Kids...I don't know what's wrong with these kids these days...

It's noteworthy to mention that I had two actual heroes as a kid. Sally Ride and Robert Ballard. I've confirmed this with my mother. This is noteworthy in that my first two heroes, who inspired everything from my TV watching to my Halloween costumes, were both scientists. It's been generally acknowledged that science was never my strong suit. In fact, math and science were my weakest subjects, however my strongest fascinations. Later in life, I would find a hero in Lindy Boggs and her daughter Cokie Roberts...these heroes were more in my wheelhouse...English, Political Science...giving my opinion.

But I've never stopped loving the exploration of space and the deep ocean and I've never stopped considering Sally Ride and Robert Ballard to be my heroes.

Granted, I grew up in a time prior to the existence of the Disney Store and for most of my formative years, there were a limited amount of Princess options available. My "costume trunk" featured an impressive amount of dance recital ware, outfits fit for one who was planning a life on The Prairie and as I recollect, one polyester long white dress and a matching dress in a bold purple. I remember these dresses because, obviously, the white dress was the "brides" dress and in what was likely an exasperating moment, my mother informed me that the purple dress was the "grooms dress." Hence, why I believed throughout most of my childhood that proper wedding attire for a groom was a long boldly colored dress.

I also recall, at the age of 9, loving the New Kids, Debbie Gibson and Tiffany. But I never recall aspiring to BE like them. I was trying to go explore the deep oceans and locate long forgotten shipwrecks. I was going to pilot a shuttle through the atmosphere. Although, admittedly, I was a little concerned about the G-Forces and that I might throw up. It would all be worth it to be weightless!

I was INTENSELY jealous of my sister, who through a series of unrelated events got to go to Space Camp...and in my mind, accidentally get launched into space. She was going to live my yet unfilled dream of zipping through zero gravity and communicating in Morse code with Mission Control. At the very least, she was going to get to play in the Gyro-Machine and hang out with Tom Skerrit. Bitch.

Much to their credit, my parents rarely interjected reality into my world to Titanic related make-believe. My aunt event worked with Woods Hole Oceanographic Laboratories and brought me a t-shirt. (She also bought me my first microscope and slide kit, which proved a useful random skill long about the 10th grade. Even after we had admitted defeat on any career I was going to have that included "o-grapher" in the title.) I had free reign to watch my VHS of  Nat Geo's "The Secrets of the Titanic" until I wore out the tape. I hung pictures of the deep seas and the heavens all over my room. (Not using tape or push pins, because THAT would have been a straw dog with my father. Hang whomever and whatever you want on the walls...but don't make any holes in them.)

I was never all that fascinated by princesses. They didn't seem to do to much and who wanted to be in a castle all day when there were pretend submarines to man and deep secrets to find. Who wanted to be stuck waiting for the prince, when I had an entire forest in the backyard and there were endless "Little Houses" that needed to be built?

I grew up with dirt under my fingernails and parents were bold enough to only make me stop long enough to scrub them at night. The indulged my interests and my heroes and gave me a unique freedom to learn as much as I could about them. I can't recall how many book reports my mother edited regarding Titanic books or how many class speeches I gave about my ocean liner.

But I can't imagine it would have been different if my main interests had been playing "Princess" and going to make-believe balls. I'm fairly certain that my mother would have allowed me to stage said balls in the living room, as she allowed me to stage faux-press conferences and a wide variety of concerts. However, I just wasn't interested in that shit...nor was I all that interested in girls who were.

I'm not sure, exactly, when and where we separated the world into "girls toys" and "boys toys"...and when it was decided that anything "girl" needed to be pink, purple or turquoise. I'm not sure when it was decided that to be feminine you had to be a puff of glitter and high heels.

Don't get me wrong. I love being feminine. I'll admit to loving high heels and dresses. After several years of diligent lessons, my hairdresser finally taught me how to curl my hair. (I think she almost lost her mind in the process, but that's neither here nor there.) Being a girl is fun. Red lipstick is wonderful and something I truly, cannot have enough off.

But I'll be more than happy to take my red stained lips and my carefully curled hair, kick off my high heels and run around in the grass on a perfect summer night.

Go for it, little girls, buck the pink and turquoise. Don't wait for prince charming to come save you from the castle, build a ladder and save yourself. Prince charming may or may not be coming, so don't waste a whole bunch of time looking for him. If he's going to show up, you'll find him. In the meantime, you'll have something interesting to talk about.