I’m not that girl.
I’m not the one who’s cool, calm and collected in times of panic. Not sleek, nor efficient, nor ballbreakingly good at holding my own in a man’s world.
Not the one that glides through life, on a seemingly predestined path, navigating life’s hurdles with ease and grace.
Not that girl that watches the news and is well informed about everything, the one who can hold court anywhere.
Not the one whose clothes are ironed, and actually go together, and have a matching handbag and shoes.
Not that girl who stays where she’s unhappy because she’s scared of the unknown.
Not the one who searches for a husband.
Not ladylike for the sake of being ladylike.
Not the one that fits neatly into that expected life – with a husband, and a couple of children, and saloon cars on the driveway.
I am more chaotic, more unruly and more free than that.
I’m that girl who can’t keep tidy no matter how hard she tries, who forgets appointments and who never blow dries her (varying shades of brown, blue and green) hair.
The one whose nails are rarely painted, because if they are, one hand is chipped and smudged before the other is finished.
The girl without a skincare regime and the one who, against all the odds, loves her body exactly how it is, squidgy bits and all.
The one who can’t bear matching furniture and who needs colour around her like other people need air to breathe.
But, though she’s more or less unemployable in a normal job these days and sometimes it’s evening before she remembers to brush her hair, she’s the girl who remembers to watch the seasons change, to notice the flowers by the roadside, to keep in touch with old friends and new, to devour books at every opportunity.
The girl who’s an intriguing combination of pin up and geeky and ethereal and magical; loves corsets and heels alongside flowers in her hair and walking barefoot in the most random of places.
I’m not the girl I often thought I should be – the one that I tried so hard to be for such a very long time. I don’t fit in a box, and I won’t get back in a box that doesn’t fit me.