I have decided that by the end of this year I am going to buy myself a small, two seater,  convertible red sports car. I have many logical reasons for this decision.

• I will be 52 in April and if I wait too much longer I will not look hot in a sports car I will look like I stole a car in a moment of dementia.
• I have driven a van, station wagon or suv, complete with candy wrappers, science reports, and vomit stains since 1985.
• I look really, really good in red.
• If I only have two seats I can guarantee solitude if I take something large with me, like a box of old things to donate to the thrift shop OR if I say I am going shopping.
• I look really, really good in red.
• I can finally look at my teenagers and say, “Yeah? Who’s cool now?” as I dangle the keys in front of them.
• On the same note, I can use it as leverage to have certain tasks done around the house.
• I look really, really good in red.

For the first time in my life I don’t have to be practical for anyone. Everyone that I have known for the last 25 years or so thinks I am nuts anyway. There comes a point where you just smile and do the regal wave as you drive by (in your really cool, new, red convertible). I am at that point.

I have finally come to terms with the fact that I don’t have a quiet and gentle spirit. I laugh loud, let the kids sled down the staircase in cardboard boxes, and am apt to start a food fight if the dinner table gets too boring. I wear jeans, short skirts, long skirts, and I recently bought a push up bra for the first time since Reagan was in office.

My husband took me out to dinner.

Red sports cars are about doing what I want (within reason), and choosing to be around people who love me without wanting me to become something I am not.

Oh, I am not talking about maturation, spiritual growth, or changing for the better. I am talking about having to act, dress, or speak a certain way to fit in with your friends. I am talking about Having a glass of wine when you are on vacation in France but energetically nodding your head when the Pastor (or someone) talks about the evils of wine. I am talking about having the freedom to be honest about what you like and what you don’t like and really, truly transparent about your deepest self.

We learn to be darkly transparent with others. Just open enough to make them think we are open and honest but keeping that little bit of who we are to ourselves just in case it’s not acceptable.

A red sports car tells everyone you don’t give a flip anymore.

Oh, you’ll lose friends… but you would have lost them anyway, eventually. Because eventually they would have found a reason to move on. Real friends don’t take off no matter what. They hang in there and body surf with you through the sludge.

When I still really cared about what people thought, shortly after a major crisis in my life, I was invited to a party. Nearly everyone at the party had known me for over 20 years. All were in disagreement with my life at the moment and they probably had good reason – I don’t know. The waves of scorn and disdain literally washed over me at that party, with over 50 people in the room, including family members, who did not even look me in the eye. There was no flicker of a smile, no hello, no screw you, no nothing. No one sat with me other than my youngest children and my fiance (now husband). I was invisible except to one person who cornered me in the bathroom to let me know how horrible I was.

I had to leave the room several times to get control of my emotions, to pray, to find a place of peace. I threw up, I didn’t eat, and we left early. As I got into the safety of the van (white, candy wrappers, stains) I put my head down and I cried so hard that I hyperventilated. I cried all that night. I cried on and off for three days. Then I got mad.

Eventually though I came to a place where I just felt sorry for those people because they were being who they were deep inside. And I wanted them to be free to be themselves, just like I wanted to be free to be myself. I finally came to a place of forgiveness and understanding, although to this day that memory makes my heart feel like lead.

Good comes out of everything. I stopped caring what people thought.

So, when you see me in my red sports car, with my red short skirt, my V neck red sweater and push up bra, and my way cool leopard print Betsey Johnson shoes? You can smile and wave or you can roll your eyes and criticize me to other people.

Just be yourself. I am cool with that.