The other day a friend commented on my domain name ‘thatweirdchic.com’, and it got me thinking, not many people know or understand the reasoning behind the name.
Let me update you!
In present day moment, I embrace the term ‘that weird chic’. I am proud of it and take complete ownership of it. Without having an actually copyright or trademark to the saying, I own it!
To me, being weird is being unique, an individual. A person that questions why and has an opinion on EVERYTHING! And I don’t care. I don’t care about people’s negative opinions of me and people who waste my time.
I enjoy learning new things from talented and experienced people, I surround myself with positivity and I give off a positive vibe and say ‘Hi’ to every single person I encounter with a smile.
If that makes me weird, all the best to me!
But it wasn’t always this way. It wasn’t always rainbows and sunshine. Being weird wasn’t always a good thing. Being ‘weird’ got me down and hurt my feelings.
After spending nine months away from home when I was diagnosed with bone cancer, and going in and out of hospital, I returned a different person.
I person who had forgotten how to socialize. An almost teenager that was trying so hard to fit back into a life that no longer existed. Most of my friends from before I was sick, all of a sudden didn’t know how to act around me. They didn’t want to say things ‘incase it hurt my feelings’ or just saw me as a whole different person all together, someone that no longer belonged. I was socially awkward and always said the wrong thing.
When I went into high school, there were people from other schools that weren’t aware of my history, but just saw me as the girl that had to walk with a walking stick for a while and an obnoxious leg brace. They saw me as a shy, quiet individual that maybe wasn’t always quite there.
That is what they saw.
What was really happening was me trying so hard to be friends with people that didn’t understand me or what I had been through.
I gave up on trying and became, ‘that weird chic’.
I can’t remember if some one had said it one day or whether it was something that I had come up with in my head after one too many strange looks from people.
After surviving high school, I decided that being weird was a good thing. Being different is a good thing. Being a survivor is an even better thing to be, and if that makes me weird, I’ll take it any day!