It’s Friday! What does that mean? It means it is time for me to subject you, my loyal readers, to another installment of my rambling nonsense. Today I am going to talk about my fear of labels and the dread I live with everyday of becoming a suburban clone.

What is a suburban clone, you ask? Simply put a suburban clone is a zombie that walks around dressed in styles that come from the select, handful of shops that the suburban moms shop at. A suburban clone is the woman who sits in Starbucks on a Friday morning with her skinny mocha “chit-chatting” with three other similarly dressed women discussing school politics, last weekend’s soccer game and, in a nutshell, continuously trying to one-up each other with their humble brags.I could go on, but you get the point.

I don’t want to offend anyone. I have friends who LOVE the fact that they are The Suburban Mom. They are proud of their accomplishments, their kids, their husband and the life that they have built. I have those things, too. I have children, a husband, a good life and I live in suburbia (although, it it technically borders on rural). So, why do I fiercely reject labels? Why will I go out of my way to be different from everyone else? I will purposely not purchase an outfit that I actually liked at one of those “mom stores” simply because off the ideological label that unpurposely comes attached to it.

This morning I sat in Starbucks with my regular mocha and reflected on my anti-label attitude. Here is what I came up with. I reject all labels. Not just the mom label. I reject the wife label. The daughter label. The thirty-five year old woman label. The reason I reject these labels is not that I don’t want to be a wife, daughter, mother or thirty-five year old woman because I am clearly all of these things. I think the root of my adversion to labels is the fear of being imperfect.

When I feel labeled, I feel backed into a corner; pigeon-holed into an exact mold with precise instructions on how I am suppose to act as the wife, mother, daughter, etc. I have perfectionist tendencies. To be what others expect of that particular role creates automatic anxiety. So, when I feel cornered into a role I panic; certain I will fail to live up to that expectation. Oh, my God! I forgot sign the permission slip for the field trip. I suck as a mom! Crap, I didn’t send my mom a birthday card. Shitty daughter of the year award belongs to me. I am not even going to mention how many times I have failed in the wife role. So, to avoid these feelings of failure, I rebel. I become the adult version of a rebellious teenage who rejects anything normal just because she can.

Labels always come with expectations. It is just the way the label creators set-up the game. I guess I feel if I am just me no one has any preconcieved ideas of who I am suppose to be. If I forget to sign a permission slip,I am not mom who forgot and failed as mother. I am simply Denise who forgot and there aren’t any expectations to knock me down.

Am I the only person who feels this way? Do you welcome certain roles with open arms or do you run-away from zombie, suburban clones like I do?