If We Were Having Coffee... (Vol. 5 - Tomboys & Dresses)

If we were visiting this morning over beverages, I say beverages 'cause you know I don't drink coffee, I'd suggest that we sit outside on my deck and enjoy the relative coolness while we can.  R is not here this morning, so I can't offer you any coffee, but I can offer you something cold to drink.  How about some lemonade?

"It's supposed to be a scorcher today," I'd say while plopping down in my adirondack chair. "They're saying we could hit a high of almost 100 degrees.  If it's anything like yesterday or worse, we probably won't be able to sit out here past 10:00.  It'll be so icky, we won't be able to stand it."  Rascal would be happily roaming around the yard, nose to the ground, sniffing and concentrating, assessing any changes to her kingdom that may have happened overnight. We'd hear her sneeze periodically and I'd chuckle.  "Yeah, she does that."  Sniff, sniff, sneeze.  Sniff, sniff, sneeze.  Apparently the sniffing-est dog in the land probably has allergies. 

After turning on the ceiling fan to create a breeze and settling in, I'd ask what you've been up to lately.  It's been a while since we chatted.  You'd catch me up on what's been happening in your life and then you'd ask, "Don't you have a trip coming up?"

"Yes, Las Vegas." I'd say.  You'd ask if I'm ready and I'd reply, "As ready as I'm gonna get."  I'd then explain that after months of on again off again preparation, that everything's booked, all the show tickets are printed, all  the reservations are made, and that I finally, finally got some dressier outfits for our evening adventures.  "And by dressier," I'd clarify, "I mean no athletic wear, no khaki shorts, no sneakers, and no t-shirts with writing on them."  I'd laugh and tell you that I've been shopping for dressier outfits since April or May, knowing that I would need something more than what I currently own for evenings out.  "It hasn't been easy," I'd say.  You'd ask why and I'd reply, "Well, considering that I don't like skirts or dresses, my options for dressier summer attire have been quite limited."

I'd let out a long sigh and say, "This is just another chapter in my never ending adventures as a tomboy.  I swear, sometimes I think life would be so much easier if I'd just conform and be a typical girl..."

You'd turn and look at me, sprawled out in my adirondack chair, sitting completely unladylike, wearing a pair of Nike basketball shorts and an old, faded Marshall University t-shirt, with not a trace of makeup and my hair a tousled mess.

You'd study me for a moment, not knowing if you should comment on the obvious or not.  I'd look over at you and give you my Cheshire grin.  "I know..." I'd say, before bursting out into hearty laughter.  "I definitely missed out on the girly gene, didn't I?"

After a few minutes of laughter and perhaps a snort or two on my part, something I do when I get tickled, I'd ask, "You know how I know that God has a sense of humor?" You'd give me a quizzical look and I'd continue, "Because I," pausing to point at myself, "the quintessential tomboy, am the only child of my mother, a woman who is the epitome of the word feminine."

Taking a sip of my soda, I'd continue.  "Yeah, when my mom was pregnant, God looked down upon her and saw a pretty young, petite  blonde with porcelain skin, who never went out in public without flawless makeup and hair, who loved fashion, and truly embraced and enjoyed being feminine.  God then said, Just to make things interesting, I'm going to give  you  a daughter, but she's gonna be a tomboy."

We'd laugh and I'd continue, "The earliest girly vs. tomboy clashes I can remember were over..." pausing for dramatical effect, "You guessed it! Dresses!" As a young girl in the 1970s, my mother and grandmother dressed me in frilly dresses, dresses that I couldn't stand.  I mean I absolutely loathed them.  And by frilly, we're talking the uber girly, fru-fru  variety with bows and lace and stuff, the kind where you had to wear the underwear with ruffles on the butt and tights. "Those ruffles made my butt itch," I'd say.  Once I was old enough to voice my displeasure, the struggle began.

Fortunately, my mom is and always has been a wise woman and she knew it was best to pick her battles.  "The grand compromise," I'd elaborate, "was that I never had to wear a dress to school, but I had to wear them on Sundays to church."  And, I did so until I turned 18.  Once I turned 18, I took my own money and went shopping for non-dress and non-skirt church attire.  

I'd grab my phone and show you a picture that I have buried in a Facebook album from my senior prom.

"I know my mother has always been proud of me for the accomplishments I've achieved in life and for living my life on my terms.  But,  that moment," I'd say while pointing to the picture on the screen, "I truly think is in my mother's top three proudest moments.  On that night, I was the feminine daughter she always wanted."

I'd rest my head back against the chair and smile.  "Ya know, since that night, I've probably worn a dress no more than half a dozen times and one of those times was to get married!  I've worn a skirt no more than ten times - and that's over the course of nearly twenty five years."

"Twenty five years!?!" you'd exclaim. 

"Yep," I'd say.  "Twenty years.  A quarter of a century.  I wasn't exaggerating when I told you I didn't like dresses or skirts..."

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Thank you for stopping by!  Have a wonderful weekend wherever you are!  If you're in the part of the U.S. that's experiencing a heat wave, do your best to stay cool and don't forget to hydrate!

Linking up with Diana @ Part Time Monster 

#weekendcoffeeshare

&
Mackenzie @ Reflections From Me