There is no try

My husband thinks I'm having a mid-life crisis.

I know, right?

His "evidence" for his argument is that I have 1) Gone to the bar ONCE with some girlfriends who are younger than I am 2) BabyMama and I went on a cruise and didn't bring the kids and 3) I got my nose pierced after talking about it for more than a year.

Personally, I don't think that adds up to any kind of crisis. Although, I suppose if I was having a crisis, mid-life or otherwise, I probably wouldn't think that I was.

But really, it's not like I've gone out and bought a $70,000 sports car, or changed how I'm dressing. I have completely replaced my wardrobe, but it was out of necessity and it's pretty much the exact same things I had before just smaller. I work in a very casual office. Usually, I'm the most nicely dressed simply because my clothes aren't covered in either paint or grease. I wear jeans and a tee-shirt almost every day. The days I'm not wearing that? I'm wearing a skirt and a tee-shirt! That's CLEAR proof that I'm trying to "look younger" right?

As for the trip to the bar it was ONE TIME. ONCE. And it's not like we were even at the kind of club that you have to line up to get in to! It was a crap dive bar where they have $3 pints of Full Moon. OOoooH big pimping, right? AND I was home by midnight even though we didn't get there until close to 10.

And my nose? I had it done the first time when I was in college. Then I went to work in a bank where facial piercings were unacceptable so I took it out. Every few years I'd talk about it. Much like the out loud musing we all do about our hair..."maybe I should dye it"...."no, I'm going to cut bangs"....."I could pull off the Posh Spice, don't you think".....Not really serious talk, but not exactly idle either. About a year ago I started mentioning it about once a month. I asked my husband if he would mind and his exact words were "If you want to look like an old dyke, that's your business".

So I did it.

We jokingly took bets about how long it would take him to notice. Six months was the median. It took him two days and when he did notice it he was pissed. "What'd you do that for?" he demanded "because I wanted to. I told you I was going to!" I countered and I suppose it was my failure to be petulant that caused him to remark "wow. You're really having a bad mid-life crisis, aren't you?"

No. I'm not.

What I am having is a bit of a liberation. I'm 33. I've lived almost all of my life trying to fit into the mold that others have set out for me. Their definition of a good student. Their opinion of what makes a good mother or a good wife or a good....whatever. But you know what? It's my turn to say what makes me a good ME.

And I? Think that it's time to have some fun. It's time to stop waiting for my husband, who hates to travel, to finally be needled into going somewhere with me. If I want to go, I'm going. It's time to stop sitting at home wishing that I wasn't missing what the girls were doing just because I think other people would think I look silly because I'm five years older than they are and have a kid practically old enough to club herself. I'm all done caring if a nose stud makes me look like I'm trying too hard.

Because I'm not trying any more. I am doing.