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.
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.