One of the things that gets shredded as we grow up is that utter, blissful lack of awareness that others might make fun of us.
When we’re young, we just go with our instincts. We layer on the pretties as the spirit moves us. There’s just no such thing as too much beautifulness.
Certainly my youngest still has that joie de vivre. She hangs multiple Christmas ornaments fr0m her ears because they’re big and sparkly, wears a frothy tutu with a three-sizes-too-big sports bra and blue jeans while mugging in front of a mirror, and just yesterday, jumped rope on the driveway wearing a blonde, four-foot-long “Tangled” wig with farmer’s overalls.
And you know what? Her sense of adornment is dead on. It springs eagerly from her inner self, a self that’s still playful, bold, and yes, excessive.
I love that about her.
Most adults have to be drunk, joking, or playing with small children to act on their inner love of excess. Most adults are all about limits and avoiding ridicule.
Most of us are so paralyzingly self-conscious.
What a loss!
Why do we need an excuse to wear a lampshade for a hat, Christmas ornaments for earrings, or any bright sparkly that calls to us? Who are we hurting by spontaneous silliness?
Just a thought—but the next time you feel like marching around the kitchen on your tiptoes banging pot lids together while singing “Set Fire to the Rain” well . . .
I say go for it.