A Canadian Girl

As a child I was the fancy girl. Apparently I loved dresses and abhorred getting them dirty. I say apparently because I have no recollection of this.
 
But then I got older. One day in grade 6 I came home and announced to my parents that “I had joined the basketball team”. Something sparked in my poor, lone man in the house, father’s eyes and poof, we were out on the local court. That day I ran many laps and learned how to play defense. I was not even allowed to touch a ball for weeks. Fundamentals you know.
 
That sealed my fate for the next decade. I was the girl that wore a sports bra every day because they were more comfortable. I suppose the term tom-boy applies here but really, I was just lazy. Perhaps boys in this day and age are bombarded with the ideas of metrosexuality and thus have as much grooming/dressing issues as us girls do, but in my teenage years, dressing like guys was the easier route.
 
About 8 years ago, I got a job at a bag store. The constant bombardment of purses got to me. Sure, I made fun of the ladies whose purses and shoes just “had to match”. You would too if you had heard the words they used. Because the world does hang in the balance if you don’t find an off-white purse to match those off-white pumps that you are lugging around from store to store.
 
Regardless of what I thought of these ladies, I soon found myself with a healthy collection of purses. I figured that was it. Everyone needs a functional bag right? If it just happens to be the cutest thing imaginable is just a bonus.
 
Then I got a job at a jewelry store.
 
I have always worn necklaces but they were a mere after thought. But after 10 months of trying on all the jewelry (especially the ten thousand dollar diamond, whoo baby!) I was converted. Rings and necklaces and bracelets, oh my! I drew the line at earrings. I had to maintain my dignity somehow.
 
Two and half years in a different country can get to you. I arrived in Japan and immediately started in on my favourite sport – Japanese accessories. Jewelry? Strange. Haircuts? Feathered disasters. Shoes and their ability to walk in them? Can I even describe the pigeon toed shuffle in heels that the Japanese women have perfected?
 
However, attitudes can change. Somewhere along the line I developed an obsession with earrings. Big ones. I got a Japanese haircut. But the day I knew I HAD to leave was the one when I started to like the shoes there.
 
So I came home and hoped for normalcy to kick in.
 
But all I can think about is a pair of red patent mary jane pumps at the Bay.
 
Japan may have finally done the impossible and made a girl out of me. Working in the corporate world may do the worst and make me a *insert shudder* fancy girl.

 

S.