This post is mostly for the wonderful women in my life, who know me best, who will probably shake their heads when they read this, and who will hopefully laugh out loud.
Yesterday, I had a moment. I’ve had many moments since I moved back home with my parents.
On this particular day, I was home reading when my brother called me. He was working alone and he asked me if I could bring him lunch. He is a small business owner and his shop is just a few minutes away from my parents’ house. I jumped up right away (because I, myself, do not like to be hungry for long without food. My alter ego comes out, and its not a pretty sight!
So, I hurriedly threw some clothes on and scrambled out of the door. As I was walking out, I realized I had on shorts.
Not a problem, except that my brother is the epitome of an over-protective, big brother. And as a brother to three women, I sympathize for him. Really, I do. But he can be exasperating at times. He is not fond of his little (and big) sisters wearing short, tight, (i.e. attractive) clothes. I sighed to myself, and started to turn around to change. I should just save myself the lecture, I thought.
Then, I stopped myself. No, I am not going to change, I declared! I would not allow him to tell me what to wear (or how to live my life). Besides, I had an appointment on the other side of town at 2 o’clock, and I didn’t have time to go back and change.
My brother, the poor guy. He wasn’t aware that I was in the midst of the “Finding out who I am, and being my own person” stage of life. Or the “quarter life crisis” as some people refer to it. He had no idea that the culmination of me living back at home as an independent adult for six months was about to come down on him. Someone always has to bare the brunt of these things. Little did he know, it would be him.
On my way to get his lunch from Subway, I played the dialogue out in my head. I knew exactly what he’d say. I came up with a well-thought out response. Do you sometimes engage in conversations in your mind, that you intend to have with someone else? I know I’m not the only one who does that! I quickly grabbed his order and headed his way.
When I arrived, he was tending to a customer. I watched him carefully, noticing the quick glance he shot at my legs. I darted to the back of the store to wait for him. When hemfinished, he walked over to greet me warmly. And by warmly, I mean…
“Dude, where is the rest of your clothes??” he said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. “First of all, thank you for lunch,” he said. And then he got to what was really on his mind.
“Now, you are a young lady, and you do not need to be out here wearing shorts showing your legs. There are perverts out here who are looking at you. Hmm. That’s true. My subconscious agreed with the last part. But for heaven’s sake, these were ordinary, stone-washed, denim shorts. Not that short.
But I was ready for him!
“I’m a growwwn woman!” I belted out at him (hearing Beyonce’s voice in my head). “And I will wear what I want, say how I feel, and believe what I want to believe!”
He looked at me with a perplexed expression. Clearly, he was wayyy in over his head, and this was a battle that he did not want to fight.
“Ok, Summer. You are a grown woman,” he said. Then, he shook his head slightly, and quietly retreated.
That’s it? No arguing? No chance for me to give a big speech about my coming out? So anti-climactic. I was a bit disappointed, but still satisfied with the outcome, overall.
“Now, I have an appointment to get to,” I said presumptuously. “Enjoy your lunch.” I flashed him a smug smile. My inner-self roared with delight, as I sauntered out of there, half of me proud, and half of me amused by my own antics.
Oh well. It’s the small victories that count.