Oranges

I know that as an American I am supposed to aspire to be that apple in that box of oranges. In many ways I do.

I also know that I am that apple for all kinds of reasons that I wish I were not. Some of them are Invisible like my living with Bipolar Disorder, while others are much more obvious like my weight.

Most days, unless I’m crying in public or talking publicly about it, Bipolar Disorder leaves me looking like an orange from the outside.

My weight on the other hand, I can’t hide. People instantly assume I’m an idiot, that I come from a low socioeconomic background, that I have no education, that I am lazy, that I am somehow “less than” a normal person, and that I am an acceptable target for either random advice or nasty jokes or comments.

I’ve been not-an-orange because I had pink streaks in my hair, (sort of before you saw 7 year olds with them), and that was fun. I used to wear dark green lipstick and this dark green beret as a teen for similar reasons.

I guess the point is there are times when I’d like to be that orange, and times when I wouldn’t. Times when I’d like to be more invisible and times when I want to wave my freak flag.

I think it’s okay to want to be both. I don’t think you have to aspire to be the apple all of the time, nor do I think blending in with the oranges all of the time is the answer either.

Inspired by the Daily Prompt: Invisible

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