Sunday, March 20, 2011

Girls, Girls, Girls

Remarkably
No pieces littered the ground
Where the uneven odds were stacked
Untouched
Time worked its magic on chance
And left everything else intact



At the risk of sounding like a Tammy Wynette record, I will say this:  Sometimes it's hard to be a woman.  That doesn't mean I would trade it for anything in the world.  There are some very unique and, in my opinion, superior challenges which womanhood presents, but if reincarnation is really a thing, I would still never voluntarily choose to come back with a penis.  Do you hear that, Universe?!  ::fist shake::  Maybe it's my slightly masochistic tendency to only be able to feel a true sense of accomplishment and liveliness when I'm hurting a little bit, and when I'm facing adversity.  I don't know.  But I do know that even when I'm feeling disgusted and disappointed in myself for being imperfect - and even while I'm simultaneously feeling irate for falling prey to the outside forces which make me believe I should be perfect in the first place - I know that there will be a time in the near-ish future, when I feel sexy and proud as hell to be female.  I think that sort of self confidence ebbs and flows for every woman.  That is my theory, anyway.

I have read that a woman's self confidence and feeling of desirability varies based on the stages of her cycle.  The closer we get to ovulation, the sexier we feel.  Because we're supposed to reproduce.  Procreate.  Apparently that is supposed to be the only reason for us to feel like being amorous.  Psshhh.  Okay, I'll give you some credit, science.  You may be on to something.  But I think there's more involved here than hormones and neurotransmitters. 

Women have a unique mysteriousness and beauty.  I mean, I get why we've been used for everything from sales and marketing to super nannies.  Sex sells, and everyone needs to feel nurtured sometimes.  Who could be better at looking pretty and having a natural ability to nurture and care for other living things?  I think we're pretty amazing.  And sometimes under-appreciated.  But I think some of our magic has been manipulated and used against us.  I don't know what we can do at this point except wait patiently for time to swing its pendulum slowly back to a more balanced place.  Because things like this evolve just as people do.  Probably because people do.

I don't like that there are things like eating disorders and plastic surgery screw-ups.  And I really hate that elementary school aged girls are more concerned about how much they eat for lunch than about Barbies and sleepovers.  These girls will spend most of their adult lives comparing themselves to every woman who passes them in the grocery store or shows up on the covers of their magazines, and determine their self worth based on the results of their mental calculations.  Sometimes they won't even realize they're doing it. (As I can attest to, and most of the women I know can attest to.)  But it all adds up and creates a larger effect as time goes on.  So why do we have to take away even the few precious years that they can be free of all this nonsense?

I wonder, for what do we do all of this?  If we all actually did attain this supposedly ideal and "correct" state, we would all be the same, and there would be absolutely nothing special about anyone.  And isn't that all of our biggest fear, after all?  To be completely and utterly not noteworthy?  How would we compete with each other like we are so good at doing, if we all attained perfection?  Does anyone else ask themselves these questions?  Because sometimes I wonder if things would be different if they did.  But I suppose it doesn't matter.  Things are the way they are.

Despite the love-hate relationship I suspect most women have with themselves, I tend to believe few would give it up.  Because when we feel poorly, BOY do we feel poorly.  But when we feel pretty, well, we feel something that I just don't think men have the privilege of experiencing.  Unfortunately.  Everyone should have that privilege.  But we women are extreme at both ends of the spectrum.  Which is part of our uniqueness, I think.  I just wish we could all respect each other a little more, and take the time to think about the fact that we are all in this together.  We are all so much more similar than we realize. We should celebrate each other instead of trying to exceed each other.  Band together and help each other feel worthy in a world that so easily makes us feel like less than we are.  If I am lucky enough to have a daughter someday, my deepest wish is that I can convince her of this too.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Beginnings

Beginnings are color
vibrancy and forward momentum
confidence and freshness
and rejuvenation.
A slow deep breath
and resting of the eyes
just before greeting
the commencement.

As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster.  I just lied.  That was a joke.  It is not a joke that I should watch Goodfellas again sooner than later.  The truth is that the first thing I can remember ever wanting to be is a ballerina.  If you've met me, you will find comedy in this.  I am fairly certain this initial aspiration of mine was due largely to the fact that a frilly pink ballerina get-up was one of my earliest Halloween costumes.  There are many a picture of me in this costume, mainly because I probably never would have worn anything else if it were up to me.  Thankfully, it wasn't up to me.

I imagine I am not the only girl whose first dream was heavily influenced by something like a Halloween costume decided upon by her mother.  Pretty, pink sparkly things are probably the most persuasive items in the universe to six year old girls (and some much, much older), after all.  I couldn't tell you all of the many changing aspirations which followed my ballerina phase, mostly because I don't remember them all.  However, when I think about it now, the thing that strikes me most is that almost 22 years later, the real truth is that I'm no closer to actually knowing where I want my life to go, or what I want to become.  Not a ballerina.  But at least when I wanted to be a ballerina, I WANTED to be a ballerina.

I guess as I've melted slowly into adulthood, I've become less inspired.  I don't like that, and I would like to continuously remind myself that there are some valuable and beneficial aspects of youth worth retaining.  This is why I'm writing again.  Writing was such a vast part of my identity in my teen years, and even into my early twenties, before I discovered the other fun things I could occupy my time with after turning 21.  But then life kind of took me over, instead of the other way around.  And now, when I ponder the things I might truly want out of life, I think of things like a long and happy marriage, maybe a promotion, and the ability to start and provide for my own family (which I'm finding is far easier to take for granted than you'd think).  Those things are good, heartfelt aspirations which are core to my foundation.  I like that.  It makes me feel good in spirit.  But I am craving some creativity, some spark, some stars in my eyes again.  Because I'm realizing that I still have to be myself, and I get to decide who that is, what makes me happy.  I get to choose, and I don't have to care how it appears to anyone else.  Like the fact that no matter what, I will ALWAYS put two spaces after a period.  I don't care.  It's the right thing to do.  If I want to walk around in a tutu, I'm doing it.  But for right now, in this moment, what makes me happy is sharing this blog.  And that's what I'm going to do.