One of those girls

I was always a tom boy as a kid and I think it has to do with the almost mullet haircuts I was subjected to as a child. I always felt more comfortable in jeans and tee shirts than dresses since polyester was such an itchy fabric. I still hate polyester to this day. Most of my friends were boys because they were straight forward and didn't play coy and weren't overly dramatic. Plus being the only girl in a play group had it's advantages. I never had to take turns being Princess Leia and if I had a fierce opponent in a weapons fight I could always defer to a better swordsman and become the damsel in distress. I've always hated pink with one exception and that was a snazzy pair of Reebok high tops with straps in Barbie pink. Okay, I concede I was slightly girly but I was never one of those girls.

You know the kind of girl that I am talking about. She's the one we tomboys always secretly wanted to be because she always had your best boy friend as a boyfriend. She's the one that all your boy friends would secretly look at and quickly agree that she should be Princess Leia even though she didn't have brown hair and her mother hadn't spent an hour and a box of bobby pins to make the cinnamon roll buns on either side of her head so she could be the best Princess Leia ever and you were designated as Chewbacca and your cinnamon roll buns on either side of your head were really secret weapons like grenades or proximity mines or lasers. You hated her then and you still hate her now in her many incarnations as friend, family, co-worker and neighbor.

I have often attempted to be one of those girls and usually fail miserably or I am completely blessed with a level and middle of the road kind of head. Junior high and all of its comforming glory destroyed most of my long standing friendships with boys. Boys whom I had bested in wicked games of tetherball began to distance themselves unless I had made friends with one of the cute girls and then I was their way in and hopefully I could help a brother out with at least her phone number. It was then that I decided to play the ruse of girly girl and was a faithful make up wearer and conversed often enough on the phone that my family lost all contact with the outside world for a few years. I began to worry about nonsensical things like labels on clothing and what 17 magazine determined was the best moisturizer to prevent wrinkles and make you look younger. Dear goodness, how old can a junior high kid really look? Perms were way hot during that time and I had a huge inner rage towards them since all of my girl friends would talk about going to get perms and I had naturally curly hair. I felt as if I was being excluded from the cool kids table and was missing out on all of those important life events that would shape my future self. It was then that my mother began to instill her down to earth and hippie-esque mantras into my impressionable mind. Many times she has told me to enhance what is naturally there and keep things simple and everything will work out how it is supposed to and to not worry so much (p.s. If you don't know me I am a big worrier and is something I inherited from my grandmother along with spying through windows at my neighbors which is another story in and of itself.) As a typical preteen and teenager I would smirk and spout off some sarcastic and what I considered a somewhat witty comment expressing my lack of will power to take to heart anything she said while secretly I took to heart everything she said and convinced myself that I was the smartest chick ever and so mature for my age to be coming up with such good stuff.

You would think that at my ripe old age of 33 I would have it together but I still find myself slightly torn not because I really want to be one of those girls but because I am still finding my happy medium. I don't get my nails done and I don't go to fancy salons and I really like the trucker type grandma who cuts my hair at Great Clips because she does a damn fine job with naturally curly hair. I've only had my hair "professionally" dyed once and still have never had it permed. I don't know designer brands and the eschalons of shoes but I do know that comfort counts NO MATTER WHAT OR WHERE! I've found that jeans, a tee shirt and some converse are still my favorite and preferred ensemble. I have my best boy friend as my husband and a little boy that could whoop me in tetherball if he was tall enough to reach the ball. Does this mean that I secretly hate my friends, family, co-workers and neighbors that are one of those girls? Nope. It just means that we don't see completely eye to eye and I'm Princess Leia forever dammit.