“Baby I was born this way….” Born This Way/Lady Gaga
Born this way or made this way? That is a good question.
(OK, people, don’t get your panties in a bunch. This is a generalization. Of course not all women are like these stereotypes, but this is my fairlytale—or lack thereof. Yeah, baby.)
Just like Pinocchio longed to be a ‘real boy,’ sometimes I wish I were a real girl…a girl who likes flowers, makeup, shopping and to have the doors opened for her.
I hate shopping. I dislike chick flicks in general. I don’t give babies a second look (though I do love puppies and kittens, so that should count). Jewelry makes me yawn (except for super eclectic pieces.)
I don’t need to be rescued. I rescue.
I don’t need someone to fix things. I fix them.
I don’t ask people for help. I look up how to do it.
I can cook (a little), clean, iron, raise kids, fix the toilet, repair the squeaky door, pay bills, do taxes, program websites, and put on makeup in Photoshop (it’s waaaay easier than in real life).
I am straight.
And I wear sundresses on occasion. (Plus I shave my legs every day, too.)
I’ve always been independent, pretty much raising raising myself since the age of 10. I fed myself, went to school, got my first real job at 14, hopped continents at 17, worked, went to college at night, and learned everything in the ‘real world’ hands-on by myself.
Even when I was married, I opened my own doors, brought home the bacon, cooked it, took care of the children, did the shopping, and went downstairs with a flashlight to catch the intruder when we heard a strange noise.
One time, while visiting Santa Barbara with my then husband and kids, we returned to our hotel room to find the door slightly open. I pushed the children behind me to safety, and then kicked the door full force, sending it flying open wide. I went through the room looking in closets, under the bed, and behind the shower curtain, making sure the room was ‘clear’ and no intruders were hiding (‘why, I ougtha…‘.)
I was 5′ tall and about 116 pounds at the time, with no weapon. I am not sure what I would have done if I had come face-to-face with a 6′ tall ‘bad guy’ with a gun. I acted on instinct.
It’s not that I never wanted to be rescued—I did. I wanted to be rescued by my dad, to be taken away from my bad home life with an alcoholic mother. But he never came to save me.
I wanted my high school teacher to rescue me and send me somewhere where life was more stable and people were sane. But he never even noticed me or my plight.
I wanted one of my uncles to come and fetch me, to buy me new clothes and send me to college. But they were busy with their own families.
No one ever came to rescue me so I learned to rescue myself.
Now, I am beyond rescue. I have come as far as to let men open doors for me (sic) but that’s about it. I still bring home the bacon, listen for burglars, and try to save the world. I love action films, murder mysteries, business books, comfortable shoes, sweatpants, and technology. I also like almost everything Sandra Bullock has ever starred in (with the exception of Speed 2), chocolate, pigtails, a fun miniskirt, and a long, hot bath. Oh and cats. I love cats. Lots o’cats (though currently I don’t have any. Insert sad face).
I’m not sure if I ever wanted to find a Prince Charming, or if I just knew he’d never come for me so I gave up on that idea early on. Maybe girls like me just aren’t charmable.
It used to make me sad that no one had ever tried to sweep me off my feet, take me away for a romantic spontaneous weekend, said they couldn’t live without me, paid my bills, or whatever else people do in romantic movies and books. But I got over it. If the (man) pants fit, wear them. (Or the skirt. Love the skirt.)
Whether I was born this way or made this way, I will never know. It doesn’t really matter anymore.
Long ago I came to the realization that I am my own Prince Charming…and I am good with it.
~Onward. (And leave the glass slipper behind. It’s not comfortable, anyway.)