Who is this girl?

My name, my age, and my social security number. Of those things you can be quite sure. Oh maybe a few things more like my parentage, and my height and such. But who is this girl, really?

It came to my attention recently that my appearance changes with my mood. Not slight shifts in my mood. Not even from my 'normal' depression to those rare (and all to few and far between) moments of Normal. Drastic changes in my mood, however, come with a change of appearance. Of course this is only based on one and now two times this has happened. The first time was my last year of school. It was also a year, all melodrama aside, I almost did not finish, one I almost did not make it through.

For any real in-depth information regarding that Year From Hell you can look at my old blog, Thoughts and Musings of a Girl... Interrupted, if you would like.. For now I will try and be as brief as possible (which considering how long winded I tend to be might not be very, *blush*).

Before that year I was what I call Regionally Conservative (as I try my best to keep identifying information from my blogs I cannot tell you what region that is but I will give you that it is west coast USA). There's not a whole lot else to say about that. Actually a lot of my cloths tended to come from Old Navy. I wore very little (if any) make up, my jewelry was minimal, and body art (save for a piercing in each ear lobe) was nonexistent. I did dye my hair from it's original color but nothing outrageous. Color palate wise I did tend more toward dark colors though for no conscious reason I could ever put my finger on.

Fast forward to that last year of school. By then I had already added another piercing (nothing crazy for a young woman) and one tattoo (easily covered if I felt so inclined, and meaningful in several ways so that I would not regret it later). One more tattoo, another piercing in each lobe and one in my tongue, some fire engine red in my hair, black nail polish, rather less conventional clothing, and heavy make up... there exists one photo from that period literally my own mother said she would not have recognized me had she not known any better..

These few years since I have toned it down a little. The fire engine red is gone from my hair. So is the tongue ring (there's a bit of a story behind that... maybe I'll tell it one of these days. I rather regret taking it out to be honest) and I am once again back to wearing little to no makeup (too much of a hassle).

But I'm headed back down to the depths of the Pit again and I once again find myself wanting to change my appearance. I want to drastically change my hair and add more color to it (another unconventional color along the lines of the fire engine red I loved so much before). But really what with the 'big change' last time, the fact that I never really did revert back to my original Regional Conservative style from before and what I am leaning toward right now... I wonder, was the Regional Conservative girl really me?

Lately I am wondering if we children (those in my immediate family) had no choice but to grow up in to the adults we have become, style and all... even if that is not truly who we are. We grew up in what I have always referred to as a 'large town' and were really rather sheltered. Mom is conservative and dad is a controlling, abusive ass who has definite opinions about how his children should look (just telling it like it is, folks).

I am in my late 20s and I have really no idea who I am. Why not? This is ridiculous. I only know that I do not think I am who everyone else believes me to be.

Once a couple friends were over and one noted that it was a little funny (not his word but it has been a few years and I cannot remember exactly what he said) that I had a pair of Romeos on the same shoe shelf as several pairs of Converse. At the time I told him that of course it was not; after all, here I was with two distinctly different styles of shoes both of which I routinely wore.

If you still read my blogs friend... You were right.

"My true self remains hidden
In the depths
Where even now
I am crying
For I am lost "

~from The Masks I Wear, by girlinterrupted83
(OK so I took it out of context and from my own poem... but that bit works here *shrug*