Proud as a Peacock

There have been previous posts and discussions about my lack of vanity. I've been thinking about it lately . . . if you think you aren't vain does that mean you are? Kind of like if you think you are humble you aren't, right? My definition of vanity lies much more in the realm of physical appearances and looks, so my answer came that no, I really don't think I am. I mean I like to dress nice and look nice -- everyone feels better about themselves when they are, including me. But if I'm not I really don't give a rip. So who cares if my hair is ghetto and I have a stain on my shirt? The people who think less of me because of that aren't people I'd really like to impress.

When I was in 7th grade my older bro, Jon, was in 9th. And we did not get along! He was the popular basketball player who wore Girbauds (remember those?) and Body Glove and he seriously would not let me come to his locker to pick up my lunch tickets. He would get them (we were on free lunch) and I had to wait until after school to get my portion. I was the girl who was just the biggest tomboy. I wore jerseys and nikes to school all of the time. I didn't do my hair, it was ponytail day every day for me. I even remember my classic outfit of 1992 that I thought was the bomb . . . Do you remember the 92 olympics in Barcelona? Well I bought this Olympics t-shirt with my paper route $. I also had a hand-me-down pair of mustard yellow sweats the exact color of the yellow olympic ring. It matched!!! You can't get any cooler than that! Anyway for some reason this was my favorite outfit. One day I was wearing it and my friend Teresa stopped to pick me up on the way to the bus stop. Jon saw me trying to leave the house wearing that and he made me go into his room and change into a pair of his Guess jeans and an AND1 shirt or something. I think the look on my face when I came back upstairs was embarrassed enough to tell the story. My friend Teresa still teases me about that to this day. I didn't even start doing my hair, putting on makeup, or dressing like a girl until 9th grade. I think part of it was that we were freaking poor and if I was going to buy clothes I had to buy them with the paper route money I earned . . . so to have that be a priority with me was ridiculous, in my own humble opinion. My brother on the other hand LOVES the brand names and always will -- we have an inside joke about him living and breathing "The Buckle" and how I have sworn off ever setting foot inside the store--I call it the "Devil's Den."

This is turning into being a long and rambling blog entry -- but my original intention was to make the point that I may not be vain . . . . but if I have one glaring fault and weakness it's my freaking pride. Anyway, I just wanted to make the point that I know I am a freaking prideful idiot even though I think I'm not vain! :-)