Judging Someone By Their Past: Two Finger Rings, High School and All.

I am obsessed with Pinterest. I am unapologetic and unabashed. I will not give it up for anyone, and in fact, it takes away from my love life and social life and I’m okay with it.

In my never ending quest for creative people, I stumbled upon this site after a recommendation by a friend.  And I find it to be a gathering place of creative people, so I could hang out there all day long.

It’s also a virtual mine field of corny, should-be-on-a-poster sayings. And I’m okay with that. Because as corny as they may be, they prompt thought. They make my wheels turn.  Well, they’re always turning but normally in a million opposing directions. So reading one sentence and pondering it is not only a hurdle, but also an example that ADD can be controlled.

The theme of this blog is “Don’t Judge Me By My Past, I Don’t Live There Anymore.” This one is funny for me. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been through about a MILLION transformations and evolutions in my life. I spent my elementary years as a super quiet, shy girl with fashion tastes that bordered a South Western loving transvestite. Junior High (Middle School) was spent wishing I could melt into the cinder block prisonesque walls. And I say this because I was not only the tallest bookworm in school, but add to that I got braces (Full Metal!) and an extremely Ill advised perm of my red hair.  First, perms and red hair don’t ever, ever go together. But I will take this as a testament as to how much my mother loved me. Because I lobbied for that perm…I pestered and nagged and finally she gave in. This was her way of supporting me and showing me that she thought I was beautiful NO MATTER WHAT. And by NO MATTER WHAT, I mean a perm circa 1989. That says a lot.

But my most memorable role in the past would be the identity crisis of 1992-1996. That’s a long one, and I’m estimating the years. I not only forgot my wholesome, ideal upbringing, but I altogether forgot that I was raised amongst farm land, and I thought that I was raised in East L.A. with some “Homies” and “Bitches”.  Try to leave behind the fact that the school I went to could have been the basis for 90210 with the stuck up chicks and cliques. I went entirely outside of the school to the other side of the tracks and picked a boyfriend from the worst part. I wore a Starter jacket (not the Eagles either…that says a lot. Clearly out of my gourd.) I wore Fila’s….red, blue, black and every other color. I had airbrushed jeans that said my name down the left leg, should I ever forget it. I had a two finger ring that was bent and warped from all my fights that I think my parents still have as a memento of my foolish teen years. They may have it framed somewhere like a trophy that I actually survived my teen years. I know I would.

And now…hmmm. How far I’ve travelled. Nothing at all like my past self, yet I’m not willing to ever act as thought that didn’t exist. I know there are women who act as though they haven’t made mistakes. They haven’t had lovers. They haven’t had kids without being married first. I’m not one of those. I’ve done those things and I’m glad I did. I’m glad I called out girls in high school for being boyfriend stealers. I’m glad I stood up where I felt there was an injustice. I was perceived as a bully then, when really I wasn’t. I was someone who had been bullied for having that red hair, that ill advised perm, for being too tall and too book wormish. By the time I hit high school, I was over it. I changed and evolved, I became the strong woman my parents always told me I could be. And I stood up for myself and others.

Years later, after my failed marriage, I became that woman again after a decade long absence. I’m fairly sure that she and I are one now. I’ll never let that side go again.  Because that side with two finger rings , slicked back pony tails and all, make me up every day. But I don’t expect to be judged on it. And too often, we see someone we knew in high school or in our past, and say, “I knew her when….”

You don’t need to qualify it. You just need to remember it and forget it just as quickly. How long ago was school? For some of us (Ummmm…me), it was almost 20 years. I doubt very much that anyone I knew back then is the same.  Sometimes, their bad behavior and traits have evolved into something worse, but not often. Mostly, they’re better, as am I. They’ve learned from mistakes, from heartache, from life. They’ve grown up.

Challenge yourself the next time you see someone you knew. Remember that you only KNEW them, you don’t KNOW them. They’re two very different notions.

Offer goodwill and a clear slate. After all, who couldn’t use that? I know that my Fila wearing, airbrushed jeans sporting past self sure could use some forgiveness and understanding.