Why is it that when I smile, folks often think I’m up to something? After all, I don’t have beady little eyes, wear a flasher jacket (much), or a low-sitting fedora (head’s too big). I like to find people without a smile and give them mine - I’m charitable that way. However, I do admit, when it creates an awkward situation, it is kind of fun (hilarious, actually). Once or twice, a guy has jumped to the conclusion that I was flirting (correct), and thought I was into him (incorrect). I guess I should work on that.
Why is it when I laugh, people think I’m a lunatic? (I am – but not because I laugh). Never mind that I will burst out laughing in a quiet room from something that happened more than twenty years ago. Or, worse, I will laugh at inappropriate times, like when somebody takes a nasty fall or when a toupee flies off during a strong wind. I don’t do it to be mean – I honestly can’t help it. That’s just how I roll…
Why can’t I dance without others thinking I have special needs? My kids get especially mortified when I dance in the car, while I’m driving (but that damn Lady Gaga makes me do it every time). I guess also that it is not “normal” for a grown woman to just start dancing in the middle of the supermarket (if the tune is awesome, I just gotta do it), but who’s to say what is “normal”? I admit, I don’t exactly have rhythm, but I can bust a move (and a hip) on the dance floor when the song is right. These hips don’t lie, baby!
Why can’t I skip without everybody thinking I’m a freak? So what if I’ll start skipping down the aisle at church for no apparent reason (and possibly throw in a twirl or two)? Or, better yet, sometimes I’ll skip instead of jog in my full workout regalia (sweatbands and all). It sure makes people do a double-take twice and I love watching their lips mouth “WTF?” as they drive by. Seriously, it is feel-good exercise and why more people don’t do it, is beyond me (then again, most stuff is).
Why can’t I sing without people bribing me, threatening me, and throwing things at me to shut the hell up? I know I’m quite possibly the world’s worst singer, but who are they to put out somebody’s fire? If it hurts your ears - leave the room. If you’re in a car with me - I’ll let you out at the next light. If you’re on a plane with me - sucks for you (earplugs won’t help). Really people, choose your battles (like who gets the last damn Twizzler), and just let somebody sing their little heart out (instead of ripping it out).
Why can’t I shout without the masses thinking I have Tourette’s Syndrome? After all, maybe I do and won’t they all feel like crap when I am finally diagnosed by a real doctor instead of just myself. I do randomly shout things (expletives, usually – but don’t we all?) quite often. However, my hubby especially doesn’t like it when I yell, “Fuck me!” to the neighbor or, “Eat me!” to the mail man (although he doesn’t seem to mind when I yell that and the mail man happens to be a female sub). More often than not though, my shouts are shouts of joy. Just like long happy “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” sounds. As long as I don’t do those in the dead of night, or in the middle of our priest’s homily, I’m golden. My family and friends are used to it, and most common acquaintances are too.
Why I can’t I clap my hands without people thinking I’m a narcissistic cheerleader? Sometimes I clap when I find a box of cereal on sale. Sometimes I clap when I make it through Target without causing any crime scene tape to be brought out (and it’s much easier than patting myself on the back). Sometimes I clap for the fun of it. Anyhow, it is almost always to give myself props (because I never get any freakin’ trophies from anyone else), so, of course, I do it quite literally on a regular basis. Who are they to judge? Besides, what the hell should they care if I think I’m all that (and a bag of chips)? They're probably just jealous anyway...
To be honest, I love doing all of these things (and like I said, sometimes all at once). I'm an emotional, passionate person. I can restrain myself when I need to, but I really don't want to all that much (and want and need are two different things entirely). Besides, what fun is it to be a stick in the mud? You only live once (at least that's what the ghosts tell me) and I really don' t give a rip about what other people think. When my time is up, it won't really much matter what people thought or what they said about me. Happy, crazy, freaky, different - it's all good. The important thing is that they remember me...
