Flaunt It!

#nolabeings #neworleans. 

This photo popped up on my Facebook feed today, and here's the caption:

"My granddaughter called me up one day, she said ‘Famor, I was just thinking, since you’re so dark, I think maybe you need to do something with your hair in color.’ I said 'Well, what are you thinking?' She said, ‘Well, right now my hair is pink.’ And I said ‘Yeah, but you live in London and y’all are wild and crazy.’ She said ‘No I want you to try this. Since you’re royalty and purple is your favorite color, you should try purple.’ […] I tell you from the minute I got my hair done, all of the ladies in the shop said ‘I wish I had enough guts to do that!’ I said ‘You can! What’s stopping you? You worried about what people say?’ You got to please yourself first! Who cares?!" #nolabeings #neworleans" 

I'm tired of worrying all the time. Once upon a time I could see past all my flaws and still manage to do what I wanted, but it's harder now. A few years ago, my life fell apart, and I knew I was too old, too fat, too ugly, too replaceable to succeed. I knew I'd never make friends or if I did it would be because they were too lonely and afraid to believe they had any other options. I was sure that I'd only ever be a pity date or it's an end of the night and I don't want to go home alone fuck. 



I'm not hunky dory, and I don't have the confidence anymore to pull off pigtails without quaking with fear before I leave the house. I actually understand betrayal and failure now.  Cats don't always land on their feet. Things can work out differently, and differently isn't necessarily bad, but things will not always work out for the best that they can possibly be.

I'm tired. I can't always be afraid of what people think. So I'm working on it. I dye my hair the colors I always wanted to. I buy  Mickey Mouse dresses for the office. When people grumble on the train that fat people shouldn't be allowed to sit during rush hour, I stay seated and continue reading my book. I am back to walking up to perfect strangers to say hi. Perfect strangers isn't just an expression - it's what so many people appear to me to be these days because they have the confidence that I can't find. When I'm nervous, I babble, and I babble a lot these days when I talk to people.

I still think I've got a lot to be afraid of, but I can't live that way. So I dye my hair pink and purple and magenta and teal and sit fat in vegan restaurants in sexy dresses with huge purple flowers over them and special ordered boots made to fit over my big calves. The best part? Sinkholes haven't opened up under my feet when I approach someone whose grin has fascinated me all night and ask if they'd like to play (it's important to keep a deck of Hello Kitty playing cards in your purse at all times). I have not been struck by lightning while walking down the street in a hot pink skirt and lacy fishnet tights. Not once has a plague of locusts swarmed me because I was rejected at a party.

However, I've played. I've had strangers ask if they can take photos of my black leather shoes with shapes cut out of them to display my lime green tie dyed tights. I've swapped books on the bus with a woman I've never met.

I'm not making lightly of other people's anxieties. I've had a therapist for two years and a shrink with a license to dispense medication. I've scared my cat because I was curled up in bed sobbing that I'll be alone forever. I've had support and help, and I'm certainly not a strong, confidant woman. I'll never be the woman I was before. However, I am a woman who that several people wanted to know who strong woman with the wicked smile and knee high black boots was because they wanted to see her again. So I'll sashay around until I actually believe my stuff is worth strutting.

Fake it till you make it, bay-bee!