yarnsfromtheplain
176-365: O is for..
... an Obsessive Oddity; an Outcast.
Throughout my life I have been out of step with the larger group of people surrounding me. A girl who looked and dressed like a boy a lot of the time, I didn't take part in the tomboyish activities that formed the acceptable alternative to the traditional feminine presentation. I wasn’t Anne from my beloved Famous Five books - all tears and fears and squeamish girliness, but I was no tree-climibing, adventurous George either. I only wanted to wear trousers (far more practical), to the heartbreak of my mother, who desperately wanted to put me in pretty dresses and I just wanted to be left alone with my books and my imaginary animals. In Secondary School I was the brainbox, who suddenly realised I was intelligent and took great delight with my friend Jane in beating the boys in Science and Maths. Certainly not viewed as femnine traits, so more confusion from those who expected me to conform. Forever clumsy and given to Asperger-like obsessions, I carried on to the beat of my own drum. I have been reading a lot about gender recently and I wonder, in this more aware world, if I would have felt less like a square peg in a round hole when I was an adolescent if there had been more of an understanding of gender fluidity. Boy George opened the world up for boys who wanted to look pretty and make a statement with their appearance, but there wasn't really anyone for me to idenitfy with.
In the world of work, I started out fine, in a science and engineering environment where there were more men than women (so much more comfortable for me) but once I moved into primary teaching I again would find myself on the outskirtds of the staff room chitchat. When the only reality TV or celebrity show you watch is Strictly and the only soap you're interested in is the one that gets you clean, you can find yourself struggling AGAIN.
But you know what? I like who I am. I have found my tribe amongst the textile junkies, the Outlander Obsessives and the book nerds and have more solid female friends now than I have ever had. Since schools went back after the first Lockdown, I have worn a dress every day I have taught (practical jersey and some even have pockets!), much to my mother's delight. I even now reach for the make up sometimes (if I remember) to draw on those evasive eyebrows because it makes me feel better..
I am what I am and what I am needs no excuses.
We're Here: Metaphysical Leper Colony
176-365: O is for..
... an Obsessive Oddity; an Outcast.
Throughout my life I have been out of step with the larger group of people surrounding me. A girl who looked and dressed like a boy a lot of the time, I didn't take part in the tomboyish activities that formed the acceptable alternative to the traditional feminine presentation. I wasn’t Anne from my beloved Famous Five books - all tears and fears and squeamish girliness, but I was no tree-climibing, adventurous George either. I only wanted to wear trousers (far more practical), to the heartbreak of my mother, who desperately wanted to put me in pretty dresses and I just wanted to be left alone with my books and my imaginary animals. In Secondary School I was the brainbox, who suddenly realised I was intelligent and took great delight with my friend Jane in beating the boys in Science and Maths. Certainly not viewed as femnine traits, so more confusion from those who expected me to conform. Forever clumsy and given to Asperger-like obsessions, I carried on to the beat of my own drum. I have been reading a lot about gender recently and I wonder, in this more aware world, if I would have felt less like a square peg in a round hole when I was an adolescent if there had been more of an understanding of gender fluidity. Boy George opened the world up for boys who wanted to look pretty and make a statement with their appearance, but there wasn't really anyone for me to idenitfy with.
In the world of work, I started out fine, in a science and engineering environment where there were more men than women (so much more comfortable for me) but once I moved into primary teaching I again would find myself on the outskirtds of the staff room chitchat. When the only reality TV or celebrity show you watch is Strictly and the only soap you're interested in is the one that gets you clean, you can find yourself struggling AGAIN.
But you know what? I like who I am. I have found my tribe amongst the textile junkies, the Outlander Obsessives and the book nerds and have more solid female friends now than I have ever had. Since schools went back after the first Lockdown, I have worn a dress every day I have taught (practical jersey and some even have pockets!), much to my mother's delight. I even now reach for the make up sometimes (if I remember) to draw on those evasive eyebrows because it makes me feel better..
I am what I am and what I am needs no excuses.
We're Here: Metaphysical Leper Colony