I’m not like most girls.
I know what you’re thinking. But really, Kerri, doesn’t every girl in the world say this? And you’re probably right. So let me clarify.
From a young age, I had a best friend that was a boy. Girls? Nah. They wanted to take my toys and such. Catty as well. Boys? I could have a boyfriend on one hand and a boy-that’s-a-friend on another (ask my mom – Chad and Ross were my boyfriends in pre-school, while Michael was my BFF). Things were simple. Sure I had Barbies at home, but I also played in the yard, occasionally shot some bow and arrows, or caught fish and sometimes, even dragged my kayak into the lake.
Don’t get me wrong, I was still pretty girly, though. If I fell down and scraped my knee, I was hyperventilating like my hamster died. So I guess, at least there was balance.
But then there’s these things…
I have never once dreamed about getting married. The dress, the flowers, the planning. Shudder. I would like a boyfriend. Do I need one? Ha. No. Do I want one? Sure. (I think the only reason I mildly contemplated the idea of marriage back in the early 2000s was to throw a big party. And maybe hope a man wouldn’t leave me. Juvenile.)
I’ve never ached for having children. I know this one could ruffle some feathers. I actually never speak this out loud. “How dare you?” “What is wrong with you?” “What is the POINT of being a woman?” “You are so selfish.” Oh those are only a few I’ve heard directed right at me. And you know what? I’m ok. I’m not judging you. (And to clarify, I LOVE children. I love being an auntie. And that’s quite alright with me.)
I love cars. This isn’t so controversial. But hey, I’m throwing it out there. Because it’s ok if a girl loves designer handbags and will cozy up to it while watching a F1 race because #single.
Cooking is not my forté. Which is good, because it won’t nail me a husband (phew). Good thing I can pour a mean bourbon neat. From my bourbon cabinet. Because liquor cabinets > bar carts.
I don’t like receiving flowers. It usually means someone did something wrong. And it usually reeks of desperation and attention for other people to notice them (:cough: at the office :cough:). Hard pass.
Hell on earth = games at a baby shower and/or bridal shower. I don’t need to go into details.
And since this is getting long, and half of you may or may not hate me by now, I also don’t get manicures, never get my hair blown out, cannot match on a day-to-day basis, do not wear makeup except for mascara, eyeliner and brow pencil…
But really. It’s ok to do you. Follow your own path. And if that means, working your ass off in a career that inspires you, while spending your free time with those who love and fulfill your heart – there ain’t nothing wrong with that. On the flip side, if it means you want kids and marriage and that whole shebang – then do it! Own it and love it.
Cheers to all of you doing your own thing and building your very own fairytale. It’s a beautiful, wonderful life out there. So go out and live it.