I know, I know. If I was alive back then I'd either be dead or a really old lady. I'd crippled by work and arthritis, and I'd probably be toothless from mild scurvy and a lack of calcium. I would have married at 15, and with my fertility I would have 14-15 children instead of the two I have now. I might even have a grandchild or two.
Yes, yes, I know all that. I just choose to forget about that.
In my daydream, despite the fact that I'm female, I'm a totally cool warrior chick - like Paksennarion from the Elizabeth Moon series. I kind of imagine a world where women are equal to men and we can serve alongside them. Since it's my daydream, I'm in perfect shape, can run for miles and hit a target with my bow at 300 yards. Basically, I just run around, riding horses, defending justice, and kicking ass. I have a coat of arms, a family sigil, and a battle cry that I cry out to the heavens as I raise my sword and charge into battle.
It's a good daydream.
And then reality sets in, and I start thinking about how stupid I'd look wearing a coat of arms with the insignia of a piddling cocker spaniel.
And, you know, crying out "Beeeaaaaaans!" wouldn't exactly strike fear into the heart of the enemy. I'd just sound hungry, or like I was complaining about being gassy.
Oh, well. I guess it's for the best.