Messy?  In whose opinion?  Yours or mine?  Please don’t try to tidy up for me because you feel sorry for me; my mess extending from my clothes to my hair, my bedside table to my house.  If you do, I won’t ever be able to find anything.  It is in order.  I know where it is.

I grew up being told, in so many words, that I needed to have an appearance as near perfect as I could get it before I left the house.  Take a shower, shave, put on make up, fix my hair, and perfectly laundered clothes (that my mom did).

I wasn’t allowed to do anything in the way of housework at home growing up.   I did work in the garden and feed the pigs.  I could help my grandmother cook occasionally.

I’m thinking that it was a few years after high school graduation that I stopped wearing make up.  Though my hair and clothes were still the best I could do.  Every place that I lived was well organized and cleaned regularly.  Except for when my husband and I shared a very tiny apartment.  We had a lot of stuff.

I eventually sold a house and was told by the realtor that it was immaculate!  Wow, me immaculate!  I’ve moved four times since then.  I think that I just didn’t see the need to unpack anymore or try to organize; myself or the house.

Rubbermaid Commercial BRUTE Tote Storage Bin with Lid, 14-Gallon, Gray. Amazon.com

I live at the beach in a small community that has many tourists.  It is a town full of retirees that love to fish and don’t care how they look.  I began to notice that many people here didn’t care how they looked.  Guess what?  I don’t either!

It is rather freeing.  If I want to go somewhere I just throw on some clothes and go.  Yes, I have clean clothes, semi-clean clothes, and flat out dirty clothes.  Who cares?  I have on clothes, right?  Yes, my hair is messy.  It is windy here, so who cares?

At the grocery store you can see a variety of people – wealthy, someone trying to be someone they are not, wannabees, average people, all the way down to those of us who look downright homeless; myself included.

I like it like this.  I am real.  I am not trying to pretend to be someone that I am not.  I am messy.  My life is messy.  Life is messy.  My most favorite clothes have holes all in them.  They are soft, worn in.  I still have a pair of shorts that is 26 years old that I mow in!  Don’t feel sorry for me.  I have tubs and tubs of clothes that I just don’t wear because I don’t want to unpack, even though I’ve been here for three years now.

For now, I love my messy.  It really frees up my time for me to do what I want to do.  And I don’t want to spend an hour in front of the mirror, or thirty minutes trying to pick out the right outfit.  I guess I’m not girly-girly, but who cares?  I am a free spirit who can do a lot more things than other women, and many men, can.  All because I don’t mind getting dirty, messy.


via Daily Prompt: Messy


2 thoughts on “Messy”

  1. I didn’t know you helped raise pigs!
    Glad I finally found you and I may have even figured out how to read all of your stuff!
    I love you!

    Liked by 1 person

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