What's Your Style?

While one of my biker buds lays in the hospital recovering from broken bones

(As a result of a parachute turning inside out before he landed safely on the ground)

He and I have been chatting online; continuing the verbal harassment 

we usually reserve for the long bike trips and gas station breaks

I told him if he didn't heal fast he'd have to ride in my sidecar

Changing my mind I said 'never mind you'll cramp my style'

His reply "YOU have a style?"

And for a moment I was quiet as I replied that maybe I should be hurt

which he countered with something about my not having feelings

But I wondered

Where did my style go?

Sure I would never grace the cover of the latest beauty magazine

I have no interest in frilly girly stuff or high heels or nails or purses

or anything society tries to shove down my throat as fashionable

but somewhere between leaving behind the catholic school uniform

and getting married the first time

there was my beloved combat boots and checkered skirts

and elbow high gloves and tunics with bright tights

funny thing is although I won't wear skirts or tights anymore

I still wish my Mama hadn't thrown my combat boots away in the cover of night

(loca Mama)

Instead I look at what I have and think to myself that if I'm not careful

I may become one of those walmart photo people who show up in emails

Sometime ago I whined in a vanity post and y'all suggested I get rid of the closet stuff

Well instead I closed the closet

But where did she go?

The one who had confidence, could bark out orders to a room full of contractors

Could wear something that would make me, or others, smile

(a woman would pass my office everyday to see what I was wearing that day

said she loved it and wished she had the courage)

I was me. I had courage.

Goofy. Creative. Confident. With a 'oh no? watch me!' attitude

And then I got married....

sounds like the start of a campfire horror story huh

hee hee

Well I know I'll find my style again and this time it'll stay
it may mean blue hair, scarves and lots of bracelets
but it'll be me
(thinking bohemian gypsy tree hugger-ahhh)

~

And the broken bag-o-bones biker?

He still won't be in my sidecar