My weird apology

I owe it to her

I have seven nephews, four on one side of the family, three on the other. Years ago, when he was whatever you are when you’re no longer a toddler but not quite a preschooler, one boy had a hilarious habit. If he felt the urge to unloose the caboose, he dropped everything and ran. And, I do mean everything.

“I gotta poop!!” he yelled, sprinting for the bathroom.

Every few steps, he’d pause long enough to fling off a piece of clothing. By the time he got where he needed to go, he was completely nude.

Photo by Yan Krukau:

Six of these fellows may wish I’d not dumped them into the start of this story, since they weren’t the ones stripping down to their birthday suits on their way to the loo. I figured there was some level of safety in numbers. Then again, they’re guys, so maybe they’ll be sorry they haven’t been going au naturel all these years. Or maybe they do, and I’m blissfully unaware. For all I know, the one dude might, to this day, divest himself of his duds before he does his business.

The thing is, there are stories – girl talk, google talk. Not about these gents in particular, but about men (and, yes, some women) who held on to this kind of childhood custom, or who picked it up in later life. I already did the research, so you don’t have to. You’re welcome.

It’s weird, right? Like, WEiRd. I mean no disrespect, but nudie-doodies are not part of my paradigm, so the whole concept makes me raise an eyebrow, while my brain figures out how, or whether, to get out of the way.

I liken it to the sidewalk shuffle, that familiar moment of tension when you’re vying for a clear path ahead but end up doing a zigzag dance with someone coming from the opposite direction. For me, it is a useful metaphor for how we respond when presented with an idea that requires us to think a little harder about our way forward. Do we stand our ground, risking a potentially painful ideological collision? Or do we move a little to one side, creating space for someone else? Neither response is consistently right or wrong, but it’s wise to check in with ourselves to determine which way we lean.

What I notice, when I take a minute to look at myself objectively, is that I should throw far fewer stones, seeing as I live in a big ol’ glass house that already has a load of cracks. If we’re willing, I suppose any of us can rattle off a list of our own weirdness.

Here are a few of mine, to break the ice. The first is on theme, but I promise to get out of the lavatory after that.

• In the middle of the night, on the potty, I keep my eyes closed hoping to trick my body into thinking I’m still asleep.

• I blame my partner, in my head, every time the TV remote goes missing, even though I’m usually the one sitting on it.

• I gravitate toward straightness. In the doctor’s office, I’ve caught myself adjusting the disposable paper so it lines up with the edge of the exam table. Same for stacks of files on a desk, books on a table, or miscellany on (and in) a refrigerator.

• I rinse and reuse dental floss. Whoops! I’m back in the bathroom again, but at least I’m at the sink this time. And anyway, if recycled floss makes you squirm, consider this:  How does it differ from a toothbrush?

You’re feeling better about yourself by the minute, aren’t you? So happy to help. But, I hope you’re also quietly cataloging your own quirks, even though yours surely pale in comparison to mine. Though we seem to give them more latitude for it, famous people don’t have the market cornered on eccentricities. We’ve all got them, y’all.  

Photo by Dan Parlante

Even the history of the word hints at the idea that everyone gets to have a little piece of this action. From the Old English wyrd, the modern day weird appeared in the 15^th century and pertained to that which was fated to happen. Similarly, it was used in reference to a trio of goddess sisters, The Fates, who were thought to influence destiny.

The sisters were depicted variously as beautiful and sensitive, or ugly and powerful. It was the latter traits that were woven into the “weyward” sisters by Shakespeare, in 1606. His three witches stirred the proverbial pot in Macbeth by proclaiming, "Fair is foul and foul is fair." The play marked a turning point for the word weird, which subsequently became less about predestination and more about the peculiar.

Three Witches by William Rimmer (American, 1816-1879) - Public Domain

Four centuries later, we’re still wrangling with this kind of weirdness, our own and others’. It’s in our nature, part of our destiny. Our brains prefer predictability. It helps us think more efficiently and avoid potential harm. Thus, we are apt to fear what we don’t know. Insecurity, a close cousin to fear, engenders criticism. Fire burn and cauldron bubble! No wonder we vilify idiosyncrasies like we do.

We are and will remain an imperfect, judgmental species. A perpetual quest for security fuels intolerance. But, for all our faultfinding, we are also more accepting now than we’ve ever been, a transformation I’ve lived long enough to experience firsthand.

When I was a girl, I played with Barbies. Most were new to me, but one – a “Bubble Cut Barbie” with bouffant hair - I inherited from a girl who went out with my oldest brother for a short while. A decade older than mine, that doll was different. For starters, she had black hair, not blonde. Her eyes looked off to the side, making her seem less trustworthy. Her legs and arms didn’t bend, so she could only do the splits. And, she didn’t have a Malibu tan.

This was a problem. Any controversy in Barbie Land, I blamed on her. She was the brunt of the jokes, the cause of the trouble, because she wasn’t like the others.

Screenshot of a Bubble Cut Barbie currently available on Etsy for $135.00

Barbie, the movie, is currently making waves in theaters, across social media, and in households everywhere, as it unexpectedly challenges traditional ideas about gender roles and inclusivity. Though I haven’t seen the film yet, I learned this week that Weird Barbie, the one who’s been “played with a little too much,” is turning out to be a breakout character. As you might imagine, she has a terrible, homespun haircut that juts out in all directions. Her dress is stained, and there are ink marks on her face.

Mattel is releasing a doll version, due out in 2024. I might have to get one. Though she undoubtedly helped me work through myriad personal insecurities and social difficulties, I really feel like I owe Weird Barbie an apology.

~Elizabeth