by Cj Mitchell

Created on: April 06, 2009   Last Updated: April 07, 2009

It's Just A Phase

That's what mom always told me. You're a beautiful little girl, why don't you want to look like one? And so we fought, from the time I could walk, to this very moment. It's just a phase, you'll grow out of it, don't worry. Well, I wasn't worried then, and I'm still not. She had to dress me in the only things I'd wear, little denim pants, with constantly destroyed knees, western style snap up shirts, and cowboy boots. I guess I just always thought I was a boy. And fighting with the boys was typical, I always won, then sat in detention with a big smile on my face, wearing my scrapes and bruises like badges of victory.

When I was young, I had an extensive collection of Hot Wheels, comic books, baseball cards, and toy pistols. Childhood treasures that have long since disappeared, and of all the toys I miss most, whatever did they do with my shiny red petal car? What I wouldn't give to have them back. I imagine they found their way to the yard sales and treasure stashes of some fortunate little boy somewhere, I want my toys back! And oh yes they tried giving me Barbie dolls, baby dolls, and such, which I immediately destroyed for the pursuit of climbing trees, and assembling the most elaborate mud pies ever, topped with the freshly plucked centers of sacrificial dandelions. Needless to say, scratch dolls off your list.

Why must you be such a tomboy? Maybe because that's who I am. I can't help that I like to throw on work clothes, go out and get dirty, and greasy, and love it. My face dusty and smudged, and framed with chopped hair works for me. The truth is, I've tried to be otherwise, and done all the things a girl is supposed to do. I dated the boys, married, had children, became that traditional housewife, and served in silence. Divorced. Mom still calls me a little rosebud just waiting to bloom. Someday you'll be the beautiful rose you're meant to be. How about a cactus, I like those, all prickly and resilient, they can handle anything, I'll be your little cactus with the chopped hair, the smudged face and the dirty nails. When my car needs fixing, I'll fix it. Why should the world be so against a woman who can do it herself? After all I've learned that I don't need someone else to take care of me, or have a need for someone else's approval. And furthermore, I'm an Alaskan, and if anyone needs to be self reliant, it's us. I've chosen the hard road, and I'm still a tomboy. It's just a phase. Sorry mom, it's not like I haven't tried it your way, you can't say I never tried.

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