Pink, blue, orange…
Those were my answers at different times in my life when someone asked what my favorite color was. Pink because it’s girly, and I wanted to be effortlessly so. Blue, because a lot of people happen to like it. Orange, because I just love the fall season although I’m not sure I’ll wear an orange shirt or even lipstick.
So clearly, I’m not entirely obsessed with any specific color, just like I don’t have that place in the world that I absolutely want to visit. Some people swear by Paris. Some can’t wait to visit Italy or London. Just get me on a plane, and I’m good.
Do you happen to know anyone like me? What’s wrong with us? Are we boring? Afraid to choose or make a decision? Do we just lack a certain dimension of enlightenment or sense of self?
Long before I discovered my true self (in a certain way I’m still on that journey) or became comfortable in my own skin, I was really hard on myself because I thought I wasn’t as worldly-wise as I should be.
Everyone else seemed self-possessed, and I was just out there trying to hide my dry skin without looking like I waded around in a huge tub of coconut oil. I was trying to find clothes that fit not because I was chubby, no. Clothes just seemed to hang on me like oversized sweaters on a Ross store rack. I kept trying to find a hairstyle that didn’t make me want to hide behind a door for three weeks until I could get a better one.
Needless to say, my discovery years were full of such earth-shattering concerns. I was awkward. Gifted, I believed, but awkward. And while at different times in my life, other kids, teenagers, and young adults were doing challenging things, I was staring into a mirror wondering what was wrong with the mold from which I was made.
I was (and still am) a late bloomer.
I’m that girl who arrives late to the party praying to make eye contact with someone familiar. The one who doesn’t have many crazy but fun stories to tell of high school and years past. The one who doesn’t have many tales of loves lost and who definitely didn’t leave any broken hearts in her wake. More specifically the one who had only one crush all through childhood and couldn’t imagine dredging up the energy to endure that kind of emotional drama with someone else.
I could go on and on about the things that make me awkward, a misfit, an underdog, even.
But according to one famous misfit Mayim Bialik, I’ll just say ‘it’s not the only way to be, but it works for me.’
To all misfits everywhere, stay awesome!
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2 thoughts on “Confessions of a girl with no favorite color.”
Hi to me! As I say, well done to you, Remi! Nice work- beautiful one!
Thanks Ms Connie! You’re the best!