Friday, March 5, 2010
why I'm not a girly girl
I have friends who wear makeup. Lots of makeup. They blow dry their hair. They spend money on mysterious things called pedicures. They always look really, really great.
Sometimes I'd like to be less windblown. I'd like to be unwrinkled, dewy complexioned, manicured. But it never quite works out. I always feel like I'm pretending, a visitor in a strange world. I've given up my admission to that place.
It's just a lot more fun to throw my hair in a ponytail, dab on some sunscreen and head for the outdoors. Girly girls don't do well there. They like flush toilets. They don't like bugs. They would never brush their hair with a fork or cling to a cliff face just because they want to see if there is a lake on the other side. Girly girls wouldn't like no showers for a week or bears around their tents.
Forgive me, girly girls, but you are missing out. There is something about bashing through the brush for hours, slipping on deer cabbage, seeking out the best routes, and finally breaking out into the open, next to the still-frozen lake in mid-July. There is something about being dirty, tired, hungry, footsore, throwing your pack down next to the river and dunking your head. There's something about knowing you don't need to rely on anyone else to set up the tent, help you across the river, survive.
I'll never have perfect hair or designer clothes. I won't be one of the girly girls. But I won't apologize. I think I have the better part of the deal.