“A girl is a person on a trampoline, not her own trampoline, but the neighbor’s. A girl is a person who laughs at things, and who might have a pink plastic umbrella. A girl chooses to be a girl. It’s not about making tuna casserole for the boys, or joining some bobby socks bowling league. A girl can do anything she wants. She can even be a waitress or a secretary, but she has to have fun while she’s doing it. And if she wants, she’s got to be willing to make a paper airplane with her job description and sail it out the window. Above all, she’s her own person. A free person having fun. I guess that’s the point to being a true girl.”
– Aurelie Sheehan from The ANXIETY of Everyday Objects.
I don’t know what the male equivalent to this would be. However I do know this to be true: I am a girl. Not to be confused with a girly-girl: which I am not.
No matter my age, I will always be a girl. The term woman has always felt odd in terms of self description. I’ve never called myself a woman, other than on paper. I admire the womanly women of this world, those who know how to use make-up, own matching bras and underwear, wear panty hoses and high heels. I love their sense of style and fashion, they always seem to have the right outfit for any task at hand.
I wear jeans and t-shirts. My favorite shoes are a clunky old pair of Fluevogs (men’s shoes) purchased in Edmonton Alberta for a share of my soul (most expensive pair of shoes I’ve ever owned). I giggle when inappropriate. I make fart jokes. I wear $5 jewelry. I have a small box of cool mementos (a Marie action figure race friends gave me, a hand made los muertos mermaid another friend made for me, a cotton handkerchief my dad brought me back from Belgium with a big M embroidered on it, my grandfather’s old leather passport carrier my mom gave me, various pins from events where I worked, a clown nose, a plastic mola fish from the same friend who made me the mermaid, etc. – but it’s the kind of collection a kid keeps in a safe place).
What about you? Are you a girl or a woman? And if you’re a guy, are you a male equivalent to a girl? And what would that be, somehow I don’t like the use of boy. You could be a dude…
What are you and did you simply stumble into it or make a clear choice as to what you wanted to become?
It’s Sunday. I wanted to offer you a simple post. This is one of the short pieces I wrote during my 78 consecutive hours of sailing.