I've never been what most would consider a "girly girl."
I spent almost all of my learning years in the company of my two older brothers. Instead of learning about make-up and clothes, I learned how to squeeze my way into the house through the doggie door when they locked me out after school.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying they ruined my life. In fact, they taught me the most important lesson I've learned so far - laugh at yourself, and mean it. Oh, and that being tricked into eating dirt isn't as uncommon as you might think.
Also, you must know that my brothers were the first ones to rescue me when anyone tried to mess with me.
I learned that life is rarely fair, that you must take the Charlie horses and tickle tortures and never tattle, that saying what you mean is more effective than hinting and expecting someone else to figure it out, and that a pair of blue jeans, a t-shirt and doc marten boots are all the non-work clothing someone like me will ever need.
I grew up and became the girl who is not a fan of shopping. Not a fan of makeup. Couldn't get me to wear a dress unless it was a funeral, wedding or required for work. And don't even get me started on my dislike of shoes and shoe shopping.
I have several weddings to attend this year. These will be fairly formal events, so that required that I obtain a suitable dress to wear.
Not wanting to wait until the last minute, I went out this weekend to scout out my options. I went to a department store. I grabbed quite a few to try on, which right there should have been my first clue that something was wrong.
I have never ever been someone who can haul multiple items into a dressing room for trying on. I generally try to find a label, be it at Target, Ross or T.J. Maxx, that I'm familiar with and can just pick off the rack and take home - skipping that whole try on thing.
So I get in the dressing room and I put on this totally extravagant, completely impractical, make me look like I'm attending the Oscars dress (it was on the clearance rack, so I hadn't completely lost my mind). Not only do I put it on, but I'm totally prancing around in the dressing room thinking "Wheee! I feel pretty!"
Have you ever seriously thought "I wonder if I'm schizophrenic, and I just met my other me?" I'll bet the store's security cameras caught my moment on tape. The monitoring process went like this: "Yup, right there....that's where the crack high wore off and she started acting normal again."
I tried on another dress, this one far more simple and exactly what one expects to wear to a wedding. That's the one I bought.
I really hope my brothers never see this other me. I'll never fit through a doggie door now!