--A suburban Greenmom has an unexpected encounter with a different kind of green-eyed monster…
Okay, this is sort of weird. And I'm not sure why I'm feeling like this.
Later this week, the chorus I sing with is going on tour. Which is supremely cool. The timing could be better, and I’ll miss my family desperately for the three days we’re gone--but on the other hand, three days in NYC with my singing girlfriends (and guy friends too, but they won’t be who I’m hanging out in bars with) without meals to cook and kids to get to school, and getting paid to do it, is hard to complain about, you know?
But there’s this weird little nagging voice in my head that is making me a little twitchy. It’s an easy voice to ignore, but what twitches me is the realization that it’s speaking at all.
The main question this twitchy little voice is asking: “If your urban polished ‘normal’ girlfriends knew the weird little green things you do every day, would they think you’re weird?’”
I’m not that bizarre. And in day to day life I present as fairly normal. And most of the slightly left-of-normal stuff I do—culturing my own yogurt, cleaning the toilet with vinegar and baking soda, buying 90% of my clothes and shoes secondhand from ebay or Goodwill, smearing yogurt and coffee grounds mixed with honey onto my face (OMG, you must try this!) to tighten and moisturize it—I do in the privacy of my own home, and even when I blog about it no one has to actually witness it. But. In lot of ways, especially where personal hygiene stuff is concerned, I’m probably a little…weird.
I don’t wear makeup, unless I absolutely have to. A little tinted lip gloss is all, even on stage (it’s a chorus of 100, for Heaven’s sake.) I don’t put product in my hair, except for a little hairspray to hold it in place when it’s falling in my eyes or more in need of a washing than I’d like.
And as far as that goes—I only shower every other day. On the other days I get clean, of course, but I don’t go full-body under the spray and I don’t wash my hair.
My deodorant is a mixture of cornstarch, baking soda, and essential oils that I pat under les pits every morning. It has not let me down yet. And I use the exact same little jar of powder to dry-shampoo my hair on the off-days, just to keep a little more oil from appearing.
My facial moisturizer is a little bottle of grapeseed oil from my kitchen, with some essential oils added. My body lotion is in a little re-used jar, also homemade in my kitchen blender.
I’ve started doing the raw green smoothies thing for breakfast. (I’ll post on this at some point too…)
When I get a cough or headache, I reach for the herbal teas and homeopathic remedies and little jars of homemade herbal tincture.
I am fairly militant about bottled water—I’ll go without rather than open a plastic bottle.
I think on some level this is tapping into my grade-school-on-up desire to have people Not Think I’m Weird. Which is silly, because, honestly, I am sort of Weird and always have been, and a big part of my growing up and finding my place in the world has been about embracing who I am and not apologizing for it. But maybe because I will actually have a roommate (whom I totally like, by the way, she’s awesome) for three days, or maybe shadowed by my 25th year HS reunion coming up this fall, I’m finding myself on some weird under-level wondering “will this make people not like me any more?” I’m thinking, “Will they think I’m judging them because I do things differently, and thus preemptively roll their eyes and blow me off?” I’m hearing those Mean Girl voices from eighth grade going, “OMG, she’s so weird—do you know what she puts on her armpits every morning?” It’s completely irrational, I know my singing girlfriends better than that, but…the voice lingers.
Dopey. But I need to name it, process it, and move on. And of course, now there’s the double helping of shame—because at the same time as I’m feeling embarrassed at some of my off-the-wall green behaviors, I’m also now embarrassed to admit to the Green Sisterhood that I have this shame at all. Which also needs naming and processing. And hopefully, purging.
So, can I throw it out to y’all now? Anyone have any experience with this, any similar little nagging voices? Am I the only one who has dealt with this?
--Jenn the Greenmom
Who probably won’t be hanging out in bars too much anyway, we’ll be working too hard and I’ll be too exhausted. But it’s fun to think about…