I think we all have a desire to see ourselves. I have always been most interested in seeing myself change, not out of likeness, but in becoming more true. Indeed, it is the only time I write – to document inner transformation (i.e., thoughts).
So what’s happening now? Well, I bought a crop top yesterday. Two, actually. I can’t stop giggling about this. And I can’t stop doing things that tickle the fancy-free part of my heart, which is to say, the piece without judgement. The place that knows there’s truth in comedy, and applauds wildly with flapping ventricles.
How, exactly, do we form our opinions of ourselves?
I think we often look to other people for our gut checks rather than our own solar plexus. I am lucky to have grown up in a home that nurtured a loud and performative spirit without any limits to my self-expression: one day, I was a veterinarian delivering puppies from my Puppy Surprise pooch, another day I was a plumber fixing the Little Tikes kitchen sink. Then, a woodworker wearing swim goggles, whittling twigs into forks, knives, arrows – who knows? For years, I was Magic Girl.
In 1996, I walked around Disney World in a sports bra and my brother’s hand-me-down jean shorts, rocking high socks, white Reebox, and an Atlanta Braves baseball cap whose brim never saw a better curve. I fucking love that girl.
So yeah, I bought two crop tops.