Adventures In Being Myself

Some people grow up knowing exactly who they are and who they want to be.

 

My ex always wanted to be a doctor.  He did not understand why, at age 20, I was still undeclared at my community college in Maryland instead of moving down to Florida to be with him.

 

"Because I didn't want to" was not an acceptable answer I could admit to him without a big argument. "Because he didn't want me to" also was not an acceptable answer worth discussing.

 

One of my best friends growing up, sweet and funny Lorrie Budd who shared my birthday but not my height, absolutely knew what she wanted to do when she grew up.  At six, while I was busy coloring the white polar bear on my red shirt with a broken yellow crayon because the polar bear appeared chilly without the golden sun shining on it, she was busy telling me that when she grew up she wanted to be a family therapist and play basketball in her spare time.

 

Six years old, guys.

 

Six.

 

Jesus.

 

I mean, I have no idea what she does as an adult because I haven't seen her in person since we were fourteen but I'm pretty sure her degree qualifies her to do this in some fashion and that she has been photographed playing basketball more than anyone else I know. And I think that's a pretty sweet deal.

 

That's never been me. People tend to tell me what I should be doing and I just look at them strangely.  You should be an actress, they said.  You should dance and sing on stage.  Go make us proud.

 

And I look at them like, "I don't know about you, but I really like watching TV and reading books and coloring with crayons."

 

And as an adult I kind of get what they mean.  I mean I enjoy dancing like nothing else, and singing is second to that.  If my wedding was karaoke flash-mob themed, I wouldn't complain that it's tacky and wrong.

 

But I've never really enjoyed dance class. I always ended up in classes with some prima donna cheerleader jerks who'd ask me lots of meaningful and friendly questions about my talent and dance technique such as, "Why does your costume have two seams when mine only has one?"

 

 ... and "Do people in your family have to take a lot of paternity tests?"

 

as well as, "Did you know you look exactly like Marilyn Manson?"

 

My parents also worried about why I mysteriously withdrew and kept to myself in my teens.