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the butterflies and the bees

August 29, 2013

i’m the fruit-eater.  i’m the history lover.  i’m the clacking of high heels in my high school hallway.  i’m the funky fingernail polish colors (mostly chipping).  i shop at zara and the gap and h&m over fancy designer boutiques.  i know these things.  i’m confident in these pieces of who i am.  but this week i had to seriously scrunch my eyebrows and fire all my little brain neurons to figure out my style of disagreeing with people.

conflict does not come naturally to me.  i’m more flight than fight.  and i know that about me.  and when the situation calls for standing your ground?  again, my natural instinct is to twirl off in a theatrical flurry of hyperbolic statements and overcharged emotions.  i’m not really sure of how to have mature and professional disagreements with people in positions of power when i feel wronged and really, really sad.

to be honest, i hear a ringing in my ears that i’m convinced is grandpa r still telling me to sock it to ’em and make them sorry they ever crossed me.  like i shared with my dad this week, i want to be able to float like a butterfly but sting like a bee.  i know better.  i’m more butterfly than bee, more float than sting.  but i’m also the girl with the froyo maker in her cabinet and issues of vogue dating to 1999 on her bedside table.

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