Exposure

Why is it so hard to expose the imperfections? The truth? The real me?

I’m concerned that I’ve been masking these, quite literally, with the MAC make-up, the citizen jeans, and a to-die-for throw over that, anyone who’s anyone would know, came from Nordy’s.

As I look around, I wonder if I’m not the only one… It seems that we are all clones of each other, or of someone. We look the same, with our highlighted hair, our skinny jeans, and perhaps some well-worn converse (that make the outfit seem like we didn’t try too hard).

Why do we all want to conform to each other? Or is this the right question? Do we even realize that in dressing the way we do (all in the name of “self-expression”), we are, in all actuality, moving more in the direction of self-destruction.

Only recently has my mind been bombarded with these questions. And the reason for the new-found deep theological tourist thoughts is because my hidden quirks are surfacing in areas I’m not comfortable with them venturing onto the scene.
Specifically speaking, it’s a boy. I like him and he likes me.

We are at that point where the curtains are being drawn, whether I want to wake up to the illuminating sunrise or not. With each hiking venture, road trip, and movie night we are learning- learning the little things that were not there in the beginning- or were they?

My annoyances have surfaced, which I know is a surprise, being that I seemed to be all-loving, free, and as flexible as the wind on the first, second, and probably the sixth date.

But, now it’s the seventh date, and my lack of precision, has allowed the chest of unwelcome behaviors, that are me, to spill over. They are coming, unwelcomed, but none the less, coming.

How do I embrace them? How do I own them and own them with sincere ownership? I want to be able to claim them and confidently exclaim, “They are what make me me!”

It’s a work in progress…