Wordless Wednesday: Determination
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Tag Archives: Humor
You’re not the boss of Me
This was my less than loving response when my incredibly attractive husband walked downstairs and began our first verbal exchange of the day.
It was a Friday and it went something like this…
Him: “Honey, we need to run a few errands and get some things done around the house.”
Me: “I know, but NOT today! It’s my ‘pajama pants wearin’, don’t tell me what to do, day!’ I exclaimed, while shoving another sea salt & turbinado sugar dark chocolate almond in my mouth and chasing it with Peet’s coffee. (Perfect combination if you ask me.)
Him: “Ooooooo-kay.”
Me: “You KNOW this! Friday is MY day to do what I want! And I don’t want to run errands or wash dishes, do laundry or anything else that requires motivation on my day to do what I want! I will do it tomorrow or Sunday, but NOT TODAY.”
Side Note: My man is Sicilian. He is intense and passionate. (Two of the many things that make him irresistible to this southern gal.) Nothing gets his heart racing (in a good or bad way) like I do. I read his cues well at this point and what his deep caramel colored eyes were telling me was that he was maintaining the utmost control by not saying anything. Now, he may have been biting the sides of his cheeks ’til they bled, but I was really proud of him for not engaging my teenage like tantrum.
Him: “Would you mind peeling yourself off the sofa long enough to dress our son so that I can take him to run errands with me?”
I was up grabbing clothes, socks and shoes before he had finished his sentence! (The house all to myself?! You don’t have to ask me twice!)
I don’t know if he passed on telling me that I was acting like a brat because it just wasn’t worth it or because he knows I have enough self awareness by now to realize when my behavior is less than appropriate. I like to believe he was thinking the latter of the two. Either way, he offered to remove distractions, giving me a few cherished moments of “me” time.
I’m a writer. When I’m not able to express myself through written word I feel unsettled with each day that passes. By the time a week has rolled around, I’m ready to implode. I covet the moments when my mind can spill out onto these pages with uninterrupted thought. In fact, there is absolutely no noise other than the tapping of the keys as I write and the intermittent crunching of almonds. Ahhhhhh, serenity now.
So, here’s the deal. I’m keeping my “Don’t ask me to do anything day.” I highly recommend that you do the same. Pick a day that works for you. And by day I mean, several hours, not 24. Oh, and leave out the childish fit, it’s not pretty. Trust me!
Who do you think you’re fooling?
Let me start by saying, “I’m not sure this warrants an entire post.” However, I need some feedback.
While looking through FB profiles of my peeps, several times I found myself asking, “Why are they standing with all of those ‘older’ people?!” Only to realize that it was someone my age. We may have even been in the same class?!
This thinking presents a problem (of my own making of course!). Is it me? Do you do this? Do you look at other people your age and think, “Wow! When did that happen?! When did we get so old?!” Do you think to yourself, “Do I look that old?”
I’m guessing you are thinking that I am a self-absorbed wretch. And I get that, but let me ask you this… Have you ever thought these things? Am I the only one?!
As you know, I do not have a healthy relationship with food. Some days are better than others, but I would never call it “healthy.” My internal image of myself resembles something like this…
Some days I feel thin and beautiful and other days…not so much. I realize that this all points back to “SELF.” Ewww…that word alone makes me feel spiritually dirty!
Don’t laugh! This really has me thinking…Am I completely delusional? It is strange that, depending on the day my perception of myself varies between super toned, 20-something hottie and unfit, can’t buy clothes in a regular store, couch potato?
I am extreme. I’m fully aware of this. There is no happy medium in my world. It’s rather exhausting really. This is why I have tried to rid myself of my, what I like to call, “Extreme behavior triggers.” These are the things that make me act like a lunatic, obsess constantly and end up rocking back and forth in a corner not knowing how I got there?!
This is why complete sobriety (aka abstinence from alcohol) was the only way for me to stay sober (what’s a buzz anyway?). It’s literally why I only stop drinking coffee when my hands start to tremble indicating that I’ve had enough caffeine. It’s why I went to rehab instead of college. All or nothing. Go big or stay home. All in. Any of this sound familiar?
That is why I had to rid myself of this atrocious thing. Raise your hand if you like to get up every morning and base your day off of what this little beauty says. And then, for a lot of us insanity types, we step on it before we go to bed!
SO, I haven’t owned one of these since…well…since I was alternating between starvation and puking my guts up on a regular basis almost 10 years ago. What does this say about me? That ignorance is bliss? That I’m refusing to look at the truth? That if I don’t know, I won’t care? 
That is nonsense. Of course I care. However, I have to retrain my brain to care the way that my Creator wants me to care. NOT the way the world says I should care.
It took me a long time to learn this, but I can say it with all clarity in this moment.
Are you listening?
His opinion is the only one that matters. Did you hear that? Say it. Even if in a whisper. His opinion is the only one that matters.
Some of you are thinking, “here she goes with the whole religious bit.” Wrong. For me, it has nothing to do with religion. It has everything to do with redemption.
One of my favorite scriptures is Psalm 139. When I stand before the mirror, first thing in the morning and last thing at night, I commit my perception to Him. I stand fully stripped of all that I feel hides my imperfections and I pray this verse;
7-12 Is there anyplace I can go to avoid your Spirit? to be out of your sight?
…You’d find me in a minute— you’re already there waiting!
Then I said to myself, “Oh, he even sees me in the dark!
At night I’m immersed in the light!”
It’s a fact: darkness isn’t dark to you;
night and day, darkness and light, they’re all the same to you.
13-16 Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;
you formed me in my mother’s womb.
I thank you, High God—you’re breathtaking!
Body and soul, I am marvelously made!
I worship in adoration—what a creation!
What do you think? Could you do it? Would you do it? Are you willing to approach the throne of grace completely uninhibited?
If you’re not a throne of grace kind of person, are you willing to stand before your reflection, stripped of all the things you use to hide? Including excuses?
Try it. And then come back and tell me about it. Don’t be scared. If I can do it, anyone can!
Photos were borrowed from my trusty friend, google.
More than a cheesy post
It is rare that the hubs and I are both in front of the camera.
When it happens, this is usually the way it turns out.
I hope you can see in these pictures some of the many reasons why I love this man.
If you cannot, I’m afraid I can’t explain it to you.
Photo op… take 2
“Laugh as much as you breathe and love as long as you live.”
Want more? Related Posts:
This Man
For the Father of my Children: A Prayer
Something Stinketh
Have you ever found yourself standing in this isle of the grocery store or super target, mouth slightly ajar, overwhelmed with where to even begin?
I have! In fact, every couple of weeks I find myself standing right here, eyes glazing over as I look at all of the options that promise incredible results. As U2 would say, “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.”
Which leaves me no choice but to implore you to join me in the fight against sweaty pits in the south. I’m tired of throwing money away on products that leave me feeling less than “fresh.” Help a sister out. What do you use and why do you love it?
I know there are some gals out there using men’s deodorant. I’m not opposed to that. Come on! Share your secret. The only thing worse than bad breath is smelling “tired” as my grandmother would say.
Before you start flooding the comments with helpful suggestions, see how many of the slogans you can correctly match with it’s brand of deodorant or as I affectionately call it, “el stinketh repelente.”
Give it your best guess…(hint: there are more answers than slogans. I couldn’t make it too easy)
Possible answers: Almay, Ban, Dove, Secret, Sure, Gillette, Rexona, Axe, Arrid
“Raise your hand if you’re sure!”
“Strong enough for a man. But made for a woman.”
“It won’t let you down.”
“Dare to bare your even-toned underarms.”
“Outstanding protection against odor and wetness.”
“Giving you the confidence to handle whatever the day has in store.”
Ok, now you can answer this short poll. Who doesn’t love a great poll?!
Hurry up and Wait…
As I sit in this waiting room of only women, In a sea of blue cotton robes, with the “opening in the front” (of course), I cannot help but look around, observe and judge.
Yes, I said it, JUDGE.
“But I didn’t think Christians were supposed to do that?” you say.
When one becomes a follower of Christ, one does not cease being human.
With each name called that isn’t mine I want to charge up to the front desk and say, “I can’t wait any longer! I have things to do today! (Like sitting around in my pajamas. It’s my day off! My ‘Nobody tell me what to do’ day.)”
Of course I don’t do that, do I?
Nope! This appointment has been on the calendar for 6 months. I’m not just going to walk out now! No way. I’ll show them and stay another hour if I have too!
Wait…what?
My inner monologue is suddenly interrupted by the familiar sound of a chip bag opening. “Oh, I’m so hungry. Why didn’t I bring a snack?!” “Duh, because they are going to weigh me!” (Clearly still deceived by the notion that I will weigh less having not eaten today. I don’t mean a few ounces less, I mean 10 lbs.)
So…here I am…waiting. As I have been for the last 82 minutes.
I can’t tell if the woman beside me has an issue with her jaw or is popping gum. It’s really loud. Really. Loud.
Oh good, now she’s taking a call on her cell. The popping is replaced by her inquiries about dry cleaning and whether or not her dog has been walked and if it had pooped or peed on the walk because, that’s important. (What part of the sign “NO CELLPHONES” does she not understand?!)
The nurse emerges and calls her back. “Thank the Lord in heaven!” (is my extremely loud thought.)
As I continue an inner monologue about how I would never be as obnoxious as this woman, a word in a conversation to my right catches my attention.
Metastasized.
That’s the word. The one word that snapped me out of my self righteous, internal ranting.
There were 5 ladies, strangers from what I could tell, sharing their stories. For the young woman who had just been diagnosed, she was asking the other woman who had been cancer free since 2009, what to expect.
“What kind of pajamas do they allow in the hospital?”
“Will I lose my hair?”
“How long does chemo take?”
“Does everyone throw up after?”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“What stage was yours?”
“Did you have radiation?”
“Do you drink regular milk or organic?”
The older woman was compassionate in her answers.
I don’t have cancer.
I don’t know the answer to any of her questions. I am here, as I will be every 6 months for the rest of my life because I am “high risk.” Female cancer dominates both sides of my family. I am no stranger to the word metastasized, as that word alone awakens many feelings that have been silent until several months ago when it became a reality again with the news of my beautiful friend, now fighting for her life against a relentless form of ovarian cancer.
I actually made it a priority to schedule my annual appointment with my gyno because of her. He insisted that I have the genetic testing done to see if I carried the cancer gene. He called with the results. All tests were negative. I do not carry the gene.
So why am I sitting here. Why will I spend half of my day off, sitting here with strangers, when I could be with my boys?
Fear?
Prevention?
Is there really a difference between the two?
Regardless, here I am. Waiting…
I’m guessing that the young girl asking all the questions is in the fear stage. I can’t say that for sure and now I’m judging again. (Why am I acting so priggish?!) If anything I should be falling down before the Father in praise several times a day that I emerged from the darkness in which I was living, relatively unscathed.
However, here I sit. Annoyed by the smallest of things. Remember my motto…”Progress not Perfection.” Some days (like today), progress is even a stretch.
The lady beside me takes out her emory board to file her nails. (Insert inner scream here). Noooooooooooo! Forget the sound! What makes her think I want to breathe in her fingernail dust? And there’s no escaping it! Its flying everywhere.
The door opens, here comes the nurse, she’s calling my name.
Clarification: There are few things in this life that I can say with all of the passion I can muster that I detest. Cancer is one of those things. It is a devil of sorts. Often times it is silent in its deadly pursuit until its victim is left ravaged and face to face with death. I am in no way trying to make light of this disease in this post. I am simply giving you, the reader, a glimpse in to my perception, warped as it may be at times. Usually, for me, this all points back to fear. Thankfully I have been given the tools to face it and move on. I feel beyond blessed to only be going in for rechecks. I am on the maintenance plan while many are fighting for their life.
It’s not gossip…if it’s a prayer request
Introduction: I grew up in the south. I am a southern girl through and through. If there is one thing that makes me instantly feel like a child again, it’s the sound of a deep southern draw coming from the mouth of a man or woman, preferably over the age of 50.
I have listened to conversations throughout my life while sitting in restaurants, beauty salons, the waiting room of a doctor, dentist or chiropractor’s office, my living room, a church pew, on my grandmother’s porch, seasonal socials, anywhere there is a crowd one is sure to “overhear” information that even the person of whom is being spoken, may not even know…yet.
When writing the following, I could not help but feel a bit like I was betraying my roots. However, after overhearing a conversation in a waiting room the other day that took me back a decade or so, when I was being added to several “prayer lists,” I could not help myself. Names have been changed to avoid any upsets (so if you happen to have the same name as those listed here, you probably think this is about you. It isn’t.)
I love listening to women in conversation, especially southern women. Whether it is their first or third time discussing, it is no less dramatic. Rest assured if they are speaking to someone different about the same situation, a few of the details will have changed and at some point in the conversation, a hand will cover the heart or be strategically placed on the cheeks (as to avoid having to reapply any makeup that may be compromised in the process) while emphasizing their concern and utter disbelief.
Oh and you should know that if the discussion is prefaced by the words, “We need to pray for…” or anything that alludes to a prayer request, it is not considered gossip.
From time to time I will include in my writings, many of the different sayings we use down here in Dixie. For those of you who have never experienced an actual conversation, it looks something like this…
Let’s imagine the setting as the produce section of the supermarket.
Southern Belle #1: “Well, Hey There! What are you doin’ here this time a day?”
Southern Belle #2: “Hey! I’m just pickin’ up some last minute things on my way home from choir practice.“
Southern Belle #1: “Oh. Well, did you hear? Betty’s daughter, Mary Beth, didn’t get in to Ole Miss.”
Southern Belle #2: “WHAT?! You’re kidding! How will she ever find a husband? Not to mention, Betty’s sorority legacy where she, her mother and her mother’s mother all pledged and were members, will come to an end?! Such a shame. Bless ‘er heart! Is she devastated?!“
Southern Belle #1: “Well, what do you expect?! Of course she’s devastated! She says she’s fine, but I know better. She’s humiliated. To make matters worse, I think Mary Beth is sleepin’ with her boyfriend.”
Southern Belle #2: “Who is he? What does his daddy do?“
Southern Belle #1: “Nobody evens knows?! Can you believe that?!”
Southern Belle #2: “Bless. Her. Heart. It’s worse than I thought. I will add her to the Sunday school prayer list THIS week.“
Southern Belle #1: “Oh honey, don’t bother. I just updated my status with all the details, on “The Facebook” under “Urgent Prayer Request.”
Southern Belle #2: “Perfect! Did you attach me somehow so that all of my friends will read it and be praying?“
Southern Belle #1: “Now you know I don’t know how to do that! You can just look at what I wrote and copy it word for word. Back to the crisis at hand, do you want to take a casserole over to Betty’s house tomorrow afternoon? She is probably too upset to cook and you know Hugh will expect dinner on the table at 6:30 sharp!“
Southern Belle #2: “I was just thinking the same thing! I’ll bake some of mama’s famous pound cake. We won’t count calories at a time like this. The bourbon glaze alone should help all our moods.“
(Insert courtesy laughs.)
Southern Belle #1: “See you at 6:00 then. Don’t be late! Byyyyyyy now.“
Even A Girl Like Me 