On Owning It. Or The Fart Backstage.

We were in the wings of the middle school auditorium.  I’m fairly certain this was during a rehearsal and not an actual show because I don’t remember wearing costumes.  I do remember who I was with back there.  Two of the popular middle school girls.  In middle school I was cool girl adjacent, on the peripheral of the group not an included member.  Of course now, looking back, I realize that my refusal to just make actual, real, non-cool girl friends rather than hang on to a group of people who didn’t really like me says a lot more about me than them.  But it was middle school and I just desperately wanted to be accepted by the accepted.

So I hung on.

Around that time these two popular girls had started the trend of “owning their farts.”  It was genius, really.  These two girls knew how to take the most embarrassing of situations (a fart in middle school) and turn it into an opportunity to be awesome.  If one of them made the social faux pas of all faux pas, they would shrug and say, “I farted” with a who cares, I did this thing and I’m too cool to be embarrassed by it attitude.  Or they would say it loudly and proudly, laughing as though their gas was the funniest thing ever.  And that made them cooler.  If you were secure enough to own your fart, no one could get to you.   I was obsessed with this who gives a crap mentality.  Because I so couldn’t do it.  If I farted in school I’d keep my mouth shut and hope everyone pinned it on the smelly kid.

Any way I’m backstage with the Heathers and I fart.  And in a single moment I decide go with their tactic.  I think I thought if I tried on this attitude, like one of the school play costumes, I would become more like them, which is to say cooler and less insecure.  Whatever the reason, I found myself saying, “I farted.  That one was me.”

The girls burst out laughing and I knew I’d done it wrong.  I didn’t say it with the same “I’m so secure about this” tone.  Something about it was cute, like when a little kid repeats words she’s only heard the grown ups say.  And I was still mortified.  I went through the act of owning my fart without really owning it. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about this “owning your fart” mentality.  One of the truest lessons I’ve learned in the last decade is that the act of speaking your shame aloud always diminishes its power.  I’ve found freedom in this truth with some of my deepest shames. 

But today I’m thinking of some smaller shames.  You know the truths about yourself that aren’t a big deal, but you still hope you’ll outgrow before anyone figures them out.  The things about yourself that you fear make you shallow, or silly or dumb.  The farts backstage.  These are the things that make me human in the easiest possible way and also the things I don’t really want anyone to realize.

Today though, I’m owning it.  I’m realizing the freedom and joy that’s found in living fully into who you are, quirks and embarrassments and all.  I’m tired of waiting to outgrow something, or change into the person I think I would be better off being.  I'm tired of the shame and panic that rises in me when someone starts to tease me about one of these things.  And so today, I’m confessing loud and proud a few of these smaller shames.  Imagine I’m saying it with the “who cares, this is me, and I’m too cool to be embarrassed” tone that I failed so miserably with twenty years ago.

My name is Colleen and I love celebrities.  I have always been easily star-struck.  I love People magazine, E! News, and I can tell you about every time I’ve been in proximity of someone of note.  I’m desperate to know what famous people are really like, and if I find out you know some one of some reputable fame I will grill you for hours.  I sat next to a very chatty someone who worked for the producers of Lost during what became my most favorite flight.  This girl was not afraid to spill insider secrets and for the entire trip from New York to Phoenix I got all the dirt.  What’s even worse is that my litmus test for celebrity is incredibly easy to pass.  Basically if people know about you, you are famous in my eyes.  My friend Marty once won a trip to Mexico by calling into a morning radio talk show that I love.  He charmed his way into the hearts of the hosts and was featured on the show’s broadcast from Mexico.  And now Marty has achieved celebrity status.  Because one time he was on the radio.  I’m ashamed of this quality because I fear it reveals some sort of shallow, celebrity worshiping quality in me.  Or that people will deduct my own desires for fame.  And also it taps into one of my worst qualities, gossipy-ness  (definitely a real word).  So I try, without success, to down play this quality, but today I’m claiming it.  I get star-struck about celebrities (shoulder shrug).

This second confession kind of goes along with the first, but I like pop culture way more than high-minded things.  I’d rather listen to the Entertainment Weekly radio station than NPR in the car and I’d rather read People Magazine than Time at the dentist.  I’ve got loads of really great documentaries in my Netflix queue, but all I watch is Friends and Gilmore Girls reruns.  And I’ve never read the New Yorker.  In my defense I do listen to NPR, read Time and watch documentaries, but when given the choice I will always choose the pop culture route first.  Again, I fear this makes me so, so shallow and less intelligent in the eyes of others.  But I can’t deny it.   I want to be a person that knows all about the conflict in Syria but has no clue about the conflict amongst the cast of a Shonda Rhimes show.  But I'm not.

Also, I talk to myself in my car when I’m alone.  Sometimes I play out conversations that I need to have, but am afraid of.  Or I have imaginary conversations pertaining to all sorts of imaginary things I hope to one day accomplish but probably never will. (I’m fairly certain my days starring in an academy award-winning movie are behind me.)  I’m a daydreamer and always have been.  It’s silly and weird and something I probably should have stopped doing when I was nine, but there you go. 

FIESTA! Also, don't try to discern a patters.  There isn't one.  I'm going to get ALL the colors.

Finally, I love color way more than classic neutral tones.  This isn’t one I’ve necessarily tried to hide, but I’ve always sort of hoped eventually I’d get my act together and become someone with classic whites and neutral shades all through her home.  For years I’ve coveted Fiestaware, the most colorful of all dinnerware, but never committed to buying it because I was always worried people would think it was childish.  But you know what?  My mom got me some settings for my birthday this year, and then I used the birthday money from my mother-in-law to buy more settings and now I have nine settings in nine different colors and I can’t even tell you how happy it makes me to open my cabinets.  It’s silly really that a rainbow of dishes could bring so much joy.  But I love it.    

Ok, so now I’m a little mortified at these metaphorical farts that I’ve just owned.  But next time I start gushing over some blogger that isn’t really a celebrity I’m not going to feel ashamed.  I’m just going to own it.  And really this is just the tip of the iceberg.   There is so much more I could have said, and probably one day will- if only to give you all the freedom to claim your own farts and feel no more shame.   Maybe we’ll host an “Owning It Friday” around here.   What about you?  Anything you’d like to not feel ashamed of anymore?

(For the record, when it comes to actual farts I absolutely do not own those.  I will throw my kids, husband or complete strangers under the bus if I happen to fart in public.  No way am I ‘fessing up to that if I can help it.)