So here is my plan. Finding yourself is hard work and you have to start somewhere. I am starting with personality shopping.
It’s like this: You go to Target (pronounced tar-jay in the French style to make it sound more OhLaLa.) or some other store and you are looking about and you see the PERFECT white silk blouse. And in your mind you are screaming “I MUST BUY IT” but then Reason kicks in and your mental self wonders “what will I wear it with?” At first, you are a little irked with Reason because Reason has once more gone and ruined the excellent HOORAY feeling you had previously been experiencing. Then you stop and think, “Reason is right, I need a blazer to go with it, and maybe a pencil skirt. Thanks Reason.” So you go forth on the quest for the PERFECT ensemble to match the PERFECT silk blouse.
On this particular shopping excursion you are becoming more and more lucky (rare occurrence, so enjoy while you can, because trust me, it will end) and you find the ensemble of your dreams. You go to the dressing rooms to try it on, the excitement is building. You do one of those things where you close your eyes so you can’t see yourself in the single full length mirror; you want to go for the big BANG in the triple mirror wotsit. The excitement has reached its peak and you cannot stand to keep your eyes closed anymore. You HAVE TO SEE THE OUTFIT.
Your eyes flutter open and...
You hate it.
The pencil skirt is too long and makes your butt look lumpy.
The blazer has those weird pockets that open and gapes too much, not unlike a hungry baby bird.
You are completely and utterly dismayed.
You almost want to cry at the failure you have just felt.
Don’t deny it. We have all been there.
Anyway, personality shopping is going to be much like that. I will try on different parts of personalities such as Zen, O.C.D. control freak, quite and timid, WorkoutWoman, studious, party girl, etc etc etc. And I will think “WorkoutWoman? FANTABULOUS! I’ll be all strong and toned and fit.” And then I will try it on and stand in front of the mirror and want to cry, because my butt will look great but maybe it will make my skin gross and my muscles hurt and so forth. I don’t really know, seeing as I am currently not WorkoutWoman, but I will try. Maybe I will even combine things from different personalities. We shall see. Hopefully, this will teach me what I am and what I am not and never want to be.
Due to a moment of psycho crazy feminism I was lucky enough to witness today, I think that is where I will start.
So you are not confused I think that men are, as Mom put it oh-so-lovingly, “gigantic ass-holes this big” (imagine putting your arms in a big circle and peeping through them to show exactly how big of assholes they really are, while trying to drive a car in a straight line with your knees. Yes, good luck with that. As I have said, Mom is amazing.)