100% Authentic Me

Nov 12, 2010

 I never really knew why it rubbed me the wrong way when I'd hear people say "Fake it 'till ya make it." I mean, it's a reasonable enough concept, rooted in the idea of positive thinking, so what's the problem?

Well, to understand this, we have to go back to my school days -- probably about 4th grade. You see, that's when I started having to write book reports and do projects on things like "Japan" or the "Early Settlers." I can remember all of the research that went into these reports: I spent hours writing notes on 3 x 5 cards in the library, I made some wooden shoes, my mom made me a beautiful yellow flowered kimono with an obi, and I wore these dangly little flowers in my hair. I even learned how to use a fan and pour tea. I walked pretty funny in those shoes, but I figured it would inspire me to write a more accurate report on the Japanese people, country and culture.

For another project, I remember dressing up like an early pioneer (complete with an apron and a bonnet). I can't be 100% sure, but somewhere between the dioramas and the pot of wagon wheel chili, I can recall the boys getting to make shotguns for their "research." Anyway, all I know is, I did a whole bunch of peripheral stuff, and went well beyond the scope of the assignment, all so I could write a convincing paper, thinking that, if I didn't believe it, no one else would.

Contrast this (glaringly) with my big brother, who could write pages and pages about any subject and convince you beyond a shadow of a doubt that he knew much more than he was letting on. Trust me, he did not make rifles or wooden shoes or dioramas. Heck, he probably didn't even crack open an encyclopedia, yet he managed to truly make you believe he was an expert in the field of whatever it was he was writing about.

Saskatchewan. Sure, why not?
History of Rutabegas. Definitively.
Early European Baroque Farmers. Yup.

I mean, nothing was out of the realm of his expertise. Or was it? Did he REALLY know the Origins of Chartreuse, or was he just a convincing story teller? One may never know, because if anyone dared question him, he always had an answer (Chartreuse, or "Chian-Tinbo," it turns out, originated in a handwoven welcome mat during the Han Dynasty, somewhere along the Silk Road.) See what I mean?

Anyway, this used to drive me bonkers. I mean, here is this guy who probably didn't really even honestly know a single, solitary piece of legitimate (or weighty) information about the subject he was covering, and yet the inevitable "A+" at the top of the paper would cause anyone to question this fact. In other words, he might have known next-to-nothing, yet could convince anyone he was an expert, while I was an expert who couldn't convince anyone I knew next-to-anything!

So, here I am, at the ripe old age of 44, and I realize that not much has changed: I still need to know way more than necessary before I can write or talk about anything (and we won't talk about my brother.) ;-)

My point is, I am a genuine as the day is long -- which is not to say that my brother is a fake, the two have nothing to do with each other. I just know that I often feel like George Washington (who, legend holds, could not tell a lie, and DID chop down a certain, high-profile cherry tree. As if.)

Never before has this knowledge been more powerful (or crippling) than at this time in my life. That is because, in my professional life (you know, on my day job) I am increasingly called upon to act "as if" I am a certain person, when I am clearly NOT that person. I'm expected to behave, write, talk, and perform "as if" certain things have not happened, but I'm not able to muster enough chutzpah to even fake it.

After all, I have been going to therapy once a week to find my true self; to learn who I really am and what makes me "tick." Talk about a double-edged sword, now that I KNOW and ACCEPT myself, I can't pretend I'm anyone else. I worked too hard in this Bariatric After Life™ to hide my little light under a bushel anymore. I recognize my value and self worth, and can't sell myself to the lowest bidder anymore.

Let me tell you…this is a really hard way to live. Learning that you have a passion, a gift, a calling, a need to do something other than what you have been doing for your whole life can be a scary proposition. But maybe, just maybe, the experiences on my "day job" are preparing me for a NEW day job? One in which I change people's heads by touching their hearts?

Of course, that means that I will remain in the direct line of fire for all sorts of accusations and mischaracterizations, but I think I can handle it. After all, truth always prevails.

Why am I talking about this?

Because now that I truly know (and accept) who I am, I'm not afraid to keep BEING her. Maybe I said that wrong…I've always known who I was, but had trouble accepting it. Since shedding my weight (both the physical AND the emotional pounds), I have stopped hiding behind a facade of someone who doesn't make waves, make a scene, OR really make a difference.

I used to call myself Gastric Bypass Barbie -- not because I was fake or plastic, but because I genuinely believed that Barbie could be anything she wanted to be. Unfortunately, not everyone embraces that definition of her, and actually despise her because she is made of plastic. They think that I think I am perfect (which Barbie clearly isn't, I mean, have you SEEN that figure??? Her hips are hideously disproportionate, and she has a hinged waist!!!) I clearly do not think that; I just like her shoes. Anyway, the bottom line is, many people had a hard time reconciling me with her, simply because they saw her in an entirely different light than I did.

Well, I'm not made of plastic; I am flesh and blood and heart and soul -- things that can be harmed, but also be healed. Just as I wasn't willing to compromise when I was young and wore little wooden Japanese shoes, I can't compromise who I am now (even if I do wear Barbie shoes).

In case you didn't figure it out before, I am me. 100% genuine, honest, open, flawed, energetic, joyful, enthusiastic, opinionated and real. I've never been anything less, and I'm not gonna start now - even if there are people in this world who don't like it. We are not put on this planet to please others, because we know some will never be pleased (especially with themselves). We are put here to know and love ourselves, and through that, know and love others.

I have a funny feeling you already knew that, but stuck around anyway.

Never underestimate the power of a genuine woman; I know I don't.

0 Comments