I fell in love with dragons probably around the age of six and never once owned a Barbie Doll (except for the time I tied one to some fireworks on the 4th of July). Instead, I played with toy dragons and dinosaurs. Whenever my friends wanted to play House in elementary school, I would always be the dog. Who the heck wanted to be the mom? Or a baby? No. Dog. I want Dog or I'm out.
There's one vivid memory I have as a child, probably around seven years old. My dad drove a semi-truck back then, so he would sometimes let the family join in on the traveling fun. His truck had one of those beds in the back (which felt more like a castle to me and my two brothers). For whatever reason, these said brothers decided they didn't need to wear their shirts. I don't know if they felt stuffy or if they wanted to wear half of their birthday suits, but I wanted in.
"No!" They denied me. "You're a girl. You can't take off your shirt!" Now let's be honest. I had nothing going for me back then, alright? The concept of offending anyone's eyes wasn't really something I grasped. Nonetheless, I was outraged by the thick line they drew across them and I--so I stomped on up to the front seats and exclaimed my desire to also be a shirtless child in the castle of the semi-truck.
I can't tell you what went through my parents' minds or how they came to their conclusion, but by the grace of the Lord Almighty, I had consent to run around the semi-truck without my shirt on.
Good times...
Now, about 14 years later, this memory has proven to be the starting point of which I subtly decided I didn't like being a girl. It's not like I consciously made that decision, but everything I liked was "forbidden" for ladies to like. You know, like fire-breathing lizards, video games, pirates, metal music, and shaving the side of my head...just to name a few.
But last night during a meeting for all the lovely ladies of BSSM, I was jolted by the fact that I have been running from femininity my whole life. I didn't start doing my own hair until high school (my mom always straightened it for me), I vowed to never wear make-up unless I was going to a wedding or some special event--I didn't even own my first pair of heels till two years ago and I'm 21 now.
The thing is that my abstraction of being a woman meant I had to put enormous amounts of effort into my appearance and feel ugly without make-up on, and be graceful in everything and like salads and sit with your legs closed and--most of all--throw away almost everything I ever loved.
Boy, oh boy (or woman, oh woman!), was I ever wrong! It's so silly to think that all this time I thought I was very good at loving myself and being me no matter what--but I subconsciously hated being a girl and all the things that society tied to that. No more, I say! The question isn't "What does it mean to be a woman?" but instead it's, "How do I do woman?"
This is all a fresh process for me, hot out of the oven (smells like apple pie...), but here I am being open about my womanhood. This is perhaps the last thing I thought I'd ever write about. Oh well!
So in conclusion, I've decided to take pro-active steps to help remind me that I can enjoy being a woman the way I'd like to and not be afraid of it. Therefore I'm wearing eyeliner just because for a week. AM I EVEN ALLISON ANYMORE? I DON'T KNOW.
Anyway, if you got to the end of this, congratulations! Here's a slice of hot apple pie for you (hypothetically speaking. Sorry.) And I hope you learned something from this: that if you ever want to live life to the fullest--a truly fine life--you'd love the gender God made you and embrace it. You'll display God's glory that way :)
NOW GO, BE THE KNIGHT TO SOMEONE'S DISTRESS (whether you're a girl, a boy, a dog or a slice of hot apple pie)!
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