Tuesday, October 12, 2010
My mother and I once had a battle of wills so severe I refused to get my driver's license for years. Content with her schleping me around in her grey minivan and bitching about my nose being cut off despite my face.
My dad told me I'd argue with a sign post. I countered with, "No I wouldn't."
This summer changed all that. Broke some habits. Created others. So, I bought a silver forgot-me-knot ring so I wouldn't forget my nose.
It sits on my fourth finger. Left hand. Ironic on purpose. A feminist cliche about belonging to myself. About the goals I once wrote out in loopy sixth grade girl handwriting. About taking care of me. About fucking the system. About not caring that I'm single and childless. About diving head first into my Life List. About not forgetting what my mother said on her deathbed.
About remembering who I am and having a life-whether that finger ever sees a diamond or not.