It occurs to me that, finding myself a quarter of a century old, it's probably time to accept the fact that I'm supposed to be a grown up.
To that realization, I reply: "Neener, neener, neener! I'm not listening!"
Tonight, I've dyed my hair blue. And I don't care if my job is unhappy with this development. I'm just really tired of having to make sure everyone else is happy before I do anything. So my hair doesn't look "professional". Big whoop. I have to wear a hat throughout the entire workday, anyhow, and if that doesn't cover all of it, I'll toss on a bandana under it, but I've been dying to dye my hair for a full year, but haven't because of work or because my family doesn't like it or for any other number of reasons that have nothing to do with what I want. Fuck that.
The title of this post comes from a country song by the same title. The chorus:
"She was daddy's little girl,
Mommy's little angel,
Teacher's pet,
Pageant queen,
All her life, she's been living,
Someone else's dream."
Granted, this song is about a girl, but it still struck me. At what point am I going to stop believing that my life ought to please someone else? Or, as it usually turns out, everyone else?
If I lose this job over this (I won't, but if I do), then I'll get another one. But I'm not going to be afraid of this sort of thing anymore. Shit happens. If they don't like it, I don't care. Keena says I can write blogs for her brother (paid, how cool is that?), or there's a place at campus looking for envelope stuffers, paid per piece. Marc's is offering to take me back, and there are plenty of other places that just don't give a damn.
I think it's about time for people to start admitting that the definition of "professional" is expanding. Businessmen are tattooed, lawyers have eyebrow rings, doctors don't comb their hair. Professional isn't all neatly groomed and clean-cut. Professional is becoming an attitude, which is what it should be. If I show up to work and I'm nice to people and do my work, then what difference does it make what color my hair is? The answer ought to be "none." And if it's not... Oops. No biggie. I have options.
Life's too short for all this unneeded stress brought on by "what ifs" and "buts". I just want to be me for a while, and I don't think that's too much to ask.
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