|Simon Bolivar, The Liberator|
I’m secretly a child of the 60s, at least I like to think that.
The second my freedom of anything is taken away, the “I have to do it” and “You can’t tell me what to do” feelings emerge. Even with the most minor incidents, the rebellious feelings still emerge.
In a family gathering a few weeks ago, I decided that I was going to dress down, wearing sweat pants with a t-shirt. I wasn’t planning on meeting my soulmate, wasn’t planning on walking the runway, nor was I planning to meet up with that cute guy from Biology. A simple family gathering was calling for a simple outfit.
But yet, when I walked down the stairs, my mother looks up and says, “Really, you’re wearing that? Go change, you’re with your family..not staying home”
Well, now I have to wear it.
What emerged from gripes and moans was me walking down those same stairs again with jeans on and a sweatshirt. Compromise, right?
No, just me exercising my right to wear sweats at family gatherings.
I’m not sure the protesters and activists of the 60s would have been proud of me. I’d like to think that they would have.
Photo Credit: EveryPhotoStock (dbking)