In this phase of my life, I am under constant renovation. I need change, I seek change, so I change myself.
In the past, my many re-inventions where out of some odd compulsion to discover what “type” of girl I was. I simply had to know. And, oddly enough, finding a header to put myself under was no easy task. In fact, I found it so damn impossible to “figure myself out”, that at some point or another, I simply stopped trying. But along the way, it was more than a little funny.
Here are some of the types I thought I might fit into, at some piont, and the reasons why they were eventually a total fail:
Type #1: The Tom boy
Honestly, I have no idea why this type ever occurred to me. I would blame latency (it was around age 10 or 11), but I know for a fact that I did like boys… Come to think of it, did I ever even have a period of latency? Perhaps when I was a tiny baby or something? Anyway, I digress. The reasons for my attraction to this type are unclear, but the reasons for my complete failure at it are not… For one thing, I have zero eye-hand coordination. Sports are evil, I can’t play them. And yes, trying to look “cool” in that hard-core 90’s way *laughs* only made me look like a fool, LIKE A FOOL (Sorry, Phoebe from Friends snuck in at the end there!)
Type #2: The Prepster
This one I tried in middle school (grades 7 and 8, ages 12 and 13), probably because all the white kids at my school (of which I was one) were either band geeks or preps… and there was no way I was going to try and learn an instrument in front of hoards of other kids, so… I tried to be a prep. And yes, I failed. I was painfully shy (although at the time I preferred the term “quiet”) so socializing in general was not one of my strong points… I also had this weird thing about not wanting people to know how little money I had (preps are supposed to be loaded, after all), so when someone asked me where I got my amazing glitter jeans, instead of saying “Sears” (which is where I got them) I said “I don’t remember” (which is unbelievable). Hi, weird much? (The correct answer is “yes”, by the way.)
Type #3: The California Girl
Haha, now this one is funny. Being that I am in fact from California, you would think that personifying the “California Girl” would be easy. Not so. First off, this one was doomed from the start for a very particular reason: I was attempting to imitate my younger sister. My younger sister has always been the prettier one (it’s true), is waaaay easier to get along with than I am (sometimes), and as for that whole “California look” – she has it in spades. I am not saying that I want to be like my younger sister now (because, hello?! – then I wouldn’t get to be me!) but there was a time where I just thought it would be so much easier. Another reason why the California look was not for me? I am VERY pale… and brunette… and I have somewhat sharp features (in places)… and long hair makes me antsy… and oh yah, I’m moody. California? I don’t think so.
Type #4: The Glamour Girl
Being glamorous was never in the cards for me. For one thing, it costs a lot of money, which I don’t have. For another, it costs money which I don’t have. Okay, okay – the real reason why I can in no way be considered for this type is because my lifestyle just doesn’t support it. I work in a small shop in Touristville, where the uniform is jeans and a hideous black t-shirt (I mean really, way to hide all my good curves and make me look more like a line-backer than I ever cared to! Yah… thanks!) I also have no tolerance for alcohol, which makes me dizzy and tired (Not fun? No.)… and I’m pretty sure glamour girls drink. And, right, I’m too immature. No, really, I like Abba SingStar and I own several movies which I mercilessly mock the entire time they are playing… and I like it that way. Maturity? Fabulousness? No thanks, I’ll take childish laughter and enthusiasm any day!
Type #5: The Indie Girl
Some of you may already know where this is going… Indie girls can’t play Abba SingStar and like it… they can’t own the movies they mock… and they certainly can’t wear glitter jeans with a pink boat-neck tee and white sneakers (because someone will find that picture, and it will all be over for you). You also have to become a bit of a snob (which I am good at) and know all the cool movies, music, and designers that the rest of the poor bastards out there have never even heard of. I have tried, and in some areas I have succeeded… mostly because by some miracle, almost every time someone would make an obscure reference to something, I would have heard about it exactly two days prior… no joke! In the end though, I knew the truth – I was not cool! And you know what? I’m okay with that.
So there you have it, a myriad of things I am not now, nor will ever be… EVER!
Then what am I, you may ask?
I, my fellow (and female) bloggers, am WEIRD. Yes, that’s right. I have come to accept and even love this about myself and now it is officially time to own it. My name is Amber and I am weird. And proud, bitches!
As for those of you who thought I was emo…
You’re wrong. Just becuase I have dark hair and write poetry and pout a lot (that’s just how my face is!) does not mean I am emo. Emo girls don’t like “Mamma Mia!” They’re not allowed.