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Sunday, February 12, 2006Total AffirmationIt was one of those spur-of-the-moment purchases. I had parked by J. C. Penney simply because I felt like it, and had to cut through the store to get into the mall. When I saw the blue, fuzzy slippers on a seventy-five-percent-off display, I knew that Maggie needed to have them. So I brought the slippers to the nearest checkout counter, where a slim youth, who looked as though he had just accomplished his first full tuft of facial hair, was working. "Hello!" I piped, and handed him my card. "May I see your ID, please?" I flashed my license and smiled at him. "Yep, it's really me!" "You look a lot younger than your age," the lad said. It was an awkward moment; not because I didn't appreciate the compliment, but because I was feeling particularly unattractive. You know what I mean -- the glasses-and-minimal-makeup-since-the-mall-is-nowhere-special look. "You really do look young." "Well, that's only because my kids aren't with me." What else does one say to an eighteen-year-old checkout boy who insists on complimenting her? "I'm serious," he went on. ''I mean, how old are you? Twenty-five?" Okay. He blew it on that one. I knew he'd already seen the year on my driver's license. So I laughed and let it go. The age thing isn't even the reason I'm writing this, though. His next comment absolutely floored me. "Let's see. You must be an artist...or a writer." "Why, yes! Yes, I'm a writer!" Was there a pencil sticking out of my ear? Or was it the glasses? "How -- how could you tell?" "Oh, you've just got that look, you know? That artsy look." I've got that look! It's taken me forty years to finally find my "look." I went through the wear-the-same-shapeless-clothes-for-years phase, the I-love-Lands-End phase, and the El-Cheapo-Chadwicks-Clearance phase. Then, finally, it dawned on me that, for my entire life, my clothing had never reflected who I really am. It was too conservative; too frumpy; too staid. Sometimes it was downright "what was she thinking?" Now, I feel like the wardrobe I'm slowly building "fits" me. I think the actual term is "funky chic," but that sounds a bit contrived. At any rate, I was beyond thrilled to have someone eyeball me and come to the conclusion that I must be a writer, simply because I looked like one. "So, I'll bet you write children's books or something," the checkout clerk went on. "Young adult fantasy," I said, "and also humor." Naturally I had to tell him that I'm also a pianist. You know -- the whole "artsy" thing. As it turned out, my new friend was an aspiring writer and actor. He had big dreams -- he had enthusiam. It was tangible; I could feel it in the air as he spoke. "It's a long, hard road," I told him in my wisest tone of voice. "Don't ever give up." "And don't you give up either," he said. Imagine that. Half my age and he's offering me the same level of encouragement that I've just doled out to him. I walked through the rest of the store and into the mall with a new confidence. Wow, I thought. I am a writer. I am a writer! Maybe I'd gotten a little bit lost in the kitchen floor mopping and the clothes ironing and the meal cooking and the Algebra test grading and the gloom, gloom, gloom of winter. But despite it all, somebody -- a complete stranger -- took one look at me and saw me for what I truly am. It was a gift from God; a glimpse of my "reason for being." I would give my life for any of my children in a heartbeat; they are my highest calling, my dearest treasures. But I'm not "just a mom." Nobody said, "You must be a mom," to me today. No, indeed! Somebody said, "You must be a writer." Hmm. What shall I wear tomorrow? |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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14of my readers are feeling chatty:
I guess I gotta pay that clerk the $10 I promised him, huh?
I'M JUST KIDDING!!!
Thats such a great story. Yes, a true gift but you are what you are. It doesn't matter what you wear tomorrow. You're still a writer. It's in your blood, not in your clothes.
Ken
Hello. I haven't been here before.
That's an interesting post because, while I am not a writer, I do sometimes like to pretend to be one. Perhaps you can post some pointers for people who would like to look like a writer without going to all the bother of writing stuff, and being all creative and really difficult stuff like that. See, you can tell I'm not a real writer cause I used "stuff" twice in the preceding sentence. Actually I'm really only commenting here because I bet myself I couldn't use the word "stuff" more than three times in one paragraph, and, you know, maybe I cheated a bit, but there you go, and stuff.
Anyway, in return I could possibly post an article I've been working on called "How To Really Suck At Writing". By "working on" I mean I only just thought of it, but I'm pretty confident on account of being something of an expert in the field of sucking at writing. For examples of my extreme suckedness please refer to Henry the Adequate.
Actually I'm really only commenting here as practice for my new career in comment spam. Damn those guys must be able to type really quick.
Hello,
I found your site quite by accident and enjoyed what I read. Hope to be back soon -- if I can ever figure out how to find you.
March
That's awesome! It must have made you feel so good. I'd love it if someone told me I looked like a writer (which I am), or even just artsy for that matter.
Good for you.
:o)
Raida
Okay, that's it. I need a new wardrobe. Awesome post. Congratulations you writer you.
Hmmmm... the teenage girl at J. C. Penney told me I look like the grumpy old troll under the bridge!
I had a pencil behind my ear and everything!
LOL
Back home now.
I sooo enjoyed this story...last year I threw out everything in my closet and slowly purchased those things that I truly love....I discovered a passion for sterling silver and bright lime colors...I moved on and closed my business, stepped down from leadership roles, and set about discovering my own personal interests and style...perhaps someday I will encounter that person who will be able to tell me who I am :).
Well I'm jealous! I go out all the time absolutely covered in thread clippings and lint and not once has anyone complimented me on my obvious textile artiste style.
Although... now that I think about it, I do get lots of admiring glances when I forget to remove the straight pins that I stick in my own shirt as I work. I've even seen people whispering, no doubt things like "Look! Isn't that Carolina Herrera Jr?"
They're probably just too awed to approach.
0:-D
Aw, what a sweet post! I completely understand the wardrobe thing. Now that I am single, and not just a married mom, I've had to re-dress myself :-) I wonder what he'd say about me :-)
You are a wonderful writer!!
Great blog you young'n.
Great post, Jill. How many different ways could that guy have been complimentary??? Love that you've found your look. I know my look, I just can't fit into it. Sigh.
Great story. Inspiring for all ages.
You hot momma/writer you :)
I bet you walked out of there floating on air.
I went to collect my then 18 year old son from his part time job at Burger King once and his co-worker yelled out dude your sister is here to get you ROTFL
Poor Jonathan came out looking around for his sister and I was standing there.
I don't think I had taken off my sunglasses though ;)
All that and no pictures of your artsy outfit? That made me cry! (And on a makeup day of all things!)
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