Uptown Girl

I was brought up with the insinuation that I was something special. I cannot recall anything specific that was said but when I look back at my childhood I get a sense that my parent, my mother especially, thought I was better than other people. To be fair, now that I am a mother myself, I totally believe that my children ARE better than anyone else. They are smarter, sweeter, kinder, more considerate... But the reality is that other kids are also smart and talented and generous, polite, kind, gentle. It's just that mine are mine. I will accentuate their awesomeness as a result of my protective instinct and my pride. I am constantly amazed that such beautiful creatures came from within me. They are, quite seriously, the most divine souls that ever existed.

So, I can understand why my parents thought that of my sister and I. The problem is thusly; I am not special. I am just another person. No better or worse than anyone else. I live in reality. No Prince Charming is going to come along, sweet me off my feet and rescue me. Not the least because there is no Prince Charming. Everyone has flaws. Some more than others. No guy exists that is going to so perfect in himself that he will be able to dedicate his life to saving me. And why do I need saving? I am pretty competent and capable. Apart from specialist fields like electricians and plumbers (because the law dictates it) I can do almost anything with a little motivation, some time and a dash of google research.

I am no uptown girl. I am just a girl. Nothing special about me per se. Nothing particularly evil or wrong with me either. I am a balance - it's just a matter of keeping the scales from tipping.