am i less of a lady if i don't wear pantyhose? my mama said a lady ain't what she wears but what she knows.
sometimes, i use the light from the refrigerator to see my way around the kitchen. i leave it on way too long, sucking up way too much energy and driving our power bill up.
i typically wear flats with no socks in the wintertime because sometimes, socks and flats don't work.
i often go to bed with wet hair when it's chilly out, which makes my mama sad and almost always gives me a head cold the next morning.
i don't always wear a camisole under my v-necks.
one time when i was 13, i sat down in the creek behind our house and just slopped mud on my legs for an hour.
i stay up far past a reasonable bedtime on friday nights with the sweet knowledge i can sleep in that morning.
not only do i sing in the shower, i talk to myself sometimes when cooking, pretending i'm on the food network. ("ok, now all you have to do is dump that can of cream of mushroom soup into the crockpot. see, isn't that easy? even you can do it!")
i'm not, by standard definition, always sensible.
because i'm in my twenties? because i'm a woman? because i'm still figuring my way around life, learning how to manage it and love it at the same time?
because for every unsensible, reckless, illogical thing i do, i do a million other completely acceptable things in return. i'm in bed by 10:30 on most nights. i work dilligently all day. my skirts rarely fall above my knees. the most risqué thing i did yesterday? listen to nicki minaj.
so i have my little escapes. my insignificant acts of rebellion that no one notices but me. i need these times to keep me sane. to keep me at least bordering somewhat on reasonable and yes, sensible.
so maybe i'm not always a lady. that unobtainable epitome of prim. i can't figure out the secret of liquid eyeliner. i have a few runs in my tights. a few stains on my white jacket.
but the beauty of it is, we're all that way.
isn't that perfect?