lundi, novembre 16, 2009

Get a kick out of you

I was lucky in high school. In a school in which it was fine to be an egghead New York Jew (not yet a Christian) with curly brown hair and a love of the theater, I was merely one in a group of eccentrics. It was fine to be a nerd -- that's how you got into the school.

Nor was there any pressure to conform to the current female idols, have sex before we were emotionally ready, or even inhale. So I didn't.

In college, I hopped from group to group. Frat boys, Christian fellowship fellows with short hair, and the college rock band guys with the long hair, with whom I shared a fraternity home one summer (not as suggestive as it might sound). The drummer had a gorgeous, skinny blonde girlfriend -- I would have given a lot to be Kate. If if hadn't been for the artist who hopped out from behind trees to photograph me, it would have been even more of a romantic wasteland than it was.

The only young man I really liked had a big time jones for, you guessed it, a pretty blonde a few years his junior.

I suppose a lot of us females remember times when we felt too exotic...translate unattractive... to fit in. The guy at grad school who preferred women with "All American looks". The friend who was a sweet guy magnet (you know who you are) and from whom I learned a lot -- but didn't get to try out for myself. Walks down the hill in Princeton to the WaWa for licorice and cookies on Saturday nights when my BFF's were out eating, dancing, and kissing guys.

It took me until my forties to like the face in the mirror -- how about you? If you aren't there yet, start working on it. You are never going to look like "him" or "her" -- but you are pretty darned lovely just the way you are.

1 commentaire:

Sue a dit…

My own "exotic" (love the translation!) experience came from an interesting childhood -- I am Irish, adopted into a very Dutch family, within a VERY Dutch community, went to a VERY Dutch Christian school system (K-12) ... I was the only red-head in a sea of blue-eyed blonds. Did I fit in? Not a chance. Scene: 7th grade, playground, my boy-crush and very good "just-friend" Garry said to me, "I really like you, but I could never dig a girl with red hair."

Funny how that can stick with you. And it's funny how things can turn around -- I've learned to love my red hair, every last strand of it! :)