I sometimes still feel like a kid. The same old me. Scared, scarred and unlovable. I still get shy around strangers. I still want to be liked , loved etc. I once saw a really funny cartoon that made me laugh because it is so me. It has become a running joke between me and my dear friend Joan.
It was a little girl. Not one that I have ever seen before, not a famous character at all. In fact I have not seen it since so maybe it was manifest just for me. Some white magic. Anyway, she is bouncing around saying,"Do you like me??? Do you love me ???? Do you think I'm pretty??? Do you wanna be my friend???"
Being pretty was very important to my mother. She got her tapes from her father I am told. I remember rushing home from grade school one day, thrilled to tell her my great accomplishment! I had taken what I felt HAD to be a really pretty school picture! I had my pretty red and white checkered jacket on. It had a dark blue checkered fluff of fabric coming out of the front pocket. It was smart looking to me.
The only bad part was that it itched immensely. But I had heard from my mother that beauty is pain. So I put a t-shirt under it to minimize the polyester itch on my skin. I'd be pretty if it killed me.
I furiously brushed my hair with my fingers before the fateful moment in the girls bathroom. Borrowed my best friends Bonnie Bell strawberry because it added a little red to the lips. My mother fancied herself a hairdresser at this point and had become the addicted to giving everyone in our neighborhood the newest hairstyle. The "shag." Which was disastrous for my thick and course hair. If you have forgotten.... "I have naturally curly hair!" So it seemed to bend and curl in ALL the wrong places.
I had been practicing my smile for weeks. I must admit before I went to get my last license picture, I practiced in the mirror. Sad, huh? Anyway, I was certain that I had it down. Ready for my first good school picture. Up until this moment I always had unattractive school pictures, but not this time. I was certain it would be stellar.
So,predictably it was not. In fact it was the worst one to date. I can still see it in minds eye. I would share it but I believe I destroyed all copies. My big goofy smile, with my teeth that were too big for my small head at the time. My hair curling every which way, desperate to fit into the newest trend. But failing miserably. And the ever present shoulders up to my ears. A thing that would often manifest as I tried desperately to please.
I was a very late blossomer. I was not popular or pretty or any of those things that society brain washes little girls to think that they need to be. It was all about the blond haired, blue eyed girl with straight hair. The one my mother had died her to be. The one that I would later dye my hair to be. Barbie, I suppose. Boring Barbie. Boring Big Boobed Barbie.
I was at my brothers house a few months ago for his daughters, Haley's 4th birthday. She got some new Barbie dolls among many other toys. Have you seen them lately? Apparently Ken became a plastic surgeon and is plumping up Barbies lips at an alarming rate. It seems the new odd species of women that seem to be inhabiting our planet now have become the prototype for Barbie. It is frightening really.
I really want a baby girl, but for now am glad that I don't have one when I see shit like that. Someone once said to me that if I had a girl first, I would have been too hard on her. I agree. Especially if I saw her walking down the funky path young girls are going down these days. I am glad I grew up in Michigan.
I also despise this 40 is the new 30 saying. Lets break it down, shall we? So, 30 is the new 20. And 20 is the new 10??!!!!! And 10 the new infant??!!! It is fucking stupid. Why can't people be grateful just where they are? What does age matter anyway? Or hair color? Or height? Or weight? That's a big one. Even I worry about it.....ugh.
We waste so much time trying to find ourselves looking in all the wrong places. At all the wrong things. I for one have never been able to find myself in a mirror. In fact, a certain point I lost myself there. At a time when the world, or my world was focused on that. What a bore.
Well, I suppose this is just a nonsensical rant. But it is my nonsensical rant.