Tomboy

According to my recent, unexpected survey, 4 out of 5 women were “Tomboy’s” growing up.  

The desire to hang with the boys, ride dirt bikes, dig for worms, get a skinned knee, take a header off the bike, play backyard football, tried standing up to P, swore, spit, taught myself how to burp (and loudly), chewed a blade of grass while poking a caterpillar with a small stick, collected and traded baseball cards, chewed not just one piece of gum, but as many pieces as possible at one time (thank you Hubba Bubba) and the list goes on. It just came naturally.  No one could stop us, although they tried, so they just decided we needed a label. 

“Tomboy” 

We heard a lot of, “ladies don’t act that way” or “ladies don’t sit that way” and “ladies don’t talk that way” but I don’t think they were overly concerned.  I’m pretty sure most of our parents thought we would “outgrow it.” They didn’t worry too much because we still screamed for help over a bug or a spider, we still cried when our feelings got hurt, we still liked our dresses we just wanted to wear sneakers with them.

The truth is, once a “Tomboy” always a “Tomboy.”  Ya’ never really outgrow it, it just morphs into managing it. The desire is still deeply set.  Personally, I still feel it everyday.  I gravitate towards sports talk radio on my drive in, I tend to wear the same comfortable outfits all the time, I couldn’t live with out sweatpants, t-shirts, and yes, even if there’s a hole in it.  Hats and bandanas are my accessories.  Sweating profusely while working out is a must or I didn’t do it right.  I still, on my “best” day, swear like a sailor and crack myself up doing it.  I don’t P standing up.  I’m too scared to go fast on my bike because of the realization if I hurt myself I could be out of work, and well, that’s not an option. I don’t poke the caterpillars anymore because that’s just cruel.  As of just recently I’ve noticed I’ll try and save a spider before just hysterically try to kill it or call 911 for help.  

Although I’m still not crazy about dressing up for parties, or feel comfortable in my skin when I am dressed “like a lady” but, as I start to get ready, I can feel the “lady” in me trying to enjoy the transformation that takes place. The realization that I do kinda’ look better with a little more makeup, my nails manicured, and maybe a cleaned up vocabulary is a little more appropriate.  The good hair days and bad hair days become “good enough.”  The gas still has to get out of my body somehow and instead of the “Oh man did you hear that one?” it simply turned into “It’s not mine if it doesn’t smell like blueberries.”

The “labels” our culture so obviously needs to create for us and how we have a deep desire as a society to put things in categories is somewhat discerning, but I believe it somehow helps people sort things out. Nice neat labeled packages and boxes so our brain can process the things we see. 

How amazing would it be to live in a world of none of it. No boxes, no label. We would have just grown up “being.”  

Imagine that? Just simply “humans-being.”

Human beings just trying to live a happy life.  A content life. A life full of people that lift us up, don’t judge and let us just be, as we figure ourselves out along the way.

So, cheers to the “Tomboys” of the world. Ya’ make my heart happy to see you being your authentic self.  Maybe you’ve turned into a triathlete, marathon runner, a cross fitter, a ballerina, or heh hem, an Esthetician (hi, hiya’ doing, that’s me) maybe ya’ wrote a book on etiquette, became a Fire Fighter, or a Marine. Maybe ya’ turned out to be a runway model, an environmentalist or an advocate for women’s rights.  Maybe ya’ found love in any fashion it comes in, because you found someone to share your life with who loves and supports you no matter what.  Maybe ya’ raised great sons because you could get dirty and throw them around and still hug and nourish them into becoming great men by teaching the respect for people everywhere, not just because “she’s a lady” but because we’re all just human beings. 

And, just an after thought…..

What if society had come up with the label “Tammygirl.”

Would we have embraced the boys that enjoyed wearing a wig, a dress, high heels, or liked to take dance class, wear sequence, makeup and glitter and headbands and nail polish, and played with dolls? Would we have just embraced the fact that they may or may not “grow out of it” because “Eh, he’s just a Tammygirl.”  

Maybe just letting the boys be themselves and not worry about saying “Men don’t dress like that” or “Men don’t act like that” and “Men don’t where makeup or glitter like that.”

If I felt like a Tomboy most of my life, I have to believe that there’s plenty of men that have been a “Tammygirl” most of their lives as well, and guess what? 

You be you Tammygirl. Just be your authentic self.

#UBU #I’llBMe #Nojudgement

Note:  A few months ago I woke up one morning thinking about what it was like growing up being a tomboy.  Drove all the way to work still thinking about it.  Had five appointments that day.  Four out of the five women, without me mentioning a word, mentioned they were a tomboy, their sister was a tomboy, their daughter was a tomboy, or friend was a tomboy. 

First I was shocked.  Then realized I had an unexpected survey and the spark that lit the fire for this piece to come to life. 

Thank you to my awesome clients for bringing authentic conversations and sharing so openly with me, you’re all helping me process life.