A Blog in Review

When I was younger, I relished playing the part of the rebel.  I didn’t mind being the black sheep and I enjoyed being different.  Probably the only thing I missed out on to complete the image was a motorbike.  If I could go back to correct this little oversight, I think the bike I would have gotten would have been a Harley Davidson. 

I thought it would be so cool not only to have my own bike but to be able to tinker away at it and make my own modifications and repairs.  I would buy Harley parts and fix them in a workshop - of course, in my fantasy, I was also a pro-mechanic who knew my bikes from inside-out.  However, if I was seriously honest with myself, I would have to say that being the rebel was my way of making a statement. 

I was never a girlie girl, except for a few spells during my teenage years when I was under the influence of my cousin who would doll me up.  The one thing I distinctly remembered about those times, however, was how uncomfortable and foreign I felt, even if I appeared rather glamorous on the exterior.  I wouldn’t be able to move my head in case I messed my hair.  I couldn’t walk properly because I didn’t know how to walk in heels.  I couldn’t enjoy my food in case I messed my make-up.  All in all, I was thoroughly miserable because I couldn’t be me.

Now that I’m older, I’m comfortable being what I am - glamorous when I want to be and happy in my own skin.

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