Confessions of My Broken Tiara

I’ve never owned a pursue. The thought of having to keep track of a thing that holds my other things is exhausting. Have you ever tried to run with a pursue? I haven’t. Although, I’ve tried to run with a kid on my hip before and it’s not easy! There’s this thing that holds other things that won’t get you dead in a parking lot with a creep, it’s called a pocket. You can run with pockets, I do it ALL the time! And jewelry? Meh. I have a total of 9 piercing. I don’t know why. I can’t remember the last time I wore so much as an earring. My dad taught me that’s the first thing an attacker will go for in a fight. Slice my ear lobe in half? No thanks sir. I won’t give you that opportunity. I blame my dad for my fear of putting on the jewels. He made it seem like I’d be attacked a lot more as an adult.

I wore the same pair of tennis shoes to work for 10 years before being peer pressured into buying another. Shoes are expensive. I don’t even like wearing them. Church shoes are the worst. I’d rather be a woman of the Amazon and run barefoot throughout life. These new shoes should do me for another 10 years.

I’m not a cooker. I try. It doesn’t turn out. Probably because I’m not a big fan of instructions. I have an album on my phone titled “burnt food”. My wall fire alarm has been crippled with a hammer and the fire department has been summoned several times. You may be wondering how I’m surviving in the adult world. I’m wondering the same thing. Lord help any man who thinks he’s settling down with this princess.

Dinner’s ready

I am extremely proud of my flaws. It’s the reason for the imperfect photographs and post about failure. They make me human. I smile when I fail because I know already I’m going to try again until it’s perfect! Isn’t that the point of having weaknesses? To try again until it’s a strength? I’ll be perfecting my weaknesses with a fire extinguisher close by.

I may sound like a hazardous plain Jane. I’m not. I wear makeup. My daughter even commented on it the other day saying, ‘It’s not 2004 mom, what’s with the eyeliner?’ Well kid it’s 2019 and I hear they’re still selling eyeliner so step off.

I wear perfumes, lotions, smelly good stuff. I love candles and the smell of cleaning chemicals. Normal feminine attractions. Sometimes I even brush my hair. I’ll confess, I don’t brush my hair everyday… hurts my arm. I need to lift weights to manage this untamed Chewbacca like hair hosted up on my scalp.

Do you ever look at someone and think… that person right there would never survive a war… I say something similar when I go get a wax, I think… man I’d never survive a beauty pageant. These rituals normal females go through is like being a prisoner of war. It’s slow torture that doesn’t end. Painful shoes, bras that have wires stabbing you slowly in the rib cage as you walk, ripping the top layer of skin off repeatedly with waxing strips… slow and painful torture… just put me in the front line of this war and be done with me.

I admire those women who have all these qualities, you are all amazing for accomplishing these things routinely! I’m not ashamed that I don’t, I don’t like to. We are just different folks! It’d be boring if we were all the same right?! So while I’m admiring your qualities, respect mine. I won’t buy your makeup, or your thirty one bags. I pretty much have to force myself to enter a regular store let alone purchase something online. Seriously, I sit in my car for about 20 minutes debating on if it’s essential to walk into the grocery. I want watermelon but I don’t want to go inside, it’s a hard decision. Don’t waste your time on me, I’ll support you and tell people about your products but I’m not buyin. You do you boo boo.

Author: thegoldenrocks

Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving

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