I’d Rather be Batgirl than Barbie

Remember attending picnics when you were a kid, and watching the wives deal with the kids and the flies and the food while the husbands played softball? I do.

Some of the women, I’m sure, were perfectly happy putting the picnic together, but I found it incredibly unfair. I always worked my way into the softball game, even if it meant being the batgirl. I didn’t care. I wanted to play for a while and then walk into a picnic area where I would be fed.

To this day I love to eat but hate to cook. I wonder how many childhood moments form the women that we become.

My sister used to want to play wedding and house; I wanted to play cowboys and army. My friends played with Barbie, I played with G.I. Joe. Hey – he was hot. His chest was very muscular. And I loved Johnny West because he got to ride a Palomino and wear chaps. Yea, the chaps thing was a little odd.

I didn’t want to be Barbie. She lived in a pink house and had to wear dresses, although I did covet her car.

So, does it surprise me that I’ve worked in a male dominated environment for 25 years? Not really. Am I shocked that I know the football signal for “illegal receiver downfield” but can’t tell you the plot of the latest Nicholas Sparks book? Nope.

I’m on a journey to rediscover me in my fifties. Like most of you, I’ve spent years pleasing husbands and kids and other women. I’ve changed how I dress and sometimes (though not often) how I act.

I’ve swapped recipes and baked birthday cakes. I’ve decorating the house for Christmas and gotten my nails done. I’ve made my kids sweatshirts with holiday themes. I’ve talked with other women about coupons and gone shopping ad nauseam.

Now that I’m in my fifties, I’m declaring my independence. I’m traveling back to me – the girl who loved to play, to read, to play cowboys and wear tennis shoes.

What about you? Do you need to journey back to you? I’d love to know your story!