Property......

When I was 17, just after I graduated from high school, I went to Six Flags with some friends. No, not the boyfriend, because he wanted to play tennis with a bunch of sweaty boys {instead of making out with me in the Monster Plantation}. Just friends. While I was there, I bought a set of dog tags. Just plain ol' tags on a ball chain. For a small fee, one could have them engraved. I had "Property of {insert boyfriend's name here}" on mine.

Fast forward a couple of weeks..... I went to Florida on a school trip. A chaperon, a former hippy feminist with the backside the size of a van, took immediate offense to to my dog tags. As an adult, I can see the cause for alarm...... young girl sees herself as a piece of property. She obviously did not know me, or understand. Nor did she ask, merely lectured and criticized.

If she had asked "why", I would have gladly explained it to her. Obviously, she is most likely NOT a reader of this blog, but I would love the chance to share what I would have loved to tell her then. Property of {****} did not mean what she assumed. It was an expression of devotion- meant to make him feel good, to show that even though I had stopped wearing his class ring I wanted an outward sign that someone loved me. It meant that he was the first of many things and an important piece of my life's short history. And I have never been a feminist any way, so it was a nose thumb at the type of girls/women that annoyed me then, and now.

If I had felt controlled by {****}, the last thing in the world I would have ever done is put his name around my neck. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It was more a sign of freedom than oppression. So, Mrs. Mitchell...... you will probably never understand it in a million years. Or maybe you do and realize that 17 year old silly girl was actually pretty deep.