Rules.

"Don't give me no rules. All I got is rules!" -Johnny Cash, I Walk the Line

Apparently, someone forgot to give me the official rule book.
I never got to write my name on the inside cover or inhale that smell of fresh ink on crisp pages.
I wasn't there the day the other girls received the Rules of Womanhood.
I must have been outside climbing a tree.
So I guess the rules don't apply to me.

In chapter one they must have talked about food.
How to convince yourself you aren't hungry, excuse me, I mean, how to control your appetite.
How to breath deeply and be full until dinner.
How to say "no bread. no cheese, no meat" when ordering a burger.
I must have been baking a cookie.
So I guess the rules don't apply to me.

Chapter two was obviously about boys.
How to bat your eyes, touch their arms then linger, giggle when, especially when, you didn't get their jokes.
They learned, without me, that to be able to talk sports was brash, that fixing your own car made me hard not soft, that wit and wisdom were not as valuable as lipstick and sweet perfume.
I must have been playing kickball in the backyard.
So I guess the rules don't apply to me.

Somewhere in the rule book they even discussed color.
"It's so nice that you can have these purple walls and colorful pillows while you are single!" said an owner of this rule book to me. "Since when you're married they will have to be neutrals"
And she adjusted the pearls that circled her neck. That choked her.
I was probably barefoot, in my studio, incense glowing, music flowing, paint dripping from my brush to my hand, to my chest, to my thighs, to my feet.
So I guess the rules don't apply to me.

If I had possessed said treasured manuscript, I would have found dating guidelines.
I would have known that no real relationship decisions could be made up til he had "put a ring on it", that I had the freedom to live anywhere in the world, except where he lived since he in fact had not put a ring on it yet, and that I would, or at least should, be able to answer the question, "Is he the one?" at any given moment. At every given moment.
But I was probably playing poker and drinking beer with the man that swept me off my feet and is carrying me away.
So I guess the rules don't apply to me.

And when they all watched chick flicks and painted nails on Saturday night,
I was in the square drinking margaritas, listening to live Jazz music.
And when they were memorizing these precious, my precious, rules, making no mistakes, polishing their pearls,
I was out in the world, I was getting dirty, I was messing up hugely, I was giving my life away, I was breaking free.

Maybe I was there.
The day they handed out the rules.
Maybe I just said no.