“I can’t decide whether I’m a good girl wrapped up in a bad girl, or if I’m a bad girl wrapped up in a good girl. And that’s how I know I’m a woman!”
― C. JoyBell C.
I picture the prime and proper girl, who’s never kissed a frog. Miss goodie-two-shoes. The girl we all openly claim to be. The undefiled virgin. Never before touched by a male, never before seen in the dark.
Then there is the loud, red-lipped hottie. The one with the voluptuous body, the one that every man wants, the one whose laughter is loudest in the room, the one whose glass is never empty. That is the girl we mostly will like to be. To be loud in our own right and to be bodacious with ourselves.
We are torn between the girl in the flood light and the girl in the dimly lit corner. We cannot say for sure if being the former will permit us enough opportunities to be completely true to our nature and our desires. We are certainly paranoid about the latter, if we went that way wouldn’t it mean that we have suddenly taken on an identity that is abominable, one that inevitably gives us a name with a thick red sign indicating danger.
A goody-two-shoes stings just as well, however, it is a sting that is safer to bear. We are miserable and frustrated, stuck between the girl we claim to be and the girl we dream to be. What do we stand to lose assuming we jumped ship? What will become of our reputation if we did? How would we survive if we didn’t?
We slumber in deep thought, we toss and turn. We weigh the scales and we consider the sacrifices. We contemplate the price to be paid, we swallow lump after lump, our throat sore with fear, and heart pumping blood with anxiety, our flesh perspire with apprehension, we are crippled by our jittery nerves.
Torn between two worlds, we live two lives, one in the open and the other in the closet. One in the day light and the other in the dark. One with pride, and the other with shame. We are constantly swung between two realms, two existences, two grande stages. One in white stocking, the other in black pantyhose. One moment we are Mary at the feet of the master and the next we are Mary at the mercy of the mob.
“There are no good girls gone wrong – just bad girls found out.”
― Mae West