Fall Faeries: Maerilille

Soured

We were supposed to do pictures today. We didn't. It turned out our photographer didn't want to sully her good name with such a shameful, embarrassing venture.

We did yoga pictures instead. A nice, healthy, normal session. I should be grateful that she was ready to do it. I should. But instead I feel soured and slightly embittered. I'm trying to get over it, but what it comes down to, is I'm insulted. I'm proud of my pictures. I think they're artsy and cool and I think I look hot. There. I said it. It's a vanity thing, okay?

But sadly, half of our small group of four was too embarrassed about the humiliating experience known in my world as the faery foray. I guess that being said, I should be grateful they backed out before we got dressed up and were in the woods. I just wish that my photographer had turned me down instead of patronizing me. If she has that huge of a reservation about it (she was worried about being googled and coming up with my pictures), I wish she had said, "No, I don't think that's my cup of tea." Or "No, I'm not artsy enough to appreciate that kind of creativity." Or "No, thanks."

All this has accomplished is a desire in me to guard even more closely the exuberant personality that I have. This is a part of me that I, personally, enjoy and cherish and I'm not about to "cast pearls before swine" to use an exaggerated metaphor. I guarded my personality for the first 18 years of my life. I'm done with that. If people can't handle it, if it's too embarrassing for them, if I make myself the butt of secret jokes and behind-my-back judgments, then that part of me will be shut up from the casual observer.

And you know, another thing. I can take a hard time to my face. I know faery pictures are weird. I know this is not a normal hobby. I know it's nerdy. I'm okay with that. I've come to terms with it and I enjoy doing it anyway. I've stood against criticism for as long as I've been doing this. But at least have the balls to mock me to my face. I can take that in good spirits a lot better than hearing through the grapevine how embarrassed everyone is for me. Nothing will put my back up faster.

Anyway, I just had to vent a little bit. It's been eating at me all day and I have a nasty tension headache over it. This is the post that closes the vault to the few who can see and appreciate this for what it is: a grown woman's last few chances to embrace the youth and beauty that is entirely too fleeting. In a word: I just like to play dress-up & pretend!

Sylphe the Spring Faery

Yeah, I know, I know. Sylphe is really the what an air spirit is called. There's a whole ballet (two, actually) about it. But that is indeed my chosen name for my spring faery. I can be called nothing else.