I am not a girlie girl.

My poor Mum.

After having two blue babies (boys) she got 3rd time lucky and finally got a pink one (girl)- me. So, she gave me a girly-swat name I've never much liked, dressed me up in all manner of frills and lace on special occassions, put my hair in Cindy-Brady-curls or plaits with ribbons, all that kind of stuff. That I HATE.
Until a few years ago, both her blue babies had long hair, with curls. (The bastards. Not a curl on my head, just an annoying tendency to kink. The MONEY I spent in the 80s on curls!), and both her pink babies (I have a younger sister, less girlie than me) with short, short, hair.

Not that I'm butch. Just not, well, girly!

I've only had 2 nicknames in my life, both of them boys' names. When I was a teenager, my nickname was Cliff (from wearing a Cliff & The Young Ones TShirt to a bluelight disco), and when people would ring and ask for Cliff, Mum would say "No-one of that name lives here!" and hang up on them. My teachers at school (the cool ones, anyway) called me Cliff. My Pastor. Everyone.

Now, as an adult, I'm Cid.

If I hadn't already changed my name 3 times (surnames each time, and I seem to keep adding middle names. Lunatic, remember?), I would really & truly change my name legally to Cid.

While I do wear dresses and skirts on occassion (I'm not butch, not even really a tomboy, just what my favourite aunt calls "basic"), I avoid frilly girly swat things. I do wear lace on my singlet tops, but I wear makeup once a year, max.
And while my hair is currently longish, most of the time it's bunched on top of my head. Last time I wore ponytails, my neighbour laughed and asked me if I was revisiting my childhood. No thanks, then I would have had to put ribbons and shit on as well. Seriously, my photo taken on the first day of highschool depicts me with plaits and rbow ties, knee high white socks and buckle up shoes.

What was she thinking? We grew up in Sydney's wetsern suburbs, its a wonder I wasn't lynched.

Being a die-hard people pleaser, I let her talk me into the floor length pink sequinned, mutton sleeved, bow tied, chiffon ribboned monstrosity that appears on my Year 10 formal photos. Even worse, in Year 12 I wore a debut-inspired number of white lace and sequins. Yes, it WAS the 80s, but I get nauseoius just thinking about it!

I didn't wear lace to my wedding. Or white. My aunt was horrified (the non-basic one). I look shit in white, and don't like doing things the way everyone else on the planet does, and my then 11 year old walked down the aisle (well, garden path type thing) in front of me, so who was I fooling?

I wore red. Red suits me.

My aunt had someone hand-make me a wedding album to match! Red satin. With lace (3 kinds actually), beads, sequins, and feathers. Yes, feathers. Very her. She wanted me to think of her everytime I see it.

Which I do. As in, what was she thinking????

Basic is a good way to describe me. I'd like to be one of those funky, 40-ish yummy mummys, but I'm just not. I try, sometimes, but I have a winter uniform (jeans, thermals, tshirts) and a summer one (shorts, singlet top). Practical. Comfortable. And yes, GrannyAunty, Basic!