When I was growing up I was a complete tomboy. For example, a typical look for me was a Dallas Cowboy jersey, Converse high tops and my brothers' old O.p. shorts (gotta to love the 80's). To top off this unique ensemble, my hair, which was always short, was rarely brushed, my knees were usually skinned from playing outside, and for a year I was obsessed with green florescent slime, which usually melted in my pocket - so let's throw some of that in there too. As for my life, it was all about exploring the creeks in my backyard, quarterbacking on the playground and taking down the boys I played against in soccer. In short, six days out of the week I was a boy. (Sunday was the only day my Mom succeeded in turning me into a little girl, but that only really lasted for three hours. Typically, I walked into church with a beautiful dress on and curled hair, and exited with ripped tights and one shoe - the other one was used in a contest to see how far I could throw.)
Anyway, it wasn't until a very pivotal moment happened did I decide to give up the whole tomboy gig. (No, it wasn't an epiphany of how cool Barbie was over G.I. Joe. Please, the only cool thing about Barbie was cutting her hair and trading her head for Ken's.) No, instead, this is what happened: One day I went with my brother to get some candy at a local drugstore. When we went to make our purchase, the cashier took one look at me and said to my brother, "My, you sure do have an adorable little brother." At first, I thought the cashier was talking to someone else, but when I turned around there was no one else in line. Instantly, I was crushed. I couldn't understand why this lady had called me a boy. As these thoughts swirled in my head, and my sweet brother began to laugh, I quietly said to the cashier, "I'm a girl." I don't remember what the cashier did - hopefully we got our candy for free, but I do remember my Mom sitting me down and explaining to me that if I looked like a boy people were going to mistake me for one.
So, from that day forward I decided to make some changes. I traded in my Converses for some KSwiss, retired the Dallas Cowboys jersey for an ESPRIT shirt and started to grow my hair out. I'm happy to report that after a year I was no longer mistaken for a boy. Instead, due to an awesome mullet from growing out my hair, I was mistaken for a little MacGyver. What can I say it wasn't an overnight transformation. I mean, at almost 30, I'm still working on not walking like a guy.