You know you want a pair.
There is a dichotomy in the perception of me at times. Growing up, I felt that I couldn't tolerate being a girly-girl: the lace and ruffles, the dolls, the caked-on makeup, pretending to be scared of spiders, and standing in circles talking about boys when I could be over at the fence talking TO boys.
But rest assured, I am pure girl. When I got in a fight with Tommy the next street over, I remember the swirl of my skirt as I wound up to smack him upside the head with my Love Pup (not a doll but a red stuffed dog), while screeching menacingly "leave my sister alone!"
On with the list.
NOT: Lace and ruffles. Ugh, so prissy and far too fussy. In more practical terms, lace as outerwear or as trim, scratchy. Ruffles, on a girl that was a D cup by 11 years old? Makes a girl appear even bigger. Total pass.
GIRLY! Embroidery. I fell in love with Mexican peasant blouses when my grandmother brought me one from her trip to Mexico back when I was in single digits. I am immediately drawn to tops, skirts and dresses with intricately stitched designs.
NOT: dolls. I played with them, but it was more about setting them up as action figures dive bombing bubble baths. No packed wardrobes of tiny plastic shoes, no aching for the Barbie Dream house.
GIRLY! Little House books. It all started with On the Banks of Plum Creek and the summer of my eighth year was devoted to walks to the Orange Street library to check the books out, one by one, until I received the set for my 9th birthday from grandma and grandpa. A set I still have 32 years later.
NOT: makeup. I am really not a fan. I of course wore the hell out of it in grade school when the nuns would scrutinize our face for detectable levels of the devil paint. I became quite skilled at blending and shading so when our school principal Sister Gloria would tell makeup offenders to go scrub their faces, I was left looking fresh and dewy while the rest of the girls wiped away their telltale orange lines of foundation.
GIRLY! lipstick/gloss. From the dollar store to the department store, I am drawn like a magnet to any version of lip care. I love 'em all, be it a pot, a wand, a stick, a tube or a roller ball. All time favorites are Victoria's Secret Beauty Rush in Pinked Lemonade, Clinique's Raspberry Glace, mint Chapstick, and Avon's Dew Kiss.
NOT: baseball. This one is iffy because I know a lot of girls who love baseball. But there are factions out there that are at the game to flirt, drink beer and stare a men in tight white pants. The line "chicks dig the long ball"? I always answer by saying "this chick also digs the squeeze play, the outfield assist, and when the pitcher strikes out the side." One of the pictures burnished on my memory is walking up the tunnel at Tiger Stadium for a night game, all that green and blue and white on the perfect summer night, one of the most beautiful sights one could see.
GIRLY! figure skating. I have loved skating since the '76 Olympics and the iconic Dorothy Hamill. What do I love about it? depends on the discipline. For the ladies, I love the costumes, music, artistry, and everything pretty. For men, the power, skill, and interpretation. For pairs, the power, relationship and storytelling. Ice dance, it's all about the costumes and story.
NOT: baking. I don't bake. Period.
GIRLY! shopping. I can make a dent in a budget when it comes to clothes shopping. As has been covered before, to counteract my tendency towards being a clotheshorse, I am quite the thrift and resale shopper. Some may think it's gross, but when you can get a pair of designer jeans that fit like a glove for 69 cents, you sew the button then do a load of wash.
NOT: Led Zeppelin. One of the most startling comments ever made to me in my courtship days was by an ex, who scornfully commented "Girls don't listen to Led Zeppelin. It's a little unladylike, don't you think?" I shoulda broke up with him then, but continued to date him through series of eye rolling commentary and observations best suited for the 1950s. Ramble on, Matt.
GIRLY! Spice Girls. There are some acts that fly in the face of the whole "Imma rocker!" ideal. Truth is, I grew up with a taste for light as air top 40. I don't think I miss a weekly countdown from the age of 7 through the age of 15. Even today, reclaiming my access to the VH1 video countdown, I feel all is right again with the world. As heavy and bluesy as Zep were, sometimes you need joyful jangles and catchy hooks coupled with a little girl power.
And the spiders? Ugh, hate them, they are downright squeal-worthy, but you'd never find me dancing on top of a table demanding a man finish the job. That is when all that shoe shopping comes in handy.
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