I can’t pinpoint the time I changed, but I did and I’m not sure why. You see, when I was growing up, I was a tomboy. I had literally, no choice. I’m the only girl with two brothers, the kids on my street that were my age were all boys and my cousins that are my age are boys. I grew up playing Army instead of Barbie, building forts in the woods and shooting targets and slingshots in Nowhere, Vermont. If I tried to enjoy Rainbow Bright or act like a mother to my gaggle of pound puppies, my brothers said, “Ewww, why you are acting like a GIRL”. It was a dirty word in our household.
These days I find myself attracted to anything purple, loving anything with a ruffle attached to it and shopping endlessly for makeup. I can’t help it; MAC and Sephora get me every time.
We had picnic in the park last weekend and a bug crawled up my leg and I freaked out, swearing never to step foot outside again. Pat has been sneaking up on me and tickling the back of my head ever since because he thinks I’m ridiculous and likes to laugh at my expense. I was never like this before. It’s like once I moved out of the house, I rebelled against my tomboy roots. I can’t say that it’s completely gone because I still laugh at the most inappropriate things. In fact, I take things waaaay too far with Pat and he usually ends up gagging. No, seriously, he gags. I know my job is done when Pat gets those tears in his eyes and can’t talk for a solid 3 minutes… that’s what he gets for being a fake spider on an hourly basis. That’s also what I refer to as true love.
Here I am with my childhood boy crew. I blame them for the nonsense that is me.