Girly Girl

I am one of two children. I have an older brother (who shall remain nameless) that is three years my senior and I am the baby girl.

Now, one would think that parents should not play favorites, but they do. At least mine did. Needless to say, I was not the favorite.

My brother has always been quiet. As a child, he was content to stay in his room and play by himself. When I was born, a tornado hit my home (figuratively speaking of course- since tornado’s don’t usually hit Brooklyn). I was loud, opinionated, and needed answers to just about everything. That, along with my gap teeth and frizzy hair, garnered me a “problem child”.

I was very loud and would run around with the boys. My mother often said I should have been born a boy. Of course, that’s never a good thing for a 6 year old self esteem. I was girly in my own way. I loved to draw, had an imaginary TV show which I starred in, and loved all things pink and Barbie.

I guess my mother was expecting a frilly little girl in a tutu (see above) who was quiet and thin.

I was neither.

I tried for many years to figure out what was wrong with me- why I wasn’t what my mother thought I was “suppose” to be, until I realized that the problem did not lie within me- it was her.

So it’s not surprising that after all these years, I resent my mother for words that she may have said in passing- that affected my life…… AFFECTS my life until today.

Today I am a 25 year old married woman. I have had no problems succeeding in life. No one would call me mannish. Since I am now an adult, I am considered a strong, confident, intelligent, independent woman. All the qualities that I was berated for as a child, are what I am complimented for today. Go figure.


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