If I didn’t choose for them to read the Sunday comics or Paddington Bear, I reached for any Beverly Cleary book we had – especially the ones about Ramona Quimby.
Ramona and I were soul sisters. While Ramona’s dad called her, ‘Pickle,’ I got the name ‘Becky Boo Stinker Roo.’ Even at age 46, I still get called Becky Boo occasionally.
I was messy. I was mischievous and my imagination would get ahead of my body sometimes. I loved the mud and the dirt. I loved playing outside. I loved creating adventures. I was my own person. I didn’t care about coloring outside the lines. I smiled a lot and I was happy. I didn’t worry about stains or messy hair. I just enjoyed my life.
Somewhere along the way – maybe when I hit menopause in my mid 30s, I lost my inner Ramona Quimby. I started thinking way way too much about things and what people thought. My creative side seemed to be buried somewhere.
When I turned 46, I was deemed post-menopausal, and as I sat in the doctor’s office, weight challenged (politically correct way of saying obese), still single and hundreds of miles from loved ones, I made a decision.
It was time to find my inner Ramona Quimby again.
Maybe my adventures will inspire others to find their Ramona Quimby or you guys to find your inner