Mad, malevolent, manipulated, manipulative, mannerly,
marvelous, masculine, maternal, mature, maudlin, mean, meek,
melancholy, mellow, melodramatic, mild, mischievous,
miserable, mistrustful, misunderstood, moderated, modest,
moody, mortified, moved, mystical, mystified,
Some days I just don’t feel like myself. I am, of course, always myself but there are days I just feel different. Having a pen name does not help matters. It causes people to think I’m Stella, or to think that Stella is one of my multiple personalities. To some extent that is true, Stella does represent a part of me, but I’m one whole person rather than a combination of many.
“Can Stella come out and play?” I have heard many variations of this. Far too many. Even in some intimate situations. Seriously, would you enjoy being called by some name other than your own when in the throes of passion? Okay, maybe you would, but not me. Role playing is one thing, getting someone’s name wrong because you are too self involved to realize or care is different. Does it do anything for me when you say. “That’s a good girl, Stella. Come for me”? It does. It makes me instantly regret that I gave you a chance to get that close to me and will end any kind of play that is happening. If you can’t differentiate between me and my online alter ego then you don’t deserve to experience the pleasures I have to offer.
So what are the things that go together to make me? I am a single mother to an active and inquisitive young boy. I am a daughter, sister, aunt, friend. I am a creative and logical thinker (yes, a study in opposites). I am a procrastinator, an idealist, a non-conforming traditionalist. I am an accounting professional, a holistic healer, and a blogger. I have a ton of projects in various phases of completion and may start a ton more before finishing either of those. I wear what I find comfortable regardless if it is in fashion or a huge fashion faux pas. I will speak my mind on any subject in any company. I am stubborn but not so much that I can’t admit when I’ve made a mistake or changed my mind. I am a woman after all, and a Pisces. I am someone who will cry at a commercial but not jump if a spider crawls across my foot. I like romantic comedies and thoughtful dramas. My taste in music is eclectic to say the least. One might think I’m bipolar or multiple personality if they got a view of my iPod.
This morning as I was getting ready for work I looked in the mirror and saw a different me looking back. Usually I see the big smile and bright eyes of a woman who got enough sleep and who’s clothes showed off a beautifully curvy body. Usually I see a soft and loveable woman. This morning I saw the grey hairs and tiredness in my eyes. I saw the too big thighs and C-section pooch. I saw the bulge of my breast above the seam line of my bra. I saw the ankle length skirt and sensible shoes. I saw mother, one that looked an awful lot like my aunts.
Growing older and having responsibility isn’t a bad thing. Sometimes it sneaks up on you slowly. Sometimes it jumps on your back and grabs you in a strangle hold. You are still you, as I am me, you just need to deal with your new reality. All well and good but I think I’ll go back to bed and pull the covers over my head a little while longer.