This is my niece. She wears "underwears" on her head.
Don't you love such inhibition? A little lady who is not afraid to flaunt her funny ideas. I think children naturally embrace the whimsical and the weird, don't you? It's one reason I love my job so much--I am surrounded by the otherworldly imaginings and mysterious movements of children. Being with them brings out the pixie in me.
When I was her age, I, too, wore underwear on my head. I also shuffled around my house with a blanket draped over my body, head to toe, leaving only the very tips of my feet exposed. I traveled through rooms in the privacy of my personal fort, a pruney thumb and strawberry fruit snacks my sole companions. How I survived childhood with zero concussions remains to be known. I dressed myself in tan floppy hats and Wonder Woman Underoos. I would roller skate around the house in this get up, hoping to catch the old grey cat hiding behind the sofa. Who else but Fluffy would look as smashing in my doll's pink calico dress?
And today? Luckily, I haven't abandoned all of my quirks to the polite pretense of adulthood. For example:
^When I come home from work, instead of greeting CHB with a traditional kiss and a "hello", I flip up my arms and kick my legs like a Fosse dancer. I dance the robot. The Elaine from Seinfeld. The Krisin Wiig as every SNL character she has ever played. I dance moves that have no name. I greet and reunite with my entire body. Actually, if I'm being honest, the dancing emerges several times throughout the course of the day. In the bedroom before we go to sleep, in the morning when we wake up, in the kitchen while making dinner. I just can't restrain these dancing limbs.
"Do you dance like this at work?" CHB asks, perplexed.
"No, but I sing."
Which brings me to my second quirk:
^I narrate my life through song. I will sing the table setting. I will sing the laundry folding. I will sing the bed making and the teeth brushing even with a foamy mouth. I make up the words based on what mundane task I'm tackling at the time.
"Ooohhhh, laundry. Look how you fold so nice. Oooohhh, laundry. I never have to fold you twice." (I know. It doesn't even make sense.)
^There are very few things in life that make my stomach flip with such delight as organizing. Sex...maybe. And that's a big maybe (just kidding, Jacob!) When I see a messy drawer that needs to be organized, I get butterflies in my stomach from sheer excitement. The potential of it all! I wish I were exaggerating, but I am not. The clothes in my closet are arranged by color and the shoes, too. I write down every outfit I wear (top/bottom/accessories) and file the cards according to season and level of formality. I call these my outfit cards, and they are a routine source of good natured ridicule. Also, I take Instagram photos of my things organized neatly, inspired by the Tumblr feed of the same name. In 7th grade, I was voted "Most Organized" by my teachers. A former badge of shame, I now wear that title with honor. A little too much honor, if you ask me.
As odd as they are, these quirks make me happy. They remind me that I am just as much a flirty four year old as I am a prudent 33. Really, aren't we all a gorgeous composite of young and old?
And now that I've shared a smidge, I want to know: What are your colorful quirks? Do you dare share?