Epilogue
I’ve always wanted to be that “It Girl.” The one people were drawn to. The one who could garner the attention of everyone at a dinner party. The one who was so captivating that, no matter where she was or who she was talking to, everyone around her just glowed. The “It Girl” has some sort of magic force about her, and just being around her allowed you to become enveloped in it.
I used to think you became an “It Girl” through clothes or beauty or money. Maybe it was her travel or her experiences or her access to the world. The messaging from that world is confusing. “Be rich. Be young. Be beautiful. Then everyone will love you and you’ll have the world at your feet.” But some of the most banal people I have ever met get top marks in all three of those categories. So it sent me out on a journey pondering, “If that wasn’t what made the girl—or the guy—what was it?”
It wasn’t until I truly listened to the words my father had been saying to me since I was a little girl that I realized what the magic quotient of the It Girl truly was: authenticity. She feels so comfortable in her skin that she can’t help but let it spring out from her like so many sparkly strands that surround and delight everyone around her.
Because she feels good about herself, she makes others feel the same way. There’s no one easier to adore than someone who reflects back to you the image of yourself that you long to see: the smart, funny, clever, enchanting, kind, calm, inviting version of yourself that knows just what to do and how to do it in every situation.
That girl (or guy) is That Unicorn.
I used to get angry when my dad would tell me to be myself. That plan had gotten me rejected in the most grandiose of ways, including when I went to Camp Louise the summer between eighth and ninth grades. Everyone else had grown up and arrived at camp with luggage packed with Bloomies underwear and magazine pages to hang in their lockers of the latest hunky movie stars. I showed up with my monkey puppet: “Hi! I’m Jenny and this is my monkey, Henry.” It was social suicide at first sight.
But what I didn’t know back then was that those girls were even more insecure than I was. It was that very desperation that pushed them to follow the crowd in every sense, to dress the same and talk the same and drool over the very same heartthrobs. I was too naïve to know any better. I was just being, well, me. That summer was the beginning of me deciding that that whole “be yourself” thing was for the birds. All it got you was a seat at the dork table in the cafeteria and a lot of lonely Saturday nights.
But years of following the crowd did me no good, either. Not in the long run, anyway. Why? Because I wasn’t being me. I was faking it…and not in the “fake it till you make it” kind of way, just in the plain old “fake it ‘cause you don’t know what the heck else to do” kind of way. That’s never good. When I was faking it, I felt fake. When I was my actual self, I felt so much better. Slowly it became clear to me: being yourself might not always be the easiest, but it is always the best.
So, when I got to college, I decided it was the perfect time to retest my dad’s “be yourself and they will come” theory. And, go figure, it worked. People liked to be around me because I knew who I was and I was happy and comfortable in my own skin. From then on, that was my path. Sure, I had and continue to have plenty of days plagued by insecurity. But most days are pretty prancy. I became That Unicorn by not trying to be any girl other than me.
That Unicorn is the best you. That Unicorn is a glittery, rainbow-maned metaphor for one’s joyful self…the kind of person we are all drawn to. That Unicorn is you. My mom has always said that people are drawn to me because I make everyone feel good about themselves. Throughout my life, people have echoed that sentiment. It’s the thing I love about myself the most: I’m the big sister, the BFF, the mom, the cheerleader, the coach…“the little unicorn that could” who everyone deserves.
The truth is, we are all unicorns seeking to be heard and to be a part of the herd. It’s really that simple. Remember that, and things that never made sense before will suddenly click. Trust me.
People tell me that I make them want to be themselves; they see how there is nothing wrong with honoring all of the different parts that make up who you are and doing your best to smile along the way as you do. People do often ask me, “Do you always smile?” Not always, I tell them, but most of the time. Because, even if I’m not experiencing joy right at that moment, I still want everyone around me to experience it.
The thing is, in every situation, we have the opportunity to prance or to plop. To prance is to keep on keeping on, hopefully with a smile on your face. To plop is when you just say “okay” to what you’re given or told. It’s resignation.
I do my very best to just keep prancing. Sure, I could choose the path of least resistance. I could remain seated, stay quiet, let any old obstacle stop me in my tracks. Or I could choose to just keep at it. Perhaps with a grimace at first, but eventually with a smile.
You don’t even have to be anyone special to make this work. This is an “act as if” kind of proposition. You act as if you are just pleased as punch to leap another hurdle and, somehow, you find you are pleased as punch…if not about all the hurdle-leaping, then at least the success you achieved because of it.
I like to think of myself as a little unicorn dusting herself off and straightening her horn, always thinking of a new route when the one she’s on isn’t working. I’m someone who just keeps prancing despite who I am, where I am, or how others see me.
That Unicorn doesn’t let anyone else define her. That Unicorn creates her own path and does it with love and kindness and respect. And That Unicorn leaves a little sparkle wherever she goes so that others have a chance to follow.
At its core, being That Unicorn is about being yourself and feeling really, really good about that and making others feel really, really good about themselves too. It’s all about contradictions and not following the crowd or doing the expected. That Unicorn knows that, to lead a unicorn life, you have to find your magic, live your truth, and always share your shine.
Note: These days, authors have to make some choices when it comes to pronouns. I chose singular feminine (she/her) pronouns for That Unicorn because I personally use she/her to refer to myself.
Being That Unicorn is about being true to yourself. So, I am practicing what I preach. This isn’t meant to exclude or offend—anyone can be a unicorn! Thank you for understanding.
What Does It Mean to Be That Unicorn?
(In Other Words…How to BTU While Living)
I like to think of myself as being That Unicorn. I also have an inner unicorn. His name is Herbert—Herbie for short. That was my papa’s name. Papa died on Valentine’s Day in 1988, and he was also a unicorn.
