First, let me say thank you for checking out my blog. We late bloomers are not accustomed to much attention, but it all starts somewhere. This being my very first entry, I’ll take a moment to explain why I’m here and why I’m glad you’re here with me.
I was born to a California hippie and a conservative Texas cowboy, and grew up in a small town in the Texas hill country. I wore dresses for the annual bluebonnet pictures, just like any Texas girl, and always to church on Sundays. Dresses, I suppose, became the apparel you don when you’re about to do something you didn’t want to do, and you certainly couldn’t wear them to play in the dirt. Not really a big deal until I started school. As my hometown had no school, all the kids had to take the bus to the next town, and there was always a huge rift between the locals and the out-of-town kids. It just so happened that I tested very high and got put in a class with the most popular local kids. By second grade, girls were already picking each other apart over appearances, and because I’d never been interested in “girly” things, I was an outsider in both cases. Whatever! I’m going to play with my ninja turtles and draw. I quickly learned that boys are much more accepting of girls who like to play with action figures, so I aspired to be One of the Guys for most of my young life.
Puberty hit and my mother made an effort to provide me with opportunities to express my femininity, and my father certainly wished I would dress and act like a young lady. Screw it! I want to play fighting games on my SNES. Rawr! At this point, I had female and male friends. The female friends were very obsessed with babies and weddings. I really thought that’s what women are supposed to do, but because I didn’t want either of those things, I didn’t even attempt to identify as female. When I say that, I mean I didn’t try to fit the mold for what society considers feminine. I rebelled. Dad didn’t have much of a choice, because my parents had split up, and Mom believed in letting me figure things out on my own. I was free to cut my hair short and dye it black. I could wear cargo pants and KoRn shirts to my heart’s content. As long as I was doing well in school and had friends, she didn’t have to like my music or style.
Then I started college. You’re free to look how you want to look, even if that’s goth with black lipstick. I failed so hard at makeup. I had no practice other than theater makeup and Halloween makeup, so I really just ended up looking like Robert Smith. That’s hot on goth guys, but on goth chicks it comes of like a frumpy mess. FML I’ll just stop trying to wear makeup and express myself through haircolor. It was a good run, but after college when you have to get a job, crazy hair doesn’t fly anymore. I’d done the guy thing for so long that I didn’t know what to do with myself. I always imagined I’d wear pant suits and maybe if I wanted to be fancy, I’d even be one of those ladies who wears a tie. I can tie a tie and I’ve owned a few. Problem: my boobs are huge and ties don’t look that good. QQ
An amazing thing happened as I started working at my current job. I guess when you hit 30, people stop bugging you about when you’re going to have kids and get married. It stopped being a battle to assert my individuality and maintain control over my life while people tried to tell me how and what to do. It was “this is your life now” and if I’m a smart, strong, female gamer who likes ninja turtles that’s awesome. But now that nobody is telling me I have to look like a girl, I’m sort of enjoying the fact that I have all of human existence to experience. I don’t have to be one way or the other, I can be a person and enjoy it all. A huge part of that is my newly discovered interest in cosmetics. I’ve always owned lots of makeup and I rarely wear it for more than a few minutes just testing it out to see if I even know what to do with it. I usually look really weird and remove it right away. That’s something I’d like to change, and you’re going to see it happen if you follow my blog. You are starting at the very beginning of the transformation. From crappy short nails, clogged pores, chapped lips and split ends, to where the hell ever this journey takes me.