Lament of a Strong Woman

During my recuperation from breaking my pelvis I've been blessed with lots of visitors. But one thing they all say is, "You're looking so good."
I know they are trying to be kind and maybe I do look good, but I feel like saying,"You can't actually see where I have two lots of broken bones. It's just my outside that looks good. Inside I'm hurting."
But I don't say it. I just smile and say thanks.
Because I'm a strong woman and my friends are used to my being a strong woman.

I've been a strong woman all my life. A strong kid first. At ballet school I was the only girl who never cried. Since our ballet mistress used to walk up and down with a stick and any arm or leg that wasn't perfect got the stick on it, this was no small feat.
I went across Europe on my own at twelve. Had to find the right boat across the Channel, the right train in Ostend and then spend a night and day on the train to Vienna. I wasn't worried, neither were my parents.

All through my married life I've been strong and efficient. I don't call my husband to kill spiders, change lightbulbs or even clean gutters. I do it... and I've finally decided that I am a fool.
Those helpless women have got it right. They look up with  big appealing eyes and say, "I couldn't possibly get up on a step ladder to change that lightbulb. I couldn't possibly go up into the attic because there might be spiders." And big strong man takes pity and says, "Don't worry, I'll do it for you."

My husband waited on me while I couldn't move but as soon as I could hobble around with a cane he started saying how good it was for me to get back to being busy. Maybe it is, but Ms helpless female would have squeezed another couple of weeks of being waited on out of the event. So now it looks as if I'm back to being the strong woman again... and it's not always a good thing.
What do you think?