The Woman I Invented Who Turned Out to Be Me

I invented a woman named Lola.

There. I've said it out loud.

At seventy-one years old, when most sensible women are probably doing sensible things, I created an alter ego. Her full name is Lola. She doesn't have a last name. Lola would probably tell you she's like Cher. One name is enough.

She arrived while when I wanted a little more personality in my book and program. Someone playful. A spirited soul sister who could pop in occasionally, say what needed to be said, and disappear before anyone had time to argue with her.

Lola was perfect for the job. She's cheeky. She likes Prosecco. She has strong opinions. She doesn't whisper. She winks. Most importantly, Lola doesn't overthink. This is where she and I differ.

I can take a perfectly good idea, turn it over seventeen times, examine it from every angle, question whether it's the right idea, wonder if there's a better idea, and then go back to the original idea three days later.

Lola says, "Darling, wear the shoes."

I rather envy her.

At first, Lola was simply a fun character I created for my work. She showed up in little videos and said the things I wanted my women to hear.

Take yourself off the discount rack.
Stop saving the good stuff.
You don't need anyone's permission.

I gave her all the good lines. Then something funny started happening. Lola began creeping into my life.I became a little cheekier in my writing. A little less concerned about saying everything perfectly. I started trusting the sentence that made me smile instead of polishing it until it behaved itself.

The other day, I wrote a preview line about a strand of pearls I'd stopped wearing. I read it back and smiled. That's Lola, I thought. Except, of course, I wrote it. Hmmm. I've been thinking about that ever since.

Maybe we don't invent alter egos at all. Maybe we give names to parts of ourselves we've kept tucked away.

The playful part.
The bold part.
The woman who doesn't need to explain herself quite so much.
The one who orders dessert when she wants dessert and doesn't give a TED Talk about moderation first.

Perhaps Lola isn't changing me. Perhaps I'm finally making room for her.

There's something rather wonderful about discovering new parts of yourself at this age. We talk so much about knowing who we are, as though one day we arrive at a finished version and that's that.

I don't believe that anymore. I'm about to install Version 7.2, after all. There are bound to be a few new features.

Maybe this is what growing looks like. Not becoming someone else, but allowing more of ourselves to come forward.

The serious woman and the silly one.

The wise woman and the mischievous one.

The woman who has spent a lifetime being responsible and the woman who occasionally says, "Oh, what the hell."

They can all be true.

They can all be us.

I invented Lola because I thought my work needed her.

Turns out, I did too.

Or perhaps that's not quite right. Maybe Lola was there all along. She was just waiting for me to pour the Prosecco and let her out.