Lady vs Tomboy?

A random piece of writing I found on my tablet.  It has no real beginning or a proper end.  It must have been a long wait at the doctors or at the airport.  I vaguely remember writing the piece, but don’t remember the reason nor the purpose for the birth of this piece.

The character is not me but could say some of it is based on me with added poetic licence stretched to the limit.

Seventeen, the cusp of innocence escaping out.  Slowly strange feelings creeping in. She notices the opposite sex.  She maintains her sense of aloofness to hide her inner demons.

She is the princess of this village. She reigns this orchard and rules her parents.  She is a sweetheart without the frills of a lady, she is a tom boy but with a touch of girlish shyness.  Is she a lady because the society has demanded that? Or is it just her inner self confused? She is polite but not meek, not always.  But the society is doing everything it can to mould her right. With the excuse of paying respect to elders, her voice is muffled.  She gives in before she suffocates.

There is conflict between the society’s expectations of conformity and her father’s trust in her and the release of freedom.  Her father too wants her to be a lady, but with her own convictions, he wants her to speak out if she sees it’s wrong and stand up for the wronged but still hanging on to her femininity. She knows the balance but the society fails to see the difference.

She grows up, loving her shoes and her pair of shorts. She grows up climbing trees and screeching at cockroaches.  She is a tomboy who loves her bags, she is lady who hates to grow her nails. But slowly she is losing her fight, but her true self shows its ugly head time to time to the annoyance of the pillars of society.

She is just starting to notice the boys.  A little flutter every time she feels the staring eye of the opposite sex.  She doesn’t really know what to do. She avoids eye contact.  She knows the society is watching.  All she can do is pretend not to notice but secretly liking that feeling.

She has progressed from Enid Blyton to Mills and Boons.  She pauses at the raunchy romantic paragraphs.  She can’t put the book down.  Her heart beats faster, she gulps down the carnal guilt. The second pillow becomes her lover at night.

She does believe in feminism but she doesn’t want to bargain it for her femininity and modesty. She will not succumb to her inner carnal desires, she will not admit even to herself that she is getting interested in the opposite sex.  Is it the society’s expectation or is it her own convictions? She doesn’t know. The older she grows, she feels the presence of the societies tendrils.

Her inner self smiles at the glances and advances made by the young male community.  But, feared anything that even remotely looked like it was going to escalate to becoming a proposed marriage.  She knew her father was not in favour of this system , but she still feared, just in case, the society and it’s beliefs were bigger than him.

The End (for the moment)

Either the doctor was ready for me or it was time to board the plane.  That’s where the story ends.  On another visit to the doctors I might find out more about her.