Day 15: Freaks Non-Annonymous

"Smokin Through 9 to 5" is my ode to the typical workday and the name for this getup. If this look seems familiar to you, it's because black tights with black booties are all the rage now. For a traditional work ensemble, fashion critics would suggest a more structured silhouette on top, say a plain sheath dress (in a neutral color) or black pencil skirt with a fitted blouse or sweater. These would be great, albeit rather boring, options. But in the name of feeling sexy (and being able to breathe and move freely) while you're typing or taking a conference call or grading papers--whatever it is you do (and remember, I do none of these--ha ha--though I also have been buying groceries with the credit card all month)--let's hear it for the drapey dress. And you just gotta love those shoes.

Moving on. Episode three, season two. For a tale about freaks, it's sure un-freaky. Synopsis: Carrie and the girls think all single men over thirty must have serious problems, deciding the proof is in their latest dating experiences. First, there's "Mr. Pussy," the man who can't hold a normal conversation but can't wait to go down on women (and is very good at it...from lots of practice). Then, there's the dude who wants to talk dirty in bed (oh my God, that is SOOOO freaky). Finally, there's the guy who's into tantric sex and whips and all that black (the color, I mean) stuff. Carrie dates a guy who seems so remarkably normal (and super dull) that she can't believe he's not hiding something. Naturally, she tears apart his apartment on their second day searching for his secret neurosis. He's clean, but he catches her snooping and dumps her on the spot. A "freaked"-out Carrie thus realizes we're all freaks in our our own ways.

Okay, so it's not the most interesting revelation. But there is something about us each owning up to our own freakiness that's appealing. One of my favorite movie lines is from The Family Stone, when Luke Wilson's character says to Meredith (coincidently SJP), "You have a freak flag. You just need to wave it." That's right, owning up to your weirdness isn't even enough. You gotta shove it out there for the world to see. Like Beethoven with his legless pianos and Linus with his blanket. Something like that.

It's true, though. We all have our idiosyncrasies and traits that make us unique. So often, we're pressured into smothering them. When I was twelve, my hair morphed from being long, blonde and perfectly wavy to being a frizz heap in what seemed like two months. Most days, I looked like I had just stuck my finger in an electrical outlet. Being twelve, I had no idea how to manage naturally curly hair. Being the 80s, it didn't really matter, but I didn't realize that then. I was embarrassed. Every girl I knew had straight hair, and those were the girls who got the boys. So, I fought the curls like the plague. On the twenty-minute bus ride to school, I sat with my head smashed against the school bus seat in the hopes that the puffiness would go away. If someone talked to me, I literally did not turn my head. I just knew I could make it straight if I pressed hard enough. Talk about a freak.

Jump ahead fifteen years (and about 400 curl products) later, and I am still trying to 'tame the waves.' But I'm also slowly coming to accept, even appreciate, them. After going through high school and most of college with an arsenal of straight and curl irons and without hardly anyone knowing I was a closet curly girl, I am finally starting to wave my freaky hair flag (thanks, in part, to Hank, since he's always telling me how sexy the curls are). Because the strands are so fine and voluminous, they're like a blank canvas that I can mold into anything I want without much effort at all. Hypothetically, I could wear a completely different hairstyle every day for a month. For someone who gets bored easily, that really is a blessing. But the coolest thing? When I curl a piece of my hair around my finger, it stays.

Hair is my small "freaky" trait. There are larger ones. Somewhere along the line we all have to accept what makes us stand out. And maybe partnering is more about aligning our freakiness than anything else. After all, experts on marriage (unmarried, of course) say that one of the most important things in picking a partner is simply whether you "get" each other. They describe "getting" as that thing you can't force and can't fake--the thing that makes you laugh uncontrollably at the joke your partner makes, even if you've heard it a hundred times. Yeah, I get that. And I think it's related to freak-alignment, though I don't really have a good argument for that at this time.

SATC says we're all freaks. And that's supposed to be a scary thing, because people might not want to date us. Pshaw. I say it's a grand thing. After all, where would the world be without freaks? Our freakiness makes us who we are and allows others to be who they are. It leads us to invent things. It makes the world an interesting place.

So, in conclusion, get your freak on.

Hope you'll be back. I will.