An Ordinary Girl

From the time I was little I believed I was destined for greatness. I used to belt Annie showtunes out the open car window with the hopes that some broadway producer (in St. Louis, MO, of all places) would hunt me down and offer me the lead role. I performed on cue for whoever, whenever and wherever-my dad even stood in line with me (and a thousand other little girls) for hours to audition for Sleeping Beauty at the Muny. Although my tap dancing was a little rusty, I could still sing. Little did I know the first audition was tap and I stood there like a deer in headlights. Two hours in line, 2 seconds on stage in front of thousands and I was cut-didn't even get to sing the song I had rehearsed over and over and over from the night before. I didn't give up, I continued to sing on stage for every talent show and at every one of my Dad's band gigs I attended. Obviously it didn't pan out, in fact, over time I learned to loathe the stage (and I still do-if it has anything to do with singing). As I mentioned before here, I left the stage for modeling, which also didn't pan out. I began to realize I was an ordinary girl, not meant for anything too extraordinary- never the prettiest, the smartest or the most talented- just plain and ordinary, but, over time, I became happy with my plain and ordinary qualities and embraced them.

Recently a "friend" referred to my home as ordinary and literally told me it was nothing spectacular. Almost out of nowhere, as if they were trying to insult me! I didn't know my home was supposed to be something special, I wasn't aware that my ordinary home was even offensive- are we still, as adults, competing for the title of "BEST"? I thought this was something left behind in childhood or at least high school. This perplexed me for weeks. I live a very ordinary life, in a very ordinary home with a very ordinary family and I'm happy. In my entire adulthood I never questioned my happiness or thought of myself as anything less, until that conversation.

There are obviously moments in my life where I wish we could have more, be more, do more and even moments of jealousy when I realize that something is so out of my grasp or realm of reality or possibility, but, overall, I realize that there are people who look at my ordinary life and wish for what I have. I don't take my ordinary life for granted, I know I'm blessed and I'm ashamed of myself for the times when I long for more-but I guess that's also a part of human nature. We are a competitive bunch, especially the women. We walk into a room and size one another up from head to toe (don't deny it, you know you've done it). From the style and brand of clothing, to the hair/make-up/weight/height, we size each other up and compare to ourselves. I commend Men on their honesty, sometimes brutal honesty (while we occasionally put them down for it), but we are the cattiest cats of them all, we are the backstabbers and gossipers and for a life I thought I left behind a LONG time ago, I bow out. I can't compete with the most luxurious home, the fanciest clothes (still wearing clothes from college-the clothes that fit anyways), the most intelligent or polite kids, the wealthiest lifestyle, the best body (3 kids did me in) or the most ambitious (today I aim at getting the whites laundered and folded-that's my ambition for today). I have come to realize that I will never be the best at anything because there will always be someone better (and someone who wants to take me out if I even tried). So I give in. I'm an ordinary girl, nothing more, nothing less. But living an ordinary life is more extraordinary than I ever dreamed-and no one can compete with that.