Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Recently I've made a decision - that my greatest aspiration is to become not a contributing, respectable member of society, not a frazzled-yet-loving mom on the go, but a Wacky Aunt. Becoming a Wacky Aunt is a huge relief to me, because it means I don't have to submit to the same ticking pressures as those around me. I don't need a stable career path or a five year plan or a boyfriend - because the Wacky Aunt has no such need! All I need is a zany purse and three cats and I'll be set.
Part of this comes from my recent interest in getting a pixie cut. It started when my friend Christine decided she was going to get a pixie. I thought it would look cool and encouraged her to go through with it, but she ultimately decided not to - which got me thinking, if I think it's so cool, why haven't I done it?
Here's why: Because I'm afraid it will look bad. And why does that scare me? Because then men wont like me. I've been re-examining the issue for a few weeks, and I've come to realize that literally the only reason I'm afraid to get a pixie cut or a big tattoo or wear sneakers with mini skirts is because I'm worried it will be unattractive to men. This has to change. I shouldn't be selecting hairstyles based on what will maximize boner production.
This is where the Wacky Aunt steps in. Wacky Aunt doesn't need to manufacture boners. She doesn't need to be pretty or get a husband or raise children. She just has to pop in for the weekend, serve ice cream for breakfast, let everyone stay up watching PG-13 movies, and play rock music. Then she gets to go back home and get drunk and watch documentaries and eat frozen spring rolls for dinner.
Being a Wacky Aunt would be amazing. I'd never have to be "hot" again. I'd never have to pretend to care about some uneducated bullshit spewing out from a guy's mouth again. People wouldn't ask prying questions about my future plans, because they know I don't have any. I wouldn't be subject to same regulations as Adjusted Adults.
Recently I bought a documentary series called Flying: Confessions of a Free Woman. It's amazing - and it kind of exemplifies what I've determined. It's about women around the world who defy the characters society has imposed on them. I've decided to be more like them. You watch and you think - how can these girls in Bangladesh allow men to decide what they wear? Decide what they eat and where they go? And then you think about it and you realize that that's exactly what happens in America. Men tell me what to wear. How is wearing a burka different from shying away from a pixie cut? How is only leaving the house with a male escort different from being afraid to eat at a restaurant alone?
So here I am. I decided to do it in winter, just because I hate the shit out of winter and it'll be nice to have something exciting to jazz it up. And so begins another youthful anecdote from everyone's Wacky Aunt.