A dear friend of mine – Steph over at Quirkyblogger – posed a question earlier today: What is your biggest struggle with loving yourself today? I decided to take a step back and answer it honestly, and for me, it’s having an intrinsic and immediate acceptance of being a weird woman. Let me say it again so I can own it: I am a weird woman.
But what does it mean to be a weird woman?
So for me, being a weird woman means this:
I’m a hugger.
When I first started dating my husband, he gave this lame half-hug. You know the one. The arm around the shoulder, kinda pulling in, so there’s some modicum of human connection but just barely. It’s like texting after a great date. You want to make a connection but just enough to make rejection easier.
I don’t play that way.
You either full-on hug or you don’t. Y’all, articles have been written about why hugging is good for you. And I just love a hug. Can I tell you the best hug I ever got? And this probably makes me even more of a weird woman for remembering the best hug I ever got.
We had brought my daughter home from the hospital. I am jumble of raging postpartum hormones, physical healing, stressed out because I have a new baby, taking care of the house, yelling at the dog to stop barking at our daughter when she cried which makes her cry more… and I’m standing in the bathroom, feeling so lost and dejected… and my husband hugs me.
He moved past the lame half-hug. Finally.
Anyway, he pulls me in and hugs me, and I felt so warm and loved and taken care of in that moment. I finally felt like a real person again if only for 15 seconds. So it’s that feeling I want to recreate for people when I hug. I want them to feel warm and secure and loved, even if only for a few seconds.
I laugh too loudly.
This one also categorically makes me a weird woman (I think?), but I love when my kids laugh and joke about bodily functions. We were watching Nature Cat (an awesome kids show on PBS that I can actually tolerate!), and the characters were talking about worm poop. My son’s eyes widen, and he looks at me with glee and says:
Mommy! They talk about poooooooooooooooop!
I could not stop giggling. This boisterous, loud laugh came out of me, and even as I sit here and recount this story, I am giggling. Our neighbors may even be concerned.
Laughter legit has wonderful health benefits, and I’d like to think that when I laugh loudly or guffaw, I’m really up in the gym just workin’ on my fitness.
I kinda love geeky stuff. OK, more than kinda love.
I don’t ship the way others do, and Lord knows I don’t know head cannons from Nick Cannon, but man, I love some geeky stuff, which, if television sitcoms have taught me anything, indicates that I will forever and ever be a weird woman. Case in point:
- Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows came out during the Texas State Bar in 2007. My mom dutifully saved the book for me, and as soon as I was done, I sat in my car and started reading it. Y’all I had just finished taking an exam that would shape my career, and I elected to read more.
- When Lord of the Rings: Return of the King came out and movie theaters were showing the extended versions of the predecessors, leading up to a midnight premiere, my mom and I secured tickets. In San Antonio. That was like 3 hours away. But it was just as awesome as we hoped.
- While I could never really embrace Dungeons & Dragons, I had so many friends who did. Surprisingly not my jam, but so many people that I loved were.
- I loved Sailor Moon growing up. I worked as a law clerk for an anime company (true story! I sent too many cease and desist letters). I kinda sorta like anime but not enough to really be able to discern one show from another.
So there it is, all on the table. I am a weird woman. And the interesting thing that, through this exercise, I’m coming around to this being 100% OK. This is just who I am, and it may be part of my genetic makeup. It may not. But acknowledging and owning it has to be part of the big ol’ journey to loving myself.
Are you a weird woman? Want to celebrate a weird woman in your life? Tell me below!