Be what you what, who cares what they say?

Black sheep, by the time they’re my age, reach a certain level of IDGAF to the nay sayers and pooh poohers.  Eyeliner too thick?  I lay it on thicker.  Outfit a little too inappropriate?  I make sure the skirt is a little more leather, heel a little too teetering, plastic flower in my hair, dancing through the produce aisle.  Inevitable, the talk, later in the waiting room of the ballet studio.  “Did you hear about the woman?”  That’s me.

That should be all of us.

Wear what makes you happy. Put on that brazen lipstick.  Be who you have always wanted to be.  Don’t let anyone tell you what makes you happy is not right.

That should be all of us.

Because I know a little secret.  We are all black sheep, we are…

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Relentlessly punctual, hedonist denim-head. Inked, vain, lover of shoes, clothes, and handbags, but mostly lost causes.

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