*Warning: punk rock yogini ranting.*
The wonders of having an afternoon off, really. To me today it means coming home and have a late leftover lunch – don’t get me wrong, they’re the best – and indulge in my worst habits of all: eat while watching TV.
And people my agni is kind of off right now, someone play fireman please. Why oh why did I watch this stupid afternoon talk show, of all things? Maybe because something hit home, just maayyyy-be. Topic of the day, roughly translated from French TV: “can I have my teenager back please?”. Meaning: “I don’t like the way my son / daughter dresses, please talk him / her into wearing something normal so people don’t notice them so much.”
WTF? I mean, we have all been there, haven’t we? Feeling awkward, finding a way to express ourselves through the clothes we wear, wanting to hide at the same time, wanting desperately to fit in yet be different because, let’s face, being a grown-up sucks and I-don’t-want-to-be-like-you-and-I-never-will, and you-don’t-GET-IT. Can’t we just let them walk their path? What is “normal”? Why would I want to look like everybody else? Puuuhhhleeeeaaaz!
I used to want to fit in, and that didn’t work. I was miserable. So I let go of the fit-for-all look. I was never completely crazy, I just tried to be me. And I am thankful for my parents who never pushed me to adopt clothing that wasnt’t, you know, me. Even though they didn’t like my beloved DocMartens.
So these poor parents on that show… Between the lines, it was just about fitting their teenagers into an ideal child image they had. Trying to force upon them an identity they were either ready to give up (“I want my kid back”) or not ready to take on (“now she looks more like an adult, this is what I wanted”). It is as difficult for these parents to accept their children as they are now and let go of who they wanted them to be, as it is for these teenagers, almost adults, who struggle to find out who they are.
I have news for you: it is never over. So get ready, this is the ride of a lifetime. Literally.
(For the record: age 34, got a new pair of DocMartens. F*ck it)