Thursday, March 24, 2011
When I was little my two favorite colors were pink and purple.
(But I couldn't say my "Rs"...so think "pink and puhple.")
When I was two years old I pitched a fit because my mom tried to put me in a solid colored onesie. She said I wouldn't stop crying until she put me in a shirt with a picture on it. Even then, I had strong opinions about fashion.
Growing up I owned approximately 1,000 Barbie dolls - most that still had their heads attached to their bodies. I loved dressing them up more than anything. When New Kids on the Block were big, someone gave me a Ken-esque member of the band that had a rat tail. I thought it was disgusting and cut it off. Even now I think about how I altered a Ken doll and wonder if my standards are just too high...
Nah, a rat tail just isn't acceptable. Not for Barbie, not for me either.
Disney Princesses and Dolly Parton taught me all I needed to know about true beauty. Flashy dresses, high heels, and big hair were my gold standards.
I loved for my Aunt Phyllis to put my hair in hot rollers even though I screamed when she tried to brush my curly, knotted hair beforehand. The teased, curly 'do of the 80s really made me happy. Especially when accessorized with a large fabric headband.
But when I got to middle school, all the girls started saying BLUE was their favorite color. Everyone started thinking pink was dorky and for little girls. So I changed my favorite color to blue, too.
All the girls at my school were into looking athletic, so I sported Adidas sambas instead of the sparkly pink jellies I adored in 5th grade. What a poser. I didn't even play soccer.
I ditched my Barbies and am sad thinking about where they probably ended up. They're probably still mourning me going off to college in a box in the attic. (Toy Story 3, anyone?!)
Well, when I think back about middle school and how I tried to change who I was to fit in, it makes me really mad. Why do we feel such constant pressure to be cool? What is being cool, anyway? Everyone else is just as clueless as you are at 12. Heck, everyone is just as clueless as I am at 26.
I started thinking about this little transformation at school today when I realized that my two lunchboxes are pink and (suhpwize!) purple.
And I have decided to publicly declare, for the whole internet to hear, I AM A GIRLIE GIRL!
I'm not ashamed to like Taylor Swift and I dang sure ain't gonna pretend I like watching sports 24/7 just to get you to like me. Deal with it.
I still like wearing high heels, even though I tower over tons of guys when I wear them and have been told they make me "intimidating."
I still like the way my hair looks when I curl it, and I think there is absolutely nothing more fabulous than bright pink Essie nail polish.
I love wearing pearl earrings when I go for a run.
I still think Dolly Parton is beautiful.
I think being true to yourself is beautiful, too.
Now I know:
If I could write a letter to my 6th grade self, this would be it.