„I just didn‘t think that knowing of all the mean things people think of you and ignoring them to carry on was such a big part of life“, I tell my witch over a cup of tea.
She laughs.
My back hurts.
This day in February has been too warm and the humidity is giving me headache.
„But you do carry on“, my witch reminds me and I frown.
I have to think of a most awkward moment when I was about 20 years old and working in one of the first jobs that seriously meant something to me. I was assisting a young director in bringing to life an experimental off-theater-opera thing, and I was so delighted about this opportunity!
It did not go well.
The young director was a woman in her mid thirties who was tough, successful and a mother of two children. She was determined, she had strong opinions. And I was not of her taste.
Things escalated when one of the opera singers got along well with me. As the singing and acting entertainer he was, it might have looked like he flirted with me, which we both knew was not the case, but still. The damage was done. Although there had never been a dress code, I was told off for wearing lipstick, nail polish and was even asked to cut my hair shorter so that I could look „like an adult woman“.
„I did not stay until the very end“, I admit to my witch. „I had put things into place so that everyone could do their job and fled in the last week.“
My witch giggles. „She had it coming. No one tell off the little girl in you!“
A while ago, I applied for a new position at the place I have already been working for occasionally for the past few years. I had always gotten positive feedback and thought I had a good standing with the people I worked for, so I did not even worry when I was going to the interview I was invited for.
Another female boss looks over my resume, grins in a way I still haven‘t quite figured out and asks me if I had any real goals in life.
Not where I saw myself in 5 years, or another question of that kind. A rough, almost amused question that was more of an accusation.
„And I still go and work there“, I let my witch know as I begin to massage my forehead. „And I try to enjoy the job that apparently is not a goal in life.“
„Did you wear lipstick that day?“, my witch asks and reluctantly I also have to giggle a little bit.
A few days ago I was having a drink with a friend who told me that only ever she was being asked to do or not do things by their neighbors and never her partner.
„Women just love criticizing each other“, my witch sighs.
It seems as if I have two options. I can either become the person that gives no reason to ever be attacked. No long hair, no nail polish, no lipstick and no friendly conversation with a penis bearer, no matter how not attracted we are to each other …
„Urgh“, I interrupt my own thoughts. „That would be what my mother would like me to be. Colorless, no personality, dating only to get married and pop out babies. Living next door and doing nothing interesting ever.“
Or, well, I keep being me and life is going to be tough. And I think I made that decision a while ago, since I am almost 30 and still very much me. The question here is more if I will ever be tough enough to live as me.
Am I brave enough to be me?
Will by headache stop?
When will I stop crying?
I need more tea.
Mistress witch writes 