Slime Green Nails and Me

Having attended an art school for a few years in middle school and my entire high school career, I suppose it isn't any surprise that I accept, nay, welcome change. You're talking to the girl who had her ears pierced in sixth grade when she was twelve. Normal you say? Sure, and perhaps getting the second hole nowadays is normal when you're eighteen and a senior in high school too. When I was a freshman, I was given a few spray cans of that temporary hair dye? I wanted purple and green and blue, but instead I received pink and blue. Of course, at that time, I took what I could get. So usually during lunch, one of my friends would take the spray cans out of my locker, where I had them, play with my hair (put it in a pony tail, pigtails, braid it... it was still pretty short back then so they couldn't do much...) and then basically spray paint it. I would get pink and blue stripes, blue all over with purple dots, pink and blue dots at random - you name it, they tried it.

For some unknown reason to me, people have always enjoyed playing dress up with me. They'll bring clothes from home, make up, nail polish, ribbons and accessories and just treat me like a doll. Most of the time, if I agreed with the vision, I would hold still and do as I was told, enchanted with the reality that there are so many possibilities to change myself. They would put me in corsets, put bows on my pigtails, draw spider webs and trees on my face with eyeliner, coloring it with eye shadow. They'd bring a short skirt for me to wear, some fishnet and pants that were tight with straps on them (like the Tripp pants they sell at Hot Topic still), and arm warmers with metal on them. I would come home with my nails painted black, my nails in a rainbow, my hair a colorful mess and make up still staining my skin, but those few hours at school, I was a beautiful little doll in class. They even used to put temporary tattoos on my body or free hand it with a permanent marker in places that I could cover up from my parents...

Ah the days of being a doll... In a sense, I miss it because I didn't have to make any choices, I was just told to bring a few things and then to sit still or put this on. It was easy. A simple metamorphosis before class, a touch up during lunch, and then back to my normal self (with the exception of the nail polish, colorful hair, etc) to go to my mom's work or home. My mom hated what I did with myself, often commenting on how I should stop, but she never really put her foot down. That was always my dad. I think she understood the need for experimentation and I'm glad she allowed me that little freedom.

As I grew accustomed to the environment of high school and started becoming less wild and more subdued (not that I'm anywhere close to being subdued even now), I began to hate being a doll for all the reasons that I loved it. I wanted to choose what I wore. I wanted to be able to go home and not get disapproving looks from my parents and I didn't like having to jump in the shower as soon as I got home, before dinner. I wanted to make my own choices - so I did. I still hung out with the goth/gamer/techie group so my wardrobe consisted mostly of black things, mostly really lose fitting guy clothes that I stole off various people, although some of them were purchased for me. But I did cease the excessive make up and I began asserting myself a little more forcefully.

Even as I adjusted to this new change where no one played doll with me because dolls shouldn't complain and talk back, they should just do as they were told, I evolved further into my current self. I love color, I always have. I've always loved bright happy colors although my favorite color is purple and I'm usually wearing blue. It got to the point where three out of the five days at school, I'd wear mostly black with a little color but then I'd shift to color the other two days with jeans. Then I shifted a little more, to where I was wearing colors most days and black was reserved for a few occasions. Then I stopped caring and basically wore whatever I felt like for that day, including black with bright color, which made a few of my friends tilt their heads at me...

Then I started clothes that actually fit me. One of my boyfriends when I was a freshman pretty much broke up with me because he thought that I wasn't wearing clothes for my body type. Apparently he wanted clothes that were form fitting and at that point in time, I was uncomfortable with my body, pretty much have been since I was a kid, but luckily with a little help (and a lot of love and support from my boyfriend) I've learned to love myself. But now I wear t-shirts that are still guy t-shirts but they're mediums, comfortable, and show off just enough to see that I have a shape but still leave enough to the imagination. I wear jeans mostly and have tried (in vain) to give up my black wardrobe but at least I don't wear black as much. My hair is longer and I no longer color it with anything, permanent, semi-permanent, or washable. If I wear make up it's for a special occasion and usually because I have to (i.e. my sister's wedding, my graduation, etc...). And usually, I reserve the really colorful and off the wall nail polish for my toes. Which brings us to the title, slime green nails and me. I met a girl with purple hair on Monday named Eliza. Short for Elizabeth. Coming from an art school, people in black, people with different colored hair, people that just seem off don't bother me a bit. Actually, they comfort me. Which is why if you took a look at my friends, you'd find it eclectic but mostly made of guys...

You have Joe, who looks like he should be lifting weights, on the football field or something but is actually a very strong, very big lovable teddy bear of a guy. He's in my Honors Composition class. You have Oran, who is in/was (?) in the army and has come back to finish his education who is also rather large, rather muscular, and a lovable teddy bear. He lives about six or so doors down from me in my hall. There's Jordan, who looks rather gay at times but that's because he works at Old Navy... I mean, what can I say... It's Old Navy. But he is also rather large, not that muscular, and a teddy bear. He's in my Honors Composition class too, and my US History since 1877. There's Justice, who isn't much on the large, or muscular, side. He is, however, intelligent, rather funny, and also an English Major so... Met him at orientation and he's in my history class also. There's Dan, who's scrawny and tall, very talented on the violin and rather athletic in the fact that he likes to run. He lives on the third floor and I met him at orientation too. And then there's Michael, his roommate Taylor, his friends Skinner and Jeff. Of the four, Michael and I are the closest, but Jeff likes my massages and the way I scratch his back in circles, Skinner tolerates and gets along with me pretty well because I'm one of the few (perhaps only) girl friend that Michael has... Skinner also called me a lady, which made me blush a little. Taylor, I question his sexuality because I want to say gay but I also know, having gone to an art school, that just because of the stuff you like, the way you wear your hear, and the clothes you wear doesn't make you gay. But anyways, his birthday was yesterday and I made him a card which he's still awwwwing about, he loves it so much.

And Michael? Well, I kinda didn't give him a choice in being my friend or not. We were split up into our mini-groups at orientation, we went around the room and told everyone our name, where we were from, and our intended major. Upon hearing that he was majoring in German and taking into account that he was wearing black shoes, black pants, black hoodie, and had a DS on the desk in front of him, combined with his glasses? I knew we'd kick it off. After the session, I pretty much went up to him and said if I needed any help with German that I was going to bug him. For the rest of the orientation, we ate and sat next to each other, talking about anime, video games, movies, music, etc. Now we see each other whenever the other's bored or wants to watch a movie or something. Not a bad set up but as one guy pointed out in the laundry room, most people would be quite uncomfortable if they stood next to Michael. After all, he's six foot plus, quite big, and rather menacing in all the black. Plus he's crazy as hell. Which made me laugh and hop down from the washer I was sitting on to hug and be hugged by Michael, which made the guy in the laundry room give me a funny look. I told the guy, 'He's just a big teddy bear...' Gotta love stuff like that.

As you can see, teddy bear is the phrase of the day. I call them teddy bears because they can be big bears of guys, violent, protective, and good if you ever need help with a problem be it personal or in your studies, but they're also funny, intelligent, generally good natured, and are really just looking out for you. I think every girl should have like five of these guys lined up... You'll need them.

I meant to post this on September 9th, 2008 but apparently I pressed the wrong button.

Real post for today later this evening.