Instead of foods that celebrate their gender, dog foods are age- and ailment-specific, and it may be just a matter of time before our food becomes marketed that way, too, with colon-cleansing colas, joint-soothing chowders and Rice-A-Roni for every "cycle" of our lives.
There are some differences between the sexes when it comes to nutrition. Most (but not all) women need more calcium, folic acid, iron and vitamins A, B6, D and E. Men - in general - need more zinc, anti-oxidants like those found in tomatoes, magnesium and B vitamins.
But the point is, or should be, that we all need to eat better. Not necessarily separately, just better.
Can't we all just get along, and enjoy our salmon and broccoli, our dark leafy greens and legumes and, yes, our oatmeal, together?
Can't we learn - as garlic has tried to teach us - that sharing the same food is often the smartest route? Isn't that preferable to focusing on our differences (nutritional and all the rest), blowing them out of proportion and opening the door to being commercially exploited?
If not, the pantry, the dinner table, the grocery aisles and life itself - already overflowing with choices - will only become more cluttered and complicated:
"Honey, those are Daddy's mid-life balding male green beans, you can't have those. The ones in this bowl - no, wait, those are the overactive toddler girl green beans. Here, these are yours, the sullen male adolescent teen green beans. What? The butter? Well ... "
Niche-free
Newspapers, it should be pointed out, are getting into the niche act as well. Both Chicago papers are now printing versions for younger people - short, snappy daily tabloids for those they think lack the attention span to read articles that are, say, as long as this one.
What kind of society are we when we can no longer all read from the same newspaper or eat from the same pot of oatmeal?
An increasingly divided one, to be sure, but also one that is spending a lot more money to get goods and services that - or so we think - are custom-made for us.
I am a man. I eat women's oatmeal. I'm not sure why. Maybe I'm oatmeal-gender-confused; maybe I'm being defiant; maybe I want to be sure I'm not missing out on anything you're getting; or maybe I just don't like being hoodwinked into buying two kinds of oatmeal.
That I'm willing to subsist on the oatmeal of the opposite sex shows how far I've come (a long way, baby). This dude, for one, is not afraid to step into your market niche and partake of your more holistic female fare.
It is unjust that there are no similar foods aimed at making me a more "complete" man, but that only further empowers me to cross the line. I will spoon up your oatmeal, gnaw on your nutrition bars, even brush with your toothpaste. No more will I settle for garbanzo beans.
From now on, I demand chick peas.