Stupid Boobs

Stupid Boobs.    

               I grew up a hard core tomboy. I rough housed with the boys, played capture the flag like a motherfucking boss, played pick up games of rink hockey and baseball, and trolled the woods behind our house for animals and maybe pirate treasure. (hey, somethings never change) I lived in pants or shorts, loved nothing more than getting lost in the woods and coming home filthy and exhausted. 

         My mom is a southern woman, though shes trained the accent out of herself with near fanatical devotion. She attended the Villa and had cotillions and such. My older sister was the girly girl. Big blond hair, delicate features and loved dressing up. So needless to say when it came to me my mom was at a total loss. Her previous experience with my two brothers helped but she refused to apply boy logic to her daughter. And while I pushed back at the time I am very glad she stood her ground. She encouraged me to try figure skating which I was fairly good at. Taught me to sew, to cook, the beauty of colors and manners. Taught me that knowledge was elegance and a key to where you wanted to go. Occasionally  I would remember those skills but by and large I spend a lot of time hanging out with the guys, getting dirty, wrestling and climbing trees. 

Truth.

        As I neared my teen years I remained a tomboy. I had equal parts female and male friends. I was maybe closer with a few of the male ones than the female ones. Eventually my body decided to advance and then things changed. Most of my male friends started to act weird. Some of them refused to blindly accept me as an honorary guy anymore. Boobs had happened and that’s confusing for everyone. I wore lots of sports bras to hopefully slow the growth and hide any progress. I took to loose clothing. My closest guy friends adamantly refused to acknowledge anything had changed and I loved them for it. 

            My females friends became closer and we found more common ground. I traveled abroad and learned that elegance and fashion are a unisex equation. The men in Europe chose styles to reflect personality not to define gender. The women did this also but with a permissive sensuality that has nothing necessarily to do with being girly. It offered an alternative option, one that I embraced. Slowly the woman and the tomboy figured their shit out and made a somewhat shaky truce. I continued to be a tomboy. I fought, taught martial arts, weapon trained, rock climbed and learned to read the outdoors. But I also figured out boobs were cool. Make up didn’t mean blue eye shadow and pink lipstick (shut it, it was the late 80’s) and hair could be functionally short and still feminine.      

Pass.

       

I grew up in theater and was signed by an agent in high school. She pushed hard for me to try modeling and I gave in. I did a few photo shoots and some anti-drug campaign for Pepsi and then ran like hell. My first job I brought a soda and a protein bar to the set. It was booked for a six hour gig after a day of school so I thought I would be prepared. I sat down in the prep room and opened my homework and grabbed my power bar. The looks I had got from all the ‘models’ who had been starving themselves for years could have set my skin on fire. One, mistaking my dinner for bulimia started trying to trade tips. I did the shoot and got the hell out never to return. 

               I eventually landed in emergency medicine, which is a fairly male dominated field. I wear mannish like uniforms, I am accepted and viewed (as most females are in this field) as a neutral gender with in the EMS family. Not girly but not a dude.. More like a sister. I still train with martial arts. I am more at home in leggings and a ninja turtles t shirt than a dress. I frequently get sweaty, dirty and get lost in the woods. SOo… Not all that much has changed. I just added a few new skills.

               I am telling you all of these things as a back story. I was talking with an old friend of mine a few days ago. We were discussing what makes someone attractive and/or beautiful. She was of the opinion that its an absolute. There is a sort of check list and if you have or attain that you’re in the “club”. In shape, good hair, nice face, not a horrible individual..etc. I came from a different point of viewing beauty as inconstant.  Any woman who catches herself in the mirror first thing after a shitty night of sleep knows what I mean. I grew up around guys and in an industry that values marketability. I saw first hand guys find one girl attractive for one thing and find the same thing in another repelling. I saw lovely girls universally rejected by most guys for no appreciable reason. I watched casting directors reject absolutely gorgeous women because to them they were weird looking.  I watched people over time see what was once beautiful and hasn’t changed now is not attractive at all. In my head it’s a moment to moment descriptive. Angelina Jolie could wander into somewhere and I would think god damn she is beautiful. She could then punch a kitten (don’t ask me where she got one.. it just appeared and my head is weird) and suddenly shes even uglier than possible because of her cruelty. 

HOLYSHIT! I am not alone!!

Maybe I am the only chick to have this view. As I have mentioned.. I am weird. Because of this perspective dating and life definitions have been… odd. I work in a career with uniforms and a family like connection. Most of my hobbies require equipment and/or padding, sweating, books or fresh air. None of those are specifically beauty minded. I don’t have a physical “type”. I am fascinated by the back story and who the person is at their core. The physical components are not really defined and I tend to notice them later and view them as bonuses.  For my own self image, while I know people probably wont start gathering pitch forks and torches when I wander in somewhere, I also don’t hold the mental view of myself from the times I am at my absolute best as a baseline. Someone miiight blow their whistle and try to toss the low self esteem flag on the field for that one but slow your roll. I know my value. 

I don’t think many of you who know me would call me shy or not out spoken. Sure I second guess myself at times and have things I am self conscious about but growing up the way I did cemented in a strong foundation for independence and knowing who I am. I just don't place any trust/value in someone seeing me as attractive. Its a slippery slope and one that can change fast. (So I stick with funny and smartass, those are fairly consistent.)  what ever the reason, I am happy to have formed this opinion.  I would hate to forever be mentally checking 'The List' to see if I qualified.

Seriously google this shit. Its depressing.

          For me,  my judgements of beauty are based on memories of my childhood. Of things that come with stability and are made of firmer descriptive.  Of laughter, smiles, strengths, watching each others backs, trust and most important of all humor. Of the boys who knew me at my core, accepted me grimy sweaty and smelly, and remained with me even when my boobs showed up and the other boys teased them. 

To me that’s Hot. 

WERK!