Inner Unicorn

Inside Quitter’s unicorn-y energy…

I am what some people might politely describe as “interesting looking.” I am hobbit like in stature, have a nose ring, a bunch of holes in my ears, a LOT of visible ink and have recently gotten my shoulder length hair dyed neon blue.

Now to those who don’t know me it might be easy to jump to the conclusion that I am an oddball seeking attention. And that statement would be 50% true. Yes, I am most definitely an oddball, but as a card-carrying introvert, the attention piece could not be further from the truth. I actually don’t enjoy people looking at me or having to overly engage with two legged beings unless absolutely necessary.

So why the wild hair and body décor?

Because it makes me feel good. Because when I look in the mirror, I like what I see and that makes me feel free. Looking this way makes me feel like my “true self.” And being myself and liking myself, no matter how weird I am, has become increasingly important to me these days. I like to say I am now listening to my “inner unicorn.”

And as a result something magical and unexpected is happening to me.

After a lifetime of mastering not speaking to people and avoiding eye contact, complete strangers are approaching me and striking up conversation. And not in the scary I want to eat your face kind of way, but in the “you look fun,” and “I wish I had the courage to do what you do” kind of way.

Needless to say this is somewhat unsettling, but I am trying to embrace it for the gift that it is. Yes the introvert in me wants to run away screaming, but my emerging unicorn asked me to go with it, to listen to her, and that everything will be peachy keen and that no one in fact wants to eat my face. (My inner unicorn is a little corny, but very wise.)

So I am giving it a try. I am wearing my weirdness with pride and forcing myself to engage with people. I am actively listening to the 70-year-old woman at the grocery store who feels the need to tell me about her wild days after complimenting me on my blue hair. And I smile at the teenaged cashier who says she wishes she was brave enough to get a tattoo as she looks at my fingers. And I nod and say thank you to the middle age woman in the business suit who whispers she wishes she could be like me. And I giggle with the little one who runs her fingers over the butterflies on my arm wondering how they got there.

I hear them all and secretly hope that their inner unicorn becomes as loud and unruly as mine and gives them no choice but to be their true selves too.


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