Growing up, I knew I was “off” a little. I’ve talked about this at length over on my now defunct blog, Do What Now. I mean hell, my Mom let me purchase and wear a coral colored leisure suit from like 1973. I knew she didn’t want me to wear it. I knew she was cringing and probably somewhere prepping herself for what would happen next: Me, coming home from school, in a fit of tears. No one understood why I would wear such a thing. No one ever “got me.” Yet, I kept on. Wearing crazy tshirts with skirts. Tights came in bright colors and I wore them often (still do in the winter time). Jewelry was (and is) always mixed matched. It’s just how I was and how I still am today.
The thing is, if you wear what makes you feel beautiful and confident, then that shows. The courage to push the envelope in fashion gives you a boost to say, “Hey. I am ME. Deal with it man.” Besides, who doesn’t want to wear things that they love? Exactly.
I’ve been labelled “weird” my whole entire life. It’s an extension of who I am. Sure, I’m a kick ass Mom, wife, sister and best friend, but there’s more to me than that. I am compassionate to a fault and it’s also this compassion that tends to keep my emotions on my sleeve. Simply put: my feelings are easily hurt. Over the years, you know that whole growing up process, it’s gotten easier to deal with. As in now- writing this somewhat quasi passive aggressive post. Okay, maybe it’s not passive aggressive. Or it could be. Either way.
In dealing with the “weird” label growing up and learning to embrace it, I promised myself that when I was pregnant with MD, I would teach him to embrace each special quirk. Whether that was with me, with him, his friends or even people he’d meet in the streets. It’s these little oddities about individuals that make the world that much more interesting. It’s the very thread that keeps you involved in a conversation. Or makes you pick up a book. Or keeps you researching and learning.
A few short months ago, while at dinner with Mr. B & MD, I realized that this small lesson that I taught my son had indeed stuck with him. As he talked about a situation at school, one in where a group of boys had been teasing him in regards to a girl he liked, he spoke up. For her, for his choice, for what he thought was important. “That we are all the same, it’s how a person treats you and how they treat others that’s important.” Exactly. What really struck a chord with me though, was the compassion I saw in my son’s face. How I could hear it in his voice as he continued talking. My son wasn’t just rehashing a story, he was telling me that he got it. That no one should be made fun of or called names. That you should always be kind to people because you never know what path they’re on or how they’re feeling. That simply being nice to someone could change their entire outlook.
I cried after that conversation.
There before me, was my own child, an extension of my weirdness. And he was being awesome and he will continue to be awesome.
I’d like to think that’s because I had the balls to buy a coral colored leisure suit, wear it, and then live to tell about it.
Being weird, is quite simply, awesome.