Confidence=Bad Ass

I admit it, I was *kind of* inspired by Beyonce. Not to hit the stairmaster or take voice lessons (although I probably should do both!), but to adopt an alter-ego.

I'm a devout fan of Us Weekly and other celebrity gossip. I wouldn't go as far as to call it a vice, but it's certainly an entertaining escape from my stress. Anyway, one such article detailed Beyonce and how she created an alter-ego for herself so she wouldn't lose herself in her work. She is able to compartmentalize her stage self and because she named it, she can put on that other self like a piece of clothing. She can opt to instantly "put on" this other self.

I thought to myself, "Self, you need an alter-ego, too." This is a great idea and as long as it doesn't lead to some unfortunate bout with self-induced schizophrenia, it would help me separate "work Dorrie" from "home Dorrie." Most professional women I know are completely different at work. They're competitive, confident, and generally don't take crap from people. I've often talked about how hard it is for me to switch gears between my work self and regular self (despite the 100 mile drive). It's impossible to be the "work Dorrie" all the time and straddling that line is exhausting. I needed to name that professional woman that spontaneously comes out when I'm about to step into a male-dominated board room or get up and speak in front of dozens of people.

My next discussion with myself revolved around possible names. It had to be a TOUGH name, something akin to, oh, a call-sign on Top Gun. I ran through those names (Mave Rick, Goose, Ice Man), some names from Saved By the Bell (Screech and Slater), and even a few one-name celebrities (Bono, Madonna, Cher...Cher? Do I really want to refer to my alter-ego as Cher? Yikes). As much as I wanted to refer to myself as Ice Man, or rather, Ice Woman, I didn't think that would fit. I don't want to be known as an Ice Queen.

My name found me when Jack talked me into buying a randy pair of sunglasses in Chicago. They're *totally* not my style, as they're mirrored lenses with gold frames. They look like they belong on a rock star (or let's be fair, a pimp), not a newbie hospital administrator. Then again, I liked the way I looked in my rock star glasses. They were different. Unsettling. I looked cool. I looked tough. I looked bad ass!

More importantly, I felt bad ass. I feel cheesy admitting that, but I bought them and they've helped me compartmentalize the "work self" I've been trying to define these last few weeks. While I'm doing my best to learn the hospital organization, figure out the managerial tricks, and generally SURVIVE, a little bit of bad ass attitude goes a long way.