Self discrimination

It is interesting how I see myself.

My dad always said he saw my mother the way she looked in their wedding photo. I attributed that to being a man and being in love.

You would think that living with me day in and day out, I would be a lot more grounded in reality when it comes to knowing what I look like, but . . .

I have let some friends put enough peer pressure on me to try out things I wouldn't normally do on my own like painting my nails (which seems to have ruined them) and dying my hair. I have had no luck with finding a hair color I like and want to stick with, so I have been in transition for two years now.

I don't mind this latest transition, but I feel like Brienne of Tarth, the lady knight in Game of Thrones. It's a shame I don't look like her when she is not acting and is actually a high fashion model.

The truth is almost unbelievable. I still think of me as the dark brunette with long hair and a tall willowy frame. I haven't been that since before I turned thirty.

I am still tall. Maybe taller if the world is right, but my hair is short, blond at the moment and I am rotund. If I were a guy, I would be wearing three piece suits and smoking a cigar! I could see myself sitting around some old gentlemen's club discussing -- well all kinds of things, but not what I look like.

I hate that I care what I look like and truly I think if I were a man I could give myself permission to be exactly who I am now minus that one fact.

So why can't I do that as a nearly seventy year old woman.